Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: Milkoviches Stick Together

"You faggots coming or do I have to make this run myself!" Terry Milkovich shouted at his children behind a cigarette clutched firmly between his teeth. Mandy and Mickey thought better of sharing their collective opinion. If there was anything they’d learned growing up it was when to shut their mouths. And when that failed- Milkoviches stick together. They hopped in to join their brothers Iggy and Joey in the back of the truck.

"Thanks!" Iggy laughed snatching the can of coca cola out of his younger sister's hands.

"Knock it off shithead" Mickey tossed out with nonchalance. He reisisted the urge to sock his brother in the mouth with the very can he had just commandeered, knowing that protecting Mandee would just get Iggy and Joey to tag team them.

"I'm sorry," Iggy replied sweetly "did you want a sip little brother?" He held out the red can as a peace offering only to splash the sticky sweet liquid in Mickey's face.

"Quit acting like children- you ass clowns!" Terry boomed from the front seat. "This shit is serious!"

"Junkies need their Oxy" Joey said with mockingly sincerity just audible enough for his siblings ears.

"I hope you're all packing..." Terry added as an afterthought.

The Milkovich siblings were silent. Mickey felt the cold barrel of his black glock pressing into his hipbone. He chuckled inwardly remembering the cop he had stolen it from when he was just eight years old. When did we ever get a chance to act like children? Mickey brushed the pitiful thought from his mind. Terry was right about one thing: this run was crucially important. Mickey knew he could always rob the Kash-N-Grab when the fridge was empty but trying to survive another Chicago winter without heat or electric would be a real bitch.

Mickey looked up and out of the truck's front window to see the sun dipping low across Chicago's downtown skyline. The sky was bleeding a beautiful array of pinks, purples, and oranges. Mickey shifted uncomfortably, who the fuck has time for sunsets. Mickey pulled a cigarette from the pack squished in his back pocket offered one to Mandy and on second thought shelled out two more out to Iggy and Joey.

Terry made a sharp right right forcing Mickey's focus to what the next few hours would entail. It was for sure one of the more complex Milkovich heists. After the breaking, entering, and looting they had to find Junkies that could pay (with cash not hummers) and had enough sense left not to OD and cause a scene. They were headed towards the back end of the largest pharmacutical dispenser south of Lake Michigain. Mickey had almost drowned in that lake as a kid and had hated water ever since. Even hated taking baths (on the off chance that the water bill got paid). Terry sank his foot on a clutch and the truck rolled to a stop in a decrepit alley.

"Get to it sugartits" Terry told his only daughter, lighting another cigarette.

Mandee heaved open the back door pushing a loose strand of hair up and her cleavage out. Mickey spied the wooden handle of the old revolver tucked gracefully into Mandee's warn boot. He wasn't worried about his sister now. When she dropped the 'tough as nails' bit Mandee could force any man into pitiful obedience with a bat of her long lashes. Protecting her from Terry on the other hand... Focus Milkovich he demanded. As if she could hear his very thought, which Mikey often thought she did, Mandee turned to give him a devellish and compromising wink. She trotted down the alley and entered a back door where she would quite litterally charm the pants off whatever poor sucker they had working the night shift.

Mickey counted the seconds down in his head. Exactly two minutes later the four Milkovich men stepped out of the van. If that alley wasn't dangerous before, it sure as hell was now.

Mikey knew that his moral compass pointed far from what most people considered North, but he still had to stuff the glib feeling of guilt trying to creep up his abdomen. The drugs they were lifting were prepaid perscriptions. Who knew what psycho would be missing their crazy pills in the morning. Mickey exhaled heavily, releaving all tension locking his joints. Who knew if these stupid shit pills even worked. All he knew was that the tweekers were crazy about it and if tweekers paid his electric bill- so be it.

This was only Mickey's second time on the Pharma run but the elder Milkoviches had been in and out of here at least half a dozen times. He followed them through the darkness letting himself become overstimulated by his surroundings. His right hand always hovering steadily above his hip. Step by step the Milkoviches scuttled into the lab. Joey picked the two master locks in record time damn Mikey thought I wish he'd teach me how he does that shit so fast.

