Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was an ordinary morning on the South Side of Chicago. Or at least that’s what Ian Gallagher thought when he woke up to his usual alarm at 5.30 a.m. He rolled around in bed, groaning, rubbing his eyes, once again cursing his ambitious streak that had made him purchase the old auto shop down the street from his apartment.

He had bought the apartment two years ago when he moved out of his childhood home to live by himself for the first time in his life. And when old Mr. Hale died, Ian was brave enough and had just enough money saved from his previous job as a mechanic that he bought the old auto shop. 

He had always wanted to be independent and his own boss, and he had built up a good relationship with the Hale family over the past two years. So when the opportunity presented itself, sadly in the form of Mr. Hale dying, Ian quit his job at a large car dealership and went into business for himself. 

His older brother Lip often helped him with repairs, as Ian could not yet afford employees. But he got by quite well and had even attracted a few customers from the West Side who were very pleased with his work and tipped well. 

Ian loved his job as a mechanic. He loved fixing broken things, restoring them and making them shine again. It was his passion and so he spent almost all his time in the auto shop, monday through friday, from sunup until sundown.

Sometimes though, on days like these, Ian wished he could just stay in bed for a little while longer. As his second alarm, in the form of his loyal buddy Kazimir, Kaz for short, reminded him that it was time to get up, by jumping in his face, Ian finally sat up in bed with a loud groan. “Okay, alright, bud. I’ll get up.” He stretched out his hand to pet the small, enthusiastic dog. He had adopted the Chug a year ago because even though he really enjoyed living alone, he had felt kind of lonely in the new apartment after having lived with all of his chaotic siblings for so long. And he did not regret it for one second. Ian felt like it had been the best decision he had ever made. Kaz was always with him, right by his side as his tiny guardian, and had quickly become Ian’s best friend.

“You hungry, bud?” Ian swung his legs off the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes once again. “I’m gonna have to fix Mr. Noland’s Camaro today. You wanna help me?” He asked the dog that was wagging his tail so fast that his whole body was shaking in excitement.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ian chuckled and finally stood up, stretching his back by bending from side to side a few times. “Okay, buddy. I’m up.” Kaz was already running towards the kitchen and the sound of his claws on the wooden floor was the only sound in the apartment. 

*

Forty minutes later, Ian opened the large garage gate of ‘Hale’s Auto Services’ with a rattling sound and Kaz ran right through it, sniffing the floor excitedly like he always did in the mornings, making sure everything was just like he left it the evening before. Ian smiled as the small dog curled up in his bed right next to Ian’s desk in the corner of the garage a minute later. Ian had kept the name ‘Hale’s Auto Service’ because he wanted to honor Mr. Hale as well as profit from the good reputation the old man still enjoyed on the South Side.

After having another coffee, Ian worked like a savage on the Camaro of Mr. Noland, who was coming to pick up his vehicle in the afternoon of the same day. He only took a short lunch break, eating the sandwich he had made at home and playing with Kaz, who loved to chase after his favorite stuffed animal around the garage whenever Ian threw it.

As Ian had suspected, it was just another Wednesday. His workshop was quiet, just as he liked it, and he continued to work while Kaz retreated to his bed next to Ian's desk and took a nap.

But it really wasn’t like any other day. 

Some time later, the sun was already very low, Ian suddenly heard footsteps as he lay under the Camaro checking the exhaust he had welded earlier. "Done in a minute!" he called out, thinking it was Mr. Noland coming to pick up his car.

The garage remained silent, and Ian turned his head to see a pair of black Nike sneakers and the hem of black sweatpants. This couldn't be the nearly 70-year-old Mr. Noland.

"I'll be right with you!" Ian exclaimed, hoping it was a new customer. "Go ahead and sit down. And don't be afraid of the dog. He's really sweet and won't hurt anyone." Ian grinned to himself. He knew that many people were afraid of small dogs, even if he had never understood why.

Still, silence. 

The person, whose shoes Ian was sure were men's shoes and therefore had to be male, still didn't say a word.

Ian rolled his eyes. Some people were just really strange. He pushed off with his hands on the underbody of the vehicle and rolled out from under it on his rolling board. As he did, he stroked his face with his soot-smeared hands and was sure he looked pretty dirty.

Hopefully, it wasn't some rich snob from the West Side.

Ian was still sitting on his rolling board and was now looking up. His perspective was reversed that way, but he was sure that the man he saw standing in front of him was not a snob or a customer. 

The man wore a black ski mask on his face and sunglasses that hid his eyes. This was definitely not a customer. Ian sat up, then stood and patted the dust off his pants. The man was shorter than Ian, wearing black sweatpants and a black hoodie and gloves. In his hand he held a gun. 

Ian swallowed hard. A fucking robbery? On a Wednesday afternoon? 

"Whatever you're up to, you don't need that gun here." He nodded towards the pistol, holding both hands up.

"Good to know, man." The masked man finally spoke, and his voice sounded young-ish and not as angry as Ian had imagined. "I’ll be out of this shithole in a sec. Just need some cash." The thug shrugged and waved his gun around. 

Kaz, who had been sleeping quietly in his bed until now, now jumped up and stood in front of Ian, barking. 

“It’s alright, bud.” Ian bent down to pick him up. 

“Weird ass lookin’ dog.” The masked man said and Ian could’ve sworn he heard sympathy in his voice. “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice dude and your dog’s kinda gremlin lookin’ but cute, so imma make this easy for you. Just hand me the keys to the car and I’ll be outta your hair.” The black dressed man added, pointing his gun towards the black vehicle.

“The car?” Ian turned, facing the Camaro. “But that’s-” He shook his head, “that’s not mine. It’s a customer’s car. I can’t give it to you.”

The man growled and waved his gun around again, probably trying to intimidate Ian. But having been raised on the South Side of Chicago, Ian was not intimidated by any kind of weapon. 

“So, you’re a tough guy, huh?” The man took a step towards Ian and came so close, Ian could smell him. Laundry detergent and smoke. Not at all what he had been expecting. But then, why would he even think about what the other man smelled like?

“Guess I am.” Ian nodded and hugged Kaz tighter, shielding him from the stranger. “You can have money, but not the car.” He added.

“‘K then, Red. Go get me some money.” 

Red ? Ian couldn’t believe the guy who was just trying to rob him gave him a nickname. 

“Okay, just give me a sec here.” He turned and walked to his desk, opening the upper drawer and pulling out a bundle of cash held together by a rubber band. “How much do you need?” He asked and instantly hated himself for it. The guy was a thief. A robber. Of course he wanted all of it. 

And as if on cue, the man said, “fuckin’ all of it. What do you think, carrot top?” And then he held out his hand while the other one still held the gun, pointed at Ian and Kaz. “And hurry the fuck up, I ain’t got all day.” 

An armed gangster with an attitude. Ian cursed his luck, ignoring the fact that the stranger had come up with yet another nickname. “Okay, okay. Shit. Here.” He reluctantly handed the man the wad of bills. That was his whole month's income. Probably almost two thousand dollars.

“That wasn’t too hard, tough guy, was it?” The thief had the audacity to chuckle and Ian thought about fighting him for the money for a second. But then he looked down at the tiny dog in his arms and decided it wasn’t worth it. The man had a gun after all.

“Nice doing business with you, Hale.” The man turned on his heels and jogged away. 

“What the actual fuck just happend.” Ian said to himself as he put Kaz down and ran his hands through his hair. Had he just been fucking robbed? He angrily kicked the large tool cabinet and immediately regretted it. “Fuuuck!” He cursed as his toes felt like they would fall off any second now. “Fuuuck!” He sat down at his desk and Kaz whined at his feet, probably feeling that his owner was pissed as hell. 

