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supernatural-quotes · 2 years

Text

Slept With Someone (destiel)

Summary: Ian/Mickey gay slash; my version of their first time in 1×07

Wow this took me longer to write than I thought it would. I have such a short attention span when writing smut. I kept getting distracted. xD Anyway, I hope you enjoy it~ As always, please read and review~ :D

If you don't like it, give me constructive criticism. I can take it. owo;;

It happened so fast that Ian almost couldn't process it. As soon as Mickey's eyes met his with a look of pure lust, they both suddenly knew what was going to happen.

The tire iron fell to the ground with a loud clang, and Mickey grabbed at his shirt, ripping it off. Ian hurriedly pushed Mickey off of him so he could pull at his own clothes.

If Ian had stopped for a minute to think, he would have realized that this was a really fucking bad idea. This was Mickey fucking Milkovich: there was a whole list of reasons why he shouldn't be doing this.

But all of Ian's common sense flew out the window when Mickey shimmied out of his boxers and dropped them on the floor, smirking confidently at him. Ian couldn't take his eyes off of Mickey as he frantically fumbled with shoving his own pants down.

He never would have expected the neighborhood thug who was always covered in dirt to look so fucking hot.

Ian finally took off his own boxers, leaving them both completely naked. Mickey leaned back on the bed, biting his lip admiringly at the sight of Ian's hard dick. He wasn't disappointed with what he saw.

As Ian climbed onto the bed to join him, Mickey leaned over to his bedside table to grab a bottle of lube and a condom from the top drawer.

Ian wanted desperately to touch and kiss every inch of Mickey that he could, but he held back. Honestly, Ian expected Mickey to be the one to take control. Mickey seemed way too macho to be okay with being the one on bottom.

Ian never really enjoyed taking it in the ass (he'd tried it out of curiosity a few times with Roger Spikey and once with Kash), but he was too horny to be in the mood to argue. He waited for Mickey to throw him down and get on top.

But instead, Mickey tossed him the condom. "Put it on," the brunette ordered.

Ian raised his eyebrows in surprise, but Mickey ignored him, popping open the cap of the bottle of lube and squirting the substance onto his own fingers. He quickly shoved a lubed finger inside of himself. Ian grinned, his dick twitching at the realization that he was really about to top Mickey Milkovich.

He watched, transfixed, as Mickey finger-fucked himself, shoving in another finger and scissoring them to stretch out his own hole.

It sure seemed like Mickey knew what the fuck he was doing.

The brunette didn't show any signs of shame or embarrassment at being so exposed right in front of Ian's eyes, he just concentrated on moving his own fingers inside of himself. His breathing became shallower each time his fingers brushed further inside.

Ian hastily tore open the condom and tossed the wrapper aside. He jerked his cock a few times to make sure it was fully hard before carefully rolling on the condom.

Mickey pulled his fingers out once he was satisfied that he'd been prepared enough. He looked expectantly at Ian.

"Get over here," he said to Ian with a seductive smile, daring him to make a move.

Ian grabbed Mickey's legs and pulled his whole body closer. He pushed Mickey's thighs up and spread them apart to get better access, before rubbing the head of his cock against Mickey's sensitive opening.

Ian positioned himself against the rim of his ass before slowly pressing inside. Mickey grunted and his body tensed in resistance at first to the intrusion, but it didn't take long before Ian was able to slide deeper into him more easily.

Ian sighed contently at the feeling of Mickey's heat surrounding his cock. Despite his sudden urge to move, he waited to let Mickey adjust. Mickey's whole body shivered in pleasure underneath him. If he was experiencing much pain, he sure wasn't showing it.

"I expected you to be tighter," Ian commented as he slowly pulled out and thrusted back inside.

"I ain't no fuckin' virgin, if that's what you mean," Mickey grumbled, sounding annoyed. "Now get a fucking move on."

Ian took the hint and shut up, pushing inside farther. Mickey's eyebrows knitted together, and he emitted a low hiss of approval.

Ian became more confident with each thrust. He pushed in and out, in and out, shoving his dick farther and farther inside of the boy underneath him until he was buried to the hilt.

Ian was amazed at how different it was fucking Mickey.

He knew that Kash liked being with him, but sometimes Kash made being on bottom seem like a chore. It seemed like every time they fucked, Kash always had a painful grimace on his face. Ian always had to be careful not to hurt him.

Mickey, on the other hand, loved every second of it. His eyes fluttered closed, and he bit his lip to stifle the grunts of ecstasy that threatened to escape from him every time Ian hammered into him. Ian couldn't help admiring the look of absolute need on Mickey's face.

It didn't take long for Ian to find out that Mickey loved to be manhandled and thoroughly fucked. He liked to be pounded and dominated until he could no longer see straight. But despite loving to be on bottom, he was actually completely selfish in bed. He liked to be pampered and his every whim catered to. And if Ian didn't get off from fucking him the way that he wanted him to fuck, then it was his own goddamn problem.

Ian ran his hands over Mickey's hard muscles, touching and grasping at the shorter boy desperately. He leaned down to kiss and bite and suck a wet trail over the skin on Mickey's neck.

He pulled back, hovering over Mickey's lips. He wanted to kiss him. But Mickey suddenly interrupted him before he could lean down to press their lips together.

"Quit bein' such a fuckin pussy and pound me harder!" he hissed impatiently.

Ian obeyed gladly. He hooked his arm under Mickey's leg to keep it in the air, before quickening his pace. He jackhammered in and out of the boy beneath him. His ass shook with the intensity of his thrusts. The bed bounced up and down.

Mickey tried his best to stifle his moans, but he wasn't doing a very good job. He threw his head back and sobbed out a cry of satisfaction. He panted and gasped for breath.

Ian chuckled at him before slowing down and pulling out.

"What the fuck, Gallagher?" Mickey whined in disappointment. He immediately missed the feeling of having Ian inside of him.

"Turn around," Ian commanded. "Get on your hands and knees. Maybe you won't be so fucking loud if I shove your face into the mattress." Mickey wasted no time arguing. He flipped over and got into position, keening blissfully when he felt Ian mount him and push into him again from behind.

Ian immediately got back into rhythm, sliding in and out of Mickey over and over again. The brunette backed up against every thrust with one of his own.

Ian's hands gripped Mickey's hips hard enough to leave bruises, pushing and pulling Mickey's body onto his dick. Mickey's eyes rolled back into his head in appreciation. "Oh fuckkk," he moaned.

Ian shoved Mickey down so that his ass was in the air and his upper half was pressed against the bed. The brunette smiled, groaning and shaking his hips for more.

It was almost slutty how much it was apparent that he enjoyed cock.

"Shitfuckingchist, Gallag... ugh..." Ian hit Mickey's prostate full force, causing him to shout happily in surprise. He squirmed beneath Ian, moving back and matching every thrust.

Ian's hips smacked against Mickey's thighs, causing Mickey's whole body to rock forward and the bed to creak. The headboard banged against the wall.

Ian was making a complete mess of Mickey. The smaller boy groaned loudly into his bedsheets. He attempted to muffle his own noises by pressing his mouth to the back of his hand.

But honestly, they were being way too careless. They were extremely lucky that Mickey's dad was still completely unaware, passed out drunk on the couch in the living room.

Ian could feel himself about to reach the edge. He could tell that Mickey was getting close too. Ian rammed into that special spot inside of him, and fuck - it made Mickey see stars.

"Hnnghh... ohgod... ugh..." Mickey growled. "I'm..." Ian could feel Mickey contract around him as he came, his white semen spurting over the bed. Ian slammed in harder one last time before he too erupted deep within Mickey.

Ian breathed heavily and lazily pulled out of Mickey, rolling over and sighing in satisfaction and contentment.

After taking a moment to compose himself, he pulled off the condom, tying the end in a tight knot and tossing it in the trash.

Mickey pulled the covers over both of them, before laying back and trying to catch his breath. He didn't say a word.

They both just lay silently and came down from their high.

Ian grinned. He'd never really liked Mickey that much before, but one thing was for sure: Mickey was a goddamn excellent lay.

He didn't really see a future with Mickey, but he still hoped that they could continue getting off together. He couldn't wait to fuck him again.

In that moment, Ian had no clue what hanging out with Mickey would lead to. There was no way he could have predicted it.

Sleeping with Mickey would turn out to be both the worst and the best decision of his life. But it never would have started if he hadn't come barging into Mickey's house, demanding to reclaim Kash's stolen gun.

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leossmoonn · 3 years

Text

More Than a Milkovich

masterlist

pairing - carl gallagher x milkovich,fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

note - to make this inclusive, i decided the reader would be adopted by mandy and mickey after they found ya homeless and alone in the street when you were a little girl lol :)). you guys are both 18 in this.

summary - you and carl are friends with benefits, but he wants to be more

warnings / includes - language, suggestive, food mention, flirting, kissing, underage smoking and drinking (please do not do this in real life). light smut - finishing a bj, carl walking in to you giving a bj to someone else, self deprecation, low self esteem

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*gif isn’t mine*

“Ah, fuck,” Carl groaned, throwing his head back.

You smirked up at him, swallowing his cum before sliding your lips off his dick. You wiped all of his excess cum off your lips with the back of your hand, sitting back onto your heels and looking up at him.

“All good?” You asked. “Mmhm,” he nodded, sitting back up, sighing contently. “You’re really good at that.”

“Well, you know, I’ve had my practice,” you chuckled, getting up and stretching your legs. You leaned down and grabbed your jacket, tugging it on over your tank top before going to leave the room.

Carl frowned as he saw you begin to leave. He got up, pulling up his underwear and pants, buttoning his jeans up as he walked up to you. He reached his hand out and grabbed your forearm, spinning you back to face him.

“What?” You raised your brow. “I just um… where are you going?” Carl asked.

“Home, the gas station, the park. Anywhere where I can smoke,” you listed off.

“Well, you can smoke here,” Carl suggested. You chuckled, shaking your head. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

You managed to get out of his grip, swinging the bedroom door open and walking down the hallway to the stairs. Carl followed you, not wanting you to leave just yet. He grabbed your jacket hood, pulling you back more roughly.

“Hey! Let go!” You exclaimed.

“Sorry, I just don’t understand why you can’t stay,” he pouted.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re blind or whatever, but Debbie hates me. Lip isn’t a big fan of me either, so —”

“The only reason Lip doesn’t like you is because you remind him of Mandy. That’s his own issue. And Debbie doesn’t hate you. She just —”

“Nope, I hate her,” Debbie chimed in.

You turned your head as she walked out of the bathroom. You snorted, “See? The skank has confirmed.”

“Me a skank? I’m not the one who has been giving blowjobs since the seventh grade,” Debbie shot back.

“That was one time, and I never did it again until sophomore year,” you scoffed.

“Oh, yeah, and since then it’s been Party City in your mouth, right?” Debbie prompted.

“At least I know how birth control works,” you remarked.

“Hey, Franny is —”

“You two just stop! Debbie, just go. I need to talk to Y/n,” Carl sighed. “Good luck having an intellectual conversation with her. She’s a Milkovich,” Debbie spat.

You rolled your eyes, giving her the finger behind her back as she walked down the stairs. You then turned back to Carl, giving him an impatient stare.

“What do you need to talk to me about?”

“Just that you can stay and hang out. Or we can go to the movies or something,” he suggested.

Your face softened and you gave him an apologetic smile. You went over and put your hand on his shoulder, looking him in his eyes. You wanted to say yes so bad, but you knew if you did, you would be entering dangerous territory.

“Maybe another time?” You suggested. “You always say that,” Carl frowned.

“And I always mean it.” You patted his shoulder, then leaving and running down the stairs.

“Oh, yeah, Y/n!” Ian smiled. “Hey,” you smiled back. “Leaving so soon?” Ian asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Duty calls,” you held up your pack of Camels.

Ian chuckled and nodded, waving goodbye to you as you shut the door. Carl trudged down the stairs, going to sit at the counter.

“Hey, what’s got your dick in a twist?” Ian asked. “Y/n,” Carl and Debbie both answered.

The two looked at each other, death glares playing on their faces. Ian raised his brows as the tension.

“What about her? Is she getting to the point where her jaw locks now,” he smirked.

“No. She just doesn’t want to hang out,” Carl explained. “Oh, how come?” Ian asked.

“Because all she does is screw around. That’s all the Milkovich’s do,” Debbie stated.

“What do you have against them? You mad that you didn’t have a chance to date one?” Carl snickered.

“Okay, one, ew. Two, no. I’m just saying,” she shrugged. “Well, you’re wrong. Mandy has a job now,” Carl said.

“Yeah, and Mickey may not be going to prison,” Ian grinned.

“Wow, what a role model,” Debbie rolled her eyes. “Anyways,” Carl ignored his sister. “She always makes excuses when I ask her out to the movies or something. And she says she likes me, but it doesn’t seem that way.”

“Are you really that dumb?” Ian asked. “What?” Carl furrowed his brows.

“She doesn’t think she’s good enough for you, genius,” Ian stated.

“Oh,” Carl said, his face lighting up. But the realisation diminished almost as fast as it came. “Why?”

“Kind of what Debbie was saying,” Ian admitted. “All she’s really done is screw around and I don’t think she’s ever been in a real relationship before. It doesn’t help that your guys’s relationship started out with sex.”

“Well, that’s not my fault! She’s the one who offered!” Carl exclaimed.

“Yeah, but you weren’t the one to say no and take things slow,” Ian said.

“I thought all girls liked to go fast,” Carl said. “Sometimes I miss Fiona,” Debbie muttered while she walked past the two boys.

Ian chuckled at her comment, nodding in agreement. “Look, just get her flowers or something and express your feelings to her, and make sure she’s actually listening.”

“Okay. What flowers should I get her?” Carl smiled at the idea. “Um, what are her favourite?” Ian asked.

“Um…” Carl thought for a bit, but nothing came to mind. He then realised that he really didn’t know much about you, and that it was all his fault for not trying to get to know you better.

“Dahlias,” Debbie answered for him.

The two boys looked at her, very confused, but thankful.

“What? I see her drawing them all the time in her notebook,” she shrugged.

Carl grinned and got up to hug her. “Thanks, Debs.”

“No problem. I can tell how much you like her. I guessed I should help.”

“I’m going to the store. You guys are a big help, thanks,” Carl smiled. He grabbed some money that was hidden in a cereal box, practically flying out the door.