A blinding light filled the lab, smacking Mickey in the face abrasively after all the time his eyes had spent adjusting to the darkness.

"FREEZE!"

"Get on the floor! This is Chicago PD, you are under arrest!

Mickey's mind snapped into action before his vision had fully restored. The feds were rushing in from the other side of the room. He heard scrambling and saw Iggy and Joey both slammed to the floor. The desolate thud of a gun dropped on linoleum rang in Mickey's ears.

"They're armed boys!" one of the pigs shouted into the calamity of the room.

Mickey ducked back into the hallway they'd entered from. He picked up his heels only to run straight into someone. The air was knocked out of his lungs but adrenaline ripped through his veins. Mickey reached for his glock. He looked up to see who the unlucky bastard was but froze as his eyes drank in the most flamboyantly red hair and piercing green eyes he had ever seen.

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Ian stared grimly at the gold badge lying on his desk. Something about it was still unsettling. He had joined ROTC his freshman year of High School for an outlet to quench his endless energy and discipline to keep his wirey brain from overthinking everything as it so often did. Even through hours of Fiona's desperate pleading and bottomless threats trying to discourage him from enlisting Ian had never given serious thought to going to war. He had barely made it through High School, apparently you needed proof that you had a brain before you were allowed to get it shot off in honor of your country. And if it weren't for his frequent picking of his older brother Lip's brain he would still be working at the Kash-N-Grab, bending over his boss in the drink freezer.

"Officer Gallagher" the clipped voice of Officer Killinger snapped him out of his fifteen-year old reminiscense.

"Smoke break, you comin'?"

"Nah," Ian replied "I'm trying to quit"

"Good luck with that." His coworker chortled walking towards the door.

Officer. The word left a sour taste in Ians mouth. He was accostomed to being addressed as Lieutenant. It was just his luck that the year he graduated America had started bringins troops home from the Middle East. Was it Syria or Iran? Who-cares-a-stan Ian thought. Lip was the one who knew geography, and foreign affairs for that matter. Now there were lines of post-grad soldiers eager for action with no where to go. When they offered Ian the job on the force he had immediately turned it down. That night Lip and Fiona poured into him, objecting that working as a cop would be better than job-searching or going back to the Kash-N-Grab. He had held out for hours but eventually caved. A paycheck was a paycheck and he still had three younger siblings at home to help support. Chicago winters were brutal, even cruler when Frank Gallagher was your father. There was yet a year to pass where Frank didn't get his booze soaked hands on some part of their squirrel fund.

"Besides," Fiona had encouraged, "Tony is a cop and he's always had our backs!"

Tick-Tock-Tick

The steady rhythym of the station clock brought Ian's mind back to his metal desk and obnoxious little badge. Growing up in Canaryville on the Southside of Chicago Ian had long ago given up belief in justice. Ian couldn't completely shove the feeling of betrayal as he now stood on the other side of the law. He glanced at the cold black glock lying on the desk next to his badge. Ian picked it up and checked the saftey, he had to admit that gun felt damn good in his hand.

"Good Morning, Ladies!" the head deputy shouted mockingly at his team.

Being a Monday several faces tried to hide their grimaces of pain as the metal door slammed shut. This only made Deputy Saunders chuckle.

"Keep your weekends to yourselves boys, I just got a dispatch from PharmaCo Pharmacuticals across town. There's been another break in and I'll be damned if we don't finally catch those convicts and lock them up for good!"

Saunders was getting excited, as he always did before a large bust.

"Casper and Graydon" Saunders ordered "Take two squad cars to the west side of the building for backup."

"Killinger and Gallagher, you're coming with me." Saunders scanned the room as only three buzzed hair cuts quickly rose to accomodate him.

"Where the hell is Killinger?" Saunders barked.