“It’s okay, bud. I’m okay. Just fucking pissed, that’s all. Can you believe this asshole? Just coming in here and robbing me like that? Wanting the car?” Ian shook his head, looking down at Kaz’ amber colored eyes. The dog let out a tiny whining sound and Ian picked him up again, petting his small head, mostly to calm himself down.

“Mr. Gallagher?” Ian heard Mr. Noland’s voice a second later, or at least he hoped that this time it really was Mr. Noland.

Fucking hell. What had started as a normal day turned out to be an absolute shitshow. But at least Ian had managed to keep the Camaro. And Kaz and him were safe. The guy hadn’t harmed them. And he was gone.

Still, as Ian went home later that evening, he couldn’t help but feel someone watching him.

Chapter Text

Mickey felt like a piece of shit when he got home. And he knew he probably was one. He hated robbing people. He hated carrying a gun, let alone threatening to use it. He hated all of it. 

Yet, he had robbed someone again.

And not just anyone. Him. The redheaded mechanic he had been stalking for the past week to learn all about his habits, when he opened and closed, and when he was usually alone in his garage. The one he couldn’t get out of his head now. 

Fuck. 

Mickey thumbed his nose and sat down on the worn chair in his chaotic, dirty kitchen that somehow was a symbol of his life. He should really clean up. Get his life in order. He was out now. He served his time. He needed to change. But he didn’t know how. All he knew was that he hated this shit.

And now, those green eyes, the freckled face and the deep, soothing voice of the mechanic haunted him as he counted the cash in his hands. He knew the mechanic, Mickey assumed he was a Hale, had been scared, and he knew why he had been scared. 

Mickey had pointed his fucking gun at him. Even though it didn’t have any bullets in it. Mickey never loaded the gun. He didn’t wanna hurt people. He just needed to scare them a little.

He let out a deep sigh as the last bill slipped through his fingers while he counted. 

2480 dollars.  

That meant he could pay his rent and then some.

Still, he hated it. He wanted to earn money, stay clean, be good, but he had no clue how to get there.

But Mickey still believed that people could change. Grow. Mature. Motherfucking evolve. Whatever. 

He knew he had his flaws. Fuck, he had a lot of them, but he had come a long way since he went to prison for possession. Yes . He was still an addict. He had always been an addict. As long as he could remember. Admittedly, an addict who didn’t drink anymore. But an addict who smoked pot even though he probably shouldn’t. An addict who was probably borderline addicted to dick. 

And an addict who had no one. Who was utterly and desperately alone.

Mickey was aware of the fact that he used sex as a weapon, as a means to an end, usually to get what he wanted. And that was a place to crash or money most of the time. He wasn’t a hooker or anything, he just knew what he had to offer and he knew how to work it for his advantage.

Ever since he got out of prison it was basically all he had been doing. On his first day back in freedom, Mickey had called up his two ex boyfriends, in the hopes that any of them would take him in for a couple of days since he basically had no family anymore. His mom had died when he was very young and he barely remembered the sound of her voice, let alone what she looked like. His piece of shit father had died a few years back and Mickey hadn’t shed a tear when he got the message that he had passed. He had been glad the fucker was finally gone from his life - since he had been nothing but an abusive, racist homophobe all of Mickey's life.

His sister Mandy loved him. Mickey knew she loved him, but she had told him one day when she found him drunk and lying in his own vomit that she just couldn't take it anymore. So she had left. That had been two years ago, and Mickey had no idea where she was now. He thought a lot about his sister and fervently hoped that she had found happiness wherever she was. But he avoided thinking about her much, because it still hurt like shit. But he was also sure that if he really had his life together one day, he would go and find her.

So right now, Mickey had no one. 

And his exes hadn’t really been happy to hear from him. Kobe had told him to fuck right off and Mickey hadn’t blamed him. He understood. He hadn’t exactly been the best boyfriend in the one year they had spent together. Next on his call list had been Aidan, who told Mickey he was now married to a woman and expecting his first child. Mickey had hung up immediately. He didn’t want to burden anyone. He just wanted to be left in peace and get his shit together. 

But that had been easier said than done. He had been out now for three months and all he had accomplished was to get an apartment. And that was a shithole. He still had no job and paid the rent by robbing people. 

He needed to get off his ass and be better. For Mandy. For himself. 

Maybe not today. But one day he would. 

Mickey let out another sigh and carelessly tossed the wad of cash onto the table in front of him.

Until that day came, he found distractions. He needed to find distractions.

Apparently, distractions in the form of the redheaded mechanic he had robbed not even an hour ago.

Shit.

Those green eyes had burned themselves into Mickey’s soul somehow. What was it about this guy? Sure, Mickey had to admit, he was smoking hot and his dog had been somewhat cute, but Mickey never looked twice at people he wronged. It was kind of like a rule he had made up for himself. To cope. 

Never see them as anything other than a means to an end. 

Never see them as anything other than a way to get some money.

But this guy… he had been different. Mickey had found himself almost speechless when he had been standing in front of him. He had literally forgotten why he had been there. He couldn’t speak at first. Those eyes had been mesmerizing. And the way the blue overall had clung to all his delicious curves and muscles had made Mickey’s dick twitch in his pants. 

And Mickey knew what that meant. He wanted the redhead. He wanted him badly even though he basically knew nothing about him.

“Fuckin’ carrot top.” Mickey groaned and rubbed his thumb over his nose. This could be a problem. He stood up and began pacing. He had been masked but what if the mechanic would recognize him if he went back to see him again? Could Mickey really risk it?

He didn't even own a car. So he knew he couldn’t just go back and pretend to want to have his car fixed. 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot for even thinking of going back just to get your dick wet.” He groaned to himself and ran his hand through his hair. “Just forget about this guy.” 

And the thing was, Mickey really wanted to forget all about the mechanic. Yet, somehow, the other man had gotten under his skin. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been afraid of Mickey? Mickey remembered the way the other man had stood his ground and how he hadn’t even flinched once at the sight of Mickey’s gun. He hadn’t been afraid for himself, but for his dog, Mickey realized in hindsight.

And that made Mickey want him even more.

“Get yourself together, asshole.” He said to himself and opened the fridge. Empty. Nothing was in there except leftover pizza. “Great. See? You needed the money. Probably more than he does.” Mickey shook his head. He knew he was only trying to justify his actions just like he always did after he robbed someone. 

This time, it didn’t work.

*

The next morning, Mickey woke up earlier than usual. He needed to meet his landlord to pay the rent, meet his parole officer Larry and then buy some groceries.

And then go back to the garage to see the mechanic again. Mickey knew that he usually opened the garage at around 7 a.m. for whatever fucking reason. The guy was probably an overachiever or something, he thought.

After checking in with Larry and listening to him pointing out all the reasons why Mickey should definitely try harder to get a job, and after paying his landlord, Mickey was standing across the street from ‘Hale’s Auto Services’ at 9.15 a.m., staring at the neon sign above the large garage gate, pondering what the hell he was even doing there.

This wasn’t him . Mickey never did that. He never went back to the scene of his crime. Yet, here he was, scanning the perimeter for any sign of the redheaded mechanic. And he wanted nothing more than to down a can of Old Style to calm his nerves. This was dangerous territory and Mickey knew it. 

But that apparently didn't stop his legs from moving, and his feet carried him across the street until he finally entered the workshop and a small, excited dog came running toward him, tail wagging. Fuck! Mickey had forgotten about the dog for a moment. What if the dog recognized him? If he somehow remembered his scent though Mickey had no idea how shit like that worked.

