Body guard Mickey

private helicopter trips late nights new york hotel rooms photshoots jealousy and angst

I could cry just thinking about how they were so fucking young and life had already treated them so badly. It’s no wonder they both became each other’s refuge, that they were so desperately bound to one another and so desperate to love each other, each in their own process. Because truly being seen by the other person in such a fragile world was impossible—something they couldn’t cling to—and precisely that urgency born from insecurity drove them to love with their hearts on the outside.

I think about Mickey, about how even as a young kid in an abusive household, he was able to draw a line with cruelty. He wasn’t cruel; he gave the gun back to Ian because he wasn’t cruel, because it didn’t interest him. If Mickey never showed anything other than anger, it was because he had been carved into believing that family had to be protected. By extension, everything Mickey knew and eventually cared about had to be protected as well—like Ian. But that protection of his family was born out of fear (and here I’m really talking about Terry), whereas the protection he felt toward Ian came from a different place: affection, appreciation, love.

I don’t think that in the early seasons Mickey felt that need to protect Ian yet, but rather that impulse to have something that was only his. Something Terry couldn’t have. A kind of control over his life that he had always lacked. That was enough for him, creating something outside his family. Still, there are moments, like when Ian visits Mickey in jail in season one, where Mickey somehow starts to appreciate Ian. He probably isn’t even aware that Ian might like him, because I don’t think he was in the mental place to have that kind of self-awareness. In moments like that, I think Mickey was letting his brain connect the dots, because it was the first time someone told him I miss you smiled at him genuinely, showed him warmth and softness. That must have caught Mickey off guard, and that smile, to me, shows a bit of that.

Really, they were just kids smiling at each other, back when things were still a little easier, when Ian had a small, innocent crush—nothing more. They didn’t deserve anything bad.

In season two, one of the moments that has stayed with me the most is when Mickey is having a panic attack over the possibility of his father finding out (I truly believe Mickey suffers from anxiety, and you can see it on several occasions, later on as well, when Terry dies and he’s trying to control his emotions while he cries. Probably because sometimes he scratches his eyebrow, like a nervous tic). Ian is no longer his, he can no longer handle the situation with his fingers. what fucking world do you live in?. It’s fucking heartbreaking that someone so young says, with a trembling, terrified voice, If my dad finds out, he’ll kill me himself. And the worst part is that, knowing everything Terry does later and his personality, it’s not just a figure of speech—he really would kill Mickey. And Mickey knows it.

One of the reasons Mickey has such low self-esteem and so much self-hatred is that his own father doesn’t care about hurting him, and that, of course, makes you feel like you’re worth nothing. He can treat you like garbage. And so Mickey feels that hatred when Terry is part of the equation, because then it’s no longer something he chooses to do with Ian, it becomes yet another proof that it’s disgusting, like everything he does, and therefore that he deserves the harm.

Probably no one had ever touched him before Ian, and even with him, Mickey was so conditioned by trauma that he tried to seek power or strength through sex. There’s been a lot of talk about how Ian used his body, but Mickey did too. It was also his way of being seen, in some sense, because sex was violence and it was raw, stripped of feelings. For a while, the only way Mickey had to cling to Ian was through his body.

I think about how Mickey had all these feelings colliding inside him, confused, and how absolutely terrified he was of his father. I don’t think Mickey truly believed, deep down, that what he was doing was wrong, his fear came from the rest of the world having decided it was wrong. His understanding of others, of life, had been shaped by Terry. When Ian tells him that they have nothing to be ashamed of, Mickey doesn’t say that they do. He only blames the rest of the world for thinking that.

In season three, words arrive—conversations—where Mickey’s body is no longer the only thing he can offer, or rather, it’s no longer the only thing Ian wants from him. That opens up even more fears for Mickey, because when sex stops being impersonal and feelings get attached to it, he no longer has control. That first kiss is such a huge fucking step for Mickey. I mean, kissing someone is more intimate than sex for him; it implies other things.

