Chapter Text
Ian Gallagher stood from his seat in Professor Jane Saddler’s 2:30pm English class and stretched out his back. It was a 90-minute class and he hated that he could hardly sit that long without needing a stretch like he was decades older than 19.
“I want that essay in my mailbox by 9:30am next Wednesday please, people. Every minute after that I’m docking points. If you need to submit a hard copy, come up and see me before you leave,” Professor Saddler called out to her quickly departing students.
Ian jammed his headphones in his ears as he walked out of the auditorium and thanked his lucky stars Lip had passed on his old college laptop to him instead of pawning it after he graduated.
He made his way out of the building into the courtyard and zipped up his jacket. It was the middle of February and the air was still sharp with cold. He had an hour before he had to set off for work and he took a moment to observe the tiny hints of winter turning to spring. The outdoor parts of campus were really beautiful. Huge old brick buildings covered in creeping plant roots, soon to be lush and green once again. There had been a bit of snowfall that morning, settled on the well maintained grass and potholed bike paths, crunching under Ian’s feet as he breathed in the chill of fresh winter air. There was a strangely large amount of people around for that time of day. He grabbed a free park bench and plonked himself and his backpack on it, lighting up his cigarette. It was the last in the pack and he was quitting, promise.
He took his first drag and let the heat fill his lungs.
He never thought he’d be the type of college boy he was now, hanging around campus in a slouchy beanie with a 700-page novel tucked under his arm.
Thanks to his wayward military dreams and determination to get into West Point, he kept his grades high enough to graduate high school early. Too bad for him, the army was more interested in the number on his birth certificate. Or too bad for Lip, really, he was the one who had his identity stolen.
Looking back, he figured that was his first big decision made thanks to his bipolar disorder. He’d never done anything that reckless before without any fear of the consequences. Not until he stole that helicopter, anyway.
His brief stint in military prison confirmed for him that army life was not going to be it for Ian Gallagher. How are you meant to go out and do 6am drills when you’re too depressed to get out of bed? He couldn’t see the typical drill sergeant verbal abuse being very persuasive in that instance.
After his last manic episode ended in a car crash and trip to the hospital, he relented to his family’s wishes and went to see a psychiatrist about his bipolar disorder. It was a hell of a ride to come down from a manic episode into a depressive one when you’re recovering from a major accident. His siblings worked in shifts to make sure he was eating, drinking, taking his meds, keeping his wounds clean. He was unbelievably grateful when he came out of it. If it weren’t for them he would probably have ended up dead.
One good thing his mania had done for him was getting him thinking seriously about going to college. He had grand ideas of getting into politics or chemistry at the time, blowing shit up in one way or another. Now he was more interested in an uneventful career path, maybe teaching or doing some admin work. He’d be fine coming home from his regular nine to five office job to his husband and 2.5 kids, maybe a dog.
He had sent off applications to various schools across Illinois and beyond. He’d even applied to Harvard, but it was no surprise when the single page rejection letter arrived in the mail. It was a surprise after he’d forgotten all about even thinking about going to college to receive an acceptance letter from the University of Chicago, informing him that they looked forward to seeing him that coming fall for his freshman year. Ian was impressed that in his manic state he’d had the wherewithal to apply for scholarships, and was gobsmacked to discover he had scored a full ride. Even his dorm was included, and his roommate Luke was pretty chill. They’d probably spoken less than 10 words to each other in the 6 months they’d shared a room. When he wasn’t over at his girlfriend's place he was on his computer playing The Long Dark, so Ian basically had the room to himself.
Ian liked college overall. He had declared his major of Language and Literature and was really enjoying all the reading and research he was doing in working toward his degree. His classes and professors were pretty standard, no massive assholes to report, though he resented the fact that he still had to take math. He had met some really interesting people, most of whom talked to him like a human being and not like he was a giant idiot, which was nice. There was always plenty to do around campus as well, his friend Jade was always either doing something as part of a group or trying to start her own. Her latest venture was an LGBT group she was starting that she had unsuccessfully tried to get Ian to join. She was a great friend and he vaguely knew the other people she’d wrangled into the group, but he really wanted to focus on learning his shit and keeping his scholarship. The amount of reading he had to do for essays was bordering on ridiculous sometimes.