But all these thoughts were blown to hell when suddenly the red-haired mechanic stood in front of him, wearing a bright smile that made Mickey’s knees weak.

“Hey, there!” The mechanic said, “how can I help you?” He wiped his soot smeared hand with a cloth.

Mickey swallowed. He couldn’t say anything. Not even one word left his mouth. It was as if his vocal chords had been snapped. All he could do was stare at the man in front of him, take him in. He was again wearing the blue overall that showed off his cock-hardening pecs and biceps. The freckles on the mechanic's face seemed to glow when he smiled, and Mickey wondered if his whole body was covered in freckles.

And Mickey knew right then and there. He was in deep shit.

Chapter Text

"Are you OK?" Ian took another step towards the dark-haired man. "Need help with your car?" His eyes wandered around and outside the garage, looking for a car that might need fixing.

The man in front of Ian still said nothing. Frozen to the spot, he just stared at him, his crystal blue eyes boring into Ian's.

“Yo, man! You okay?” Ian asked a bit louder and patted the other man’s arm. That seemed to snap him out of his trance-like state and he cleared his throat.

“Uhm, I’m… yeah. I’m good.” He thumbed his nose and his lips curled into a shy smile.

He was cute, Ian thought and took a second to take the man in. He was a little smaller than Ian but very well built. He was wearing gray sweatpants that showed more than the other man probably wanted, a plaid shirt that he wore open and a white tank top underneath.

Definitely cute. 

Ian grinned. "So, what can I do for you?" He leaned against the car he was working on. Fortunately, the gangster from the day before hadn't been able to get hold of the Camaro, so Ian had once again had a satisfied customer in Mr. Noland. Today he was working on a Mercedes from one of his regular customers.

“So, look… uhm, I’m Mickey.” The man in front of him finally said.

“Hi, Mickey. Nice to meet you. My name’s Ian. Ian Gallagher. I own the place.” Ian stretched out his hand and Mickey took it hesitantly. Mickey’s hands were warm, soft and a little sweaty. Ian’s grin grew wider. 

The other man was nervous.

"So, this is going to sound fuckin’ stupid, but I... I was wondering if you'd like to, I don't know, go out sometime." Mickey stammered, making a nervous face. "With me, I mean." He pointed at himself and Ian noticed that his knuckles were tattooed with the words 'fuck u-up'. And Ian thought it was strange, that harsh statement somehow didn't seem to fit the man in front of him.

“I know it sounds-” Mickey went on.

Ian was surprised. That was not at all what he had expected the other man to say. Surprised and flattered. Did the stranger just ask him out on a date? Just like that?

“Uhm, yeah. Sure.” Ian heard himself say, “Wow. Sorry, I’m just a bit perplexed. Doesn’t happen a lot that someone just comes in here and asks me out.” He added.

“Yeah, fuck. I’m sorry, man. You must think I’m some kind of perv or some shit.” Mickey shook his head and bit his lower lip.

Definitely nervous.

“Nah, nah. That’s not what I think. It’s just… have we met before? Did I miss something here?”

“No, I was just- I guess I was just stopping by and kinda saw you and well, I liked what I saw and thought why the hell not, right? Yolo… take chances and shit.”

Ian chuckled. “That’s- Wow.”

“I’m sorry, that was a dumb ass fuckin’ move. I’ll just go.” Mickey turned on his heels but Ian stopped him, grabbing his arm gently.

“Wait. Wait. I’m just surprised. I would like to go out with you some time, Mickey.” 

“You for real?”

“Yeah, sure. If you are.” 

“I am.” Mickey smiled and ran a hand through his hair, his eyes meeting Ian’s.

“Okay, cool.” Ian smiled too, and found himself mesmerized by the sapphire blue of Mickey’s eyes. Damn, that man was gorgeous. “So, can I ask why you want to go on a date with me? How’d you even know I’m into men?” Ian asked curiously. “I mean, I could be as straight as they come?”

Mickey let out a huffed laugh. “No way.”

“What do you mean, no way?” 

“I mean, fuckin’ look at you. No way you’re wasting all of that on a woman.”

“That’s kinda rude and misogynistic.” Ian chuckled.

“Nah, just honest. Plus, no straight guy has a dog that looks like this.” Mickey chuckled and pointed towards Kaz that was still lying in his bed.

“Ay!” Ian grunted, pretending to be offended. “Just FYI, Kaz is the best bud ever.” The small dog lifted his ears as he heard his name and both men laughed.

“He’s cute.” Mickey admitted. 

“He’s the best.” 

“So listen, man. I was thinking we could go to dinner or something.” Mickey said hesitantly.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you wanna do.” Ian nodded, finding himself excited at the thought of going out with a man he met only five minutes ago. There was something about the other man that intrigued him. Something that pulled him in, made him want to get to know Mickey. And it was not just his mesmerizing blue eyes and the delicious physique.

“Okay, I’m not really good at this shit, but maybe I could come by later to pick you up?” Mickey asked.

“I think you’re pretty good at this shit.” Ian chuckled. “And yes. That sounds like a plan. I think I’ll be done by six. I actually live down the street, so I’ll just run home, shower and feed Kaz and I’ll be back here. So… whenever you wanna come by.”

Mickey seemed surprised by that information, as he raised both his eyebrows. “Oh, okay, so you live in the neighborhood then?”

“Yeah, a block down.”

“You Hale’s grandson or something?”

“You knew Hale?”

“Nah, just heard of him, I guess.”

That made sense since Hale had been somewhat of a celebrity on the South Side, Ian thought.

“So, you’re a Southie, too?” He asked.

“A Southie?” Mickey arched a brow at him.

“Yeah, a Southie. You know, from the South Side.” 

“Yeah, no shit. I know what you meant, but come on. Nobody fuckin’ says that.” Mickey huffed.

"I do." Ian grinned and found that he liked talking to Mickey, he even liked being teased by him. It was almost as if they were old friends.

“Then yeah, I guess, I’m a fuckin’ Southie. Born and raised.” Mickey shook his head, chuckling.

“How come I’ve never seen you around?” Ian wondered, speaking the words out loud.

“‘Cause there’s like two hundred thousand people living here, Ian.” Mickey scrunched his face in irritation as if he couldn’t believe Ian was serious.

“Oh, yeah, no, I know.” Ian nodded, “I was just kinda wondering out loud I guess.”

“You’re a fuckin’ weirdo, you know that?” Mickey huffed.

“Still wanna go out with me?” Ian asked, wiggling his eyebrows at the other man.

“Call me fuckin’ nuts, but I do.” Mickey said and Ian felt a wave of happiness surging through his body. 

He hadn’t been on a real date in forever. And he started to already like Mickey. 

This was going to be amazing, he thought.

 *

“What can I get you, gentlemen?” 

“I’ll have a beer and the pasta pomodoro, please.” Ian smiled at the waitress.

Mickey had picked a nice restaurant in walking distance from the garage that had amazing Italian food. At least the appetizer was delicious. 

Ian handed her the menu and turned his focus back to Mickey who was about to order, too.

“I’ll take a coke and the garlic salmon.”

“Of course. Can I recommend a wine that goes with that?” The waitress asked.

“No, thanks. Not for me. You want wine, Ian?” Mickey asked and Ian thought his voice sounded a bit nervous.

“No. I’m good.” He shook his head.

“Okay, then. It’ll just be a few minutes and I’ll be right back with your food.” The waitress smiled and headed towards the kitchen.

Now there was a small, awkward pause and silence between the two men, still very much strangers to each other.

Ian was the first to speak, knowing from the previous encounter with Mickey that the other man apparently sometimes struggled to find the right words - or any words at all.

