At The Dugouts

"Oh, shit," Sasha mutters at her phone, smacking Ally on the shoulder and shoving her phone in front of her. "Look, Ian's posting on Snap again."

She furrows her brows. "Is he living with the Milkoviches now?"

"I guess so," she shrugs, "we should let Ryan know, he'll be dying to see this," Sasha says.

"He's probably already seen it," Ally scoffs. "Guy's obsessed."

"You think Ian'll come back to school?" Sasha asks.

"It's not long 'till we graduate, so my bets are on no," Ally says. "Ryan needs to get over that little crush, I mean, he's never gonna ask Ian out."

"Yeah, and Ian's more of a hook-up guy anyway, from what I've heard. Ryan's not like that," Sasha agrees as they head to their next class.

"Uh-huh," Ally nods.

"What the fuck?" Ryan snaps at lunch around a mouthful of food. He turns his phone around to face his friends. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Oh, shit," Sasha winces.

"That's weird," Ally says, darting her eyes nervously between the phone and Sasha. Ryan's a handful usually, but if Ian's dating someone, he's going to be even more dramatic.

"Who's he dating?" Ryan mutters, zooming in to the edges of the photo.

"He's probably talking about Mandy," Sasha suggests, sipping her coke.

"He's gay," Ryan argues.

"Yeah, but you know he talks about Mandy like that," Ally says. "They always said shit like that, even after people knew Ian was gay. It's totally platonic."

"Yeah, it's probably just Mandy," Sasha says.

"Hm, yeah, probably. It's not like he can date a guy while he's at the Milkovich house anyway. He'd get fucking murdered," Ryan says, still squinting at the photo.

"Now he's at a Milkovich party!" Ryan exclaims, rushing up to their group early one morning.

"I mean, he's living with them," Sasha says. "He's probably gonna be at their parties."

"Yeah, but their parties are all family parties. Whole bunch of druggies and junkies," Ryan scoffs. "What's Ian doing with people like that?"

Ally rolls her eyes. "He's living with them."

"Yeah, but I'm worried about him. He's obviously getting in with a bad crowd."

Sasha groans. "He's not your problem. You're not even friends."

"We sat next to each other in Algebra for three years, we know each other," Ryan argues, stubbornly glaring at her. "And only their family goes to those parties. Why would they let Ian be there?"

"Because he's living with them!" Sasha shouts, laughing at his ridiculous line of logic.

"What if him and Mandy are actually dating?"

"What, he's un-gayed himself?" Ally scoffs. "No, they're not dating, Ryan. Stop freaking out."

"That's not Mandy's phone," Ryan states, placing his phone in the middle of the table like a detective investigating a murder case.

Sasha rolls her eyes, already tired of the conversation. It was tolerable when Ian was actually going to school with them, but now they haven't seen him in almost a year and she couldn't care less about Ryan's feelings about him.

"She probably got a new one," Sasha mutters, lighting a cigarette. "You know they steal shit all the time."

"No, I served her at Target the other day. Her phone was red," Ally says. Sasha glares at her for encouraging him. She shrugs. "It's true."

"Who's got a white phone?" Ryan ponders, tapping his chin.

"Mickey has a million phones," Ally suggests. "'Cause of all his illegal shit. Ian's probably just making fun of him."

"But why would he do that?"

"'Cause he's Mandy's brother. They probably talk sometimes," Sasha says. "Given he's living with them and everything."

"Mickey's homophobic as fuck, though. Why would Ian hang around with him?"

"I don't know!" Sasha shouts. "Maybe he doesn't know. Or maybe he's not bad about Ian. Or maybe Ian doesn't care."

"See?" Sasha says the next morning, when Ryan joins them. "He's just become friends with Mickey. Maybe he isn't as homophobic as we thought."

"He beat up Donny under the bleachers that one time 'cause him and Ian were fucking. He's definitely homophobic and definitely knows Ian's gay," Ryan scoffs.

"Isn't Ian a top?" Ally asks. "Maybe he doesn't mind that."

Ryan huffs. "Maybe. I just don't know why he'd want to be around the Milkoviches of all people. They're rude, dirty, poor as fuck, violent criminals. Don't you think he'd prefer to be around someone like me?"