As his feelings for Ian begin to develop, as he actually starts to like him, the reason for the kiss is precisely that he no longer controls the situation. Because Ian has become something more, and he knows he wants to kiss him. And that’s where the protection slowly begins—the way he starts having these impulses to make Ian happy or comfortable.

Even with the kiss, with inviting Ian to stay over and sleep at his house, Mickey is able to align the physical and the emotional on the same level, where both things can coexist. He wants to keep Ian close because he is his safety, living proof that he has that something—that he can build something on his own that is kind. But he’s still scared, because his father is still there. He can’t offer Ian much more than those moments of intimacy, because that’s all he has at that point, everything he’s able to manage.

It takes incredible courage to open your heart when you know that someone who was supposed to protect you—who has even been your model your entire life—can destroy you, can kill you just for feeling things. And even though Mickey has that, he also now has gestures, words, moments that aren’t just sex, that aren’t just harsh. Mickey had to let go of everything he knew about himself, about the world, or rather, he had to name things no one had ever taught him, with a knife to his throat. And I’m not even talking about season four.

God, Mickey Milkovich, from the very beginning searching for proof that you can touch with your hands and not only fill them with blood. Even if that blood could be your own.

Hello!!! Yes yes of course!

36. ...to give up control

Mickey didn't think the whole kiss thing would be a big deal.

Well, okay, scratch that. He’d known it would be a big deal. It had been a big deal. Had been a huge fucking deal and had left his heart racing and his lungs hitching and his lips tingling for hours afterwards, even through the chaos of getting shot in the fucking ass. 

But it wasn’t like– it wasn't some big thing. He just did it to prove a point, to prove he could, to get a one up on that creepy ass pedo hanging around Ian and taking him on dates and ordering him fucking room service. 

Except now he hasn’t been able to get it out of his head since. And he hasn't seen Ian since. And he’s kinda driving himself fucking insane.

It wasn't even an actual proper fucking kiss. No tongue action, no biting, no hot and heavy groaning. Just their lips smashed together awkwardly in the driveway of that fuckwad’s house, Mickey’s brothers just yards away. If that had been enough to get Mickey this worked up, what the fuck will it be like when they kiss for real?

If they kiss for real.

They probably will.

Fuck.

Mickey gets all tangled up in himself, the way he always does when it comes to stupid shit like this, stuff that shouldn’t mean anything but actually means everything and could absolutely get him killed but actually makes him feel more alive than he’s ever felt. He’s jittery when he goes in for his shift– the first one he’s working since being shot (again). He jumps at the sound of the bell chiming above his head. Tenses as he sees Ian’s head whip around towards the door.

“Mick!”

Mickey makes some non-committal grunting sound and beelines towards the donut case.

For the first few hours, it's fine. Ian doesn't bring it up, doesn't even hint at it. He’s got way bigger shit going down with his family to deal with. The stupid kiss probably isn't even a blip on his radar.

They end up in the freezer like they always do. They can’t fuck with Mickey’s bullet wounds, but he gets Ian off with his hands and Ian gets him off with his mouth, and it’s not as good as fucking but it gets the job done.

After, as they’re both grinning and panting and getting their belts situated, Ian tries to kiss him.

When Mickey pushes him away, it’s more out of habit than anything. He flushes, feeling stupid as hell, but Ian’s already smiling sheepishly and pulling away.

“Sorry. Should probably brush my teeth or something, huh?”

Mickey shrugs at him. Gnaws at his lower lip. Feels his breath hitch as Ian’s gaze darts down to his mouth.

Ian turns away and heads back up front.

+++

It keeps happening. The second time Mickey pushes him away–( when Ian tries to give him a fucking goodbye kiss like they’re fucking boyfriend and girlfriend)– Ian goes all quiet and sullen and mopey. 

The third time, he gets pissed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

They’re in the freezer again. They’d only just stumbled in. Up until a second ago, Ian had been pressed up against him, hands groping every part of Mickey he could reach.