“So, Mickey. I think I already know a lot about you.” Ian grinned. “You don’t own a car, you’re from the South Side and you don’t like wine. Am I correct?”

Mickey huffed out a humorless laugh, “‘S not that I don’t like wine, Gallagher. It’s that I can’t drink. Or shouldn’t.” 

Oh . Ian swallowed, realizing what Mickey was insinuating. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Ay, don’t piss yourself. It’s fine. I’m an alcoholic, so what?” Mickey waved him off.

“I’m sorry, Mickey. I didn’t know or I wouldn’t have ordered a beer.”

“Relax, man.” Mickey shook his head, “I said it’s fine. And I meant it. You’re not the first person to drink in front of me.”

“So, you’re a recovering alcoholic.” Ian said, immediately feeling stupid for stating the obvious but he felt like he just had to say it out loud.

“Yup.” Mickey nodded. “Haven’t had a drink in a year.” 

“That’s amazing, you should be really proud, Mickey.”

“Yeah, really proud.” Mickey repeated, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“I mean it. That must have been so hard for you.”

“Not really. I was in prison, so… didn’t really have a choice.”

Wow. Seemed like they were riding the honesty train here.

Ian was stunned for a second. He hadn’t expected Mickey to open up like that at all. “Thank you for telling me.” Was all he could master to get out. 

“No use hiding it, I guess.” Mickey chuckled. “And no, I didn’t have a cellmate named Bubba who protected me.”

“What?” Ian laughed, relieved that Mickey wasn’t putting up a wall.

“That’s what everyone’s always wondering.. If I was someone’s prison bitch, right?” Mickey shrugged and Ian couldn’t help but laugh even louder.

He liked Mickey.

They talked and talked and didn't even notice the time passing. Mickey told Ian about his time in prison and about his family.  Eventually the nice waitress came over and told them the restaurant was closing. The two men were stunned, they had not expected it to be so late.

“Guess we should get going, huh?” Mickey said.

Ian nodded, “Yeah. I can walk you home.” 

“Oh, no need. I’m okay.” Mickey shook his head.

“Are you sure?” Ian asked, wondering why Mickey brushed him off like that.

“Yup.” Mickey nodded.

After paying the bill, although Ian suggested they split it, they left the restaurant. Ian wanted nothing more than to take Mickey home, but he had a feeling that for some reason the other man didn't really want to.

“Okay then,” Ian said, “thank you for an awesome night.”

“My pleasure.” Mickey thumbed his nose and smiled at Ian, shyly.

Ian had no idea what possessed him but he felt a surge of adrenaline and simply leaned forward to close the distance between him and Mickey. When they lips met, the other man let out a small gasp of surprise. Mickey's lips were soft and warm and Ian loved the way the other man immediately melted into the kiss.

They moaned and groaned into each other's mouths, their tongues tangling, fighting for dominance. Just as Ian felt that this couldn't be real, that this had to be some sort of dream, some out of body experience, Mickey's hands flew around Ian's head, his hands grabbing Ian's hair, pulling him closer. He ground his lips against the redhead's mouth, the friction making Ian's brain sizzle.

“Wow,” Ian breathed as they finally broke apart.

He knew they were moving fast but he just couldn’t help himself. He bit down on his tongue and stroked his thumb over Mickey’s cheek, lightly, and over the corner of his mouth, tugging on Mickey’s lip. Ian felt the urgent thud of his pulse between his legs, and he sucked back a breath. Shit, Mickey was intoxicating. And Ian could already feel himself getting addicted.

“Fuck, you’re-” He began but couldn’t think of the right word.

“Fuckin’ hot?” Mickey chuckled.

“Yeah, that too.” Ian smiled. “But you’re also very mysterious and interesting. I already like you, you know?”

“I kinda like you too, Gallagher.” 

Chapter Text

“Shit. I can’t wait. I wanna fuck you so good, Mick.” Ian growled as they lay in his bed thirty minutes later, already naked and entangled in each other.

Damn, they were moving fast. And Mickey loved it.

“Wait a minute. Don’t fuckin’ tell me you’re a top, too?” Mickey paused the grinding and thrusting and kissing for a second and pushed Ian back a bit to look into his eyes. He didn't know Ian long. In fact, he didn’t really know him at all. But yet it felt like he already knew everything about him. Ian was like an open book, he wore his emotions on his face like a beautiful mask for everyone to see. And Mickey liked teasing him. Which was exactly what he was doing right now, enjoying Ian’s perplexed look.

“Wait. Wh- What? What do you mean ‘too’?” Ian was obviously shocked.

“You said you wanna fuck me . But look, here’s the deal, Gallagher,” Mickey scrunched his face and pressed his lips together tightly as though he was thinking hard, “I never fuckin’ bottom. Like ever.”

“Fuck! You for real?” Ian held himself up on both arms, breathing hard, Mickey still underneath him and Mickey could basically hear Ian's heart drop.

“Nah, man. Relax! Just kiddin’. Have you seen my ass? It would be a fuckin’ shame if I never bottomed, right?” Mickey chuckled and raised his eyebrow at Ian - daringly.

“Oh, fuck you!” Ian laughed and leaned down to kiss the dark-haired man deeply and passionately, pinning his wrists above his head, and when he broke the kiss, he stared down at him, playfully angry. “Damn, You really got me worried there for a sec.” He tightened the grip on Mickey’s hands. “‘Cause I really wanna fuck you, hard and deep.” He whispered and planted another kiss on Mickey’s lips, soft and slow this time. “I wanna make you scream, give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had.”

“Damn, Gallagher. Cocky much? Gotta prove it, man. Words are just words.” Mickey huffed and pulled Ian down to kiss him again.

Mickey loved the sensation of Ian grinding against him, feeling Ian’s abs and chest close, he savored every wet, warm, sloppy kiss the other man was offering.

“Oh, well. What can I say? I’ve always had a way with words, you know? But it’s my hands that do all the magic.” Ian growled against Mickey’s lips when they both came up for air. 

“Your hands, huh? What about that ten inch cock? I’m sure you can do a few magic tricks with that, Houdini?” Mickey grabbed Ian’s hard-on and gave it a few strokes.

Damn, that man was packing some serious shit.

“Not to burst your bubble or anything but it’s actually only nine inches.” Ian said playfully, fake pouting.

“What? Now that’s a fuckin’ deal breaker. Sorry, Gallagher.” 

“That so?” Ian grinned and reached for his night stand to get condoms and lube. “Just you wait.” He growled as he rolled off of Mickey to ready himself.

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me already.” Mickey was eager, he couldn’t wait. He wanted to feel Ian inside of him.

As Ian finally breached Mickey’s tight muscle a moment later, Ian growled, “Fuck! You feel amazing. Can you take more?”

“Yes!” Mickey moaned, his fingers digging into Ian’s hips, urging him to go deeper, his body already damp with sweat from the previous make out session. “Fuck me already, Gallagher.”

Ian smiled and eased into Mickey slowly and gradually at first until Mickey was sure the other man was as eager as himself because Ian finally sank as deep as his body allowed, “Jesus fuck!” The redhead groaned, bending down, he held the weight of his body with his forearms and kissed Mickey. He then rolled his hips with lazy thrusts, drawing out each second until Mickey’s teeth were at Ian’s lips growling for him to move faster.

Ian pushed Mickey’s knees back with his hands, earning another inch inside the other man, he pulled out and dropped his eyes, watching as he slammed back into Mickey, the room filled with their groans, the room filled with the scent of them.