“I should go with him, right? Make sure he’s grabbing the right things?” Debbie asked.

“Yeah, probably,” Ian nodded. “Thought so,” Debbie sighed.

She grabbed her purse, catching up with Carl right before he drove off. The two of them went to Kroger, which was a little ways away, but Carl thought it was totally worth it for the girl of his dreams. He picked out a big bouquet of Dahlias, Debbie helping him pick out an assortment of chocolates and a pretty gold necklace with a ‘C’ on it. Carl hoped you would accept all of this. More so his proposal than the gifts.

“Thanks for helping out,” Carl smiled at Debbie. “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t help?” She grinned.

“You think she’ll like all this?” Carl asked. “If she’s a normal girl, she’ll love it. Especially the chocolates. The way to a girl’s heart is food. Most of the time,” Debbie chuckled.

“Good,” Carl breathed out, a nervous, but excited smile on his face.

He drove him and Debbie back to the house, putting your little gifts in a Christmas gift bag he found in the closet. He kept out the flowers, keeping them in the sun as she changed. He put on a button-up shirt with khaki shorts; clothes he found in Lip’s closet. The shirt was a little big, but he wanted to look nice so he stuck with it. He brushed his teeth two times, making sure his breath didn’t stink. And finally, he gathered everything up, going back downstairs, Ian, Lip, and Debbie all smiling at you.

“Lookin’ sharp,” Lip snickered. “Thanks. Hope you don’t mind I borrowed your clothes,” Carl chuckled.

“Not at all. Anything for a Milkovich girl, right?”

“Hey, she’s better than Mandy,” Carl frowned.

“Oh, I bet,” Lip sighed. “I think you look great Carl,” Ian smiled.

“Thanks. Uh, do you guys happen to know where Y/n is?” Carl asked.

“No, we’re not her keepers,” Debbie snorted. “She’s probably at her house or under the El,” Ian answered.

“Alright. I’ll try her house first. Wish me luck, guys,” Carl smiled.

“Good luck! Don’t fuck it up!” Lip exclaimed.

Carl chuckled at his brother’s words, going out the front door. He walked over to your house, knocking on the door, revealing Terry with a gun.

“Whoa,” Carl gasped. Terry huffed as he realised it was just a Gallagher. “The fuck you want?”

“Is Y/n home?” Carl asked. “Yeah, pretty sure she’s blowin’ somebody,” Terry muttered, walking away so Carl could enter.

“Oh,” Carl gulped as he stepped into the house. He made his way to your room, seeing that the door was cracked open. He peered inside, grimacing as you were in fact giving head to one of the boys from high school.

“Hey, Y/n,” Carl said quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

You stopped your movement, eyes growing wide as you noticed Carl standing awkwardly with flowers in his hand. You scrambled to your feet, the boy you were blowing whining in disapproval.

“Grow up, Houston,” you muttered. “But I have blue balls,” he pouted.

“Give me my money or you’ll have blue and black balls,” you growled, holding your hand out.

He rolled his eyes, smacking a ten dollar bill in your hand before getting up and pulling up his pants. Carl avoided all eye contact with the boy, looking at him shoes to try and pass the time.

“Oh, hey, Gallagher. Yo, is this a threesome?” The boy smiled.

“You wish. Now scram,” you pushed the boy out of your bedroom.

“I expect a full session next time,” he said. “Yeah, whatever,” you rolled your eyes.

The boy left and Carl lifted his head up. You tugged on a sweatshirt over your bare boobs, looking to Carl, trying to ignore the embarrassment that flooded your brain.

“Hey, what’s up” You asked. “Uh, nothing. Just wanted to see you,” Carl said nonchalantly.

“Why’re you dressed like you’re going to a wedding or something?” You snickered, walking past him and going to the bathroom.

Carl looked down at his clothes, chuckling nervously. “All my clothes are dirty so I had to borrow some of Lip’s.”

You began to brush your teeth and looked him and and down again. “Oh, cool,” you nodded. “Well, you look nice.”

He blushed, “Thank you.” You smiled at him after you spit out the toothpaste, rinsing your mouth a few times before you went back to your room.

Carl followed you like a lost puppy, awkwardly standing in your doorway as you sat down on your bed. You lit a cigarette, smiling at Carl teasingly.

“You can come sit. I don’t bite.”

“Oh, right,” he laughed, walking over.

“What’s all that?” You gestured to the flowers and gift bad.

“Oh, uh, these are for you. I hope you like them. I didn’t know what kind of chocolate you liked, so I got you all,” he explained, pulling the assorted chocolates and necklace boxes out of the bag. “And I heard your favourite flowers are Dahlias, so I got you some.” He held out the flowers in front of your face.

You couldn’t fight the grin that was making its way onto your face. You grabbed the flowers, closing your eyes while smelling them. You breathed in the sweet scent, it masking the scent of the sweaty balls you had your nose in front of a few minutes ago. You opened your eyes, seeing Carl holding a gold necklace with a small ‘C’. You then realised what was happening.

You shoved the flowers back to him, standing up and going to the door. “You should go,” you said while not looking at him.

Carl frowned and got up, walking over to you. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just… Terry’s gonna kill you,” you lied.

Carl put his hand under your chin, lifting your head up. You backed away from him, opening your door wider.

“Thanks for the chocolates and flowers, Carl. I’ll make sure to put them to good use,” you gave him a small smile.

“D-Did you see the necklace?” Carl asked, holding it up in your face again.

“Yeah, I saw it. It’s nice, but it’s not my type of accessory,” you lied again.

“Oh, alright,” Carl’s shoulder fell in defeat. “Yeah, sorry. Anyways, I’m tired so I’m going to take a nap. You know draining giving blow jobs are,” you chortled.

You then grabbed his arm, shoving him out of your bedroom. You began to shut the door, but Carl caught it, opening it back up.

“Y/n, why do you always push me away?” He asked.

You looked into his clear-blue eyes, suddenly getting defensive.

“I do that with everyone, Carl. Don’t take it personally. Plus, I don’t always do it.”

“Yes, you do. Why are you so afraid of being in a relationship?” He questioned.

You scoffed, “You should go now.” You tried to push the door close, but Carl brought his whole body in-between the door frame.

“I’m not going anywhere until you answer my question.Why are you so afraid of being in a relationship? Is it me? Because I swear I’m a good boyfriend, or at least I think I am. I try to be. I don’t pressure you into doing anything, and I know you know I never would ever. I know I’m not the smartest, but I really like you, Y/n. If you just give me a —”

“It’s not you, Carl!” You exclaimed.

“Then what is it?” Carl asked, leaning towards you.

You heart raced as you could feel his breath on your lips. You moved away from him, feeling the tears well up in your eyes as you spoke.

“It's me.”

“What do you mean? How?” Carl asked.

“You really have to ask that?” You scoffed. “I’m a fucking Milkokvich. All I’m good for is a quick fuck or blowie. You know that. That’s why our relationship is a friends with benefits one. You’re a Gallagher, Carl. You actually have a chance in life if you ever set your mind to it, and you have. You went to military school, and look at you now! You’re perfect. Me? I’m just a waste of space. My own mother didn’t want me. She left me on the streets when I was five. And then I get brought into this Godforsaken family, which I am thankfully most times, but it just ruined my chance of having a future. Anyways, Carl, you deserve more than me. So just leave before things get really ugly.”

Carl sighed and dropped the gift bag, going over to you and taking your hands in his. You sniffled, looking at him with blurred vision.

“Wha-What’re you do-doing?” You asked in-between sobs.

“I’m not leaving. I’m staying. Look, we both come from fucked up families, and Milkoviches might be more fucked up, but I don’t care. You are the girl of my dreams, Y/n, and I’ve dated quite a few girls. So, please, just believe me for once and have some faith in yourself. Let’s start this relationship off on the right foot. You’re more than just a Milkovich, Y/n. So much more.”

You stared into his eyes, getting lost in them as he spoke to you. His words tugged at your heartstrings and you couldn’t help but give in. He was the boy of your dreams, if you were to be completely honest.

“Didn’t realise you knew how to form compound sentences and be so romantic,” you smirked.

Carl rolled his eyes with a smile. “And I didn’t know you felt this way about yourself. You always have seemed so confident.”

“Well, there’s more than meets the eye, I guess,” you shrugged.

“See! Being positive isn’t that hard,” he said.

“God, I hate when you’re so optimistic,” you rolled your eyes.

You snaked your hand to the back of his neck, pulling him close and smashing your lips onto his. Carl’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. This kiss was so much more different than your previous kisses. Your teeth clashed together in a hot, open-mouthed kiss from both of you. You moaned in his mouth as your heart sang in your chest, causing a million butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

Carl pulled away, gasping for air. You let out a little whine, bringing him closer so you could kiss him again, but he stopped you. He let go of your waist, bending down to reach into the gift bag to pull out the necklaces. You giggled as he held it up to your face, taking your hands in his once again.

“Wanna be my girl?” He asked.

“Aren’t I already?” You cocked up a teasing brow.

Carl grinned and nodded. “Yeah, you’ll always be my girl.”

————

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

I'd like to see Ian and Mickey celebrating their 20th anniversary? Being all mature and grown up and realising how lucky they are they're still in love after all those years x

Mickey woke up to a weight over his back, pushing him down into the soft pillow-top mattress. Lips touched the back of his neck, warm and dry, Ian’s breath raising goosebumps on his skin.

“Mmm,” Mickey hummed, rubbing his smile into the pillow. “Good morning, Mr. Milkovich.”

Ian chuckled, a gentle huff of air that moved the hairs on the back of Mickey’s head.

“Good morning to you, Mr. Gallagher,” he murmured back, voice husky from sleep, lips brushing down to Mickey’s shoulder. He pulled the strap of Mickey’s tank top to the side, pressed a kiss to the pale skin it revealed.

“Happy Anniversary, Mick,” he said, kissing it into Mickey’s body. Mickey arched back against him, getting a hand up to hold Ian’s where it still rested on his shoulder.

“Twenty fucking years,” Mickey said proudly, and pushed back until Ian rolled over, letting Mickey do the same.

He moved from stomach to side to back, letting Ian settle back in on top of him once they were face to face. Ian’s bare chest was warm through Mickey’s own shirt.

“Long time, man,” Mickey said softly, reaching up to card gentle fingers through Ian’s hair. It glimmered red in the faint sunlight coming through the curtains, shot through with a few paler streaks that Ian swore were blond, not grey.

“And longer to come,” Ian promised, his smile bright and sleepily content.

They lay there for a moment, watching each other blink, watching each other breathe. Then Ian sighed, and lowered his head, capturing Mickey’s lips in their first real kiss of the morning.

It tasted terrible, but they were long past the days of caring about stale morning breath. The innocent slide of mouths gave way to sucking kisses, chapped lips pulled gently between teeth, soothed with tongues. Ian pulled back with a wet sound, moved his mouth up Mickey’s jaw, and pressed searching lips to the space just under his ear.

Mickey hummed, eyes slipping closed at the warmth of the sensation. The bed was soft under him, Ian comfortable over him, and he wanted nothing more than to live in that moment forever.

Or at least for a little while longer.

Ian had other plans.

“Ready for your present?” he breathed into Mickey’s ear, biting the lobe as Mickey shivered.

“Never thought I’d say this,” Mickey muttered as Ian traced his tongue down the side of his neck, “but I think I’d rather go back to sleep for a bit.”

Ian laughed, burying his face in Mickey’s shoulder, breath cooling the trail his mouth had left.

“I don’t blame you,” he admitted easily, rolling off of Mickey again to lay at his side instead. His arm crossed Mickey’s chest, hand secure around his bicep. “Last night was a mess; I’m ready to sleep for a week.”

“Remind me never to let your daughter go to a concert again,” Mickey said plaintively, turning his head to face Ian’s on the pillow. “I don’t care if we’re supposed to be her safe space or what-the-fuck-ever, picking up a bunch of drink teenagers in the middle of the night is not my idea of a good time.”

“Please,” Ian said, “Like you’d ever tell your daughter no.”

Fair enough.

“But regardless,” Ian continued, “we don’t have too long before the girls are up, and I wanted to give you your present in peace.”

“Fine,” Mickey grumbled, putting on a show of being disappointed. He rolled onto his side, reaching for the drawer of the bedside table, but Ian whacked his hand before he could open it.

“Thought you wanted to give me my present?” Mickey asked, eyebrows raised, but Ian shook his head.

“Not that kind of present, you dolt,” he laughed. “We can do that later, once we have the house to ourselves.”

Ian’s face softened as he bit his lip, eyes darting away from Mickey’s for a brief moment before coming back.

“I, uh,” he said, scratching his chin. “I kinda got you something else.”

“We said we weren’t buying shit, Ian,” Mickey pointed out. “Between tuition and fuckin’ club dues, we ain’t got a lot to spare right now.”

“I know, but…” Ian shrugged. “We had enough for this.”

He leaned over, reaching long arms under the bed, squirming until he found what he was feeling for. With a twist of his shoulders, he was back up on the bed and tossing a small box at Mickey without aiming.

Mickey fumbled it, then snatched it back off the sheets before Ian could see. He turned it in his hands, suspicious, but the twitch of his lips gave him away.

“Go on, open it,” Ian encouraged, scooting closer. “I think you’ll like it.”

Mickey did, untying the tiny bow and lifting the lid off the box with no fuss.

“I went with the modern theme,” Ian told him as he looked inside. “Platinum. Thought that fit us a little better than fine china.”

Mickey didn’t answer, eyes caught on the glint of metal peeking out from under a scrap of cheap tissue paper.

“It’s supposed to represent how strong we are, together,” Ian said as Mickey lifted his gift out of the box, turning it over in his hands. “That we’ve made it this far, overcome shit.” His eyes were on Mickey’s hands. “That we’re still here to stay.”

Mickey held his gift up toward the window, letting the light reflect off the silver surface. Just a keychain, a little metal charm in the shape of a record dangling from a short chain. The word “Always” was engraved along the top curve, and at the bottom, the date of their wedding.

“It’s not really platinum, obviously,” Ian said, twisting the sheet between his fingers. “I couldn’t afford that even if I—”

“Ian,” Mickey cut him off. “Shut up. I love it.”

When their eyes met, Ian was beaming.

“C’mere, you sappy idiot,” Mickey ordered with his own broad grin, and Ian met him with a single, lingering kiss.