“What?” Mickey snaps, cheeks burning against the cold air, scowl firmly in place. He didn't even push him away this time! He made sure he didn’t, made damn well sure to keep his reflexes on lockdown, but he must have let some little twitch or flinch slip through the cracks because now Ian’s pulling back to glare at him.

“I am such an idiot,” Ian mutters. Mickey is inclined to agree. “I should have known better.”

Mickey bristles. “The fuck are you going on about now?”

“Oh please, you fucking know–”

Mickey gathers his wits and his guts and shuts him up with a kiss.

Ian tenses, then melts, lips softening under Mickey’s, bigass hands coming up to slide through Mickey’s hair. 

Mickey’s breath hitches. He lets out this weird little noise. He pulls back.

Ian’s lips chase after his, and Mickey flinches, and just like that Ian’s tense again. “Stop doing that–”

“I’m not fucking flinching like a little bitch on purpose–”

“Not that,” Ian scoffs. He tightens his fingers in Mickey’s hair when Mickey tries to pull away. “Stop kissing me just to prove a fucking point!”

“I thought you wanted me to kiss you–”

“I want you to want to kiss me! I want it to mean something! Instead you’re just using it to– to– to try and fucking gain control–”

“Jesus fucking christ, Ian, stop being such a girl!”

Ian huffs and pulls away, and he’s right, he is an idiot, because how can he not fucking get it?

“It’s not– I’m not–” Mickey cuts off with a low growl. Scrubs hard at his mouth, trying to force the words out, because he knows he can barely fucking offer Ian anything but he’s gotta at least give him something. “When I– When I kiss you, or whatever,” Mickey starts again, skin hot and face flushed and every bone in his body protesting, “I’m not tryna fucking control you.”

There’s more he could say. Like how every time he kisses Ian he’s giving up the meager amount of control he has, how that fucking scares him and exhilarates him and maybe that makes him a pussy but its the fucking truth, how he’s trying, really fucking trying, and he needs Ian to see that.

He doesn't say any of that shit. But he thinks Ian gets it anyways.

Ian stares at him for a long moment with that weirdass intense look he sometimes gets in his eyes. “So you do want to kiss me?”

Mickey rolls his eyes and tries not to squirm. “The fuck do you think?”

“And you want me to kiss you?”

Mickey shrugs. Nods, just once, the movement sharp and short and jerky.

Ian squints at him for another eternity before taking a deep breath. He brings his hands up slow, works his fingers into Mickey’s hair again, and when he leans in Mickey still flinches except this time Ian doesn’t stop. He seals their lips together, steady and sure, and doesn’t give Mickey more than a split second to adjust before darting his tongue out.

Mickey gasps, just a bit. It’s enough to give Ian the leeway he needs to work Mickey’s mouth open further.

Holy fuck.

Mickey gets his hands on Ian’s hips to wrench him closer. Ian retaliates by yanking on Mickey’s hair, tugging until Mickey’s head is angled just right, and Mickey has to pull back enough to suck in a sharp breath. 

“Fuck, Mickey,” Ian hums. “You taste so fucking good.”

Mickey sincerely fucking doubts that– knows for a fact that his mouth tastes like cigarettes and burnt coffee and the chocolate bar he scarfed down earlier– but then Ian bites down hard on Mickey’s lower lip and Mickey loses his train of thought.

And maybe kissing ain’t such a big fucking deal afterall. And maybe, just maybe, it’s a huge fucking deal.