Ian pushed into Mickey so deep, in and out, the other man’s knees bent towards his own shoulders and Mickey couldn’t breathe, he couldn't do anything really but roll his hips against Ian’s cock and enjoy the insane feeling. He let his eyes roll back into his head and moaned out loud. “Fuuuck! Ian, you feel so good. I can’t, I’m gonna- Fuuuck.”

Ian could feel he was close, too. “Fuck! It’s like your ass is made for taking me, Mick. I’ve never- this is just-” he breathed but couldn’t finish the sentence because Mickey pushed himself up to claim Ian’s lips once again and engage in a hot, wet, sloppy kiss.

“Come with me.” Mickey moaned against the other man’s lips as he felt he couldn't take anymore of this incredible sensation of Ian’s cock deep inside him, filling him up to the brim, hitting just the right spot over and over again.

Each of them racing after their own heart beat, Mickey came with Ian’s name on his lips a second later, and sucked in a breath as Ian blew his load, too. When Ian finally  pulled out and fell on top of him, they were both panting hard, sticky with cum and endlessly happy.

"That was absolutely fuckin’ insane." Mickey growled after a few seconds in which the breathing of the two men seemed to be the only sound in the world and Mickey felt like he was unconscious, just floating around in time and space.

Ian seemed to feel the same. He didn’t say a word but when he seemed to finally regain his consciousness he rolled off Mickey completely and looked lovingly at the other man. "You're amazing, Mick. I’ve never come this hard. Fuck, I don’t even know what that was.” His fingers trailed the small drops of sweat forming on Mickey’s collarbone and chest.

“Me neither, man.” Mickey groaned, his eyes still closed, his voice raspy as if he had  just woken up. “I never come untouched. Your dick really is a fuckin’ magic stick or some shit.” He smirked and his eyes fluttered open to look at the man next to him. “Oh, fuck you. Wipe that annoyingly proud look off your face,” Mickey chuckled as he watched Ian smirk and his chest swell with pride. He pushed Ian’s legs, that are still intertwined with his own, off of him. “Fuckin’ sex god.”

“Happy to be of service,” Ian smiled cockily and swung his legs off the bed. “Shit, I feel like your ass paralyzed me.” He stood up, his legs still wobbly from the mind blowing orgasm.

“Happy to be of service.” Mickey grinned.

“Haha. You're funny. Gotta clean myself up and get rid of that thing,” Ian pointed to the filled condom, “And then I’m gonna make you suck my dick.”

“Can’t fuckin’ wait.” Mickey threw a small pillow at Ian but missed him by a few inches. They both laughed. This was perfect. How were they so perfect together? How was this even really happening? 

Mickey felt happy. Happier than he had in a very long time.

And yet he knew this was all gonna go to shit once Ian found out the truth.

Why did he have to rob Ian? Why did he always have to screw everything up?

Mickey knew he had to tell him, but he also just didn’t wanna ruin this perfect moment of togetherness they had just shared.

So, when Ian came back, instead of coming clean and telling him everything, Mickey said, “look, I gotta go, man. Sorry.” 

And then Mickey did what he did best in situations he couldn’t handle. He ran.

*

Ian (11.23 p.m.): Hey Mickey, you awake?

Mickey (11.30 p.m.): Nope.

Ian (11.30 p.m.): Idiot. 🤓

Mickey (11.31 p.m.): Never said I wasn’t. What’s up?

Ian (11.31 p.m.): I can’t sleep. Crazy night!

Mickey (11.31 p.m.): Crazy, huh? Why is that? Hot date?

Mickey (11.32 p.m.): And can’t sleep either.

Ian (11.32 p.m.): I know, I saw you were online.

Mickey (11.33 p.m.): Stalk much?

Ian (11.33 p.m.): So, we gonna talk about it or what?

Mickey (11.33 p.m.): About what? That you’re my stalker?

Ian (11.34 p.m.): Haha. You’re very funny! No, about the fact that I just blew your mind.

Ian (11.34 p.m.): And about the fact that you’re not in my bed right now. Why did you leave? 😭

Mickey (11.35 p.m.): You’re SO dramatic.

Ian (11.35 p.m.): Never said I wasn’t. 😋

Ian (11.36 p.m.): Why’d you leave, Mickey?

Mickey thought about it for a second.

He couldn’t think of a good enough reason other than, ‘because I was the one who fucking robbed you. Because I was the one who held you at gunpoint. Because I’m a fucking failure and a drug addict who will only hurt you and make you miserable.’

But of course he knew he couldn’t write that. But he still wanted to be honest - he wanted to be honest about his feelings with Ian.

And he already had feelings for Ian. That much Mickey knew. So he started typing.

Mickey (11.40 p.m.): ‘Cause I knew that if I didn't, I'd never leave.

And then Mickey turned off his phone and went to bed, hating himself more than he probably ever had, wishing he could just down a bottle of vodka and forget about everything. The only thing that kept him from following his M.O and giving in was Ian's smile that kept popping up in his mind, Ian's scent that still lingered on him like a perfume and the delicious soreness that Ian had left deep inside him.

Mickey wanted to be better. For himself. And for Ian.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were like a fever dream - or at least it felt that way to Ian. Mickey and he were now officially together, 'whatever the hell that meant' - Mickey's words, not Ian's.

But even though they went out to dinner, the movies and basically fucked all over Chicago, Mickey never stayed the night. And it was beginning to bug Ian. A lot.

So tonight he decided to confront Mickey.

They were still in bed after an afternoon of blowjobs, playstation and still getting to know each other.

“Fuck, I’m exhausted.” Mickey chuckled and rolled off of Ian. “I think that was the sixth blowie I gave you.”

Ian smiled. “I need a break, too.” 

“You already tired of me, huh?”

“Not at all. In fact I want you to stay the night.”

“Uhm, I gotta meet Larry early in the morning. He said he’s got a potential job for me.” Mickey shook his head. “So I should probably get going.”

“Of fucking course you do.” Ian sighed and the sarcasm in his voice wasn’t lost on Mickey.

“Anything you wanna get off your chest there, Gallagher?”

“Honestly? There is.” Ian sat up in bed. “Why do you never wanna stay with me, Mick?”

“I told you. Got shit to do.” Mickey thumbed his nose.“You can get shit done here.” Ian raised his eyebrow daringly.

“No, actually I can’t. See,” Mickey pointed to Ian’s semi hard cock. “You’re always fuckin’ distracting me.”

“I’m serious, Mickey.” Ian sighed, using the blanket to cover up his in fact semi hard cock. He couldn’t help it. Whenever Mickey was around, he was horny as fuck.

“So am I.” Mickey huffed.

“Mickey!”

“Ian!”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t really wanna move forward.” Ian said, trying to not sound as desperate as he was feeling by now.

“Move forward? Move forward to what? What the hell are you talking about, Gallagher? We just had a fuckfest.”

“Yeah. And we’ve been doing this for a few weeks now. And I really like it. And I really like you. I just wanna know we’re on the same track here, I guess.” Ian ran a hand through his messy morning hair.

“We are!” Mickey said a little louder.

"Are we though?" Ian shrugged and held his hands up in question. "You don't even wanna stay with me for more than a couple of hours and I don't understand why you're avoiding this." He gestured between them.

“I’m not avoiding shit, Red.” Mickey huffed, now clearly annoyed.

Red. Red?

A shiver ran down Ian’s back.

Red.

Where had he heard that nickname before?

“You’re making a big deal out of fuckin’ nothing.” Mickey swung his legs off the bed and stood up, almost tripping over Kaz, who quickly made himself scarce.

Mickey was avoiding something. That much Ian knew. Mickey never wanted him to come over to his place. He never introduced him to any of his friends. Ian didn’t even really know if Mickey had any. In fact, he didn’t really know much about the other man, did he?

