Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey Gallagher, you got a car?”

It’s late Saturday morning in early June, and Ian’s been back in Chicago for exactly two weeks. It’s been eight years since he’s walked around this neighborhood, and he’s been taking these long walks every day to refamiliarize himself with the streets he ran from, and just recently returned to.

Today he finds himself on a familiar block, and he doesn’t realize exactly where he is until a man calls to him from across the street. He’s standing in front of a dilapidated old house, gripping his left hand with his right, and from what Ian can tell, there’s a makeshift bandage wrapped around an injury that’s darkening in his grip.

He’s definitely familiar. Shorter, muscular build, jet black hair, kind of pale - though he can’t tell if that’s his natural complexion or if the guy’s just lost color because he’s hurt. He’s bent over a bit in pain, and Ian’s EMT training kicks into gear at exactly the moment it dawns on him…

“Mickey? Whoa, what happened??” He runs to get a closer look.

======

Ian is home again. Home as in the Gallagher house, after all these years living on his own. After high school graduation, the itch to leave Chicago and his old life behind was overwhelming. He’d had enough of multiple occupancy bedroom-living with his siblings and the responsibilities of perpetual family need. Enough with disappearing into the background as the forgotten middle child. Enough with the series of guys who were just Kash in different iterations, using him and then bouncing. His best friend left with the abusive asshole she was dating and he figured there was nothing left for him there anymore anyway. He craved a reinvention and that’s what he set out to do.

He’d dreamed of a military career as a kid, so as soon as he graduated high school he bought a one-way ticket all the way out to Northern California. Only once he was on the bus did the gravity of his decision hit him, that maybe he wasn’t ready to sign his life over to the U.S. military for years, that it may not be as glamorous as he once thought it was. That he was so hell-bent on leaving Chicago, it was just a means to get him out the door.

After the initial panic, he felt directionless - he arrived at his stop with just a bit of cash and not one single clue what to do with himself. Luckily, he met some people his age, similarly-situated who took him in, hooked him up with odd jobs at local diners and restaurants - and things just kind of flowed from there. He got an apartment with a couple of roommates, had a couple of romances (mostly casual but one he considered “committed” until the asshole cheated with one of those said roommates).

A couple of years in, he decided to return to school and signed up for general education classes at the community college - including a health class, where he learned about EMT certification. The more he learned about the career, the more he was drawn to it, convinced it would combine the rigor and structure of military life with his interest in helping people, taking care of them when they needed it most. Skills he wished he’d had living back on the South Side.

With a new career goal to focus on, plus all the single men, weed, parties, and views of the Pacific Ocean he could want - Ian was feeling pretty solid about his decision to make a life of his own, far away from his hometown.

Inevitably, as the years went by, loneliness set in. He knew he’d eventually feel it, despite the busy-ness of his life, but it took a FaceTime call from the Gallagher house to really drive it home. The screen was mayhem as usual - Lip called, balancing his two kids on his lap - 3-year-old squirming toddler Freddie, and brand new baby Maxine (or Max, most of the time ). As Lip updated him on all the latest, Debbie and Frannie popped onto the screen to say hello and blow kisses, Carl ran by in some kind of new uniform, half a piece of toast in his mouth, yelling “Yo looking good Ian!” til he was out of sight. And then there was Liam, sporting a giant backpack, waving, calling “Love you Ian!” on his way out the door.

As he stared into his niece and nephew’s faces, at his chaotic family running in and out of frame, going about their lives - without him - he felt a hollowness in his gut. He was missing everything. The kids were growing up, his siblings' lives were changing.

He missed them, he missed Chicago - and he knew it was time to go home.

Chapter Text

As he approaches the man, he realizes what street he’s been walking on. S. Trumbull. And whose house he’s currently in front of. This is the grown-up version of Mickey Milkovich - the scrappy, dirty, honestly quite petrifying kid who used to run around terrorizing the neighborhood with his brothers. He’d never really gotten to know him, despite being attached at the hip to his sister all of junior and senior year in high school. But he knew that face and that voice well enough.

Ian made it a point to never hang out at the Milkovich house, despite being best friends with Mandy. She actually preferred they hang out anywhere but there. Her house was scary as hell, considering the kind of people he saw coming in and out of there, the stories she’d tell him. Fiona flat-out prohibited the kids from going anywhere near it. Plus, he knew that being a gay kid was bad enough in their neighborhood without needlessly exposing himself to danger like that. So they stuck to hanging out with his siblings at his house, meeting up after ROTC or studying in the school library together, at various parks and playgrounds where they could pretend to be just two teenagers in love, a brilliant scheme they cooked up as mutual protection. The only place she wasn’t allowed to hang out was at the Kash & Grab (which was its own disaster of a story).

He’d grown up seeing Mickey around. They were neighbors, had gone to the same schools, but their paths never crossed in any significant way. Ian heard over the years, mostly from Mandy, some from Lip, and general buzz around the neighborhood - that Mickey was in and out of juvie, or constantly running some ridiculously dangerous scams for his tyrant of a father.

Was there an air of untouchable bad boy about Mickey that Ian found kind of fascinating? - Yes 100%.
Did he ever feel brave enough to explore that spark of curiosity at all? - Absolutely not.

He’s getting a good look at the guy now though as he runs towards him. He’s still got that bad boy thing going on, that’s for sure. Black muscle tee, threatening tattoos on his hands plus a newer one on the inside of his forearm, baggy jeans with a pack of cigarettes jammed into the front pocket. But as he approaches, Mickey looks up at him with piercing blue eyes that Ian never noticed before - and it kind of freezes him in his tracks. He’s stunned silent briefly before he gets his bearings, remembering that Mickey has what looks like a really bad cut on his left hand.

“Can I take a look? I’m an EMT, so you can trust me.” He meets Mickey’s eyes and gives him a small smile. “What happened?”

“Home repair gone fucking haywire is what happened. Shouldn’t’ve ever trusted my stoned-ass idiot brother near me with a staple gun. I got the staple out but should probably go get a tetanus shot.” Mickey rolls his eyes in an attempt to play it off, but Ian can tell he’s in pain.