ALWAYS 🥺

If we're talking canon, remember when Mickey punched that old creepy guy for Ian? When he picked him up and got him home safe? When he accompanied Ian to a gay club everyday and basically acted as his bodyguard while he was scared and in the closet? “He's not a fuckin' lab rat”? Fighting off the MPs and going after Sammi for Ian? Rolling on a cartel and getting himself thrown in prison for him 😭 Being scared of his dad and still going to him because he has to help Ian 😭 Instinctively shielding Ian's body with his own when they're being shot at 🥺 He just. Cares so goddamn much 😭 He's willing to do everything he can to protect the man he loves 😭

And here's some of headcanons about protective mickey 🥺

Whenever he goes to pick up Ian's meds he stands there like 🤨 and double checks everything

Before Ian got to prison, Mickey made some sort of deal with the inmates who could give Ian trouble and made sure nobody would lay a hand on the Gay Jesus guy

Went 🤨😠 at every person who tried to make a joke of Ian in prison

His instinctively holds his arm out against Ian's chest when he's to stop abruptly while driving 🥺

Wraps a possessive paw on Ian's bicep and goes 🤨 when someone's been acting way too friendly with Ian

Like, canon gave us:

- confirmed little spoon mickey

- them being each other's first and only love

- ian throwing around the word husband at every opportunity as if that's just mickey's name

- confirmed dom/sub undertones in which mickey calls Ian his dom top, likes to be choked, likes to be called a slut, and has a daddy kink

- mickey being the only person consistently able to pick up on ian's triggers and behavioural changes to help him manage his mental illness

- mutually obsessed in love, would die for each other, no line they won't cross for each other. Ride or die

- them being best friends and childhood sweethearts

- them always coming back to each other and fighting for each other regardless of time or distance or circumstances

- ian grabbing mickey's neck and mickey cupping ian's face every time they kiss

- ian calling mickey "baby"

- clothes sharing

- partners in crime. partners in business. partners in life.

- a love confession in which mickey literally recites wedding vows 5 whole years before they got married

- them actually getting married!!!

All this to say that trying to pin down the shameless timeline only makes it more confusing because as far as I can see, if we're going by Shameless years, the last season should have been set in 2019, but it was set in 2020. The y, o and m letters by the ages stand for young, old and medium, basically saying if they've just turned that age or are about to turn the next age. I got the birthdays from the internet and since shameless is so weird with months, I just guessed a general month for each season. Also, the very first episodes of shameless were set in 2010 I think based on Fiona's calendar (I assume in December) but I went with 2011 because I thought it may have changed to January by that point. I don't know, it's all very confusing and there isn't much point in trying to define it, basically. This took me far too long.

I did this for my fanfic about a bunch of instances of hurt/comfort (read it here if you like) and then largely ignored it.

Ian lay flat on the floor, Mickey’s money surrounding him. He was annoyed enough that he was tempted to break his resolve, pull Mickey down to him, and fuck him raw until Mickey couldn’t remember his own name. However, Ian wasnt gonna back down on this. He wasn’t fucking Mickey till Mickey got a legal job. Yeah he had money, but what good would it be if he ended up in prison again? So he lay on the hard wooden floor of their bedroom stubbornly, breathing through his nose while Mickey started scrolling on his phone.

“You gonna pick it up?” Ian asked, gesturing at the money.

Mickey smirked. “Think of it as a gift,” he said. “A-a tip for your service.”

Ian sat up. “You callin’ me a stripper?”

“Hell no, man. I’m callin’ you my stripper.”

Ian rolled his eyes. He couldn’t be bothered with Mickey’s nonsense today. And by that, he meant, rationally, he couldn’t be bothered. He was still tempted to pin him down and fuck him raw.

That wasnt happening.

“I’m still not fucking you, Mickey.”

Mickey shrugged nonchalantly. “I was talking about when you used to dance at the club. My stripper. Couldnt stand those sleazing old fucks throwing money atcha. Not when you were comin home with me.”

Ian softened. Really softened. “Mickey…”

Mickey rolled his eyes and threw another Hamilton at him. “Don’t get soft on me, Gallagher.”

His expression shifted as he played with the money in his hands. “I don’t get it, man.”

“What, me bein’ soft?”

“Nah, the money thing,” Mickey said. “I got a job. Pays good. More’n good, I paid Debs my share of the bills, and got Franny a kickass birthday present. You got her a box of stale Froot Loops. Think I’m gonna slave away for nothing? That who you think I am, Gallagher?”