Red.

Red?

Red!

Ian suddenly remembered where he had heard that nickname before. And it made his stomach drop. 

The masked thug. 

The gangster who robbed him had used that name. 

Mickey.

Ian felt sick to his stomach. “What did you just call me?” He asked Mickey and stood up, too.

“What?” Mickey cocked his head. 

“I said, what did you just call me, Mickey?”

“I don’t know, man.” Mickey grabbed his shirt and put it on, avoiding meeting Ian’s eyes.

“You called me Red.” Ian said, his voice a low growl. Could this be? Was it just a bad coincidence that Mickey had called him Red?

“I did?” Mickey thumbed his nose while looking for his pants on the floor. “Didn’t even notice.”

“Mickey!” Ian grabbed Mickey’s arm to make the other man look at him. “Why the hell did you call me that? You’ve never used that name before.”

“Shit, Gallagher! Why the fuck does it matter? If you hate it, I won’t use it anymore.”

“It’s just-” Ian’s voice cracked. How the hell was this happening? He tried to remember what the thug looked like. But he was all masked up so Ian didn’t really see anything. 

But his physique? 

His height? 

His posture? 

They somehow all fit Mickey’s.

Ian suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. His throat felt like someone was choking him. Hard.

“Why did you come and ask me out that day in the garage?” He asked as he sat back down on the bed. His voice was barely a whisper but he knew Mickey had heard him because the other man suddenly turned to stone.

“I don’t know? What is this? Twenty fuckin’ questions?” Mickey blinked a few times and Ian could tell he was uncomfortable as shit.

But Ian just had to know. Even if he feared Mickey’s answer. Adrenaline rushed through his veins when he finally asked, “That wasn't the first day we met, right?”

“I don’t know. I might’ve seen your ass around once or twice. I mean, it’s the fuckin’ South Side. So, who the hell knows?” Mickey said, still avoiding looking at Ian. “Look, man. If you’re done with your questions, can I go now? I really got shit to do.”

Ian couldn’t believe Mickey was acting like this. What the hell was going on here?

But he wasn’t letting Mickey’s behavior distract him from his mission to find out.

“That day wasn’t the first day we met, ‘cause you were the one who robbed me, Mickey.” Ian said in a stern voice. He wasn’t even asking a question. He just stated his suspicion.

Mickey dropped his phone he was just about to put in his pocket and this time, his eyes met Ian’s in a matter of nanoseconds.

So it was true. 

Ian swallowed hard. But the lump in his throat was only getting bigger and bigger.

“What the hell, Mickey?” Was all he could get out. He felt his hands and legs shaking as he stood up from the bed again, facing Mickey.

Mickey’s nostrils were flaring but he didn’t say a word. 

Ian was beginning to feel furious. Mickey had robbed him? Mickey? Who he had fucked only hours ago? 

“Look, Gallagher-” Mickey started but was interrupted by Ian’s loud voice. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Mickey?” He yelled, his army green eyes darkening into a shade that almost made them look like they were brown.

“I- Let me just-” Mickey stammered, breathing hard now. 

“Oh my fucking God!” Ian covered his face with his hands. “What the hell was that between us then? Just some sick kind of game?”

“No. Look, Ian…”

“No, Mickey. You look. I want you to pack your shit and get the hell out of my apartment.” Ian grabbed Mickey’s arm again and pushed him out the bedroom door.

“Fuck,” Mickey tried to get out of Ian’s grip. “Can you just listen to me for one fuckin’ minute?”

“You had weeks, Mickey! Weeks! You could’ve told me. This is so sick.” Ian spat out and pushed Mickey forward. “I don’t wanna listen to any more lies. Just get the fuck out!”

“Ian,” Mickey’s eyes were pleading now.

"I said get the fuck out!" Ian shouted, opening his apartment door to shove Mickey through. Then, without hesitation or thought, he slammed the door shut and Mickey was gone.

What the fuck just happened? Ian felt like hyperventilating. This couldn’t be real. He tumbled back to the bedroom to grab his phone from the nightstand. He had to talk to someone. He had to talk to his brother.

___

It had been two weeks since Ian kicked Mickey out of his apartment. Two weeks where Mickey didn’t reach out to Ian other than sending one text message.

Mickey (11.38 p.m.): I’m sorry.

He had sent it the same night Ian had kicked him out. And Ian had stared at the message ever since. Just two simple words. Two words. When Ian needed to hear a million. Two words that might have meant a lot to Mickey, but Ian was just too angry and disappointed to react.

Instead, Ian tried to keep busy with work. He needed to process. He needed to keep his hands busy. Busy from calling Mickey and making the other man explain everything to him. But right now, Ian was still just too angry to listen to any excuses or explanations.

Today, he was working on a car with his brother who had helped him a lot in the past two weeks. But today Ian couldn't concentrate on his work. He felt himself staring off in the distance, wondering about how he could have been so blind.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Lip asked, interrupting Ian’s thoughts. Lip took a long pull on his cigarette while he proceeded to unbolting the Impala’s engine from the transmission bell housing.

“I am, yeah.” Ian nodded and ran a hand through his messy, soot smeared hair. It was no lie. Even if it hurt. He knew he had fallen in love with Mickey . Probably the minute the other man stepped foot in the garage. But then that hadn’t been the first time he had seen Mickey - only he hadn’t known at the time. The pit in his stomach grew.

Lip blew out a breath. “So you do love him. And love isn’t a noun, Ian. It’s a fucking verb. Maybe you can’t always choose who you fall in love with, but it’s a choice to wake up every morning and love the one you’re with, to be there for them and do whatever it takes to put their needs right up there front and center with your own.” He went silent, and Ian really didn’t know what to say anymore. “But for addicts like Mickey,” Lip continued after a moment, “it’s hard. They can be selfish fucks. Plus, sometimes they have their weak moments.” 

Ian glanced at him. “Yeah, but that doesn’t-”

“But that doesn’t mean Mickey isn’t as much in love with you as you’re with him, man.” Lip cut him off and Ian cursed his brother’s wise soul for the hundredth time since they started talking about Mickey.

He knew his brother was right. He needed to give Mickey a chance. He needed to talk to him.

Lip raised an eyebrow. “Mickey’s weak moment was probably when he robbed you. But keep in mind that he didn’t know you at the time.” 

Ian put down the wrench and let out a deep sigh.

“And you didn’t know shit about him. So the question here is, are you gonna think of Mickey as the thug that held a gun to your face or the man you’ve gotten to know the past few weeks and the man you’ve fallen in love with?”

“I don’t know, Lip. It’s not that easy. He lied to me.”

“Like I said, it’s a choice.” Lip shrugged and continued working on the car. “You just gotta make it, brother.”

“I want him back.” Ian said and the realization that this was really true hit him like a freight train. He wanted Mickey back. No matter what.

And it was fucking with his mind. How could he want someone back that had lied to him? How could he want someone back that robbed him and held him at gunpoint?

The answer was simple. Ian was just scared to admit it to himself. 

Because it was Mickey.

Simple as that. 

Because Ian had never felt this way about anyone before. 

Because he was in love.

Chapter Text

“Argh, Fuck!” Mickey growled and rolled to the other side of the bed to grab his phone from the nightstand. Stupid, annoying phone! Who the hell was calling him at this hour? 

He didn’t wanna get up. He had nothing to look forward to. Ever since Ian kicked him out a couple of weeks ago. 

“Yeah?” Mickey picked up the annoyingly ringing phone. 

“Mickey! It’s Larry! Great news, buddy. I have a job for you.” 

Mickey groaned. He liked Larry but the guy was way too chipper for seven o’ clock in the morning.

