Work Text:
Fiona crashed through her back door, arms loaded down with groceries. She dumped everything onto the kitchen table. “Hello?” she shouted, “Anyone home?”
Ian suddenly appeared at the base of the stairs. “Hey, Fi.”
She rose up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Why are you so cheerful?” she asked as she moved about the kitchen, setting things up to cook dinner.
“Uh,” Ian rubbed a hand against the back of his head, “You know Mickey, right?” He moved to the side, revealing an anxious looking Milkovich on the stair behind him.
Fiona tried to not appear shocked. “Sure,” she nodded. “So you stayin’ for dinner, Mickey?”
“Nah, I gotta- nergh,” he grumbled when Ian threw an elbow into his ribs. “I mean, yeah. If that’s okay.” He shot Ian a glare, who just grinned in response.
Fiona shrugged and smiled genuinely at the boy. “You’re always welcome.”
“I gotta talk to Fi for a minute,” Ian said to Mickey, “Wait for me in the room.” Mickey said nothing, but snorted nastily before clambering his way back up the steps. Ian turned to his sister, “It’s cool that he stays, right?”
Fiona smiled at him. “I’m already feedin’ an army, kiddo. What’s one more?”
Ian grinned. “Thanks, you’re the best.” He turned to go.
“Hey, Ian?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s up with you two?”
Ian looked down at the floor. “Uh,” he sputtered, “We work together.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So, we’re friends.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Fiona tried not to stare at the way Ian and Mickey were interacting in the living room. And she didn’t watch, not really, but she listened.
“Listen, Gallagher,” she overheard Mickey saying at one point, “There’s no way you can shoot more accurately than me. I’d kick your ass.”
“You forget I’ve been in ROTC for almost four years, Mick.”
“That fake army shit? Whatever.”
“It’s not fake. It’s the exact same stuff they do in the actual army.”
“You’re not getting your dick shot off in some foreign country, are you?”
“Well, no, but-“
“I rest my case, Firecrotch. I’m better. Admit it.”
“Never.”
Fiona looked up just in time to see Mickey match Ian’s smile.
“This is a fucking kid’s game,” Mickey complained as he punched the buttons on his controller.
“You’re just mad ‘cause you’re losing.”
“Fuck you.” Mickey suddenly reached over to shove at Ian’s head.
Ian punched him in the arm. “Real mature, shit head.”
“Got me ahead, didn’t it?”
“You’re so not getting laid tonight.”
Mickey laughed. “Like you could resist this.” Mickey started hitting his buttons harder, until the screen flashed in neon colors: WINNER. He leaned back in his seat, smug look on his face.
“I hate you,” Ian said, smile stretching his face.
Mickey cracked open the beer next to him, smirking. “You do not.”
Ian grabbed the bottle out of his hand. “Now I don’t.”
Mickey didn’t even try to take the drink back. “So,” he started, “You lost.”
Ian rolled his eyes as he took a swig of the beer.
“You know what that means,” Mickey taunted.
“Yeah, yeah. Want me to blow you right now? I’m sure Fiona would love the show.”
The boys’ laughter covered up the sound of Fiona choking on her water.
“Hey,” Fiona hissed at Lip as soon as he got home, “What the hell is going on with Ian and Mickey?”
Lip opened his mouth to answer, but Carl and Debbie sauntered into the room.
“They’re having sex,” Carl said simply.
“How did you not know that?” Debbie asked incredulously.
“How did you know that?!” Fiona cried after them as they moved to the living room. She turned to Lip, “Did you know?”
“Of course I knew,” he said casually, “He tells me everything.”
“Oh, really? Does he tell Carl and Debbie everything too?”
“No.”
“Then how do they know about it?”
Lip shrugged. “Power of observation? It’s not that hard to figure out.” Lip nodded at something over Fiona’s shoulder and she pivoted to watch Ian and Mickey smiling and shoving at each other.
No, she decided, it wasn’t hard at all.
“You’re brother and sister are right fucking there, Gallagher. Knock it off.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re touching me.”
“They’re not watching. Don’t be a baby.”
“I’m being a baby? Who’s laying on whose shoulder right now?”
“Le-me alone. I’m tired.”
“Don’t you fucking fall asleep, Gallagher. You’re gonna miss the best part.”
“V’seen this a thousand times, Mick. It’s late. Lemme sleep.”
“You are not falling asleep on me.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’ll see.”
“Who cares? They already know.”
“Fiona doesn’t.”
“Yeah, she does.”
“You told her too?!”
“She’s not stupid, Mickey. Now let me sleep, please.”
Mickey grumbled under his breath, but said nothing. He might have even put his hand on Ian’s knee. And Ian might have reached down to lace their fingers together. And Mickey might have let him.
A few minutes later, Fiona came into the living room and draped a blanket over them.
“Oh,” Mickey said, “You don’t have to- I mean, I was just about to-“ Mickey moved like he was going to get up, drawing a soft whine from Ian. Mickey looked from Ian to the door and back again.
Fiona set a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back in place. “Stay. He wants you to.” She stood there a minute, hand on her chin, studying them. Mickey squirmed under her gaze. “You really love each other,” she mumbled, “It’s not just fucking for you, is it?”
Mickey didn’t say anything, just tightened his grip on Ian’s hand and refused to look up.
Fiona ran an exhausted hand through her hair, apologetic smile on her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, “S’been awhile since I’ve seen that. Anyway, no one will bother you down here.” She turned to mount the steps and paused on the first one. “But if you have sex on that couch, the stains will never come out. So, if you have to do it, do it in the kitchen. Goodnight, Mickey.”
And the biggest surprise of the night occurred moments later when Mickey said, “Goodnight, Fi.”