“Depending on how bad he got you, it may need a couple of stitches too. Here, sit down for a second.”

“That’s why I called you over when I saw you walk by. Should probably go to urgent care or something. Colin took the car out to Home Depot, and I didn’t wanna bleed all over the L.” Mickey winces a bit adjusting his hand. “Though, wouldn’t be the first time I guess.”

“Yeah I’m happy to take you over there. We’ve all been kind of sharing Debbie’s old beater. How about this - hang out here for about ten minutes while I get the car? I’ll run home, grab some supplies and meet you back here.” Ian’s already mentally cataloging the necessities he’ll need to bring.

“Uh yeah, cool. I wouldn’t normally ask, you know? It’s just… anyway thanks.” Mickey sits down on his porch step.

“Not a problem. OK, I’ll be right back.” Ian makes a run for it toward home, thanking his years-long dedication to jogging for the ability to get him back to his house in record time. He runs through the front door, past his family watching cartoons on the couch, up the stairs to the bedroom he’s temporarily calling his own, to the first aid bag he keeps under his bed to grab the supplies he’ll need - to at least make Mickey comfortable before he can get him to urgent care.

“Debs! Can I borrow the car for like an hour?” Ian yells down the stairs, “It’s important!”

His sister’s voice travels up the stairs. “Sure. But warning you that it’s been making some weird grinding sounds. Just grab the keys and drive at your own risk!”

That’s comforting, he thinks.

He pushes the warning out of his mind, runs down to the kitchen to grab the car keys from Debbie, and then he’s out the door again.

Chapter Text

Ian pulls up to the Milkovich house and finds Mickey exactly where he left him.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” he asks.

“Peachy,” Mickey answers, grumpy as hell.

“I brought some supplies. Why don’t I take a look at your hand and at least change the bandage before you see a doctor.”

Ian sees the look of hesitation on Mickey’s face.

“It’s OK, I treat bad cuts on an almost daily basis at work. Well I did, at my old job, before I moved back. But I’m trained I swear. Trust me?”

Mickey complies, gives his hand over, and closes his eyes.

Ian puts a small towel from home down on his lap, gently places Mickey’s hand there, and slowly unwraps the old bandage. He examines the cut from different angles and then starts to gently clean the area with a cotton pad and antiseptic. He hears Mickey take a deep breath at the touch.

“I’m sorry this part is the worst, the cleaning.” As he methodically cleans the area, he can’t help marveling at this bizarre turn of events, sitting on Mickey’s porch, holding his hand in his lap. He’d never have imagined this scenario when they were kids. Hell, he’d never imagined getting within ten feet of the guy. Now he’s scooting in close enough to smell an intoxicating blend of his aftershave and morning coffee.

Mickey interrupts his daze. “That’s OK. Guess I ran into the right guy today huh?”

======

After cleaning up the wound and wrapping Mickey’s hand back up in fresh gauze, Ian packs away all the supplies and trash to be disposed of later, grabs a bottle of water for Mickey out of his bag, and hands it to him. Meanwhile, Mickey’s looking equally grateful, embarrassed, and still pretty pissed off.

“Fucking Iggy, he’s paying for everything down to the last band-aid for this.”

“I’ll be sure to send him my bill,” Ian says, smiling. “Let’s get going, I’ll take you over to the UI Health Urgent Care Center, it’s only about a 10-minute drive away. It’s the weekend, so it may be busy, but it’s still early in the day. Let’s hope you’re the only guy attempting home repair this early in the day.”

“Hilarious. Your sister’s car looks like it’s in need of some serious work by the way,” he says motioning towards the car with his chin. “Happy we don’t gotta drive too far.”

“How can you tell? I mean besides the heinous noises coming out of every part of it.”

“I’m a mechanic at the auto body shop down on 31st Street. Clocked this hot mess when you were a couple blocks away.”

Mechanic. Must have strong hands. Ian’s mind wanders without his permission. He can’t control the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

Chapter Text

They park in the lot behind the clinic and Ian gets out and runs around to the passenger side to get Mickey’s door. “I’ll come in with you and wait while you’re getting treated.”

“OK Mr. Chivalry. You don’t have to do all that, man. I got it from here.”

“Don’t think so. What kind of medical professional would I be if I didn’t escort you into the facility and ensure you were properly taken care of?” Ian nudges Mickey’s shoulder with his own towards the door.

Once inside, Mickey fills out the necessary paperwork as best he can, and they take a seat in the waiting area. “So uh, you been gone, right? Haven’t seen you around in a long time,” Mickey says.

“Yeah, actually just moved back a couple of weeks ago,” Ian replies, looking down at the linoleum floor. “I moved out to Northern California after high school. Long story, but got a bit homesick. Missed my family.” He lifts his eyes to meet Mickey’s.

“Damn, California. You see the Pacific Ocean?” he asks, and Ian doesn’t miss the dreamy look that comes into his eyes for the briefest second.

“Lived right by it for a while actually. It was a really beautiful place to live,” Ian says. “But I’m excited to be back, get to know the neighborhood again.”

Mickey laughs. “Ain’t missed much around here. It’ll take you about a day to get reacquainted. Just know that most of the burned-out buildings we all used to run around in are now either yoga studios or matcha latte cafes.”

“Awesome. Good thing I love both of those things.”

“Of course you do. California boy now, huh?” Mickey gives him a teasing smile, keeping his eyes connected to Ian’s for a beat.

Ian’s stomach flutters thinking Mickey might be, what? Flirting with him? But before he can dig into that any further…

“Mr. Milkovich? Please come with me.” Mickey gets up and Ian watches him follow the nurse out of the room.

======

Somehow Ian gets so invested in a 2016 Ladies Home Journal article about propagating tomato plants, that he’s surprised to look up and find Mickey approaching.

“You seriously waited here this whole time?” Mickey’s sporting a new smaller bandage, just covering the injured part on the side of his hand. He lifts it up to show Ian the final result. “No stitches and some extra, extra strength Tylenol already in my system.”