Mickey pulled away before it could become anything more.

“Got you somethin’ to,” he said, watching Ian’s eyes from inches away. “’Cept I figured you were the traditional sort, so…” He shrugged. “Guess what you get?”

“Sex?” Ian joked, and Mickey rolled his eyes, standing up and swinging his legs out of bed.

“Not quite,” he answered dryly, opening their closet door and fishing through the dirty clothes on the floor inside. He lifted a much larger box with a muffled oomph, and carried it over to the bed, where he let it fall a bit on heavily onto the mattress in front of Ian.

“Go on,” he started, but Ian hadn’t waited anyway, already tearing off the paper with eager fingers.

“Jeez, you’re like a fuckin’ kid on Christmas,” Mickey laughed, and Ian stuck out his tongue as he pried the cardboard box open.

Ian paused as the contents were revealed, the pushed aside bubble wrap and packing paper to lift out a single, dessert-sized plate.

It was fragile and white, plain in the center, with bursts of blue and pink along the outer, silver-plated edge. The colors swirled together into petals, shaped like—

“Stargazer lilies,” Ian breathed, and his eyes were wet when he lifted them. “Mickey, they’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, well,” Mickey hedged, sitting on the edge of the bed. “So are you, you soft fucker.”

Ian’s breath caught.

“Not the same theme as yours,” Mickey said, gesturing to the plate with a hand that still held his own gift. “But the ideas kind of the same, you know?”

He reached out, took the plate from Ian’s hands.

“You said the platinum was for strength; well this shit’s pretty fragile,” he continued. “But it stays good if you take care of it.” He looked up at Ian. “And we take pretty damn good care of each other.”

“You know that stuff’s not gonna last in this house,” Ian pointed out, voice choked. “We might take care of each other, but we take terrible care of our stuff.”

“Might not even make it through tonight,” Mickey agreed. He traced a finger around the rim of the plate, the flowers there. “But we’re gonna use it anyway.”

He turned, set the plate down on the bedside table, along with his keychain. Hoisted the rest of the box down onto the floor. “We can have nice stuff,” he said as he did, “but I ain’t gonna be one of those people that leaves shit in a cabinet gettin’ all dusty.”

“Nah,” Ian agreed, wiping his leaking eyes. “That really wouldn’t be us.”

Mickey smiled, and leaned in, kissing the corner of Ian’s eye and the happy tears lingering there.

“No it wouldn’t,” he said softly, and then his grin turned wicked.

“And speaking of using things,” he said, flopping down onto his back, arms spread wide. “We should use the rest of the morning to our advantage ‘til the girls get up.” He waggled his eyebrows, glorying in Ian’s wet laugh.

“Come show me what the next twenty years will be like, lover boy,” Mickey challenged.

And climbing over him with a toothy grin, all else forgotten in favor of getting hands on skin, Ian did just that.

#i may have spent longer looking at 20th anniversary themes and gifts than actually writing this #but it was fun!#daily speedwrite #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #fluff #fanfic

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gallavictorious · 3 years

Text

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions.

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

#gallavich #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021 #fic #what have i done #my stuff

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dramaticviolincrescendo · 3 years

Note

Rewatching Shameless and i just watched 6x1 jail scene. Can I request a meta if its not too much trouble? I feel like reading a really good meta about that scene and you're one of the best we've got so.....

It’s never any trouble at all! That’s so sweet to say—thank you so much! <3 Kind of coming to terms with the idea that anyone cares about my opinion over here. You guys are too much!

This scene is actually extremely important to me because it and the response to it were what made me start writing Shameless fanfiction, specifically when I saw that my views regarding Ian’s behavior and how Mickey received it were so vastly different from what I initially read. (Insert shameless plug for “That Milkovich Reputation” here.) Now, I know you’ve told me not to do this before, but based on the controversial position in which this scene resides, I feel the need to present a couple of disclaimers for our audience at large.

I first fell in love with Shameless last March, a couple weeks before quarantine began. I didn’t know what it was prior to that and therefore was not present when Noel left the show, so I didn’t experience the disappointment of a beloved character leaving in a potentially permanent way and didn’t engage in the fandom or see how deeply upset people were by that until after I finished the series. I also don’t subscribe to the theory that there was something going on behind the scenes or any animosity between Noel and the creators, as I have not seen any relevant evidence from reliable sources to support that what happened was anything other than decisions made in pursuit of career goals on both sides. As such, my analysis of this scene has only ever taken the content and context of the story and characters into account. I have no interest in speculating on the motives of people I do not know in writing it or portraying it this way, and even if I did, this scene made perfect sense to me as it was written and performed.

I understand and appreciate that this is not a popular position to take and urge everyone to pass this post by if my position on that matter is offensive or upsetting to you. I do not mean to tell anyone what to think or believe, only to explain how I view this scene and the context in which I do so.

That said, let’s begin.

When Last Seen: Mickey

As in all things, context is important. Prior to the prison scene, the last time we saw Mickey was when Ian broke up with him and Sammi interrupted their heartfelt moment, which basically sums up her character in a nutshell. That was a rough couple of days for Mickey. He saw how devastated Ian was to hear his family talk about him as though he were just like Monica; was distressed in his own right to return for him and discover that he’d left the base with Monica; buried his frustration and sadness by sleeping around with other people, which seemed to exacerbate those emotions because those people weren’t Ian, nor had he and Ian broken up when he did it; and came running when Ian called him, only for Ian to end their relationship.

Mickey is a very sharp man—we know this. He can read people like books and manipulate or intimidate them accordingly. He knew Ian had feelings for him in s1 when he showed up on his doorstep seeking comfort rather than going to any number of other people he trusted. He was well aware that Ian loved him in s3, and that made what he felt he had no choice in doing that much more painful. He heard what Ian said and knew what he was doing in 5x12. Of that, I have never had any doubt. It wasn’t like Ian tried to hide that he didn’t want to break up but thought that that was what would be best. In fact, the way he initially framed it always made me think that one of his highest priorities was not dragging Mickey down with him, especially in the aftermath of being called “destructive” and similar to someone who “put them through hell.” That’s why Mickey’s response wasn’t to call him an asshole or get angry or beg. It was to reassure Ian that he was there for the long haul, that he loved him and wanted to take care of him no matter what that meant—and that they could make that work. All the sentiments Ian had tried to communicate before he got married, Mickey was reciprocating in his own way. Had they not needed to temporarily write Mickey out of the story and Sammi hadn’t shown up right that second, I believe that he wouldn’t have given up so easily. We do have confirmation of that being the case in the prison scene, but we’ll get to that shortly.

When Last Seen: Ian

Ian isn’t a selfish character. We know this, too. However, Ian needed to be selfish by the end of s5. What he had to come to terms with wasn’t something that anyone could fully help him with, much as Mickey desperately wanted to. To Ian, the enemy was within. It was inside him, in his brain, telling him what to do even if that destroyed himself and everything he loved. It’s terrifying. I’m not bipolar, nor do I suffer from any other diagnosed mental illnesses, but I admire and respect everyone who wakes up every morning and tackles these things. They’re heroes every single day. But by the end of s5, Ian doesn’t feel much like a hero. Instead, he feels like the villain, and he’s lost touch with who he even is anymore.

That’s not a healthy mindset to have in a relationship. Relationships require a level of give and take, and that used to be something that Ian and Mickey already struggled with. Ian gave more in s1-3 because he was able to, while Mickey had a limit on what he could openly give because of the environment in which he lived and the manner in which he was raised. In s4-5, those roles were reversed: Mickey was able to give so much more, but Ian was gradually falling apart. Neither of them are at fault for any of those situations. It is what it is, and they have a stronger relationship for it. Ian is a giver, though. He’s always been a giver. To be in a position where he doesn’t feel like he can give anything to Mickey because he doesn’t even know who he is was truly heartbreaking for him, and objectively, he needed to take a step back so that he could focus on himself. He knew it. Based on Mickey’s understanding of Ian’s reasons after watching him deny that he had a problem for so long, I think Mickey knew it too. This hurt both of them—Ian to say it and Mickey to hear it—but they’re not fools and they’re not naïve. In some ways, they know each other better than anyone.

Jimmy said that when you’re on a plane, they tell you to put on your mask before you help anyone else with theirs. Ian needed to put on his mask. His heart can’t keep beating if his lungs don’t work.

Starting Season 6: Mickey

Unsurprisingly, Mickey has settled into prison life just fine. We’ll focus on his interactions with Ian in a bit as that’s the meat of the scene, but there are major implications inherent in his discussion with Svetlana beforehand.

1. Mickey has accepted that this will be his reality for the foreseeable future. What else is he supposed to do? Besides, he’s known for a long time that the likelihood of ending up in prison was pretty high for him, as he alluded to in s2. He was a street thug. He stole from local stores, sold drugs, ran guns, operated a rub ‘n’ tug, created scam companies, and was a generally violent presence in the neighborhood for years. He was in juvie twice during the show, perhaps more beforehand. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that it would have been more surprising if Mickey didn’t get locked up at some point than that he did.

2. Ian has visited Mickey before. We won’t get too deeply into this yet, but he thanks Ian for “coming back.” The other times, he wasn’t even paid to do it. So, as far as Mickey can tell, nothing has changed. Ian is focusing on himself right now, but his love for Mickey hasn’t dulled at all. That’s an encouraging thought, and it certainly puts a smile on Mickey’s face.

3. Ever the opportunist and entrepreneur, Mickey really is doing just fine in prison. He runs a business, if you will, that appears to be quite lucrative already. This isn’t surprising either. Sadly, it’s a bad move. He’s already going to be in prison for somewhere around a decade, give or take a couple of years depending on his behavior. But his behavior isn’t good. He’s hurting people for money, and if he gets caught and brought up on more charges, not only will he serve the full fifteen years, but he could get more time added onto that.

4. Ian is aware of this arrangement. He has to be if he’s been going there with Svetlana, and they weren’t exactly hiding what they were talking about. Ian has been very consistent throughout the series: he’s not as concerned with the moral implications of Mickey’s behavior, just how it could potentially impact their ability to be together. He still cares about Mickey at the start of s6, and Mickey can see it on his face when he won’t say it out loud. (More on that shortly.) Once he’s in a better spot mentally, maybe they would have gotten back together had Mickey been on the outside. I’m of the opinion that they would have based on the context of the situation. It isn’t an option, however. This is Mickey’s reality, and he’s not doing everything he can to get out earlier. If anything, he’s tempting fate on not being released at all. (This, in hindsight, sounds rather similar to the issues they’re dealing with right now in s11.)

So, this is where Mickey stands at the start of the season: a prison hitman who is quite pleased that the man he loves has come to see him again, even if the latter is visibly not in a very healthy mental state.

Starting Season 6: Ian

Ian isn’t in most of 6x01. What we do see of him is typically sad or colored by his frustration, outside Carl’s welcome home party at the end of the episode. Even then, there’s an aura of discomfort that accompanies the family’s knowledge that things have changed. Carl came out of juvie a different person—they’re all different people after s5, and they’re not sure how to handle walking on eggshells around each other.

From the very start of the episode, we see that Ian is still struggling even though he’s had enough time to at least partially adjust to his medication, especially if he’s been on and off of it. It’s so sweet how Fiona gently wakes him up—it’s also a bit different. What happened to banging on the bunk bed and yelling for them to come down for breakfast? After behaving pretty normally with Debbie at the bathroom door, she’s almost handling him with kid gloves, and the punches keep coming when she reminds him that he (1) has to get up for work at a place he despises and (2) needs to remember to take his meds.

The kitchen scene is extremely telling of where Ian is at this point, and it partially shows why he’s somewhat standoffish by the time we reach the prison scene. Most of the family is gone or different. Fiona is repeatedly on him about meds and getting to work on time—Ian, Mister Responsible himself who was out of the house before anybody woke up to get to work on time as a kid. Lip is at college. Debbie is absorbed in her unconfirmed but likely pregnancy. Carl is in juvie, and Liam is playing with the switchblade he found under Carl’s pillow before they take him to pre-K. His entire support system is either gone or treating him like he’s broken. All he has is Fiona “going Fiona” on everyone. It’s clear that this is impacting him because he actually derails the conversation to say that they should go visit Carl the following weekend, which was the position Debbie used to be in when Fiona was in jail. Just like Lip shut her down, Debbie shuts Ian down, and he doesn’t say another word as he drinks his coffee—which he can’t finish because Fiona is once again on him about work, so he trudges out the door to another day of being a busboy with no dreams instead of a soldier who has a future.

Work isn’t much better. Svetlana wants him to go see Mickey when he’s determined to stay away. (We don’t have confirmation, but I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that he wants to distance himself if Mickey is doing something that will potentially get him into even more trouble, especially given some of his reactions at the prison.) Sean is sending Fiona to nag him about not moving fast enough when the diner isn’t even busy. When Otis is chased down by the cops and slammed against the front window, Sean rather condescendingly tells him to, “take your rag and wipe the blood and snot off the window.” Ian—West Point-aspiring, ambitious, courageous, caring, intelligent, hardworking Ian has been reduced to wiping up someone’s snot by a boss who’s living in his house with a sister that’s treating him like he’s shattered glass and a family that is growing further and further apart these days.

That is the day Ian has had before he even arrives at the prison. Odds are that that is how most of his days have gone for quite some time, minus the blood and snot. …Maybe.

The Prison Scene

Now we come to it: what you actually asked about! It’s taken this long to get here because we can’t possibly interpret this scene effectively without incorporating all of what came before it. Mickey’s position is regrettable, but he knows that Ian still loves him and is at least handling his situation with all the grace and competence that we can expect from him. Ian is a bit of a mess who’s had a bad day and is now faced with the man he loves, who he is telling himself he can’t be with, sitting behind glass—where he’ll be for a good long while.

I’m going to divide this analysis into two sections. For a scene that many prefer to forget, to me, it’s a masterpiece of storytelling.

Physicality

The body language in this scene is remarkable—phenomenally blocked, phenomenally directed, and phenomenally portrayed.