“Oh, Yeah? That’s great, Larry. But did you have to tell me in the middle of the fuckin’ night?”

“I did. You have to go to an interview, son.”

Mickey hated that Larry called him that but he tolerated it since his parole officer was a really good guy.

“Okay, alright. I’m going. When is it?” Mickey asked.

“Nine. Don’t be late. I’ll text you the address. And Mickey?” Larry paused. 

“What?”

“Get the job this time, alright?” 

“I’ll do my best.” Mickey growled, ended the call and immediately thought of Ian. How many times had he used Larry or a job interview as an excuse to get Ian off his back when his boyfriend was begging him to stay the night. 

Mickey rubbed both hands over his face. He hated himself. And he hated that Ian hadn’t texted him back. 

To be fair, Mickey had been too afraid to call him, too afraid of the words that Ian might spat in his face - even though he was sure he deserved all of them. 

So he had been a coward and only sent Ian a text. Actually Mickey had texted him many times but had deleted most of them before hitting send.

He had also walked past the garage every day, hoping to run into Ian by accident and at the same time fearing that he would. He didn’t know what to say, how to explain. The truth was, Mickey was an addict, a liar and a thief and there was no excuse in the world that would make Ian forgive and forget that. 

To sum it up, Mickey was a total mess. He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep and he didn’t even want to get up. And all because he had fallen head over heels in love with Ian Gallagher and fucked it all up.

*

“Fuckin’ great.” Mickey mumbled to himself as he arrived at the address Larry had texted him two hours later. He looked at the huge, gray building in front of him, the SouthSide animal shelter. 

Mickey could hear multiple dogs barking, some sounded aggressive, some just really desperate and scared. He sighed. Of course. He understood. They were in fucking prison. And Mickey knew there were only two types of emotions when locked up.

Either angry - aggressive or desperate and scared shitless.

“Mickey Milkovich?” A friendly looking blonde came out of the shelter and down the stairs to greet Mickey.

“In the flesh.” Mickey took the hand of the woman who was reaching out.

“Welcome to Triple S!” The blonde cooed. “I’m Olivia. I’m gonna show you the ropes.” She chuckled.

And Mickey instantly liked her.

Olivia gave Mickey a tour of the shelter for the next thirty minutes, showing him everything he needed to know to work there.

"This is where the big, harder-to-place dogs are housed." Olivia pointed to a row of large kennels lined up next to each other, mostly housing dogs that looked like pit bulls and Mickey felt for them. They all looked sad and broken - probably like he did, too.

"And this is where we house the so-called placement-ready dogs." Olivia opened one of the smaller kennels and knelt down to pet the dog housed there. "This here is Maddox. He's a street dog who has probably never lived with a family. Still, he's quite a sweet soul. I hope someone gives him a forever home soon."

Mickey also knelt down and looked at Maddox. The little dog immediately reminded him of Kaz, and Mickey had to swallow the instant lump in his throat. 

Maddox licked in delicate, long strokes over Mickey's hand. His tongue was warm and rough, but tender at the same time. Mickey's heart began to pound for the first time in weeks. He felt it in his chest again for the first time since Ian had kicked him out. This small, disheveled dog in front of him made Mickey feel more alive than he had in weeks.

And the constant urge to use drugs that Mickey had been suppressing for the past few weeks and days was suddenly gone. Mickey felt at ease for the first time.

"He seems to really like you." Olivia patted Mickey on the back. "Have you ever thought about adopting a dog?"

“Not really.” Mickey shrugged, still petting Maddox. But he knew that that was a lie. Ever since he had met Kaz, he had thought about adopting a dog as well. He had fallen in love with Kaz as much as he had with Ian. And he admired the bond Ian and his dog shared for it was nothing Mickey had ever seen before. 

“I think you two would make a lovely pair.” Olivia grinned. “Maddox has been here since forever. He’s estimated to be around ten years old but as you can see,” her smile grew wider as she took the small dog in, “he’s in very good shape.”

“Yeah, you’re a cute fucker.” Mickey scratched the dog’s ears and Maddox let out a loud sigh that had both Olivia and Mickey laughing. 

“Well, we should probably get to work now. You can visit Maddox later when it’s time for his walkies.” Olivia got up and patted her thighs to get rid of the enormous amount of dog hair Maddox had left.

“‘K,” Mickey gave the dog one last cuddle, “I’ll be back later, buddy.” The dog let out a small whimper when Mickey got up as well. And the sound went straight to Mickey’s heart. What the hell was happening here? He wondered. He had never reacted to any animal like this before. 

“He’s a really special guy.” Olivia stated as if she had read Mickey’s mind. “Okay, let’s get you working.” She chuckled and closed the kennel. Mickey knew he would definitely be back for Maddox.

*

A week into his new job, he was exhausted. Mickey was athletic and had stamina, but he also knew that years of drug use had damaged his body - not to mention his time in prison, which had certainly done its part.

He had spent the entire week cleaning kennels, carrying heavy bags of dog food, providing the dogs with fresh water, and scouring the shelter's large backyard for dog poop. And he had been walking Maddox - a lot.

He had also become familiar with the shelter's small animal department, cutting and preparing fresh fruits and vegetables for the countless rabbits and guinea pigs.

This morning, Mickey was on a much needed walk with his new best friend. He had been up all night, thinking about how he could fix things with Ian - how he could be a better man for Ian. For himself.

So he had told Olivia that he needed to go for a walk first to clear his head. And that he would do all his chores after that. Thankfully, Olivia had agreed and told him to come back when he was ready. The two of them had grown closer in the past week, and Mickey's instant liking for her had become something of a beginning of a friendship. And Mickey didn’t have many friends. So he was glad he had landed that job and met Olivia. 

Mickey's feet took him straight to Ian's garage, just like the days before.

He couldn't help it. He wanted to see Ian. And like all the other days before, he had thought of the perfect thing to say to him. I'm sorry. I love you. I want to be better. Please forgive me.

Maddox was sniffing a bush across the street from the workshop and Mickey was watching Ian's garage closely. The big door was closed, but he could hear a machine running inside, so he knew Ian was there. And even though he couldn't see him, he felt him.

And it crushed Mickey. 

It crushed him to know that he had hurt Ian, the only person he ever really cared about besides his sister. It crushed him to think about the possibility that Ian would never forgive him. And most of all, it crushed him that he had been that person. The person who held another human being at gunpoint just to get some money. A chill ran down Mickey's spine. He didn't want to be that man anymore. He wanted to be better and he wanted Ian back.

Suddenly, a loud, excited bark interrupted Mickey’s thoughts and a second later he realized that Kaz was chasing across the street to greet him and Maddox. And before Mickey could even process anything, he saw Ian exiting the garage and running after his dog, calling out for him. “Kaz! Stop! Get back here, I’ve had it with-” He stopped mid sentence and came to a halt in front of Mickey, a shocked look on his face. Meanwhile Kaz was befriending Maddox, both dogs wagging their tails excitedly.

“Mickey?” Ian asked perplexed, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the short sprint.

"Hey," Mickey thumbed his nose nervously. After weeks, he was finally face to face with Ian again - and it seemed his vocal cords had spontaneously paralyzed.

"You're not here to rob me, are you?" Ian demanded and the question shook Mickey to the core. He couldn't figure out if Ian was being honest or if there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Either way, Mickey felt as though his heart stopped beating for a minute straight before he could say anything.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Ian. I- I just-”

“I know that, Mick. But can we not do this here, please?” Ian sighed and ran a hand through his messy, soot smeared hair. 

Mickey’s heart stung. He loved seeing Ian in his element, his hot, dirty mechanic.