“Does it hurt?” Ian asks, taking hold of Mickey’s hand, completely without permission, to inspect the workmanship on the bandage. He’s got nice hands, Ian can’t help thinking.

“Nah, it’s nothing compared to some other injuries I’ve had,” he says, pulling his hand slowly away. Ian’s surprised at how reluctant he feels to let him go.

“Such a tough guy,” he smiles down at him. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

After Mickey’s given final care instructions and his discharge paperwork, they walk back to the parking lot to Debbie’s car. They settle into their seats, and as soon as Ian turns the key in the ignition and absolutely nothing happens - they both know they’re not leaving the parking lot the way they came in.

“Well fuuuccck. You were right. Congratulations on being an incredibly intuitive mechanic.” Ian thunks his forehead on the steering wheel.

Mickey doesn’t even try to hide the laugh that comes out.

“Hey look. Today’s my day off, but I can call one of the guys at the shop to come by and tow this clunker to the garage. I might be out of commission for a couple of days,” Mickey says lifting his injured hand up. “But I can take a look at it when I’m back.”

“That would be incredible, Mickey, thank you. We can pay you, just let me know how much we owe.”

“Don’t worry about it. Consider us even since you spent your morning playing Florence Nightengale because of Iggy’s dumb ass.”

======

Twenty minutes later, they’re standing at the entrance of the parking lot watching Mickey’s co-worker tow Debbie’s car away.

“Thanks again, Mickey,” Ian says turning his head to meet his eyes.

“Well, I’m a thoughtful guy... Ian.” Mickey looks up to meet his gaze, and Ian feels an electric sizzle in his stomach thinking: his eyes are SO blue, were like that before? Where was this guy hiding my whole teenage life? They hold eye contact for a beat, two beats, before both looking away to focus on opposite points of the parking lot.

Ian figures he can just call an Uber to take them home, but he doesn’t feel ready to let Mickey go just yet.

“You hungry? It’s lunchtime, you’ve been through a lot this morning.”

“I’m fucking starving actually. Didn’t have time to eat breakfast before getting this debilitating injury.”

“You’re the bravest patient I’ve ever met.”

“Fuck all the way off.” They keep their straight faces for exactly two seconds before both busting up in laughter.

“Hey, I was thinking of playing tourist today, see what’s changed in Chicago. And I know it’s your day off, so… wanna play tourist with me, Mickey?”

“You mean go look at The Bean and shit?”

“Yeah… maybe? Grab an Italian beef? You can catch me up on all things Milkovich.”

“Italian beef, huh? You been watchin’ ‘The Bear’ out there in California?”

“Hey it’s a good show, told you I missed Chicago,” Ian raises his eyebrows in question. “So, you down or what?”

Chapter Text

It’s early afternoon by the time they head out, and it’s turning out to be a beautiful, sunny day. As they walk through the hospital buildings to catch the Blue Line to downtown, Ian looks over at Mickey, studying his face.

Damn shame I never knew him back then, he can’t help thinking. Mickey’s shirt accentuates broad shoulders and strong, chiseled arms… that he imagines working on a car, or swinging a hammer or sawing wood, or doing whatever home repair he’d been up to before his accident. His baggy jeans hug a butt that could put any California surfer dude’s to shame. He remembers that Mickey was on the shorter side when they were growing up, but Ian’s now imagining how in his adult form, he’d be the perfect size to fling his arm around and press into his body while they walk…

“Man I haven’t been downtown in forever,” Mickey interrupts as Ian’s imagination starts to get away from him. “Feels like I’m about to play tourist too.”

“Spend most of your time on the South Side still?” Ian looks over at him curiously.

“I venture out here and there, but as far as living, yeah. I’ve thought about leaving - a few times actually, over the years. But family shit, house shit, work shit. Just never seemed like a good time to go.”

Ian takes the opportunity to dig a little more.

“I was surprised to see you, didn’t think any of you guys would still be living over at the house.”

Mickey looks straight ahead instead of at Ian, chewing on his lip. “Yeah. My old man finally kicked the bucket about a year ago, and I’m helping my brothers remodel a bit. Over the years, he got a couple of offers to buy it, from people looking for fixer-uppers to flip and all that, but my dad would never let go, kept saying they’d have to knock it down with all of us still in there, no way he was going to give up a house that’s been in the family for generations.” He shakes his head, signaling exactly what he thought of his dad.

Ian remembers Mickey and Mandy’s dad. Terry. Scary racist, homophobic asshole of epic proportions. As soon as he’d gotten close with Mandy, she’d spend most of her time hiding away at the Gallagher house, from her dad and the criminal exploits of her brothers and cousins. His own dad was an asshole too - but word around the neighborhood for years was that those Milkovich kids should have been extracted from that house by the authorities a long time ago.

“So let me get this straight, you’re a gifted mechanic and happen to be an expert carpenter too?” Ian teases.

“More than my brother, that’s for sure.” Mickey laughs.

They continue walking toward the L stop, scan their Ventra cards at the turnstiles, and wait for their train on the platform.

“Hey, I thought we could grab sandwiches to go and hang out in Millennium Park? Since it’s so nice out and you’re dying to see The Bean,” Ian laughs and Mickey rolls his eyes.

“Fine. You’re buying. Lead the way, Gallagher.”

Ian can’t believe he’s convinced Mickey Milkovich to hang out with him in the park.

Chapter Text

They grab seats on the train and make small talk for the 20-minute ride - about the weather, the state of the Chicago Transit Authority, which place they should get their sandwiches from.

By the time they’ve made it off the train and out into downtown Chicago, they argue over and then decide on Al’s #1 Beef of N. Wells Street - order to-go, and take a walk.

The light summer breeze and sunshine feel perfect as they walk around the busy downtown streets, passing office buildings and storefronts. Some are familiar to Ian, but a lot are brand new.