When Mickey first appears, he’s visibly chomping at the bit to get to the visitation area. He’s peering out there while he’s still behind a locked door, and he only diverts his gaze to the guard because he’s waiting for him to unlock it. He’s cool about the whole thing—he’s very cool—but he’s obviously also here for one reason and one reason only. That reason is where his eyes go the moment he sits down at his stall and spots Ian’s coat where the latter is pacing behind Svetlana. Throughout their entire conversation, we see his eyes darting to Ian as he attempts to get the business out of the way so that he can indulge purely in the pleasure. It doesn’t matter to him that Ian is visibly tired and reluctant to be there or that he plays with Yevgeny instead of actively joining their conversation. It’s Ian, and all Mickey has to look at in here is a bunch of fellow thugs he hasn’t loved since he was too young to know what that meant. Damn right, he’s going to shamelessly watch him.

In Ian’s pacing, where we can’t see his face, I find it interesting that he keeps himself angled away from the glass. We see more of his back even though he’s moving side to side rather than away. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t want to be there. In s7, he told Mickey how hard it was to see him behind glass—that wasn’t an excuse. He wasn’t falsely trying to make it sound like he was suffering at their separation just as much as Mickey was. We can see that that’s the case right here in 6x01. Ian has never had a problem sitting still through difficult moments, not even when a potential court martial that would further ruin his life was on the table. But this? He can’t sit down. He can’t face that.

The first time he turns directly towards Mickey’s location is so that Svetlana can hand Yevgeny off to him, and Mickey is visibly loving the view. His expression gets a bit softer, and he ducks his head a little so that he can catch a glimpse of Ian’s face. He follows Ian with his eyes even though Svetlana tries to get his attention. What a blast from the past, right? Ian there with his son, taking care of him while he and Svetlana figure out their business? And just like before, he offers Svetlana all of the attention and input that he deems her worth—next to nothing. Ian’s over there. Ian’s keeping the kid entertained, playing with him and rocking a bit in their seat and leaning over his little shoulder to make sure he’s doing okay—but forget that, Mickey’s eyes are examining him from red hair to beat-up shoes. He only glances back to Svetlana because he has to in order to get the information for their next paycheck. Even then, he’s still back and forth, up and down.

And Ian? He can’t keep pacing. He can’t stay turned away, but he won’t look. He occupies himself more than Yevgeny because now he’s low enough that he won’t just see an orange jumpsuit—he’ll see Mickey, and he’s had a bad enough day with his family making him feel more alone than ever without adding that pain on top of it. (This is the third time Mickey’s been locked up for something directly or indirectly related to Ian. I’m sure it’s not unreasonable to suspect that he also feels somewhat guilty about that, especially when it happened right after he broke it off.)

When Mickey asks if Ian is going to sit back there the whole time and not interact with him, Svetlana turns around and presumably says something to get his attention. Their eyes meet, and Mickey gives him a look that clearly says, “What the fuck, man?” This isn’t the behavior of a man who is heartbroken at their relationship ending or questioning Ian’s love for him. This is the behavior of a man who wants the love of his life to get his shit together enough to come say hi to him—or at least look at him—because he can’t pretend that he doesn’t want to see Mickey as much as Mickey wants to see him. It’s impossible to hide that when Ian has let Mickey see so much of his heart over the years.

Ian’s response is so fascinating because he does meet Mickey’s eyes, and he holds that connection for a moment. Then, reading what Mickey is trying to tell him, he actually turns further away again so that Mickey gets his shoulder. This sets the stage for the rest of Ian’s development from now through s9. He’s doing what Ian does: he’s compartmentalizing. He’s taking the emotions he can’t deal with right now, wrapping them in tissue paper, and neatly stacking them in a box that he’ll put up in the attic where he can pretend they don’t exist. But they do. They really do.

If they didn’t, he wouldn’t have spent their entire conversation trying so hard to focus on literally anything but Mickey, because as we saw in the Hall of Shame flashbacks and as has been obvious since their first fight-turned-fuck, once they look, the battle is lost.

Dialogue

I’m going to be real with you guys: I adore this scene. I’ve watched it more times than I can count even though I haven’t rewatched much of the season in its entirety. There was so much said with so few words, and while I was sad at the end, I was also hopeful. This was an impossible position to be put in on both sides, and I truly believe that this was the best resolution they could get at the time. And yes, it hurt. It was painful. But why was it painful?

Because they’re so visibly, obviously, irrevocably in love.

Mickey’s tone when he tells Svetlana to leave because he wants to talk to Ian isn’t as harsh as it’s been for the rest of their visit. There’s such a disconnect between his words and tone: roughly telling her to scram while actually sounding a bit younger at the idea of speaking directly with Ian. Svetlana could tell. It’s so clear, and her smirk is super knowing. In that moment, we’re seeing the woman who stood in the doorway of what was supposed to be her bedroom and watched him make eyes at this unconscious boy she didn’t really even remember. Not in the tears and realizing she was in big, big trouble if he left her, but in the understanding that his heart isn’t in the body on the other side of the glass—it’s sitting behind her. There are a lot of things I don’t like about Svetlana as a person (as a character, she’s amazing), but since they reached their agreement in s4, she’s never had a derogatory thing to say about the love those two share, and I respect that. It’s actually a bit cute how she takes her time and is almost teasing in giving him what he wants. A bit.

As I have this scene running on repeat so that I don’t miss anything in writing this, I paused to type and ended up on such a meaningful glance at Ian’s face. Svetlana just took Yevgeny from him, and he hasn’t gotten up yet. He’s staring straight at Mickey, and he looks hesitant. Scared, almost. Then he looks up at Svetlana, nods a bit, and reluctantly moves into her spot.

Is it overkill to take this one exchange at a time? Probably. Am I going to do it anyway? Hell to the yes.

1. “Thanks for coming back.”/”Yeah… Svetlana paid me.” – I know that people hate this line and think this is painful. I know that it objectively is painful. I still laugh every time. Not because Ian agreed to come if he was paid. (He’s got medication to afford and no insurance. I can’t begrudge him wanting to make a few extra bucks any way he can.) Not because of the words, but because of what accompanies them. Ian will not look at Mickey—he’s lost so many battles lately, and he can’t lose this one too. Not when he started this one himself. He’s hemming and hawing, not looking up from the countertop and then twisting around to see if Svetlana is still there or anyone else is listening. It’s so stupid, because literally no one cares, but it gives you this sensation that Ian sees himself as being under a microscope the whole time. That’s his life anymore, at home and at work and now here. And Mickey? He doesn’t look terribly broken up about Ian accepting payment in exchange for coming. He gets this expression that I interpreted as, “Seriously? You’re playing it like that?” Then it settles into disappointment that Ian won’t open up or look at him like he normally would—that the glass interferes with the magnetic pull between them. But don’t worry, children. Uncle Mickey has just the thing to fix that: himself.

2. “You look good.”/*awkward silence* – I mean…what do you say to that? I actually felt so bad for Ian there because what must he have looked like these last visits if Mickey is telling him that he looks good now? What kind of mess was he then when he’s still sort of a mess today? And he can’t even return the sentiment because how can he? Mickey is in prison. He’s in a jumpsuit looking at being here so long that he’ll probably have a few grey hairs starting to grow in when he gets out. I don’t know how to respond when people tell me I look good on an average day, so I can only imagine how that must have felt in his position. And still, he won’t do more than glance in Mickey’s direction. Well, if that didn’t work…

3. Mickey chuckles and says he got a new tattoo. Ian’s eyes immediately shoot upwards, and Mickey slouches a little so that he’s in their direct line of sight—to hold them there, because once they look, the battle is lost. And Ian does lose. For a while there, he can’t look away again. First, because Mickey is courting some pretty nasty illnesses with his improper use of needles. Seriously, Mickey, a beautiful gesture but holy crap. Second, Mickey has his name (or a very close approximation to it) tattooed forever right over his heart. Ian had asked if Mickey was going to marry him, and Mickey told him to fuck off, but everything he’s doing points in the opposite direction. He promised sickness and health; now he’s made a permanent mark on his body for everyone to see. Mickey, who wouldn’t be seen in public with him once upon a time, has plastered Ian’s name onto his body. Ian tries so hard not to let that impact him, but it’s over. He’s lost the battle already, and he falls further and further. He’s smiling when he tells Mickey it looks infected, he teases him about the misspelling (which I think says more about how much that tattoo must have hurt than any inability to spell on Mickey’s part—I’d have a typo too), and he laughs at Mickey’s irritation that he messed it up. And it’s this sweet little laugh, not cruel or hurtful or mean. The wonderful thing about humor is that it can be used to cope with difficult emotions. We’ve seen a lot of people on the show start laughing when they’re in a bad place. Ian has been trying so hard to accept his life as it is even during the shitty day he was having. He tried so hard not to let himself fall into the trap of letting his love for Mickey rule his actions in the scene so far. That’s a lot. That’s denying himself to the point where I’m sure it hurts. And so he laughs, because Mickey did this crazy, absurd thing for him and yeah, it came out wrong, but he did it. This was all Ian wanted once upon a time (minus the felony), and now he has it—but he can’t have it. So he laughs. He immediately moves to hide it, but he laughs. He smiles more and has to bend away to pretend that he’s not—and Mickey lights up like a goddamn Christmas tree. This is the moment that keeps me from seeing this scene or Ian’s actions as being cruel. They’re both hurting, and this is an awful position to be in. But Ian loves him so much, and Mickey was doing everything he could to make him show it. Not exactly how he saw that going, I’m sure, but he’ll take it.

4. “Been thinking about you.” – Knowing that he lost that one, Ian looks away again. While the end of this scene will hurt for both of them, especially Mickey, think about the pain he must be feeling in that moment simply because he’s not. He’s not hurting. For the first time that day, he feels good. This can’t last. Mickey isn’t coming home with him when time is up. This wonderful emotion that filled him up enough for him to laugh and smile after such a bad day will be gone the second he hangs up that phone. Then he’s going to go home and have Fiona breathing down his neck with nobody else for support. And Mickey will be here—behind glass. He can’t handle that, and he pulls that box out again and starts tearing off the tissue paper. He has to get rid of this feeling. He has to be the one to put it away before it kicks him to the curb. He’s stubborn, and Mickey can see him shutting down but also knows that he’s knocked enough bricks out of Ian’s walls to say something softer, something emotional and closer to the heart. Something he is willing to say where the other inmates can hear, which I don’t think is lost on Ian since he immediately looks up again. He doesn’t look away either, not even when Mickey asks if Ian thinks about him. He glances to the side and opens his mouth a bit, but nothing comes out. Mickey knows the answer.

5. “Gonna wait for me?”/”You’re here for fifteen years.” – There’s this thing Mickey does after he first says that. He chuckles, because he knows that that’s pretty unreasonable to ask and has already predicted Ian’s response. His comment about being out in eight is lighthearted, a serious matter spoken as a joke because…this isn’t juvie anymore. They’re not going to see each other in a few months. This is Mickey’s version of what Ian was just doing, only where Ian tried to withdraw and escape within himself, Mickey is making it more humorous. He’s always done that, make light of pretty serious things to avoid looking at just how messed up it is. But I didn’t get the feeling he was really asking for Ian to wait that long. Instead, I got the feeling that he was testing the waters, seeing if Ian would shut him down—which he didn’t. He offered the bullshit excuse that Mickey tried to kill a member of his family, and Mickey saw through that immediately. I think he knows that he can’t ask Ian to seriously wait and never be with anyone else for fifteen years, or even for eight. I think he knows what he’s saying is a touch absurd. He also knows that Ian’s excuse is extremely absurd, and he doesn’t buy it for a second. It gives him a little courage to do something…well, a bit absurd.

6. “Will you? Wait? Fucking lie if you have to, man. Eight years is a long time.” – I think the important part of this isn’t that Ian says he’ll wait when he doesn’t mean it, which is the popular take. For one thing, I don’t think we can ascribe that level of calculated behavior to Ian in this instance. There are a few things about this part of the scene that mean a lot to me: (1) Ian doesn’t get up and go. He doesn’t even move in that direction. He sits there with the phone after the buzzer sounds and before Mickey tells him to lie. His mouth opens and closes like he’s not sure what to say. Because what can he say? If Mickey serves the maximum, Ian will be in his mid-thirties by the time they can be together. At that point, he was either nearing eighteen or just turned. I still can’t fathom what I’ll be doing in my mid-thirties, and I’m a whole lot older than that. Ian looks just a little terrified here, and that’s because he knows he loves Mickey but has no clue what he’s supposed to do with that in the impossible circumstances they’re operating under. (2) Ian can’t even see himself moving on yet. He’s still trying to figure himself out, not think about a relationship. He has a job he hates, and his family is a different brand of chaos these days. He feels alone, yes, but not in a way that has him openly desperate for a relationship. Based on what he says to Mandy about Caleb, I think it’s pretty safe to assume that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be in a serious relationship at this point or even in a position for more than casual sex anytime in the near future. How can he say that he’ll wait when he doesn’t know where he’ll be whenever Mickey does get out? Maybe he’ll feel better. Maybe he’ll be out of his mind, roaming all over the place like Monica. Maybe he won’t just be standing on that bridge. It’s a huge question, one that has a lot of ramifications no matter what his answer is, and Ian clearly has none. He’s blindsided by that, which Mickey sees. That’s when he gets serious about those eight years, about how absurd their situation really is. That’s perhaps the first and only time in this scene where we can see that, for as successful as he is at navigating prison, his freedom means something to him. His freedom means he wouldn’t have to coax a glance out of Ian—he could kiss his dumb ass and make him stop being stubborn about how much he loves Mickey. But he can’t. He won’t be able to for a long time. And I think that is what really breaks his heart in this scene, not…

7. “Yeah. Yeah, Mick, I’ll wait.” – Did anyone else notice how Ian swallowed hard before he answered? How his voice gets hoarse when he first speaks? I paused again to type, and the video is sitting on his face staring at the counter before the second part of what he says. He looks like he might cry. He looks like his heart is breaking just as much as Mickey’s is, because he can do what he’s asking this time—reassure him with a lie. Not because he doesn’t intend to wait, but because he is buried so far under what life has piled on top of him that he can’t see the light these days, and he doesn’t see waiting or moving on. He just sees the daily struggle of being this shell of a person. Of being without Mickey even if they’re not technically together. (Admittedly, I think he knew they would be if Mickey weren’t in prison at that moment. Ian has no real self-control where he’s concerned. Lip told him as much, and he’s self-aware enough to realize it, hence his behavior in this whole scene.)