"Here Sir, sorry Sir." Killinger stumbled back into the room with a phlemmy cough.

"Get your sorry ass in the squad car, and don't forget your gun girlscout." Saunders threw at him with afterbite.

Ian had only been on the froce two weeks but oh how Deputy Saunders loved bringing the young never-quite-soldiers on busts with him. The sirens blared spinning red and blue (the colours of justice Ian thought sarcastically) as they sped across town towards the towering building known as PharmaCo.

A dayshift guard had unhappily returned to recieve his forgotten wallet. He had taken one look at his coworker's abandonded post and knew with sinking fear that the criminals responsible for destroying their business in the last year wereback. He had placed the call to the police department then fled the scene, not wanting to be around when the thugs were dragged out looking for faces to blame.

Casper and Graydon's squad cars were parked outside. Saunders and Killinger entered through the front doors guns drawn leaving Ian to follow the intruders' footsteps. Ian climbed a dark staircase in silence, gun held protectively not in an extended arm but cradled against his chest. He heard Saunders booming voice down the hall yelling "FREEZE!" Then Casper's warning "They're armed Sir!" Ian stretched his long legs into a jog ready to join his coworkers when something crashed into him. He caught his breath and looked down aa head full of disheveled black hair. He clicked the safety off but his fingers froze before they could even near the trigger. A pair of slate blue eyes had reached up to his. There was no fear in those eyes, no panic or despair, only pain. Decades of pain inflicted under the cruel alias of Life. Ian fell deeper and saw his reflection tragically written in blue.

Ian stood up and walked past the man without a second glance. What the hell are you foing Gallagher? A voice inside his skull screamed.

"Hallway is clear sir." Ian stated walking into the room to see three dark haired, heavily tattooed men pinned to the floor. Saunders, Killinger and Casper all held the bridge of glinting silver cuffs behind painfully twisted backs. Two of these men had to be brothers of the man in the hallway (long gone now if he had any sense, which Ian thought unnervingly, he did). The same black hair and icy blue eyes but theirs' were clouded with a spiteful malice.

"You're nothing more than a pen full of cowards!" shrieked the older man pinned beneath Saunders. "PIGS!!" he spat in disgust as Saunders raised him from the ground. Graydon led the way back towards the front door. The other three officers followed with captives in tow. Ian hesitated in the room his mind spinning out of control. He jogged to catch up with his team and saw the tops of heads being shoved into the backs of the squad cars.

That night Ian lay awake staring at the ceiling he still shared with his youngest brother Liam. (Lip stayed at his off-campus housing being soley his for the summer and Carl had officially taken Frank's room as his own) Why had he let that man go? He had no idea. He couldn't shake the reflection in those eyes, like staring into a freezing lake. And the way they seemed to see right throught his, sharing the pain tand horrors noone deserves to see. Blue was the color Ian saw as he drifted into a restless sleep.

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The courtroom door closed with a heavy thud behind Mickey. No one turned to see who has entered the room because the honorable Judge Verutsos was addressing the prosecution. Mickey walked through the pews to sit behind the Milkovich's "family lawyer". Carlos was only related to them by marriage of some second cousin and Mickey knew that this guy had never picked up a law book in his life. Still better than some disheveled public defender He thought.

Mickey looked across the room. On the bench perpendicular to his sat four orange clad Milkoviches side by side. His eyes flicked to Mandee's. This was by far the first mark on her rap sheet but she had just turned eighteen making it her first lock up with the big girls. A confident defiance poured from her, telling Mickey to Quit worrying about me you little shit! Maybe this mind-reading thing worked both ways.

Next Mickey greeted his brothers with solemn nods of understanding. No Milkovich was afraid of prison but getting caught- that's what hurt.

Finally Mickey lifted his gaze to meet Terry's. The glare seething from his deceptively grey eyes was more vicious than usual. Mickey could see the betrayal leaking out maliciously. How many fathers would prefer to see their sons beside them in matching orange garb? What a Dick Mickey thought. He waited apprehensively for Terry to spit on the courtroom floor but his attention was tugged towards the stand.