Ian yawned around his cigarette, more out of boredom than exhaustion, and looked up at the fast moving clouds overhead. It would probably snow again at some point in the day, once again reminding him how weird it was that there were so many people hanging around. He suddenly heard a trill of notification sounds, and all the students surrounding him in the courtyard stood stock still.
On second thought he fucking hated it here.
Jade had told him about the monthly flash mob, though he’d somehow managed to miss it until now. Apparently a lot of people were really into it, making floating frisbees with wire hangers and shit like that. He saw a couple of guys mid-pull up on the old outdoor gym equipment, upper arms shaking and avoiding making eye contact for fear of making each other crack up and collapse to the ground. That was dedication.
He recognised a guy from his social studies class stood frozen over the water fountain. Trevor made eye contact with Ian and broke character to give him a small wave. Ian nodded back, taking another drag of his cigarette. Jade was adamant Trevor was desperate to get in Ian’s pants but he honestly did not see it. Dude was just personable. Friendly, even. Potential boring husband material? Eh. They’d done a small amount of group work together in class, hung out with Jade a couple of times too, and he was cool as a friend but Ian could sense his bubbling neuroticism would get old real fast in a relationship setting. He’d also heard through the grapevine that Trevor was pretty strictly a top so there was strike two. Besides, Trevor was not the kind of name you yelled out in ecstasy.
Ian had sworn off romantic entanglements for the time being anyway, and he was enjoying being single. Maybe his dick wasn’t enjoying being single but he didn’t give a shit. He’d realistically gotten more than his lifetime’s worth when he was doing private shows at the club during his mania. Prioritising his mental health while he got better adjusted to his meds and keeping his scholarship were more important to him than chasing dick.
As soon as the second trill of notifications echoed through the courtyard and people started to move again, Trevor smiled at him and half-jogged over to Ian’s bench.
“Hey Ian, been a while, wanna do something later?” He asked, not-so-subtly exhaling through the mouth in a clear attempt to tell Ian he didn’t approve of him smoking. Ian flicked some ash to the ground.
“Can’t, I gotta work tonight, I won’t get in until 3.”
“Okay, uh, text me when you’re free?”
“Sure, I’ve got an essay due next week so maybe after that,” Ian said noncommittally, taking another drag of his cigarette.
“Cool.” Satisfied, Trevor gave him a wave and wandered off in the direction of one of the buildings.
He got about as much of a thrill with Trevor as he did eating a Twizzler. And maybe that’s what he needed. Maybe, if he was looking, he’d settle for a Twizzler. Maybe.
Ian sighed again, grey smoke disappearing into the cold air.
Sitting around with these thoughts was doing nothing for him, he decided. Ian tossed his spent cigarette to the ground and headed back to his dorm to change for a run.
Luke had ignored him as he changed, or just not heard him at all, happily tapping away at his keyboard collecting soup or firewood or some shit in his game. Tightly wrapped in his winter running gear, Ian tugged the key out of his dorm room door and shoved it into his pocket. Their dorm building was one of the older ones on campus and had never had the doors replaced. They were huge and made from a dense, dark wood that aged really nicely. The only problem with them was the weird locks. From the inside of the room, you could flip the lock so that it would always lock itself automatically when the door closed. Ian had learned that the hard way his first week there, stranded without his key and not yet knowing anyone, Luke already having spent the first few nights at his girlfriend’s apartment, occasionally showing up for 30 minutes to add some part to his PC. Luckily for him as the building was mainly freshmen, they had faculty roaming the halls with a master key for this exact inevitability, and reminders to all to just leave the latch alone and use your key. It had been long enough now that he was extremely used to locking both sides of the door manually with his key, no further incidents to report.
He still had 45 minutes for a quick run, shower, and change before he had to catch the L to the club. Ian glanced out the window at the end of the hall to check the weather before something caught his eye.
The previously unoccupied room next door to Ian’s in the corner of the hall now had a sign taped haphazardly to the door.
Resident Advisor: Dean Reynolds
Huh. Ian had wondered why they never had one of those on their floor. He figured it was an easy enough job with a nice room as a perk, although Lip could tell him some horror stories from back when he was an RA. Still, no one on Ian’s floor was throwing ABC parties or launching themselves out of the windows. Mainly just locking themselves out and having to make the long trip to student services.