When Ian hangs up the phone, he doesn’t get up immediately. He looks at Mickey—really looks at him—and each of them watches the other’s heart shatter. I don’t see it the way a lot of people do, though. On Mickey’s side, I don’t see it as being because Ian lied. I think it’s so much bigger than that.

Ian looks at him when they can’t hear each other anymore, and if he didn’t seem ready to cry before, he looks it now. Why? Because there’s nothing he can do for Mickey besides that. Ian, ever the giver, can’t give him anything. At that point, he couldn’t even help himself. He can’t be what Mickey needs in that moment, just like he couldn’t be what Mickey needed while he was sick, and it kills him. It kills him to know that by the time Mickey does get out, he’ll be older than he can fathom being and has no idea if he’ll even be around that long. It kills him to feel like even if he is, he’ll still have nothing to offer because, in his own words, this is where he lands. And it kills him to have to walk away and leave what he loves most behind glass.

Mickey is watching this. He knows Ian, and as painful as it was to get exactly what he asked for, it’s even more painful for him to see what him being here does to Ian. Where Ian is a giver, Mickey is a fixer. He makes things better. When stuff is broken, he puts it back together. When there’s a problem, he resolves it. Ian was going to leave because he couldn’t be an unacknowledged number three in Mickey’s life anymore? He jumped to solve the problem by coming out. Ian was acting strangely and wouldn’t get out of bed for so long that Mickey realized something was wrong? He immediately went to hunt down Lip, who he knows is closer to Ian than anyone else in his family. Fiona tells him that Ian is sick and needs to be cared for? He jumps in to do it, even to the point where it did more harm than good. Sammi caused a problem that Mickey couldn’t solve? He fixed the problem of her being there at all. But here he sits, behind glass, watching Ian that whole time and knowing that he was trying to maintain some emotional distance—and, because it’s Mickey, knowing why. There’s nothing he can do about this. He can’t fix it. For the first time since s3, Mickey is absolutely helpless to fix a problem. He takes a breath as Ian walks away as though he’s about to say something, but what can he say? What can he do? Nothing. He can do nothing but hang up the phone and weather the storm.

In the end, the heartbreak in this scene isn’t about them hurting each other, from my perspective. It’s not about Ian being callous and cruel or purposely trying to hurt Mickey. They know each other too well for that. They’ve been through too much. To me, this is about two people who love each other more than anything not being able to be what the other needed when they needed them—and that’s a whole lot more painful.

#shameless meta #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

Note

Please tell us about the cinema, I beg you

Oh boy...that accursed night. If you think fanfic plots are chaotic, just wait for this story.

Story under the cut:

So, I just got this job at my small town’s local theatre. I genuinely enjoyed it, and was quite content with the way things were going—fun shifts, cool coworkers, and a nice boss. So I thought.

I was only two weeks in when the “incident” occurred.

At the theatre, we had to collect a walkie talkie radio at the start of every shift, and sign it in and out with a piece of paper in the office.

It was a little clunky and annoying when cleaning cinemas with vacuums, but nothing to cry over.

One night, I’m put to work with a new supervisor I hadn’t met before and some new coworkers (they’d all been there a while, but this was my first shift with them).

For a little context, I’m 19, and most of the other employees were like 15-17. So, I was basically being bossed around by pretentious, power-tripping kids. Fun.

King Kong vs Godzilla had just been released, so of course, the theatre was packed that night — 130 people per room.

Now, we usually have 20-30 minute intervals between sessions to clean the cinemas, but with the release of a new movie, it was cut down in half, sometimes less.

I was cleaning the most popular cinema that night, and was first told to take my time, as it needed to be spotless. Also, side note, can people please not throw popcorn everywhere? It’s a pain to clean. Then again, I don’t work there anymore nor ever will, so do what you want, I suppose.

My little coworker told me to take my radio off my belt and put it aside to get a good vacuum going through each aisle, as it apparently made it easier, as the cord would sometimes get wrapped around the radio stem.

Fair enough.

I did so, and left it on the wooden platform of the rows to begin vacuuming. He leaves and I get to work.

However, he comes rushing back a few minutes later and says, “what the hell are you still cleaning for?? We’ve got a hundred people waiting outside???”

I’m over it™️ at this point because I only took this job to see the behind the scenes of how a cinema works. I shrug and go, “okay”

I pack the vacuum up and try to leave hastily, as he’s being very antsy and pushy.

He gets frustrated and grabs the rest of my cleaning crap to leave, and tells me to hurry up behind him.

My hands are full and I can’t grab the radio, so I say, “what about the walkie talkie?”

I swear I hear him say, “leave it, there’s no time!”

I shrug and think it’s weird, but trust him to know better.

However, once I dump my crap and prepare to leave, as a hundred people are pushing in behind me, my intuition tells me to grab the walkie talkie.

I rush back in to where I left it, and find it missing

I have a brief moment of “oh shit”

However, I think to myself, “it’s okay, you only took this job for shits and giggles. If they fire you, you have your other job anyways. What’s the worst that can happen?”

If only I knew.

An hour goes by into my shift, and I’m cleaning another cinema with the same coworker. I’ve kind of shoved the walkie talkie thing to the back of my mind, because I was doing a closing shift that night and could probably get away with not facing my manager about the sign out sheet.

However, at one point the boy goes, “where’s your radio??”

Sheepishly, I say, “uh...I left it in cinema 3, like you told me to?”

He sort of pales and I think this little skinny high schooler is about to pass out.

He starts yelling at me and tells me that I need to get my flashlight and start checking every single row in there.

I go, “fuck no, the movie is still going? You want me to flash a torch in the peoples’ faces during King Kong?? The one cinema hosting the entirety of the sweaty balls side of reddit right now???”

He gets very shitty and says, “I’ll do it myself, wait here.”

By now I know I’m in the shit, but shrug and remember I can always escape through the vents if need be.

Now, there was this really fucking annoying 15 year old boy I was working with that night, who’s the definition of the “well aCtUaLlY” guy irl

He comes sprinting into the theatre I was cleaning, and starts literally interrogating me over this walkie talkie. Like, he thinks he’s the “bad cop” or some shit. Other coworkers closer to my age had already warned me about him before I even met him.

The other boy I was working with apparently couldn’t find it, and just didn’t want to deal with the consequences that night so much, that he called his mum to come pick him up early.

Weakling child.

It was at this point that I quietly arrived at the conclusion of “they think I stole it”

I didn’t understand why, it’s a fucking walkie talkie? What’s the big deal? Go get a Dora the Explorer one to replace it from Target??

I let my inner Mickey Milkovich come out, and play cool.

Him: you fucking stole it

Me:

This 15 year old Ben Shapiro-looking fucker starts grilling me, and literally places me under theatre arrest. I wasn’t allowed to leave the room I was cleaning, in other words.

He gets uncomfortably close—just me and this weird boy in this dark theatre—and goes, “I want you to be brutally honest with me...did you take the walkie talkie? I won’t tell the manager that you did.”

If you guys know me well enough from my blog, then you know this boy suffered a great deal of aggressive sarcasm in response.

He gets pissed (brown-noser), and tells me to continue cleaning, as he leaves the theatre.

Only ten minutes go by until he comes back, but this time with “good cop”.

I roll my eyes, and turn the vacuum off.

They stand at the bottom of the cinema blocking my entrance with their arms folded, and start interrogating me about stealing it.

I give them some more Mickey Milkovich sarcasm, as I had already explained to them a hundred times what happened.

They involve the manager (snitches) and now I’m really in trouble.

They force me to go into the cinema whilst the movie is still playing to look for it. Begrudgingly grabbing my flashlight, and preparing for rightfully angry people as I search their crotches in the middle of a highly anticipated movie, I head inside theatre 3.

Fuck doing that though, I watch the movie instead with the people and eat some popcorn.

Figuring a reasonable amount of time to search had gone by, I sadly leave the cool laser battle scene, and head back out.

Me: “I searched and couldn’t find it.”

Power-complex 15 year old with a punchable Ben Shapiro face: “Did you look everywhere in the cinema??”

Me: “Yeah, I shoved a flashlight up seat 33’s asshole and checked it myself.”

Some more pissy exchanges take place, and I’m told to go clean another cinema.

I’m having fun at this point, because I’ve worked enough jobs to know this situation was being dealt with incredibly immaturely by the other staff.

Regarding accidents like these in the workplace, and given how big the cinema chain is, they should know insurance covers a simple walkie talkie, and that assuming the new employee stole something which is misplaced is a bad way to integrate them into your company. It’s simply a bad look for your business.

I’m cleaning another cinema when all three come in, and tell me they’re going to put cinema 3 on lockdown when the movie ends, and check everyone’s bags.

I’m amused at this point, so I really just go “damn bro that’s wild”

They do exactly that, and it’s as awkward as you can imagine.

People are angry and annoyed—all 130 of them at 9:30pm huddled in a group, having their bags searched for a damn walkie talkie.

After discovering no one had actually stolen it, like I said, they start interrogating me again.

“Are you sure it was cinema 3??? Is your memory perhaps failing you???”

“If I say yes, will I go home sooner?” (my shift ended 15 minutes ago, and I wasn’t allowed to leave)

Naturally, I stayed another 40 minutes, and had to search the entire building. I’m talking arcade, toilets, offices—everywhere.

It is eventually deemed completely lost, and I basically end the night saying, “well, I ain’t about to strip nude for you all for a full body search, and although I’ve never had such a fun shift anywhere else, I’m not a fan of work environments that promote skepticism and cohort-wide distrust. I ain’t coming in next week, or the week after that, or the...well, I think you get the point.”

I leave my badge behind, and basically book it out of the cinema an hour after my shift was supposed to end. I worked illegally longer than I was supposed to, and wasn’t given the legal shift break.

I received text messages and emails from the head office shortly after, asking if I was coming back, and ignored them for a little while, as although I can handle irl confrontation, virtual ones spook me?

Anywho, the walkie talkie actually costs $1000, but as mentioned before, I, an adult, recognise insurance covers these sorts of things, especially in companies as big as these.

So, moral of the story, don’t leave 15 year olds in charge of adults, because most of the time, they’re too young to realise what insurance policies are :)

#I have so many more stories like this #and I’m pretty sure I left a few good details out #but it was like 2 months ago so I don’t remember #was a wild night #and I can’t wait to tell it around a fellowship campfire #or to my kids #I’m not kidding when I say I am literally Alvin the chipmunk given how many times I get myself into trouble and sticky situations #xoxo gossip girl

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littlespoonevan · 4 years

Text

Indefinite Babysitting Duty

I just wanted ian and mickey to go to one of liam’s parent-teacher conference nights lol enjoy <333

If you’d asked Ian how he thought he would be spending his evenings now that he’s a married man, his answer would not have been at a Parents evening at the local elementary school. But here he is, Liam on one side of him, Mickey on the other with Franny on his hip as they wait for Liam’s teacher to finish up with some other kid’s parent.

Ian swallows down his nerves, thinking back over every time Fiona did this for each of them, the questions she used to ask, the stuff she’d write down that was important. Fuck, he doesn’t understand why Lip – who’s an actual parent – isn’t the one doing this. But Lip had pulled the baby card and Debbie had had to work late which had left Ian and Mickey as the only semi-functioning adults in Liam’s life.

And if Ian’s being honest, he’s sort of commandeered taking care of Liam the past couple of months, the only one besides Carl without his own kid and thus, the only one who could actually devote an appropriate amount of time to Liam. So it probably does make sense that he’s the one doing this but still.

“Man, will you stop freaking out?” Mickey says from beside him. “If anyone should be nervous it’s me. They probably still have pictures of me in the teachers’ lounge with the word, “Beware!” scrawled across it.”

Ian breathes out a laugh, feeling his shoulders drop and sliding an arm around Mickey’s waist. “I’m sure they’ll be awed by your redemption story,” he teases, kissing Mickey’s cheek just as the door to Liam’s classroom opens.

Ian starts, blinking at the parents that slip past them to move down the corridor. He turns to Liam then, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. “You good to wait here for a few minutes?”

Liam nods, affable as ever. “Want me to watch Franny?”

“You kiddin’?” Mickey scoffs. “She’s our excuse to get outta there if your teacher’s being an asshole.”

“Ms Patterson is nice,” Liam says but Mickey makes a face like he doesn’t believe him.

“Come on,” Ian says, putting his hand on the small of Mickey’s back to guide him into the classroom. “We’ll be back soon, buddy.”

Liam waves them off and Ian forces his gaze away from the safety of his brother to the teacher waiting expectantly by her desk.

“Ms Patterson, hi,” he says, using the voice he normally reserves for his patients as he starts forward to shake her hand.

“Mr Gallagher,” she greets warmly, taking his hand. “I’d heard Fiona left town.”

Ian winces a little at that but nods. “Yeah uh- my husband and I are currently Liam’s primary caregivers.”

It’s true even if it’s not legally true.

“Congratulations,” she smiles, nodding at Ian’s ring before her gaze travels to Mickey. “Lisa Patterson,” she says, holding out her hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

Mickey chews his lip like he’s unsure whether or not he should respond before he shifts Franny onto one arm and shakes her hand. “Mickey.”

“Milkovich?” she blurts out, sudden realisation colouring her face.

Mickey’s mouth twists and he nods shortly as Ian subtly attempts to ground him by squeezing his hip beneath his denim jacket.

“Well you’ve certainly um- grown up,” she stutters, looking flustered as her eyes dart between them. “Congratulations on your marriage!” She quickly clears her throat then, making a concerted effort to calm herself before she gestures toward her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

They sit down as she rounds the desk to her own chair and Ian allows himself a private smile in Mickey’s direction. As far as first impressions go, that could’ve been worse.

“Is um, is this your daughter?” Ms Patterson asks tentatively as she nods at Franny.

“No, that’s Debbie’s daughter,” Ian explains, glancing over fondly at Franny before he returns his gaze to the teacher. “We’re just on babysitting duty.”

Ms Patterson’s expression seems to relax at the apparent kindness in Ian’s voice and she nods, looking almost sentimental. “I still remember when you were all Liam’s age running around this place.”

“Bet you wish you could forget me,” Mickey says, snorting out a laugh, and Ian suppresses an eyeroll. The lengths his husband will go to goad people.

Ms Patterson only smiles at him though. “Well you seem to have grown up to be quite a fine young man in spite of that, Mr Milkovich.”