The prosecution had called its first witness. Mickey did a double take. It was the carrot-topped officer he had toppled over trying to escape. Nervous sweat beaded on the back of Mickey's neck. What the hell was he thinking coming to the trial as an innocent bystander when he had been at the crime scene! Terry was going to kick his ass when he got out regardless (Mickey had always been his favourite punching bag) but a sudden realization of how badly he wanted to avoid a family reunion behind bars sent a chill down his spine.

The cop was answering questions but Mickey could have had cotton balls in his ears, he didn't hear a thing.

"....name for the record?"

"Officer Ian Gallagher"

"Employed by?"

"City of Chicago Police Department"

On went the formalities and Ian continued to respond with monotonous indifference. How had he of all people gotten stuck on the stand on his day off?

"Location at time of crime and arrest?"

"I entered through the South entrance. Following...." Ian rattled out the monologue that Sandy, Saunder's perky secretary, had prepared for him. He continued speaking but paid no attention to the words leaving his lips.

The redhead's undivided attention was focused on the fifth Milkovich. The one he let slip from the crime scene. The one now standing less than twenty feet from him frustration and impatience leaking out of his tightly composed face. That pale face had been tattooed behind Ian's eyelids for the past week. Now he drank in the sight of him greedily. He wore a wrinkled black shirt and seemingly blacker jeans. He brought a hand to his head and ran it roughly through his hair. Ian smirked at the Fuck-U-Up tattooed on his knuckles. Tough guy.

Ian stole a glance towards the prisoner's bench. He recognized the girl, Mandee. They had been the same year at school before she dropped out. Ian's stomach tightened reminding him how easily it could have been him sitting on that bench had Life dealt him just a slightly different hand of bullshit cards.

Anyone in their right mind would be afraid of this family. The majority of people would take one look at the skin covered completely in thuggish tattoos, bruises, and dirt and write the lot of them off as trash. But Ian didn't. He turned back to the free Milkovich. There was still a sincerity of emotion trying to melt the ice inside of those steel blue eyes. The dark haired man stood defensively with his arms crossed and chest puffed out. Ian's eyes trailed over his flexed biceps tugging beneath the stretched black fabric...

"Officer Gallagher?"

"Oh, uhm, yes?" Ian stumbled sheepishly.

Thank you for your testimony, that will be all."

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Mickey shot one last look at his younger sister, eyebrows raised. Don't let noone make you their bitch! Mandee scrunched her nose Got it Mick. Then he got the hell out that courthouse before Officer Carrot Top could change his mind and scew him big time. He won't, said a voice in Mickey's head, yeah whatever, was his internal reply.

The station for the L was a few blocks past the courthouse. Mickey walked towards it almost jogging. God did he hate being dowtown. Surrounded by overly affluent people with their stupid cars and clothes and dopey grins. The stop was just half a block away when Mickey saw a figure that was becoming much too familiar. You've got to be fucking kidding me, Mickey groaned. He slowed his gait but continued walking towards the stop.

Officer Gallagher stood impatiently, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips, switching his weight from foot to foot. He had taken off his button down and with it any assumption that he could be a cop. His toned muscles squirmed with energy underneath his faded white tank top. He still had on his pressed slacks and shiny police boots. Mickey pulled out a cig after the once over and lit it, meeting his eyes.

"You can't arrest me without your badge on." Mickey said, almost challengingly.

"Today is my day off." Ian replied casually. "Well it was supposed to be, that idiot Killinger called in sick." His face twisted in agitation, "Can't believe they made me come in, I hate being downtown."

There I go again, always talking too much. Ian thought as he realized who he was actually talking to. He blushed slightly and stammered:

"Hey I'm sorry about your-"

"Don't fucking talk to me about my family!" Mickey snapped

Ian turned from him and they both stood in silence. They saw the L round the tracks and the words Mickey had been baracading behind his teeth slipped out.