When they make it to a bridge to cross the Chicago River, they pause to look down at the water and the boats making their way around. Ian looks out onto the many buildings along the water, at the lines of tourists waiting to get on, and asks: “Have you ever taken an architectural tour on one of those boats? I’ve always wanted to do that. Never had the cash for anything like that growing up.”

“Do I look like I’ve been on an architectural boat tour?” Mickey deadpans. Ian decides that Mickey’s brand of grumpy sarcasm is cute as hell.

“No it’s so cool! They take you around the river and tell you the history of the city and all the buildings and architectural styles. Would be perfect for a professional home builder like yourself,” Ian snarks back.

“Damn Gallagher,” Mickey laughs. “I knew you were a giant nerd in high school, so why am I even surprised that you’re now a giant nerd adult.”

“Interesting. You knew who I was in high school, huh? Don’t really recall you knowing I even existed back then.”

The light sparring tone to their conversation shifts now, to something Ian can’t quite put his finger on. He watches Mickey look away from him to stare back down at the water. He rubs his lower lip with his thumb and Ian’s eyes follow.

“Yeah man, I knew who you were,” and the way he says it low, with a hint of what seems like embarrassment, makes Ian’s pulse quicken. “You were constantly hanging out with my sister. Had to keep tabs, make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

He lets him off the hook a bit, says: “Nah, my freaky years came after high school,” and doesn’t miss how Mickey’s eyes pop up.

======

They continue walking, past the Chicago Theatre, toward the Chicago Cultural Center, and then down Michigan Avenue until they finally reach Millennium Park. They wade through the tourists to take a seat on a bench overlooking The Bean, and all the people taking selfies and group photos in its reflection.

Once they’re situated, they start to unwrap their sandwiches. Noticing Mickey fumbling a bit with his, Ian says: “Let me know if you need help eating your sandwich, since you got one hand out of commission and all.”

“What’re you gonna do, feed it to me? I’ll figure it out.”

Ian definitely doesn’t freeze in place thinking about what it might be like to feed Mickey his sandwich. Instead, he says: “So, you ever hang out much downtown when you were a kid?”

“We didn’t come out here to do like, family outings or anything, that’s for sure,” Mickey says, using his right hand to hold up his lunch to take a bite. “Times I did get to walk around here, it was usually for some job my dad sent me out on. You?”

Ian pauses mid-bite. “Um, not really as a kid, maybe on field trips? I guess before I left, I had some… relationships… that brought me out here. Dates and stuff. I had a bit of an older man era before moving to California.”

He knows he’s taking a risk disclosing information about his dating history and sexuality to Mickey. This is a person from his neighborhood afterall, someone who grew up in what he knows is a solidly homophobic, bigoted household. And he’s still a stranger. But Ian feels surprisingly comfortable with Mickey, a little more grounded in his presence. He doesn’t seem at all like the intimidating kid Ian avoided interacting with back in the day. But now that the words are out there, he doesn’t really know what kind of reaction he’ll get.

What he doesn’t expect is for Mickey to look up from his sandwich and lock eyes with him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “How about now that you’re back? Still in your geriatric viagroid era?”

Feeling bold, he keeps a hold of Mickey’s eye contact. “Nah. I prefer to date guys my own age nowadays.”

And doesn’t expect to hear back: “Good to know.”

He’s about knocked out of his bench seat.

======

“You ever think how incredible it is that people from all over the world come here? This is the place they choose for their vacations, ya know?” Ian says, looking up towards the downtown skyline. “It’s like, we’ve lived here our whole lives, but probably haven’t seen all of it.”

“Well I’ve lived here all my life, you took a long-ass hiatus.” Mickey’s finishing his sandwich and balling up the wrapper with one hand. “So why’d you move back anyway?”

“Mostly just missed my family. After high school, I was so done with this place, ya know?” Ian says, and Mickey nods in understanding. “At the time everything just felt so fucked up. Our parents were so unstable and unpredictable, we raised each other pretty much. Fiona, she was like this stand-in mom. Never enough food, always scraping by. Though now that I look back, I know I was just chasing something - change of scenery, fantasy of living this adult life, and honestly, I just thought it’d be easier on everyone if I left town, one less mouth to feed and all that.”

He tilts his head up to feel the sun on his face and takes in a deep breath.

“And don’t get me wrong, California was amazing, especially those first few years. Met tons of people, worked all these ridiculous jobs,” Ian says, smiling to himself at the memory. “But then in time, I just started feeling kind of… unsettled is probably the best word? Rootless. I’d talk to my family on FaceTime every week and I just missed them more and more, especially when they started to have their own kids. Felt like it was the right time to come back, be closer to them, make a home for myself.”

He watched Mickey take in his story. A really personal one that Ian quickly realizes may have come off as a rambling hot mess of a confession. He was about to laugh it off and apologize when Mickey says:

“That makes sense. Both why you left and why you came back. Man, if I could do it over again, I’d’ve probably run for the hills too, try to make a life for myself someplace else, away from the shithole we grew up in. Especially if that new place had an ocean view,” he smiles and Ian wonders if Mickey Milkovich could be the one person in his life to actually get him.

And that makes him curious to keep testing the waters.

“Yeah. And if I’m being honest, when I, uh, came out, in high school, it really pissed me off that I couldn’t be myself in that neighborhood. Was so tired of sneaking around with guys at school who couldn’t ever be open about it either. California’s where I finally felt free.”

Mickey doesn’t reply to that. His eyes flicker between Ian’s and back down to his sandwich wrapper, and back up again, finally looking away completely, back out to the groups of people crowding around The Bean.

“Good. That’s really good,” Mickey says with a soft smile. “You deserved to feel free.”

Ian truly didn't know what to make of any of this, hearing words of understanding from Mickey, when even his family hadn't been this level of supportive. For someone who’d been feeling fairly jaded lately, Ian thought this was turning out to be day full of pleasant, unexpected surprises.

“Alright tourist, did you get your fill of this fucking park yet?” Mickey asks.

“Oh yeah, you all done? I can, um, call us an Uber or something, get you home to rest your hand.” Though he’s in no rush for this time with Mickey to end. At all.