Ian bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide at that. The stint in prison notwithstanding she’s one hundred percent right and Ian will never get tired of seeing other people compliment Mickey.

Mickey squirms under the praise, looking from Franny to Ian to Ms Patterson before he hunches his shoulders and mutters out, “Can we talk about the kid now?”

“Of course,” Ms Patterson says with a knowing smile in Ian’s direction.

Ian bites back a laugh and waits for her to talk.

“Liam’s doing really well,” she says and Ian doesn’t know what he’d expected her to say but it still makes his stomach lurch to hear it.

“He is?” he asks, quiet and hopeful.

“He is,” she assures him. “Being completely honest, I was a little concerned for him at the start of the year when I heard Fiona had moved but he’s really come along in the past couple of months. He’s playing with more kids at lunch, participating in class more. He really seems more settled in himself.”

Ian feels himself deflate in his chair, relief flooding through him. Objectively, he’s known he hasn’t been doing a bad job with Liam but to actually get confirmation that everything is okay and not only that, but that Liam’s been improving since they started taking care of him? It’s more than he ever could’ve hoped for.

Ms Patterson starts going through each of Liam’s subjects in detail then, telling them what he’s doing well in and how he needs to improve and Ian is so glad he made Mickey come with him because he’s on way too much of a high to take in half of what she’s saying. But Mickey nods along the entire time, asking all the right questions when she makes suggestions on how to help Liam with his homework.

Before Ian knows it, the meeting is over and Ms Patterson is thanking them for coming and ushering them to the door. Mickey’s hand in his is the only thing that actually manages to snap Ian out of his racing thoughts and he just about remembers to thank her before he’s opening the classroom door to find Liam immediately bounding off his seat.

“What did she say?” he asks instantly, his normally cool demeanour cracking a little as he looks anxiously up at Ian.

Inexplicably, Ian feels tears burn behind his eyes just at the sight of his little brother. Crouching down, he meets Liam’s gaze with a reassuring smile before pulling him into a crushing hug. He can tell Liam doesn’t expect it because he takes a minute to react but when he does he hugs back tightly.

“I’m so proud of you,” Ian murmurs, giving him one last squeeze before releasing him. “She said you’re doing really good.”

Liam’s gaze shifts from Ian to Mickey as if looking for confirmation and Ian turns in time to see Mickey nod and hold out his fist. “You crushed it, man.”

Liam breaks out into a beaming grin as he fist bumps Mickey. “Seriously?”

“Hell yeah,” Mickey says, meeting Ian’s gaze with a smirk. “Your brother almost cried.”

“I had good reason,” Ian laughs before he nudges Liam. “Hey, wanna go out for dinner tonight? You can pick the restaurant.”

It’s the least Liam deserves for keeping his shit together in school while the rest of them muddled through the messes in their lives.

Liam seems to think about it for a minute before asking, “Can we go to Patsy’s?”

Mickey barks out a laugh. “Kid can go wherever he wants and he picks Patsy’s.”

Ian grins, standing up and putting a hand on Liam’s shoulder to guide him along as his other hand finds Mickey’s back. “Of course we can go to Patsy’s. I’ll text Carl, see if he wants to meet us there.”

Dinner is nice. It feels good to eat together as a family even if Lip and Debbie are missing. It’s been so long since any of them have eaten together – even he and Mickey don’t always get to have dinner together when their work shifts don’t align. But this feels good, feels like before. Ian’s always craved the comfort of his family unit even when he used to run from it. Now he never seems to be without it.

When they get back to the house Carl offers to put Franny to bed and Liam immediately plants himself in front of the TV, announcing he should get to watch what he wants since he got such a good report in school so Ian opts to head upstairs to change out of his good-impression clothes, Mickey following close at his heels.

Getting changed inevitably leads to them tangled on the bed, trading lazy kisses and letting their hands wander. They don’t let it go any further, not when the majority of the house is still awake and seem to have a sixth sense for walking in on them at the just the wrong time. So Ian contents himself with trailing his fingers through Mickey’s hair and letting their lips brush together one too many times.

Mickey pulls back some indeterminable time later, hand curved around Ian’s jaw as his thumb presses into the hollow of Ian’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly. “You’re doin’ a good job.”

Ian’s brow furrows, a confused smile on his face and Mickey rolls his eyes. “With the kid,” he clarifies, sounding far too fond and doing things to Ian’s heart.

“I didn’t realise how nervous I was until she started talking,” Ian admits quietly, curling his fingers around Mickey’s wrist.

“Ian, you know what you’re doing,” Mickey tells him, sounding so, so sure. “You knew when you were seventeen and you know now. You literally take care of people for a living. You’re born for this shit.”

Ian’s heart stutters at the reference to before, to the tiny, makeshift family they’d tried to create all those years ago. They don’t talk about it all that much now but Ian still thinks of it a lot – the good parts at least. “Thanks,” he mumbles, eyes downcast as he feels his cheeks heat up. “You know I couldn’t do any of it without you?”

Mickey scoffs disbelievingly. “You could do this shit in your sleep.”

Ian shakes his head, shifting closer and burying his hand back in Mickey’s hair. “Do you know how much I’d second guess myself without you? How much I’d fuck up if I didn’t have you next to me helping me figure out the best thing to do?”

Mickey goes still, gaze softening, and Ian lets his mouth lift in a smile. “I might know how to take care of people but you’re the only one who’s ever known how to take care of me,” he murmurs. “So, no. I couldn’t do this without you.”

Mickey kisses him slow and sweet, pulling back after a moment and raising his eyebrows. “Guess I’m the one who deserves congratulatory sex tonight then, huh?”

Ian laughs, hand tightening in Mickey’s hair. “I mean it is what you deserve.”

Mickey smirks, self-satisfied, and draws Ian into another kiss as he drags his leg over Ian’s hip. It hardly lasts thirty seconds before Carl starts banging on the door.

“Ian! Franny won’t go to sleep.”

Ian sighs against Mickey’s mouth and rolls onto his back. Craning his neck to the side and meeting Mickey’s exasperated eyes, he says, “I’ll congratulate you in ten minutes.”

Mickey only smirks, pulling him in for one last kiss before letting Ian climb off the bed. “You better.”

Ian gives him one more lingering look and resolves himself to be back within eight minutes. Because this? This is exactly what he wants to be doing with his evenings as a married man.

#gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #liam gallagher #shameless #my fics

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confinedinthisflesh · 3 years

Text

hall of shame 1 rewatch reactions by remmie

i had no expectations and ya know what it exceeded them and i'm content

- first off i want the soundtrack for this entire episode as a playlist

- i like this style of episode surprisingly

- aww i love them

- shuT UP with the weird ass names! i hate it!

- knew it was gonna be ned

- ian you don't tell your husband THAT

- thank you shameless for giving me a mickey saying fuck compilation in response

- I LOVE MICKEY'S OUTFIT

- 🥺 you HAD to hit the "he always leaves" nerve finally huh?

- low blow ian 😬

- oh wow even lower blow mickey 😧😬

- okay this rewinding compilation made me tear up because wow they really were just kids to now 😭😭

- the minute mickey picked up the ring i knew i was gonna cry; and i did

- "stupid fucking gallagher" and then doing the right thing 🥺

- i can hear it i can hear the remix no don't do this no ian why what why are you dancing with a random person?

- "stupid milkovich" 😜

- 🥺 are they gonna talk???? 🥺

- at first this silent staring at one another during confrontations and see them like talk with their eyes thing was cute, and then it kept going and i got annoyed dbwjddj

- after the two minute long staring contest, they're talking 🥺🥺🥺

- aw softie and sensitive, the best duo 😭

- agreed that they both had rough childhoods and god awful fathers; hated that they showed the scene and made light of everything

- ...whatdidhesayyyyy??? 😶

- AJAJDJAKDKS thank you for this bathroom scene

- some of these compilations got too repetitive and didn't make sense in context, this is one of those times

- i cannot take ian seriously in that purple bathrobe, i kept laughing

- THE MINUTE THE WALL HAPPENED I YELLED I KNEW I KNEW THEY WERE GONNA DO THAT

- "i fucking love you" "i love you too" THANK YOU! 🥺 *bare necessities plays in the back*

- i saw how much time was left and was confused, i was not ready

- i manifested bloopers, and it happened and i just stared in SHOCK; manifesting works guys, it just takes a year

- i suppose after years of saying the weirdest shit, it's just normal and you can laugh it off with one another but ohmygod the second hand embarrassment i feel at some of these takes and what they could've used sjsjsjd

- it's perfect though and i want more shameless, give us more blooper reels please

- those are bromies!

- fellas is it gay to kiss your bromie?

- i cannot WAIT for us to just take that blooper kiss as canon and eventually trick ourselves into thinking it's actually canon

- and a finishing compilation

ya know what i am happy and content ☺️

#shameless #shameless spoilers #spoilers #shameless s11

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callivich · 1 year

Text

Just a reminder for anyone new or anyone who has been lurking:

I know it’s difficult coming into a new fandom but everyone in the Gallavich fandom on tumblr is very friendly and kind, so don’t feel nervous - just jump in and say hi.

Make an intro post and check the #gallavichintro tag to find fellow fans!

Like seriously just send a message or reply to a post. We’re here to have fun, the idea of new people is great because it means more engagement.

When I say people are nice, I mean it. I’ve been in so many different fandoms over 20+ years and this is genuinely the kindest group of people I’ve ever encountered online in a fandom space.

Give your blog an icon. People tend to assume that ones without are spam blogs and may block immediately. Here are some great icons you can use with credit: here / here / here

If you’d like a Gallavich banner for your blog, send me a message - I’d be so happy to make you one! I’ve got ones free to use here / here.

Please don’t steal gifs and repost them, here’s a great post explaining why. And another one explaining the gif search function.

Reblog content you enjoy and write in the tags or reply to the post - how much you liked something or if you have other thoughts…..creators love to hear this!

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ft-dads-au · 4 years

Text

Lean On Me

Lyoray Week 2020 Prompt: Reconciliation Pairing(s): Lyon & Gray, Lyon & Aki, Siegrain x Gray (mentioned)

A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

AO3 | FF.Net | Takes place after Chance Encounter

Summary: Lyon gets a visit at his office from Rogue, asking for his help in reconciling with his brother, Gray. During their conversation Lyon gains new insights, and discovers some of the things his friend has been keeping from him.

May 13, 2020

Lyon grabbed the large cup of coffee he’d bought from his car’s cup holder while stretching his other arm to snatch the suitcase that lay on the passenger seat. He yawned, still tired from his unexpected late night.

He got out, shoving the door shut with his hip, the car’s alarm engaging automatically as he walked towards the elevator of the underground parking garage. Once inside, he pushed the button for the Lobby, closed his eyes briefly, and readied himself for the rest of his day.

When he entered the building that housed the offices of his law firm, Reitei Law, his mind was already on the appointments he had scheduled that day, as well as the cases he would have to review.

Arriving at the metal detector Lyon emptied his pockets, placing the contents in a small container as he did every day and waving at the security guard as he walked through.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Vastia,” the guard greeted him as he handed him his belongings.

“You as well.”

Lyon put the cup in the crook of his elbow so he could open the door, looking forward to the thirty or so minutes of peace he’d have before his first appointment. He realized, however, that he would have to wait as he found an unusual scene playing out in front of him.

“I’ve told you, I need to see him right away, it’s urgent!” A man stood arguing with their receptionist.

“And I’ve already told you, Sir, Mr. Vastia does not see anyone without an appointment. I’d be happy to try to find you an opening, but he is booked solid through next week.”

Lyon remained silent, not wanting to make his presence known until he had a better grasp of the situation. He intently studied the man, trying to connect him to any of the cases he was handling, but although he seemed familiar, Lyon was able to discount that connection.

“That’s not good enough,” the man slammed his hand on her desk.

“That’s it!” the receptionist fumed, “I have tried to be polite, but if you don’t back off right now, I will need to call Security to escort you out.”

The man immediately brought up both his hands, waving them in front of him, “You don’t have to do that. Look, I’m sorry, it’s just urgent that I talk to him today, I had to get a sitter for my kids.”

Lyon continued to examine the man with interest. He was tall with long dark hair that was put up in a ponytail, his annoyed stance reminding him of someone, although at the moment, the resemblance escaped him. That was until he turned around, and Lyon recognized the man who had been at the Dads Club Meeting the previous evening. The one who had been so interested in Gray.

Lyon had asked Gray who he was, but his friend had only said the guy was no one important, in a moody way that made Lyon immediately realize the exact opposite was true. But try as he might he’d not been able to get anything more out of him.

The rest of his evening had only gotten more interesting from there. And now that same man was here looking for him, and Lyon would be lying if he said he didn’t want to talk to him. Realizing that if security became involved, he’d lose his chance, he made a split-second decision.

“It’s alright, Risley, I have a few minutes before my next appointment. I’d be happy to see Mr. uhm?”

“Fullbuster, Rogue Fullbuster, well Eucliffe now,” Rogue pointed at his wedding band.

Your brother? Really?! Damn it, Gray!

Lyon wanted to throttle his best friend. He should have realized the second Gray went into obstinate mode that it was family related. Now that he could get a good look, he could definitely see the resemblance.

“Right this way,” Lyon said politely, once again wishing he’d been able to get more sleep. He led Rogue to his office, opening the door and waiting for him to enter so he could close the door behind them.

Lyon gestured toward the chairs that faced his desk, “Take a seat.”

Rogue sat down, and Lyon joined him at his desk chair. They stared at each other silently for a moment.

“Well then, how can I help you, Mr. Eucliffe?” Lyon grabbed a yellow legal notepad and a pen, preferring to take notes and entering them into the computer later on.

“I don’t know if you recognize me or not, but you were at the Dads Club Meeting last night. You went with my brother, Gray.”

“I was indeed at the meeting last night,” Lyon agreed, “As to who I was with, I don’t really comment on my private life to strangers.”

“So you are dating him!” Rogue exclaimed, “When did he get back? How is he? What happened with Siegrain? “Where can I find him?”

Rogue continued asking question after question, but Lyon had a hard time keeping track of them all. He tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t manage it, exploding into loud guffaws instead. The idea of him and Gray dating was just too ridiculous.

“I needed that,” Lyon commented, once he was finally able to get himself under control. “Rogue, was it?” He waited until the man nodded before continuing.