"Why?"

"Huh?" Ian asked, surprised that the little thug was talking to him and lost in his customary whirlwind of thoughts.

"Why did you let me go?" Mickey said slowly, emphasizing each word.

"Oh," said Ian, he paused to think, "I don't know." He said honestly.

Mickey stared at him with incredulous distrust.

"Yeah, don't think I owe you anything- Carrot Top."

Ian pocketed his unlit cig and hopped through the opening doors before the man could see the blush creeping across his freckled cheeks. Mickey flicked his butt into the street and climbed into the car after him. Ian sat with half of his forehead and buzzed red hair pressed against the window. His long body extended over two seats looking strikingly comfortable on the public transit. Mickey stood a few feet away. His back pressed into a metal bar, facing forwards.

The train lurched forawards pulling away from the station. Rolling steadily down the old tracks.

"My name is Ian." The redhead tossed into the stagnant air.

"Mickey." The brunette replied automatically. Scrambling for something spiteful to add Mickey said "You coming down to bust some poor sucker on the SouthSide?"

"Nah, it's my day off remember?" Ian's lips twitched into a smile. "I live in Canaryville."

Fucking Gallaghers Mickey thought. He knew Frank, could smell the booze on him from across a crowded bar. Mickey knew that the Gallgher house was a circus, spilling out more siblings than even he had, but damn. How Frank could father the man across from him he had no idea.

The train began to slow and Ian rose as if to exit. With his body facing the doors he spoke over his shoulder,

"I really am sorry about your family." Ian exhaled. "I'm still not used to working on this side of the law..." he trailed off as he exited the car.

Mickey stared at the doors the tall redhead had just departed from. The dirty landscape of SouthSide Chicago sped into a horizontal blur along with his thoughts. What was going on up there, he knew he had to get his head together. Only two more stops until the Milkovich bungalo, but maybe he would take the next train straight to the Alibi.

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"Guy is a total fucking creep." Lip exclaimed to his younger brother. "He's taking advantage of these eighteen and nineteen year old girls! No freshman should be getting As for fucking their professor."

"Sure you're not mad that the old man's taking the dumb ones, leaving nothing for you?" The large bartender with the black trim goatee suggested teasingly. He slid the brothers two tall glasses he had filled with cold amber liquid from the tap.

"Thanks, Kev." Ian said.

"Surprised to see you here." Kev addressed Ian. "With your new civic duty to "protect and serve" and all that," Kev said with airquotes. "You know how much unethical bullshit goes down here."

Right on cue the three men turned their heads to the sound of a man hitting the floor. Frank Gallagher had passed out and fallen off of his barstool. The brothers turned back towards each other. Neither made any attempt to help their father or see if he was OK.

Lip brought them back to the conversation.

"It's only been two weeks and he already wants to quit!"

"I'm not cut out for this shit." Ian said shifting forward on his stool.

"So happy to get your ass shot off by a towelhead across the ocean but bust a couple of local hoodlums? No, sir!" Lip teased.

Ian opened his mouth to defend himself but closed it when he saw Lip's focus fly over his head. Ian turned to see two busty blondes that had just entered the bar looking lost and slightly uneasy.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." Lip said. He rose from his seat, never averting his eyes.

Ian laughed softly at his brother and watched as he sauntered across the room introducing himself with ease. He leaned in to whisper something making the girls giggle.

"At least he's learning something in college." Ian snickered to Kev, but when he turned to face his companion he saw the bartender at the other end of the bar helping a new customer.

Ian sighed and raised his beer. He held the cold glass suspended in midair when he saw down the bar who he now knew to be Mickey Milkovich. Don't! a small cry of reason shouted in Ian's head but his body resisted and moved of its own accord, almost as if drawn by a magnet.

"Boilermaker, Kev"

"Better make that two." Ian said, sliding onto the stool beside Mickey. Kev through him a questioning look but dropped it indifferently and moved on to make their drinks.

"Fuck off Gallagher."