And there it is. Sasha clenches her jaw. Ryan and his stick up his ass showing up yet again. He's always been like that, thinking he's better than everyone because he had the option of going to private school and chose their shitty school instead for some reason, looking down on everyone else who doesn't have that kind of money. He's only gotten worse over the years. Sasha's not really sure why she's still friends with him.

"Clearly, Mickey's still an asshole," Ryan says, gesturing to her phone. "Ian would definitely prefer hanging around people like us. Maybe I should try to run into him at some point."

Ally glances at her, trying to hide her smirk. Ryan always has plans on how he'll talk to Ian, and he always pussies out. They both know that will never happen.

"That's actually weird," Ryan says. "That's not Mandy's gun, that's Mickey's gun. I saw it once. Mandy doesn't have guns. Why is he using Mickey's shower?"

"Maybe they only have one shower," Sasha tells him, barely looking up to see the picture.

"No, if they had one shower, then Mandy's things would be in that one. You're telling me Mandy just uses body wash, no shampoo, no conditioner?" Ryan laughs. "Nah, she definitely doesn't use that shower."

"Why would it matter that he's using Mickey's shower?"

"I don't know. It has to mean something, though," Ryan mumbles, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah, they're probably just friends now," Ryan sighs. "I don't know why, but whatever."

"Uh-huh," Ally mumbles, not paying any attention. "Huh, he looks kinda hot there."

"Mm, yeah, he does," Sasha agrees.

"No he doesn't," Ryan snaps, storming off.

Sasha laughs at him as he walks away.

"Look what Ian posted," Ally says to her one evening, while they're smoking in the park.

"Don't you start on him too," Sasha groans.

"No, this is actually weird," Ally tells her. "They're like... cuddled up together."

"Huh," Sasha frowns, staring at the image. "Maybe they just fell asleep next to each other? I dunno, but that's weird."

The next day, Ryan is raging about it. He says Ian shouldn't be associated with him, says Mickey's probably getting him involved in all sorts of trouble.

He never mentions how close they are, even though Sasha knows he noticed that. The idea of Mickey being gay is a surprise, but not completely outside of the world of believability. Sasha can see it, maybe. Although she doesn't think that's what's happening, there's probably a more reasonable explanation, but maybe.

"Oh, they're definitely together," Ally says, eyebrows raised.

"Holy shit," Sasha says, putting her coke down to fully appreciate the image. "A hundred per cent," she agrees.

"Have you fucking seen this?" Ryan suddenly says, appearing from nowhere and startling her.

"We were just looking at it," Ally tells him.

"Are they fucking together?" Ryan spits.

"Looks like it," Sasha says.

"Sorry, man," Ally winces.

"This is fucking-- what the fuck? What does that douchebag have that I don't? He's probably some abusive, manipulative fucking--"

"Oh, he posted another story," Sasha interrupts.

It's a video, only about thirty seconds long. Mickey's featured in flashes, scrambling around Ian's shoulder.

"Un-post that!" he's shouting, trying to grab Ian's phone. "Stop fucking recording me, Gallagher, I'll fucking kill you. Delete it!"

Ian's laughing, grinning from ear to ear as he holds the phone out of reach.

"No!" he's saying around his smile. "It's cute!"

"I'm not fucking cute! I'll murder you, I'll actually goddamn murder you!"

Ian laughs, doesn't seem scared at all. "No, you won't, idiot. You like me too much."

The video abruptly cuts off. Ryan's nostrils are flared, face red with barely contained rage.

"See? I told you--"

"Oh, shut up," Ally scoffs. "They look happy."

"Yeah," Sasha nods. "Crazy that Mickey's gay, though."

Day 6 - Gluttony

- was on the football team

- did karate

- excelled at military circuit training

- impressive marksmanship

- 200 push ups before school

- can run a mile in 6 mins

- works out daily

- enjoys watching sports (kash bought him a sports team jacket, he made a bet against Jimmy to win sports game tickets, he asks mickey if he wants to sneak in to watch a sox game together)

- prioritised his physicality and athletic goals and talents over academia

- happily and readily participates in a baseball game with a load of guys he doesn't even really know

Mickey’s unexpected father/son day was not going exactly to plan, unless the plan was for a toddler to be beating the fuck out of him while screaming at the top of his lungs in Russian.