For once, he wasn’t exactly sure what the right way to handle a situation was. He knew there wasn’t much use denying he had a personal relationship with Gray considering Rogue had already seen them together. Lyon could see that he was looking around his office. It would only be a matter of minutes before he noticed the only personal item Lyon kept, a picture of himself with Ur Milkovich that had been taken at his graduation from Lamia Scale University.

Ur was his mentor and somewhat of a mother figure, but she also happened to be Gray and Rogue’s aunt.

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling you that I was Gray’s college roommate at Lamia. To be honest, I’m surprised we’ve never met before.”

“So you can help me talk to him?”

Lyon could see the hope in Rogue’s face at his words, and he hated to destroy it, but then again, given what he did for a living, he was used to it.

“I’m afraid that’s really all I can tell you. Gray is my friend, but he’s also my client, and I’m not at liberty to discuss clients.”

“Wait, he’s your client?”

“Indeed,” Lyon agreed.

“Why did he hire you?”

“I’ve already told you, I can’t answer those types of questions.”

“Fine, what types of services do you provide?” Rogue demanded stubbornly, making a face that was so very much like Gray’s that Lyon couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Look, as much as I would enjoy sitting here and playing twenty questions with you all day, I have an appointment to prepare for, so If there’s nothing else I can help you with, I really must ask you to leave.”

“It’s been six years since I last spoke to him,” Rogue declared, his shoulders slumping at the admission, “and I have no other way of getting in touch with him. Please, you’re the only lead I have.”

Lyon took a sip from his coffee. He knew better than anyone that, given the situation Gray found himself in, he desperately needed to reconnect with his family. Especially after what they had learned the previous evening, but Lyon’s hands were tied both legally and in friendship. He’d hoped to get that process started by getting Ur to visit soon.

Gray had never talked about his younger brother much, and Lyon was embarrassed to realize he’d all but forgotten he had one.

He wanted to help Rogue, but he also knew Gray couldn’t be forced into this, not when he was still so emotionally vulnerable. Even now, Lyon was reasonably sure that Gray had only told him the facts he needed to help him escape and defend his case against Siegrain.

He’d known Gray for years, and he was well aware that Gray had an unhealthy habit of burying his feelings. The information he had was but the tip of the proverbial iceberg, one that Gray was determined to keep submerged.

“Can you at least tell him I’m sorry?” Rogue interrupted his thoughts, and Lyon could see the quiet desperation. He’d seen it in his clients often before, usually during nasty custody battles that weren’t going their way.

Lyon opened his mouth to explain his position once again, but Rogue didn’t give him a chance.

“When I first saw him last night, I was furious. That he would be back in town without even a call was just the last straw, but then I saw he had a son. I didn’t even know that. I have two sons.” Rogue held out a picture of himself and the blond man he’d been with the previous evening holding the twin boys that Aki had been playing with.

“I’m sorry, I can’t take that,” Lyon was quick to respond.

”Just look at it,” Rogue pleaded, waving the picture in front of him, “I’ll be the first to admit that our family is messed up at the moment, and I know I hold some of the blame for that. I was more focused on trying to protect Gray from Siegrain than in listening to what he wanted, and I probably made everything worse, but I only did that because I love him.”

“Mr. Vastia, I don’t want our sons to grow up not knowing each other. They deserve better than that.”

“Lyon,” he corrected, clicking on the tip of his pen repeatedly as he considered what he’d just heard. Maybe there was a way they could help each other out after all.

“Lyon,” Rogue repeated, “All I’m asking for is the chance to get to know my brother again, for both our sakes.”

Lyon picked up the phone in his office and dialed the receptionist, “Risley, can you come in here for a second? Thanks.”

He opened his briefcase and rifled through the papers inside until he found what he needed. Looking up when Risley entered, he handed her the folder. “This meeting is going to take a bit longer than I thought. Can you have Mrs. Johnson fill out these forms when she arrives? Put her in Conference Room One, I’ll meet her there once I’m done.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Vastia,” Risley left the office, but not before looking at Rogue curiously.

“Does this mean you’re going to help me?” Rogue asked as he fiddled with the wedding band on his finger.

“No, it means you’re going to help me help your brother,” Lyon noted, “Now, tell me everything you know about Siegrain Fernandes.”

0-0

He had scribbled pages and pages of notes from his conversation with Rogue. Even though most of it was hearsay and wouldn’t stand up in court, it had served to give him a clearer picture. To say that he was furious at Gray was an understatement.

In exchange for the information, Lyon had agreed to consider talking to Gray about maybe getting in touch with his brother. Although he had still refused to accept the photograph, Rogue had left it behind, and he’d stuck it inside his briefcase before heading into the conference room to meet his client.

Thankfully, the rest of his day had been routine: appointments, phone calls, research, filing motions, and scheduling court appearances. It had kept him occupied, but now he was on his way home, and he felt the frustration build.

When he’d first met Gray Fullbuster, they had not hit it off at all. Lyon had thought he was arrogant and self-centered. Now that they were older, Lyon could admit that he’d seen what he’d wanted to see, threatened by both his considerable talent on the ice and by his familial connection to Ur.

He had seen Gray as his replacement, even more so when Ur had ensured they were paired as roommates and asked Lyon to watch out for him. Taking a particular interest in him, just as she had in Lyon.

Yet, over a few months, they had found they were quite similar in many regards, including their determination to give their all to win. Which was why Lyon could not for the life of him understand why his friend would have failed to tell him all the things his brother had shared.

Embarrassment? He supposed that was possible. When they had been at Lamia, they had both been untouchable, and Gray had lost that after his injury. Lyon remembered how defeated he’d seemed after he couldn’t play hockey anymore, but could that really have changed him that much?

He’d been against it when Gray had told him about the modeling during one of their lunches, but he’d had no indication that anything had been off, and he’d been too busy with law school to really concern himself with it.

Still, none of it mattered anymore. The fact was Lyon couldn’t really help Gray properly if he didn’t have all the information. Not as a lawyer and certainly not as a friend.

He was determined to get to the bottom of things tonight. With that thought in mind, he opened the door to his apartment, smiling at the little boy that ran over to greet him with his arms up in the air.

“Hey, Aki,” Lyon greeted, “Did you miss me?”

The little boy nodded eagerly, and Lyon picked him up with one arm, cradling him to his side as he walked over to his desk to drop off his briefcase. He was still getting used to the idea that there were children out there who weren’t scared of him. It was a nice feeling.

The smell of food being prepared alerted him to Gray’s location. “Hi honey, I’m home,” Lyon called out to him.

Gray raised an eyebrow at his greeting, “Honey? Something I should know?”

“Gods no,” Lyon chuckled, “Just had someone ask me if we were dating.”

“Oh, was it that woman on the third floor?” Gray asked as he stirred the pasta sauce. “Sorry about that, she wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I told her I was gay.”

“Oh, great,” Lyon complained, “She was cute.”

“Meh, you can do better,” Gray mumbled, pouring the contents of a box of pasta into a pot full of boiling water.

“Pasta again? I know you want to help out, but I don’t have time to go to the gym.”

“Sorry dude, I had a housekeeper,” Gray shrugged his shoulders, “Pasta and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are about the only things I can make that won’t potentially kill you.”

“Maybe you can let me cook sometime?” Lyon pointed out.

“You don’t exactly have the most normal of schedules, Aki can’t wait that long. Besides, there are lots of cute girls at a gym,” Gray reminded him, “And it’d be great for your stress levels.”

“Whatever,” Lyon put Aki down and loosened his tie, “I’m gonna go change.”

He walked into his room, tossing his work clothes into the hamper provided by his laundry service and changing into some shorts and a t-shirt. Lyon had no idea how he was going to bring up the topic with Gray, but he knew he’d at least have to wait until Aki was out for the night.

Walking back into the kitchen, he opened the fridge, grabbing two beer bottles, and opening them. He handed one over to Gray and put some juice in a sippy cup for Aki.

“Did you hear back from that embassy guy?” he asked, thinking that Gray had seemed unusually calm considering the news he’d received. Rather than just being out of the country for work, Gray’s parents had gotten caught up in a civil war. They’d been stuck in Alvarez for years now.

“Not yet, but you know, I was thinking about it all day,” Gray remarked,” It’s been years at this point, and the government hasn’t done anything to help them so the most they’ll be able to tell me is whether they are alive or not. If they had died, they would have called me, right? So that must mean they’re okay. And now Gildarts knows about it, and he’s someone who gets results.”

“Gets results? What does that even mean? He just looked like a big kid at that meeting last night.”

Hearing the timer go off, Lyon handed Gray a colander for the pasta and set about grabbing some plates and cutlery.

“Don’t let that fool you. Gildarts might seem harmless, but he’s Special Forces,” Gray explained as he drained the pasta in the sink, setting aside a portion that he began to cut into smaller pieces for Aki.

“Is that how he lost his arm and leg?” Lyon wondered.

“Yeah, it happened on a mission a few years ago, my old man was pretty broken up about it. I’d been worried when I heard, but I gotta say, it doesn’t seem to have slowed him down any. Anyway, he’s got lots of connections in the government, so he should be able to find out more than what some bureaucrats will tell me.”

They sat down to eat their dinner and watch a show with Aki before his bedtime. The little boy lay with his head on Lyon’s lap, stretching his legs until his feet touched Gray. He’d started doing that a few weeks earlier, and Lyon still didn’t know how to respond to it.

“You can run your fingers through his hair if you want, he likes that,” Gray suggested like he’d read his mind.

Lyon huffed as if he didn’t need to be told such a thing, but the truth was he was hopeless when it came to this stuff, something Gray had caught on to fairly quickly. He wasn’t used to people showing him affection like this, liking him not for shallow reasons, but for who he was.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he deserved it, he was in the business of breaking up families. Most of the time, it was what was best for everyone, but he knew many of the kids he tried to help didn’t really see it that way when their lives were being torn apart.

He could certainly relate to that sentiment. His childhood hadn’t been particularly pleasant. Sure, his family had been loaded, and he’d never wanted for anything material, but that is all he’d ever had. He’d grown up in a noisy home, one that was full of anger and recriminations. His parents had been fighting with each other ever since he could remember. When he was ten years old, they had finally decided to get divorced, and things had turned even nastier, with Lyon stuck in the middle. Reduced to nothing more than a pawn they used to hurt the other.

Aki laughed, shifting in his lap and making himself comfortable. Lyon slowly moved his hand down to pet the small head, holding his breath as he ran his fingers through the little boy’s hair and tensing up when Aki turned his head to give him a beaming smile.

“Relax, you’re doing fine,” Gray soothed, adding in a teasing tone, “and I don’t know, maybe breathe?”

Lyon ignored the childish desire to stick his tongue out at his friend, too fascinated by how this all made him feel.

“He likes you,” Gray remarked casually.

“Yes, but why?”

Gray shrugged, “What can I say? He’s a Fullbuster, terrible taste in men.”

Lyon snorted but kept playing with Aki’s hair. As soon as the show was over, Gray turned the TV off and picked up Aki from Lyon’s lap.’

“Wow, you really did a number on him, he’s out. I’m gonna go put him to bed.”

“Alright, I have some notes I need to enter into the computer,” Lyon grabbed another beer from the fridge before walking over to his desk. He opened his briefcase and pulled out his laptop and legal pad with all of the day’s notes.

While he waited for Gray to come out, he reread the information he’d jotted down from Rogue. Once his laptop had booted up, he opened up his law firm’s software and entered Gray Fullbuster in the search box.

First, he added the names Rogue had given him, Rogue Eucliffe, Hibiki Lates, and Eve Tearm, under the category People of Interest. Then he set about creating a timeline for the events Rogue had told him about. He was still typing away when Gray came out of the bedroom he shared with Aki, closing the door gently behind him, baby monitor in one hand.

“Productive day?” Gray asked, stopping at the fridge to get another beer and setting the monitor down on the counter.

“Yeah, it turns out one of the guys from the Dads club came to see me today, wanting to ask for my help. So I guess leaving those business cards paid off.”

“Oh? Was it the guy Gildarts was talking to, what was his name, Luke?”

“Loke,” Lyon corrected, “No, I know him, he’s a lawyer too.” He waited until Gray had sat down before he pounced. “Actually, it was weird, this guy wanted me to help him find his brother. Can you imagine that?”

Gray gripped the arm of the table but said nothing.

“Your brother Gray, he was your fucking brother. You didn’t think that was worth mentioning when I asked you last night?”

“There was nothing to say, he made his feelings clear a long time ago,” Gray’s shoulders slumped in defeat, recognizing that Lyon wasn’t pleased. “Your acting skills have improved since college,” he noted.

“And yours haven’t,” Lyon snapped, “I knew there were things you were keeping from me, and I wanted to give you time to tell me yourself, but you had no plans to do that, did you?”

“I told you before, I don’t care about me, I only care about what happens to Aki.” Gray protested.

“And I get that, but what you don’t seem to understand is that I am your lawyer. I need to know this shit to help you keep Aki safe.”

“I thought you were my friend.”

“Don’t give me that, you know I’m both. And for the record, as your friend, I’m plenty pissed at you too. He cheated on you, Gray. Before you were even married. What the hell were you thinking?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Gray mumbled, “It’s over, isn’t it?”

Lyon got up from his desk and moved over to the table to sit across from his friend.

“I already know he hit Aki, did he hit you too?”

“NO!” Gray defended, pushing his chair back and standing up, clearly not wanting to continue the conversation.

“Sit your ass back down,” Lyon demanded, quickly backing down as soon as he saw the defiance reflected in Gray’s eyes.

“Look, you trusted me to get you out, why can’t you trust me with what happened?” Lyon pleaded.

“Rogue doesn’t know anything that was going on. We were barely speaking at the time.”

“And why do you think that was? He told me he called you plenty of times, and I bet you that if I requested those phone records from the cell provider, they would back him up.”

Lyon sighed, “Siegrain isolated you long before you were married, Gray. Controlling who you did and didn’t talk to, controlling your finances, your career. He was controlling you, and you’re not doing yourself any favors by protecting him.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Gray’s laugh grated on Lyon’s nerves, it was brittle and full of self-loathing.

“If it isn’t, then please tell me what it is.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know,” Gray whispered and Lyon could see that he was holding back tears, “Yeah, it took me years, but I realized what he was doing. How do you think that makes me feel? To know that I let it go on for so long, that if it wasn’t for Aki, I might still be there now, begging for whatever attention he chose to give me.”