“My hand’s feeling no pain. And a shame to waste a nice day like this right? I mean, we’re already out here and all.”

Is it possible that Mickey’s not ready for their time to end just yet either? Ian thinks and his stomach does an Olympic-qualifying somersault.

Chapter Text

They keep walking, all around Millenium Park, passing the Art Institute of Chicago, over to the Field Museum and Shedd Aquarium, admiring the buildings, at how many people are out and about. They head back but walk across the water’s edge, stopping to take in the beauty of Lake Michigan.

And the entire time - just talking. About everything. Comparing stories of growing up, who they knew in common, South Side urban legends, who was the scariest old neighbor, who’s house was haunted. They realize they were on the same Little League team in elementary school and vow to go dig up a team photo from the piles of random junk living in the closets of their family homes.

By the time they make it back to The Bean, they’re both shocked to realize that they’ve been walking for two hours straight.

“Feeling depleted after that hike. Need coffee. Isn’t there some gigantic Starbucks on Michigan Avenue?” asks Ian, fully expecting Mickey to, at this point, says he’s gotta go, and then run in the other direction.

But to his surprise, Mickey just rolls his eyes and says: “Fine, but I’m not getting a Pumpkin Spice Latte or whatever the hell they make there. That ridiculous shit sounds like something way more your speed.”

“Oh silly Mickey. It’s only June. We’ll just need to come back in October so I can convince you to try one.”

======

It’s another hour until they make it to Starbucks because they get unbelievably distracted along the way. From their original spot in the park, they walk back down to the River and Ian makes Mickey follow him into the Apple Store so they can look at Airpods since he accidentally left his on the plane coming back to Chicago. After playing with practically every gadget in there, and accidentally wandering into some kind of photo editing class, they head back out to Michigan Avenue. From there Ian drags Mickey into just about every store he thinks is even remotely interesting.

Mickey complains at every single stop. “I didn’t come here to window shop, Gallagher,” while he closely scrutinizes a newly-released shoe at the Nike store.

“Not like I’m gonna make you go to Cartier or anything,” Ian says laughing, though highly tempted to drag him in there anyway to see what would happen.

They finally get to Starbucks on E. Eerie and Ian makes a big show of ushering Mickey in.

“Since you got sandwiches, I'm getting coffee. A normal, medium-sized black coffee with nothing in it. Is that even allowed in here?" snarks Mickey, pointing his chin at a table that's just opened up by the window. "What do you want?”

“I'm almost afraid to tell you,” Ian admits, while Mickey rolls his eyes. “Tall oat milk latte, extra hot, one shot of vanilla.”

“Good god what happened to you over there in California?"

Once they settle in, Mickey with his black coffee, Ian with his latte, and a chocolate chip cookie to share, they pick their conversation up again.

“So you keep in touch with Mandy still?” Mickey asks, taking a sip. Ian can tell he’s trying to be casual, but his tone says otherwise.

“Yeah, we’ve been able to stay in touch through all our moves, fortunately. When she moved away after high school with that fucking asshole, I tried to be in some kind of contact regularly just to make sure she was OK.”

“Me too,” Mickey says quietly. “Felt really useless that I couldn’t wrestle her away from him before she up and decided to move away. But man, shit at home was so bad, now that I look back, can’t say I blame her. She swapped one asshole for another.”

“Yeah. Well grateful she eventually left him high and dry in that shithole town. She seems to be doing really well in New York huh? You talk to her a lot?”

“Not as much as I want to. Miss Fashionista over there, doesn’t have time for us nobodys back home. Too busy bossing people around at New York Fashion Week or whatever,” Mickey says with what Ian knows is sarcasm mixed with the sweetest older brother love and pride.

“Maybe she can take us with her next time, or sneak us into the Met Gala or something. Next year’s theme should be South Side Chic.” They both laugh at that, and Ian feels another stomach flip thinking how much he and Mickey are able to relate about.

And he can sense that Mickey’s feeling it too. From the way he leans toward him when they talk, the flirtatious glances and blatant staring he’s caught. He kind of clammed up when Ian revealed he was gay - but the guy’s stuck around with him all day, running around like a cheesy tourist, grumbling, but for the most part - playing along, and from the looks of it, enjoying himself. He has a feeling that Mickey’s not one to stick around any situation where he isn’t having fun.

“You ever live on your own? Or you been at the house this whole time?” Ian asks, feeling compelled to learn as much as he can about him.

“Yeah, actually I had my own apartment for a few years, and only moved back to the house after dad died,” Mickey says. He pauses as if considering how much to reveal. Locks eyes with Ian, who gives him a silent go-ahead nod, and he continues.

“I live with my brothers now, helping them fix up the house. And I wake up every morning and can’t believe I went back to live there again. But guess this time, it’s on my own terms.”

He continues: “Dad was a massive dick as you already know. And happened to make my life a living hell growing up - which you may also know since you spent so much time with Mandy. We got roped into his illegal shit at a crazy early age. Like when I think back on it now, I can’t believe how young we all were. Just assumed I was fucked for life before I even started middle school.”

Mickey pauses to take another drink of his coffee. He appears to slip into deeper thought, weighing the options of what to say next. He stares up into Ian’s eyes, gaze so intense that Ian feels a dull buzz in his hands, like he’s absorbing some of Mickey’s own building adrenaline.

He really doesn’t expect what Mickey tells him next.

“So what you were saying about not feeling free at home, how you couldn’t be yourself. Well, uh, I came out to my family about the time that Mandy moved away. It wasn’t voluntary, unfortunately.”

He pauses there and Ian feels like he’s frozen in place.

Mickey. Neighborhood terror. One of the scariest kids he knew growing up. His best friend’s brother. There was a kid that he could have known, living just the down the street, dealing with the same things he was, and he had no idea.

“Not sure about you, but I was pretty deep in the closet all through high school. There was pretty much zero percent survival considering the family I was born into. So kept my head down my whole life, ‘til, one day I got caught slipping. Long story short, dad caught me, the scene was too ugly to discuss, and that’s when I decided to get the hell out of there.”