Ian got up and came to sit on the edge of the bed. “No,” he said. “That who you think I am? You think I wanna be here, Mick? Think I want my niece to get a box of fuckin Froot Loops for her fifth birthday? Fuck, even Fiona managed to get us better presents than that when we were kids.”

“Cause she stole ‘em,” Mickey shrugged. “That’s just how it is on the South Side. Pandemic hit us worse than those fucking Northside pricks. So what if I gotta scam a little so I can chip in? Wasnt the smile on Franny’s face worth it?”

“She won’t be smilin if you end up back in prison, Mick! I meant what I said about being a prison widow!”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna fuckin get caught, man!”

“Really? You’ve been to juvie more times tjan I can count and prison twice-“

“And all of them were for you. The first time cause that turbaned perv-“

“He didn’t have a turban-“

“Shot me for fucking you, then I punched an officer cause you begged me not to kill Frank, then there was that bitch who tried to ruin you, then I rolled on the cartel cause your ass got thrown in jail! I’ve only ever gotten caught for you!”

Ian stopped. Thought. Then he sighed, his voice gentler, and reached for Mickey’s hand. “I don’t want you to end up back there again, Mick. Fuck would I do without you?”

“And I told you, Ian, I’m not gonna get thrown in jail. And I tried, I turned up to that shitty interview with that bitch of a boss. I’m not cut out for this shit,” he shrugged.

Ian nodded slowly. Mickey had tried. And he had made Franny smile. Ian was too tired to fight with him tonight. So he crawled onto the bed properly and lay down. “C’mere,” he murmured, tugging at Mickey’s arm. Mickey slid under the covers next to him and Ian wrapped his arms around him, pulling Mickey onto his chest. “You were really good with Franny,” he said softly. “Debbie wasnt happy though. Think she thinks you undermined her.”

Mickey shrugged. “I’m not her parent. Debs can do whatever she wants with her kid. Point of being the favourite uncle is to spoil her rotten.”

Ian grazed his nose against Mickey’s and chuckled, fingers stroking down Mickey’s back. He leaned down and kissed Mickey gently on the mouth, cupping his jaw, his wedding ring cool and comforting on Mickey’s face.

“Debs is lucky it was a fake gun. When I was her age, it was a real one,” Mickey murmured when they eventually drew back.

Ian’s fingers stilled on Mickey’s back and his hand tightened on Mickey’s jaw. “Serious?” he said softly.

“Oh yeah. I learnt to shoot when I was five. Milkovich rite of passage or somethin’. Learnt how to dodge a bullet before that, though. My dad had a game. He’d shoot into the air around us, an’ we’d have to run. I was always the best at it, even when I was a kid. Mandy didnt get to learn to dodge till she was six. Didnt get her gun till she was eight. Terry said there were other ways for a girl to get what she wanted.”

Ian felt sick at that, remembering that day Mandy had pointed a gun to her father’s head. Let him go, Dad, this is between us!

Mickey shook his head, waving away the dark lore he’d just casually dropped and kissed Ian again, before lying down on the mattress. “Anyway. If you’re not gonna fuck me you might as well spoon me,” he said, rolling onto his side and pulling Ian’s arms around him. “M’ fuckin tired man.”

Ian held Mickey and kissed his shoulder. He knew he and Mickey would be back to snipping at each other in the morning. But tonight, like every night, he held onto Mickey, breathing his scent deeply, placing periodic kisses to his neck and shoulders, until he dozed off.

but then i think about how many times mickey has been taken away from him. so it’s no wonder ian kisses mickey like it could be the last

uh oh. uh oh pal! looks like you shared a thought that made me SAD! uh oh!! they really did have to fight for it, didn't they? but look at this way... like you say, it's no wonder ian kisses mickey like that! every moment was so important and so hard-won for so long. and for every kiss that looks like this....

...we get kisses that look like THIS