“Angry? Worthless? More disappointed in yourself than anyone else could possibly be capable of? Trust me, I’ve been there, but you’re not going to get out of that by pretending it didn’t happen, and frankly, it isn’t like you to shy away from a fight.”

“I didn’t want you to find out,” Gray took a shuddering breath, and this time there were tears, “Stupid Rogue.”

“Gray,” Lyon rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out what to say, “You and Ur, and now Aki, you guys are the only family I really have, but you have a brother who cares about you. Enough to risk getting manhandled out of my office by security today, just to get a chance to reach you through me.”

He moved back to his desk to grab his suitcase, retrieving the picture Rogue had left him, and bringing it to the table.

“He wanted me to give you this-” he slid it right under Gray’s nose, thankful for his decision of taking it after all. Having a visual confrontation with one of the missing parts of Gray’s life turned out to be more useful than he’d thought, and for a second, he could see Gray falter.

“Your brother wants to apologize to you and at least give your kids a chance to get to know each other,” Lyon continued, “I’d say it’s worth considering, but that’s all up to you. I’m not going to get involved with that any more than I already have. And when you’re ready to talk, I will listen. As a friend.”

He stopped speaking, realizing that Gray wasn’t really paying attention anymore, too focused on the picture.

“Do you think they’re happy?” Gray wondered.

“They haven’t come to see me for legal advice yet,” Lyon joked, trying to lighten the moment but got no response.

He walked over to the living room, to give Gray some time alone. Finding a hockey game on the TV, he sat down, glancing at the dining room every now and then to make sure Gray was still doing okay. After a few minutes, Gray joined him, still holding on to the picture. They sat on the sofa quietly until Lyon noticed with growing alarm that Gray’s shoulders were shaking.

When this happened with a client in his office, he usually called Risley in, and she took care of it, but there was no one here to do that.

“Are - are you okay?” Lyon asked, feeling like an idiot. Of course, he wasn’t okay, he was crying for God’s sake! The only other time he’d ever seen Gray cry was when he found out he couldn’t play hockey anymore, and once again, Ur had handled it.

Gray shook his head, and Lyon moved closer to him, trying to think of what he should do. At a loss, he did the only thing that came to mind. He pulled Gray down until his head was on his lap and ran his fingers through his hair as he’d done with Aki earlier.

Gray looked up at him in surprise and chuckled through his tears, wiping his eyes as he declared, “Oh my God, you really suck at this.”

“Fuck off, I’m trying my best,” Lyon groused.

Gray didn’t comment any further, bringing the subject back to more comfortable grounds. “Aki seemed to like playing with the boys yesterday, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, it was kinda cute. I’d never seen him around other kids before.”

“He’s never really had much chance to,” Gray admitted, looking embarrassed.

“You’re already changing his life for the better,” Lyon pointed out, continuing to play with Gray’s hair, the repetitive motion feeling oddly soothing to him as well. “Just goes to show, you made the right choice.”

“I can’t believe Rogue has kids too,” Gray sniffled, “or that my parents haven’t met any of them. It’s all so strange.”

“Yeah,” Lyon agreed, “Does that mean you’re going to talk to him then?”

“I want to, but I was such an ass to him,” Gray admitted, and Lyon could hear the regret in his voice.

“Do you miss him?”

“Yeah.”

“Then apologize. Let him yell at you for a few minutes. In the end, isn’t it worth it?”

“Maybe,” Gray hedged, “I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t make me call Ur,” Lyon threatened playfully, and Gray mock gasped in response.

Once Lyon felt Gray had calmed down enough, he announced, “You should know, I’m gonna do whatever I can to make sure that Siegrain can’t touch either one of you ever again. And I’ll say it again cause it bears repeating. When you’re ready to talk, I will listen, and I won’t judge you.”

Lyon waited for a full minute before ruffling Gray’s hair and adding, “I mean, I already know how much of an idiot you are.”

“Takes one to know one, asshole.”

Lyon chuckled, feeling much more comfortable with their usual insults than with all the sensitive topics and emotions they’d been tackling.

“Are you even watching this?”

“No, in all honesty, I’m exhausted,” Lyon confessed, “You?”

“I’m gonna watch for a bit, Invel’s playing, and I wouldn’t mind watching him get punched a few times.”

Lyon snorted, remembering how much the two men had hated each other in college. It was a pity too, Gray had been a much better player. “You do that, I’m gonna go to bed. Night, Gray.”

“Night.”

Lyon was almost to his bedroom door when he heard a very faint “Thank you.”

He turned to acknowledge it, but Gray was already focused on the game, the picture of his brother’s family sitting on the sofa next to him.

You’re welcome.

Lyon smiled and closed the door behind him.

@lyoray-week

#ftdadsau #lyorayweek2020 #lyon & gray #brotp #fics #prompt: reconciliation #lyoray week 2020

17 notes · View notes

staliasjeronica · 4 years

Text

Riverdale S4 Ep10 Thoughts *Spoilers*

- Spirit Week is always one of the best weeks of school. It was always so fun because people would actually dress up in whatever the theme was for the day and as someone who wasn’t popular, it made me feel like I belonged, even if for a day 🥺🥺 Also, i’m still wondering how convenient it is that Stonewall, a rich private school, is into football and not, like, tennis or some boring shit (sorry to anyone to plays tennis lol I just don’t like sports and it was the first sport that came to mind)

- “Ace reporter Betty Cooper” mmhmkay… Jughead it’s cute that you’re hyping her up but if you call butting into everyone’s business with no regard for people’s personal space or feelings, then sure, she’s an ace reporter.

- Don’t EVER not go to a college because of your significant other. If Jughead doesn’t go because of Betty……...

- VEGGIE IS SPEAKING?! Also patenting takes years so Hiram shouldn’t be able to have patented it, but um anyways I’ll let it slip because the writers ****

- CHONI BEING THE CUTEST COUPLE AS ALWAYS AND ALL THEY’RE DOING IS HOLIND HANDS UGHHHHH

- Barchie content YESSSS!! THEY REMEMBERED THAT THEY’RE BEST FRIENDS!!!

- AND Beggie content??? 👀👀👀 God imagine the flavor

- Suddenly Monroe and Reggie are besties umm yess?? We love that growth since last time we saw them Reggie was jealous of Monroe and now they’re a three man squad

- Wait Frank is… living at the center?? AND HAS BEEN FOR WEEKS AND MARY DOESN’T KNOW??? Jesus Christ…

- Betty… isn’t trying to keep Jughead back? The ooc is doing right… LET JUGHEAD GO TO YALE!!

- Can we not have adults coming at teenagers like??? What is Ras’s obsession with it?? It’s boring, give them something else to do

- It’s so sad how Bret and Betty have more chemistry than Betty and Jughead… maybe it’s because Bret isn’t going to be her step brother <3

- Can Veronica, a teenager, not be selling alcohol??? Can we stop this pLEASE… give my baby better plots!!! she deserves it!! let cami show off her talent

- BRET GIVING JUGHEAD A LAPTOP AND THAT CUTE SMIRK………. STOP SETTING ME UP FOR FAILURE I KNOW HE’S THE BAD GUY AND THAT JUGHEAD IS ONLY ALLOWED TO BE WITH HIS STEP SISTER BUT PLEASEEE

- I know the Vixen’s are Cheryl’s but why is she so adamant to lead them? I just want normal Cheryl and cute, healthy Choni please like it’s NOT that hard to write good, interesting plots….. and have characters grow… We are sick of adults being in weird, unrealistic rivalries with teenagers!!!!

- IS THAT THE GUY FROM CAOS?! Whoever, though,,, he cuteee 👀

- I just realized that Jughead was so disgusted at the idea of a cult (farm and g&g when it was mixed in the beginning) but is now in a cult. Oh, sorry… “secret society”

- DONNA :((( BABYYYYYYYYY!!! Also the fact that they all have to share these traumas each time a new person comes in :((((

- BRET HAS A MICKEY MILKOVICH VIBE I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FEEL OR WHAT TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION

- Jughead looks so guilty aw my poor baby (low-key could barely understand what he was saying but like I understood the basis so um)

- TONI HAS SPOKEN?! And, of course, it’s for Toni calling after Cheryl. Why can’t it be for something normal? Why is this dumb cheryl-vs-coach thing a plot? It’s normal for coaches to lead cheerleading teams, not the head cheer captain (at least, they help but they’re not in control of every little thing) why couldn’t we have had Toni reigning Cheryl in to calm her down and stop her from this unnecessary warpath?

- not another fucking fight… bring back the serpents it was much more interesting

- “Wait, you box?” Frank asks as he was living in the fucking center… with boxing shit everywhere…

- OHHHH SO NOWWWWWW BETTY CARES ABOUT GENUINE CONFESSIONS AND PROOF? Since the fuck when?? She has to be in control of everything, and therefore is impulsive and doesn’t think. before she does anything. She has NEVER cared to get proof before setting her mind on something and trying to get a confession (which also isn’t her job in the first place)

- So now Betty likes Veronica’s “femme fatale” aura… usually she slut shames her for it smh but now that it’s convenient… mmhm much to think about.

- An adult that actually grounds their kids I—wow, never knew Riverdale could do that.

- If Veronica gets hurt going undercover, I’m going to literally end someone. like Betty already did this kind of shit to Cheryl and all she got was a half-assed, forced apology I think (or did I just imagine that?)

- Suddenly Bret is a sleazy asshole telling some random girl to undress and go to his room? He has NEVER acted like this before… but the plot calls for it 🙄🙄 it’s like when Sweet Pea and Fangs, out of NOWHERE were being sexist towards the pretty poisons

- JERONICA CRUMBS WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!! I LITERALLY FEEL LIKE I’M BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE!! The power they have over a five second scene

- Betty, your relationship with Jughead is BASED on lies and keeping secrets. And BH finally having an actual fight felt so… genuine. Sad it lasted for two seconds.

- CAN HIRAM JUST DIE PLEASE THIS PLOT IS SO DUMBBBBBBBBBBB WE DON’T CARE THAT HIRAM IS A WHINY, OBSESSED LITTLE BITCH

- Hiram just said he went straight LMAO SUREEEEEEE HIRAM!! Finally, Veronica stands her ground and stays on that path damn it took FOUR FUCKING SEASONS.

- Yeah, Dupont, Betty and jughead’s relationship is more like sibling love so <3

- IF FRANK OFFERS MONROE SOMETHING ILLEGAL…. OH MY GODDDD NOOOOO WHY DOES EVERY ADULT—

- “No, it’s better” (her article/exposé) Betty, I don’t even care that what you wrote is actually a good exposé but you acting all high and mighty automatically makes me want to side with Mr. Honey.

- NOOO LET JUGHEAD GO TO YALE DAMMIT :((( It’ll let us have our college!Jeronica au come to life please and thanks

- AS IF THE COACH CAN’T SEE CHERYL’S SHADOW ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR SJSJJSJSJS????

- VERONICA DOING CHERYL’S “FACT” THING UGH WE LOVE CHERONICA!! God I’m gonna have to listen to this random song and dance for no reason again just because I watched it earlier……. it would have been less cringey if they didn’t have to say “daddy”

- That guttural stonewall scream gives me Turbo from Daybreak vibes and uhhh I low-key love it

- Also it’s good to see Kevin 🥺🥺🥺 sad he has no lines but what’s new

- I JUST REALIZED THAT ARCHIE IS BLEEDING :( I’m low-key not really paying attention because sports is boring to me but I looked up from typing these up and saw and I have no idea what happened but um

- “He’s a grown man” (Frank to Archie, about Monroe) MONROE ISN’T A GROWN MAN??? HE’S A TEENAGER??? Also not them talking about Monroe taking DRUGS… OUT LOUD………

- Archie with that sweaty hair part thoooo 👀👀👀

- Betty’s condescending voice Jesus fucking christ when talking to Bret about how they may have won, but she’s not done digging into Stonewall… HOWEVER, BRET AND BETTY’S CHEMISTRY AND THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS POSSIBILITY UGHHHHH I THOUGHT OF IT AS A JOKE AT FIRST A WHILE AGO BUT LIKE….

- Reggie keys Hiram’s car and leaves Veronica’s… flyer? It looked liked? In his gas tank. Either they cut out the reaction scene or them setting it up but like… nothing happened.

- Yes, Archie, those drugs helped Monroe play the game and changed his life, but it could have complications later. Meaning it’s not permanent and then later his leg will be even MORE screwed up but sure, be happy that it made him happy……..

- I love a Cheronica team up!!! The best idea possible even though it’s two teenagers making RUM but whatever it’s different and actually interesting so let’s HOPE they don’t fuck it up (we know that somehow they will, most likely by having Hiram sabotage after Veronica blabs about her fucking plans even though we all know she’s smarter than that. Blame bad writing)

- MR. HONEY DON’T FEED INTO BETTY’S ANNOYING COMPETITIVE TENDENCIES WHERE SHE HAS TO BE RIGHT WHYYYY… this quiz ep has the ability to be good but I know it’s going to be everybody else being dumbed down to make Betty look good like always smh (as if Cheryl, Veronica, and Toni aren’t smart as fuck)

- not FP giving his own son alcohol despite many episodes ago refusing to let him…????? make it make sense

- high key forgot about this bs jughead is dead thing…also why does Betty look like she was fake crying over his stuff lmao

- Imagine if a plotwist happened and like Bret and Jughead had become a thing and he knew that Betty killed him and all that shit… but sucks we’re stuck with incest </3

- WAIT… BETTY IS ALSO GOING TO YALE???? HOW??? SHE WAS LITERALLY REJECTED???

- What angers me about Riverdale’s plots is that they genuinely could be great, but they either overuse them or dramatize it SO much that it kills any possible enjoyment. I want to enjoy Betty and Bret for some reason squaring off even though Bret is a part of JUGHEAD’S plot but like there’s already so many square offs and it’s so annoying and repetitive… anyways lets go Bret so he can put Betty down a peg or two or five even though we all know Betty’s suddenly going to become the smartest bitch alive because she’s on this dumb pedestal!! Hey so like… is there a way to break the pedestal Betty’s placed on because I am SICK

#Riverdale #Archie Andrews #Veronica Lodge #anti-bughead #anti-betty cooper #Jughead Jones

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