“Shit Mickey, that’s so fucked up. I’m really happy you were able to get out.”

“It is what it is, right? You get it. We both got out when we had a chance.”

He does get it. And he’s so touched that Mickey’s opened up to him like this, by their shared experiences. He feels an overwhelming need to reach out and place his hand on top of Mickey’s. Careful not to press down on his injury, he gives it the gentlest squeeze in a show of understanding.

As soon as their hands touch, he regrets it right away. He has no clue if Mickey is comfortable with something like this.

He starts spinning, and just as he’s about to lift his hand away, he feels Mickey lightly wrap his hand around his and squeeze back. And instead of letting go, he keeps a gentle hold. Mickey’s skin is rough but also soft and warm, exactly like the man himself.

In an even bolder move, one that makes Ian’s breath catch in his throat, Mickey stares down at their joined hands, and then slowly intertwines his fingers into Ian’s and begins to softly rub his thumb along Ian’s knuckles. Ian returns the gesture and traces his thumb slowly around the bandage. He watches Mickey’s face to make sure he’s OK with the contact.

The touch puts them both in a bit of a hypnotic daze, and as Ian slowly emerges from it - the realization hits. He’s sitting next to Mickey Milkovich. Drinking an oat milk latte at Starbucks. Holding hands. And can’t stop thinking about what could have been if they’d had the chance to have this same conversation eight years ago. If they’d have hung out, become friends who understood each other. If they would have had crushes, made out, dated. His head spins.

They sit like that for a while. And they keep talking. They talk more about coming out, how Ian confessed it to Fiona when he was 15, and how she’d already known.

They talk about how Mickey’s story, how it wasn’t as simple. He tells him about the first guy he ever brought home, someone he met at a bar out in Boystown. Someone he’d typically just take into the men’s room or maybe into the guy’s car if he had one. But he was 19, his family was running all over the place doing their legally questionable shit, so he had the place to himself, so he thought. The fallout from being discovered by his dad - returning home early and wasted out of his mind - was so violent that Ian knew Mickey was glossing over a lot of details to spare him the stress of knowing. But Ian understands it was enough to finally motivate Mickey to pack up and run. He feels so much secondhand anger thinking about what Mickey had to go through.

As if reading his mind, Mickey says: “Can you imagine if we’d met for real back then?” Their hands still holding on.

“You’d probably call me an alien-looking motherfucker and walk right by. Which is too bad for you because you’d have no clue how hot I was underneath my ROTC uniform,” Ian knocks Mickey’s knee with his own under the table.

“Pretty sure the ROTC uniform would’ve really done it for me,” Mickey laughs. “How about you, did you date anyone in high school or just bang your way through the gay geeks of Lincoln Grove High?”

“Ha! You have no idea.” He jokes, but then pauses to contemplate how much he should admit to Mickey, about his relationship with Kash at the time. He fluctuates between embarrassment and craving more connection considering how much they’ve shared already today. He opts for connection and launches into it, telling him about how working at the Kash & Grab led to his affair with his very adult, very married boss. How it took him years and, honestly, a good therapist in California to help him unpack the power dynamics at play, and how it affected his relationships into adulthood.

“That asshole at the Kash & Grab?? God, I hated that guy. I couldn’t even go in that place, his wife would intercept us all at the door and yell that there was a strict No-Milkovich policy,” Mickey shakes his head at the memory. “But seriously, fuck that guy. You were just a kid.”

“Yeah, well if you’d made it in, you’d have seen me behind the counter. And I would have at least snuck you some Gatorade or Slim Jims.” Ian smirks, watching Mickey’s face light up in a laugh. He thought about how much he liked making Mickey’s face do that.

“The truly incredible thing about it all is that my family had a pretty good idea of what was going on, but kind of just ignored it? It’s a true testament to how much fucked up shit, in general, we were all dealing with growing up, right? Not a red flag was raised,” he says.

“That’s so fucked up, but no surprise there. I’m happy things worked out for you despite all that, Gallagher. Guess we can thank our fucked up families for the men we are today,” Mickey raises his coffee cup up with his free hand, and clinks Ian’s cup.

Ian is charmed out of his mind. Tentatively he says: “Hey, so, I know we’ve been hanging out all day. But I don’t really want to stop … do you?”

“Nope,” Mickey says with no pause whatsoever, his eyes never leaving Ian’s.

“Good. Let’s ditch our coffees and go get an actual drink. I know for a fact that there’s a bar all the way up inside the John Hancock building. We can toast for real on top of all of Chicago,” Ian says, drawing in closer to Mickey, getting lost in his blue eyes, and his soothing touch. It’s a wonder he had enough clarity at all to suggest the idea.

He feels so drawn to Mickey at this moment, there’s such a strong magnetic pull to the man. He’s staring into his eyes, and then drops his gaze to his bottom lip. The same one that Mickey’s been absent-mindedly chewing on for the past minute.

He leans in, close enough to smell what he now recognizes as Mickey’s signature scent - now combined with the rich and mesmerizing scent of dark roast coffee beans. He feels himself losing any sense of control around him.

And just as he’s a couple of inches away, their faces so close, their hands still entwined - Mickey lets go of his hand, jumps up, and blurts out: “Yep, a drink sounds good.”

Chapter Text

It takes them another 30 minutes to walk down the street to the John Hancock building, due to Ian forcing Mickey in and out of a couple more stores. For research, he insists.

“Look at us Mickey. Just two adults strolling along the Magnificent Mile.”

“You’re quite possibly the biggest dork I’ve ever met, you know that?” Mickey huffs, but follows him through every single door.

By the time they arrive, it’s approaching early evening - and Ian has a brief moment of panic wondering where the day has gone. It seems like days since he first spotted Mickey bleeding in front of his house, like he’s known him for so much longer than an afternoon. He’s feeling antsy that their next stop will blip by and then they’ll need to go their separate ways.

And then all he’ll have left is a memory of that one beautiful sunny day that he spent with someone incredible.