“Igrat!  Igrat! Igrat!”  Yevgeny punctuated his demand by banging his Tonka truck repeatedly on Mickey’s legs.  

“Fuck!  OK, OK!”  Wincing, Mickey reached down and picked up the todder.  “I still don’t understand what the fuck you’re saying, you know,”  he informed his son.

Yevgeny blinked at him innocently and Mickey sighed.  “OK, you and I gotta have a little talk, man to man,”  he sat Yevgeny down on the ragged sofa and knelt before him. “See, I'm supposed to be getting you to speak English and your mom is giving me nothing but shit about it.  So how about we forget about Mother Russia for a while and bring it on home to the good ol’ US of motherfucking A, alright?  Here,” Mickey looked around.  “How about we practice a bit, whaddya say?”, he reached down and picked up Yevgeny’s truck.  Can you tell me what this is?

“Mashina!” Yevgeny said promptly and grinned when Mickey’s eye twitched. 

“Try again, kid.  Truck,” Mickey enunciated the word slowly. “Can you say that for me?  Truck?”

“Mashina! “ Yevgeny repeated stubbornly, jaw jutting out, and Mickey sighed, setting the truck on the desk.  “Ok, let's try again.  We'll pick something you really like,”  he dug his phone out of his pocket, opening his texts.  For once, the daily cat pictures Colin sent him might actually come in handy.  “K, first, let’s test out what you know.  Who’s in this picture?” he opened Colin’s most recent text and showed the picture to Yevgeny; one of Colin cradling his brown tabby cat in his arms.  “Who’s that, huh?”  he asked again.

Yevgeny shoved a finger in his mouth, uncharacteristically quiet.  He looked at his father with big eyes and didn’t answer.

“OK, too much pressure, I get it.  Can you point to Uncle Colin?”

Some of Yevgeny’s reticence resolved and his smile came back.  He tapped Colin’s face on the phone and looked at Mickey for approval.

“See, you understand what I’m saying!”  Mickey encouraged.  “Put it there, little man,” he held up his palm and Yevgeny slapped it, giggling.

“OK, let’s try again,”  Mickey returned his attention to the phone.  “Where’s the kitty cat, huh?”

Yevgeny tapped the screen again, this time over the cat.

“See, this is fucking awesome.  Now we’re communicating,”  Mickey grinned at his son.  “OK, so can you say that?  Say cat for me?”

Yevgeny stared at Mickey.

“Please?  Say cat!”  Mickey encouraged again.  “Just say this one word for me, and I’ll leave you alone.  Deal?  Can you say it?  Cat?”

“Gato,”  Yevgeny chirped.

“Gato?  Ga - is that fucking Spanish??”  Mickey stared at his son.  Yevgeny grinned toothily back at him.

Hey hey! Soooo. Sorry. I've been AWOL from the drabbles scene because #LIFE.

Really. It's kicking my ass.

But this drabble is actually a little adaptation of a scene I wrote for a fic that I am working on, but I haven't been able to fit it in though. So it might make it, it might not.

It will make it as a drabble tho. It's a one-shot!

Thanks @smittybus22 and @galladrabbles for the prompt and for hosting.

** this is unrelated to "2" which I swear, will get an update soon.

.-.-.-

“Do you want kids?” Ian is barely keeping it together here. If he wasn’t so fucking sedated and tired his excitement would probably show through. 

Mickey holding a baby is doing things to him. 

“Isn’t that a question for like… when you’ve been dating for like, six months or something?” 

“Hmm, right.” Ian closes his eyes. Mickey's right. It’s a question for another time. “So do you?” 

Mickey bounces Freddie on his lap, while he gurgles and smiles.

“Never thought about it.” He hasn’t.

“Father’s Day would finally mean something”. 

@smittybus22 @galladrabbles

Visitation

Another entry for @smittybus22's prompt for this week's @galladrabbles prompt. Hope you enjoy.

Father's Day

Mickey was ten years old when he first understood betrayal.

He'd had his eyes on something for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to swipe. Milkoviches were criminals, and petty theft was par for the course.

But this was special, important. He didn't want to be caught, or let anybody else know.

It was the perfect Father's Day gift: stainless steel blade, engraved filigree on the gold accented handle. He'd been so proud of himself as he'd presented it, palms outstretched and a toothy grin.