At least Mickey hoped Ian was still his.

“And what are you even doing here?” Ian kneeled down to pick up Kaz who was jumping up and down at his feet. “Looks like he missed you.” He said and looked up at Mickey. 

And I missed you! Mickey wanted to scream but no words came out. 

“Mickey?” Ian asked and stood up, Kaz now in his arms.

“Yeah, I’m- you know, I got a job. I’m working at Triple S now.”

“That’s awesome, Mick. I’m happy for you.” Ian smiled slightly.

"Can we talk, Ian?" Mickey asked, his heart plummeting like an elevator whose cables had been cut. "Please." He added hesitantly.

Ian looked at him for the longest time without saying anything. Then he inhaled deeply and let the air flow back out through his half open mouth as though he had to think about Mickey’s request before he said, "Yeah. Yeah, we can. But not here." He looked around, "Come on." He gestured towards the end of the street, "Let's go to my place and talk there.”

“Can I bring him?” Mickey looked down at Maddox who looked up at him with the biggest, pleading puppy eyes.

“Of course.” Ian nodded, “he yours?”

“No. He’s from the shelter. But I’m actually thinking of keeping him.”

“Really?” Ian asked and they began walking to his apartment.

"Yeah, this lil’ guy has apparently made me open my heart to furry mutts." Mickey pointed at Kaz and reached out to scratch the little dog behind his ears. He remembered how much Kaz enjoyed that and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to snuggle on the couch with Ian and the dogs.

As soon as Ian closed the door behind them, the dogs chased each other through the hallway into the kitchen where they began playing with some of Kaz’ toys.

Ian led Mickey into the living room, the air was thick with tension and Mickey could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. “Ian- I-” He began once they sat down at the sofa. 

“No, let me, please.” Ian cut him off. 

“‘K.” Mickey nodded, swallowing hard, preparing himself for whatever Ian might say to him.

“I’m pissed, Mickey. I’m so fucking pissed I wanna punch you.” Ian began, his voice shaky as if he was trying to contain his emotions. “I’m so fucking pissed you did such a stupid, fucked up thing and I’m furious that you lied to me.” Ian stood up and began pacing. “You held a fucking gun to my head and then you weaseled your way into my life, into my heart and-” his voice broke. 

“I’m-” Mickey tried to apologize again but Ian didn’t let him.

“No, you don’t just get to say you’re sorry again, Mick. I’m not finished.” Ian shook his head and held up one hand to stop Mickey. “That's all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks. I thought, how could Mickey, my Mickey do something like that? How could he lie to me for weeks? And then I got even more pissed at you.” Ian stopped and looked at Mickey, his stern look softening when their eyes met. “And then the craziest thing happened,” He said, his voice softening, too. “You know what happened after days of contemplating and thinking about how fucked up you are?”

“No.” Mickey said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I fucking missed you!” Ian huffed. “And I hated myself for it. I missed you so much I slept in the shirt you forgot the night I kicked you out.”

Mickey's heart began racing. Ian had missed him. Maybe there was hope yet.

He stood up as well. “I’m so sorry, Ian. Please forgive me. I know I hurt you so much, but I swear I’ll never ever do something that’s gonna hurt you again.”

“You can’t promise that.” Ian shook his head. 

“I can try.” Mickey shrugged. “I’m really fuckin’ trying Ian. It’s been so hard-” His voice broke.

“I know.” Ian nodded slowly. “The worst.” He sighed, and it was almost like he was defeated by his own emotions, like he was giving in to them.

“I missed you so much.” Mickey took one step towards Ian. Then another. And another.

"I missed you too." Ian admitted and grabbed Mickey's waist to pull him closer, closing the remaining distance between them. “C’mere.” He breathed.

When they were finally in each other’s arms, the dam inside Mickey broke and all those feelings he had held at bay for years consumed him. He let everything out. All his losses, his pain, his regrets, the anguish he had felt the past few weeks without Ian. He suddenly cried so hard he couldn't catch his breath, squeezing Ian tighter, fearing he'd be gone if he let go. 

Ian kissed his temple and shushed him, stroking Mickey’s hair as he nuzzled deep into his neck and his own tears wet Mickey’s skin. “It’s okay, Mick. It’s okay. I forgive you. We can figure this out.”

“Fuck, I missed you.” Mickey whispered.

And then they were kissing. It was tentative at first, they were both careful - it had been weeks. But slow and cautious lasted all of ten seconds. Then Mickey took Ian’s head between his hands and groaned as he parted his lips and their tongues found each other again, the scratch of Mickey’s unshaven cheeks sending a thrill buzzing through Ian’s body. 

Suddenly everything became more frantic. Almost four weeks of absence, of yearning, made them unable to keep their hands off each other. They fell onto the couch together, relieved, laughing into their kiss. 

Ian’s weight pinned Mickey down, almost crushing him as he rocked his hips, grinding their lower halves together with an urgency born of separation.

It had only been a couple of weeks but for Mickey it had felt like an eternity. 

He was with Ian now. Ian was on top of him. And everything was right in the world.

In fact, everything was even better.

The reunion sex was different from what Mickey had expected it to be after what had happened. Instead of some desperate, anger-fueled frenzy or some brutal tug-of-war, it was like jumping off a cliff - together. Like plummeting into a space where nothing existed except them. 

Ian and Mickey.

It was like falling… deep. Deep into something Mickey had never been able to understand until he was right in the middle of it. Until he was in it. It wasn’t just what he felt for Ian or what Ian felt for him. It wasn’t just being in love. It was what they became together. It was what they already were to each other and what they became in one another’s arms. Something Mickey knew they could never be without each other and something that didn’t exist outside this space they created for themselves. Something that just had to be, that maybe was meant to be, something that was so right, Mickey couldn’t have launched any kind of battle against it if he had tried.

His love for Ian was like a new passion for Mickey, but this time, it was a good one. A healthy one. One, that kept Mickey alive and made him wanna be a better man. It was nothing like a drug addiction. It was not some unhealthy, fucked-up obsession that Mickey had zero power over, that would drive him into an early grave. 

It was something Mickey knew he was strong enough to know he could walk away from and he would survive on his own. But he didn’t want to, because his life was better when they were together.

Right now, Mickey wanted Ian more than he had ever wanted another man before, and he hoped to the Gods Ian was ready. 

He had had a lot of restless nights lately, and as much as he told himself it was all for the best… he had missed Ian like this, the intimacy of his face this close to his own, the feel of Ian’s breath on his skin and the warmth of Ian’s hands on his body. The look in his green eyes, his pupils dilating as he looked at Mickey. This lust-charged space between them. The indescribable bone-deep, soul-deep magnetic pull. They had been sucked into each other’s orbits the day they crossed paths, and they were still going around and around. And neither of them could explain why.

Mickey wondered if they would ever stop? No . He just couldn’t imagine that ever happening. He didn’t want it to ever happen. And he would do everything in his power from  now on to never be separated from Ian again.

Digging indents into Ian’s shoulders at the sheer magnitude of his release, Mickey grunted and Ian slammed home over and over until his body stilled, stiffened and he growled his release, filling the condom. Their eyes locked, their limbs trembled and sweat trickled down their temples as they breathed heavily, Ian’s heart racing in time with Mickey’s.

“I fuckin’ love you.” Mickey whispered once they were both coming down from their orgasm high and cuddling in each other’s arms.

“I love you.” Ian breathed and pulled Mickey closer to his chest.

And for the first time in his life, Mickey felt utterly, completely and totally seen. 

And loved for exactly who he was. 

Mickey.

Undone. 

Unbroken. 

Unmasked.