The sun is still beating down on them, but it’s not as warm anymore. And it’s hitting the windows of all the surrounding skyscrapers in a warm, glowing light. Ian thinks it’s a fair reflection of what he’s feeling on the inside.

“Got quiet all of a sudden. You afraid of heights, Army?” Mickey asks him as he holds the door to the building lobby open for him.

“Nah. Just thinking about how much I’m enjoying my day, that’s all.” He turns to Mickey, who’s just tried to hide a big grin on his face and failed miserably.

They walk into the building and get two tickets up to the 96th floor.

======

As soon as the elevators open, they both take in a breath. Ian’s never seen Chicago like this. The entire giant room is made up of floor-to-ceiling windows. They get an incredible view of every corner of the city and it’s breathtaking. On one side is downtown and the expanse of the surrounding neighborhoods. On the other, Lake Michigan’s calm beautiful blue waters. A view of Navy Pier, all the beaches, every landmark building that makes up Chicago’s iconic skyline. It’s extraordinary and emotional, and he feels grateful to be experiencing it for the first time with Mickey.

Ian turns to look at him and smiles seeing Mickey’s reaction. He’s trying so hard to look cool and unaffected, but Ian can tell the view is having an impact on him.

“Holy shit, this is so beautiful! Mickey, have you ever seen the city like this before? I’ve never been up here, I have no idea why it’s taken me so long!”

“Never. Damn, this view is something else,” Mickey says when they stop at one glass panel to overlook an incredible scene of where the city meets the water.

They stare out the window for a while and then make their way around the perimeter of the floor, dodging tourists and little kids. They spot the bar, but can’t pull themselves away from the view just yet.

As they walk, he senses Mickey keeping close behind. He can feel him by his side when they stop to look, he can feel his hand brush against his, an arm connect and linger. At one point he’s so close, Ian feels like he could turn his head and connect his mouth to Mickey’s forehead. He decides that he’d really like to do that one day.

And that he’d really like to kiss Mickey in front of these windows one day.

He can sense, however, that Mickey seems somewhat distracted now. Ian was hoping for some continued physical contact after holding hands over coffee. He finds himself craving that connection with Mickey again but doesn’t want to push it.

Looking over at the man, he knows for a fact that he wants to keep getting to know him and that he wants to spend a lot more time with him. His mind flashes to dates like this, or relaxing at home. Making him dinner, visiting him at work, making out under the baseball field bleachers of their old high school, a fantasy so vivid he wonders where it even came from.

He’s attracted to him in a way that feels destabilizing, like Mickey could light his entire life on fire, and he’d gladly give him the matches.

Mickey walks to a neighboring panel and stares out. He seems to be having a moment and Ian feels like he needs to give that to him. Like he’s lost in thought, working some kind of puzzle out in his head.

When they come to a particularly beautiful window panel framing Lake Michigan, Ian pauses to take a photo.

“You wanna go get that drink now? I’ll get you a cocktail with lots of fancy ingredients,” he says, casually trying to free Mickey from his thought puzzles.

Chapter Text

Situated at a corner table overlooking another stunning view, Mickey stares at the cocktail Ian’s ordered him.

“I literally saw like ten beers on the menu, and this is what you get me?”

“You said you like bourbon, so voila, a Blackberry Sage Smash.”

“Ridiculous. And what in hell is that you’re drinking?” Mickey crinkles his nose inspecting Ian’s glass.

“A Chocolate Chilli Martini. Sweet and spicy just like me obviously,” Ian beams the most obnoxious smile he can manage at him.

“Such a dork,” Mickey says, smiling back and shaking his head. “Well, look at us, huh?” he raises his glass in Ian’s direction, still not able to take his drink seriously.

“Just two sophisticates from the South Side,” Ian clinks and laughs.

And that’s how they spend the next hour. Sitting by this giant expanse of window, watching the sun go down over their hometown.

“So what’s gonna happen when you guys fix up the house? You gonna get your own place again?” Ian asks.

“That’s definitely the plan. There’s no way I can keep living with those slobs. And I really miss having peace and quiet, a place that’s just mine, ya know?” Mickey says. “How about you? I know you won’t be living at the Gallagher house for much longer.”

“Oh hell no. I love them and I missed them, but there’s no way I’m living with them more than absolutely necessary. I want a place of my own too. First I need to get back to work though,” Ian says, taking another sip of his drink. “I’ve actually got an interview later this week, hoping to continue working as an EMT here.”

“Look at you! You’ve really got your shit together, Gallager.” The way Mickey looks at him makes Ian wonder how much of the lightheaded feeling he’s experiencing is caused by the cocktail or by Mickey.

He lets the buzz take over and make him bolder. “How about I keep you posted, and then when you get your own apartment, you can invite me over for dinner to celebrate.”

Mickey continues looking at him, and looking, and then nearly knocks Ian off his chair when he reaches his hand out to brush a stray strand of hair off Ian’s forehead.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Mickey says, and Ian might as well melt straight into the bar’s tiled floor.

He manages to croak out in a shaky voice, “Want to take one more loop around the windows? Getting darker, it looks so cool out there.”

Mickey nods, gets up, and follows Ian back out to the window facing downtown. You can see the city lights coming on, washing the city in a beautiful, magical glow.

At this point, Ian’s pretty much dying to kiss his new friend? Crush? Soulmate, one true love, he’s feeling all of those titles honestly. He senses that Mickey may be feeling something too, but he’s so hesitant. From what Mickey’s told him about his childhood and family, he doesn’t even know if Mickey’s ever been in a relationship. And the thought makes him so inexplicably angry and jealous, he’s a bit taken aback by how strongly he reacts.

Mickey’s back looking out the window, and Ian can’t take his eyes off him. He’s beautiful, and sexy, and his mind floods with an image of them slammed up against the glass, passionately making out under all those Chicago lights and stars.

With the alcohol flowing in his system, with Mickey looking the way he does, with the backdrop as stunning as it is, Ian can’t help but get carried away.