"C'mon Mick you had a shit day let me buy you a drink."

"If you really want to pay for me to get shit faced because you feel guilty about locking up the rest of my family, be my guest."

Ian grinned.

"Ay, that doesn't mean you get to talk to me or any gay shit like that." Mickey warned.

Ian laughed spreading color over his freckled cheeks and Mickey couldn't help but smile.

Five boilermakers and a congratulatory vodka shot later (the occasion hard to recall maybe Kev's wife V was pregnant again, or maybe Frank had woken back up) Ian stared at the man in front of him listening intently despite the hum of drunken conversation around them.

"...place is fucking home to him. He's probably got more friends inside than out." Mickey blabbed drunkenly. "Mandee tho," he took a long pull from his glass the cold beer refreshing, the whiskey sailing over his taste buds. "Kid's only ever been to Juvi..." He trailed off worry etching it's way across his face.

"We went to school together." Ian confessed to Mickey. "Not like friends or anything but I saw her around and I uh- I heard she was a nice girl."

Mickey snorted and burst into laughter that sent him tilting off his barstool. He loved his sister but 'nice' was the last adjective he'd use to describe her. Ian shot out an arm to catch him leaving an electric imprint in his back. Mickey snapped up and reached into his pocket for his smokes. Before he could get one lit Kev hollered:

"Milkovich! Smoking outside! I've got two babies now, can't have them getting cancer or some shit already.

Mickey shrugged and Ian followed him out the back door to have a smoke in the alley.

The two boys stood in silence, taking long drags on their cigarettes and watching the harsh smoke curl gracefully into the chilly night air. Mickey exhaled heavily and flicked his glowing butt to the ground. He turned towards the Alibi's back door.

Mickey wasn't used to watching where he was going, usually people got the hell out of his way if they knew what was good for them. So he looked up in surprise when Gallagher took a step in the wrong direction- closing the space between them. Mickey's blurred vision focused on a pair of soft pink lips. He inhaled sharply and the lips came crashing down on top of his.

Damn they really were soft. Mickey stretched forward to momentarily extend the kiss then broke away. He opened his eyes to a spread of freckles on pale skin.

Mickey turned quickly down the alley, Ian on his heels. The silence had stopped time from passing as they jogged back to the Milkovich household. Mickey shouldered the front door open and dragged Ian in by a fistful of T-shirt. The two boys stumbled through the dark house and into a bedroom.

It's amazing how fast arms can fly when they're ripping off shirts and belt buckles. Their clothes shed to the floor Ian tackled Mickey onto his bed. He bent his head to find Mickey's lips but Mickey shoved his face away. Ian shook his head with a grin and clamped Mickey's thighs between his hands. He rocked back and slid his tongue slowly over Mickey's stiff erection. He circled the tip slowly with his tongue before swallowing Mickey's dick to the back of his throat. Mickey moaned and raked his fingers over Ian's buzzed hair. Ian continued to suck Mickey down until he whimpered an orgasm into his mouth.

Mickey blinked nervously, he had lost control, he thought he'd had plenty of good blowjobs but holyfuck those lips were magic.

Realizing how much emotion he was showing Mickey pulled in his face and grabbed hold of Ian's biceps. He wrestled with him so that he was on top pinning Ian to his bed. A moment of hesitation passed. Ian grinned knowingly and flipped Mickey back over to his elbows and knees.

Ian rudely slammed a spit covered finger into Mickey's asshole. Mickey's face cringed in pleasure. Ian smiled and stuck in his second finger. God Damn Mickey thought. This kid knows what I want before even I do. Soon Ian was balls deep inside of him thrusting aggressively in a melodic rhythm. The boys groans of protest melted into moans of gratification. Milky cum spilt onto Mickey's black sheets at the same time it dripped onto his back.

Ian turned over and flopped onto his back. Both boys lay panting. The energy in the room pulsed as a living entity. It was more alive than either of the boys had ever felt.

They fell asleep within seconds.