But he’s got to be pragmatic about it too. Take it slow, don’t leap into situations, read the room. He’s certainly gotten himself into situations where he didn’t read the signals right. He really doesn’t want to fuck it up with Mickey, scare him off. He feels it deep in his gut, that he wants to pursue something with him, that there’s definitely a connection there that can turn into something real.

He stands right next to Mickey at the window. Their arms brush against each other, fingers dance so close to each other.

Just chill, he thinks to himself. Play it cool for once.

“I need to get back to Navy Pier too, see the fireworks. Have you ev….” and Ian doesn’t get to finish his question because Mickey’s tilted his face up and pressed his warm lips against his, in a soft, perfect kiss.

A perfect kiss, with the perfect view.

It’s brief, and tentative, testing the waters. Mickey pulls away and stares up into Ian’s eyes and seems just as taken aback by what happened.

“Been wanting to do that for a few hours,” he finally breathes out. “You taste like spicy chocolate.”

Ian honest-to-god giggles at that.

“I’ve really been hoping you’d do that for a few hours,” Ian manages to say, eyes glued to Mickey’s lips. “Probably since that nurse came to take you away at the clinic.”

Mickey laughs softly, and then their eyes connect again, and like two magnets, they move forward at the exact same moment, lips meeting in a kiss, more heated than the first.

Ian’s hands reach up to cradle Mickey’s cheeks. Mickey rests his injured hand on Ian’s hip, the other traces a straight line up and down his back. They get completely lost in each other, the rest of the world fading into the background. As they deepen their kiss, Ian’s stomach buzzes and flips, electricity charging through his hands. He rubs Mickey’s jaw, and ears, and the back of his neck. He feels so connected to him, immediately getting addicted to the way he feels, the quiet noises he’s making, how his hand traces his back. He doesn’t think he can let him go.

He feels like he never wants to let him go.

They pull away, resting their foreheads against each other, breathing each other in. Ian rubs his nose against Mickey’s and he’s the first to find his voice. “I want to see you again.”

“You better,” he replies breathlessly before diving back in for another kiss, hand moving up to softly play with the hair on the back of Ian’s neck.

And they stay there, as the tourists filter out, as the bar gets emptier, the souvenir kiosks close down. Passionately lost in each other, by a window overlooking Chicago.

Chapter Text

Ian takes hold of Mickey’s hand and they make their way down the elevator, out of the building, and back to their L stop to catch the train home.

He feels drunk, his whole body is buzzing, and he can’t keep away from Mickey. They stay close, lost in their cocoon.

Finally situated on the train, Ian grabs Mickey’s hand and holds it in his lap, finding the bandage again and softly rubbing the skin below it, down to his wrist. “Your hand must hurt, it’s been a few hours since you took pain meds. Promise to take more as soon as you get home.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me. Guess I really lucked out finding you outside my house today, huh doc?” Mickey smiles up at him, then looks around at the empty train car and pecks a kiss on Ian’s lips before leaning his head on his shoulder.

Ian knows he looks like a completely lovestruck idiot at the moment but doesn’t care at all. He kisses the top of Mickey’s head.

“You’re really not what I expected to find when I left my house this morning,” he nuzzles Mickey’s hair.

“Happy I tackled you into a medical emergency?” Mickey says looking up at him.

“You have no idea.”

They stay like that for the entire train ride, and Ian can’t stop marveling at how his day turned out. Just that morning, he’d woken up somewhat dejected, wondering if moving back to Chicago was a good idea at all. Could he come back after being away for so long, and ease back into feeling at home? Spending time with family certainly helped, walking around and taking in the neighborhood again did too. But it was a chance encounter with Mickey, this most unexpected, incredible surprise, that told him he could make a life for himself here again.

They sit and hold hands, and talk. Mostly about work this time, about where they want to be in a couple of years in their careers. Ian learns that Mickey’s goal is to take over the business side of the body shop, how he’s finding himself gravitating more and more to the financial operations, especially as the shop expands into more locations in the area.

Ian tells Mickey about his goals of securing the EMT job, and how much he’d love to serve the neighborhood he grew up in. That he’ll likely study to be a paramedic soon.

By the time they’re back on the South Side, they almost miss their stop. If Ian could have it his way, they’d stay on that train until the sun came up. He’s pretty sure Mickey feels that way too.

As they make their way back to the Milkovich house, Ian’s struck by a feeling he’s never had before. That he doesn’t want this day to end, that he never wants to let Mickey out of his sight.

When they arrive, they lean against the fence, standing close - but that freedom they felt before, to be physically close, isn’t the same now that they’re back on that block. The realization that they’ll need to part now feels like a boulder dropping in Ian’s stomach.

“I really don’t want this day to end,” he says.

“If only we weren’t living with our obnoxious ass families right now huh?” Mickey looks toward the Milkovich's front window and then back to him, eyes scanning Ian's face, then down to his neck, his chest, back up to meet his eyes again. Ian’s brain melts.

“Fuck. This is a sign from the universe that I need my own apartment ASAP,” he says, gazing into Mickey’s intense face, made even more so by the darkness surrounding them.

“This day’s been kind of nuts, right? Feels like I’ve known you for years like, you’ve been in my life this whole time.”

“I know. I feel it too.”

“Well fuck. What now Gallagher?”

Ian pauses, looks down at the ground, and then back up at Mickey. “Well first, you give me your number. Second... I was thinking of going to the beach tomorrow. You wanna come with me?”

Mickey looks at him with the most lovable, fond expression. One that Ian thinks he’ll remember for the rest of his life. A snapshot from a day that he knows will change his life forever.

He takes out his phone and makes Mickey add his number to his contacts. He takes the phone back and reaches for Mickey's injured hand one last time. He gently rubs his thumb against the bandage and reminds him to take his pain meds before he goes to sleep.

"I will. 'Night Gallagher," Mickey says softly.

Ian very reluctantly lets go and starts walking backward toward home. He smiles wide and says:

“Bye Mickey. I’m really happy you found me today. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”  

A pic I took at the top of the John Hancock building :)