He’d never really paid much attention to the room before, but from what he could see from the outside, it was at least double the width of the rest of the rooms on the floor.
What did you even have to do as an RA? Look after a set of keys? Ian had slept in a twin, and now an XL twin, his whole life - usually with at least two other people in the room - so the idea of a free queen bed in a dorm room the size of a studio was very appealing. Ian made a mental note to look into it for his sophomore year. It would probably give his resume a nice bit of padding. Right now all he was working with was an after school and summer job at a little South Side corner store and bartending. He wasn’t fluent enough in corporate bullshit to reword casual nightclub sex work into something more professional-sounding.
Ian made his way back down the hall to the staircase when he noticed something else was new.
A piece of paper was stuck to the floor’s announcement board that he missed on his way in. It was a basic, black and white 8 x 11 sheet that someone could have printed on their home computer advertising a floor-wide residents night at a local pizza joint, complete with a little black and white pizza slice clip art. If he hadn’t noticed the new RA had moved in he would swear it was a ploy from some kind of co-ed serial killer. It got the point across, he supposed. It was honestly kind of adorably low-effort. Like, I care enough to make this and plan something nice for everyone but don’t get any ideas about us all being BFFs or anything. Very that. Or maybe more they made me do this. Ian couldn’t decide, especially without meeting their new RA first.
Dean Reynolds, huh.
Ian got in from his shift at the Fairy Tail at quarter to three in the morning. He usually bartended until 11 but had one night a week dancing late.
He had somehow managed to keep his job after his car accident. He showed up after six months of absence with a cast on his leg and was waved to his new position behind the bar like nothing had ever happened.
Now that he was feeling more mentally stable and no longer doing Curtis work with the place under new management, he was down to dancing once a week high above the patrons like a mall christmas tree. You could look but you couldn’t touch.
He figured there must be something about being unavailable that got him better tips at the bar than he ever got from lap dances and private shows.
He noted the pitch darkness of his dorm room as he locked the door behind him. Luke would’ve been on his computer til maybe 6 or 7 before leaving for his girlfriend’s place. Ian used his nights and early mornings alone to read and work on his assignments.
You would figure growing up in a house with five siblings and all sorts of random comings and goings at all hours would make him crave a bit of chaos, but Ian could not have turned out more opposite - even Luke’s clicking keyboard and mouse made it hard for him to focus.
The first night he spent alone at his dorm in pure silence was the greatest feeling he’d had in months. Probably the best sleep he’d had in years, too.
Getting in so late usually really took it out of him now that he was only doing it once a week, but he’d had a nice night. The music was good and after he’d had his two drink limit the mocktails were free flowing.
Ian figured the best way to use his residual energy was to get started on next week’s essay. Might as well get a head start and keep up his A streak as long as he could. Technically he only needed a C+ average to keep his scholarship but he’d always been a bit of an overachiever. It was such an ego boost to one up everyone’s expectations of him, especially after the way he grew up. Middle child? Sure. Try bastard, ginger, gay middle child from South Side Chicago with a drunk for a (technically step) dad and a mentally ill runaway cyclone for a mom. Too bad Clayton Gallagher’s genes weren’t as strong as Monica’s.
Ian sat himself down at his desk, booted up Lip’s old laptop and cracked open his book. He set out a couple of highlighters and pulled up a fresh Google doc to start taking notes.
He assumed 3am on a Tuesday morning would be prime silence time.
But apparently not.
The door to the new RA’s room slammed so hard it made Ian’s desk and chair vibrate with it.
He heard a voice, maybe two, both guys at least. They were going back and forth about something in short sentences. Definitely two of them. The thud of a body made contact with the wall they shared.
Great. This is just what Ian needed. Some aggro jock getting into fights at three in the morning right up against his room. Could they really not take it outside like regular people?
A few moments passed before he realised they weren’t doing much more talking, and did he just hear a belt buckle jingle?
The guy against the wall let out a low moan and Ian felt his cheeks get warm. Oh.
He hadn’t gotten laid in so long he had forgotten other people had been the entire time. He rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair and leaned back in his chair. Honestly what were the odds of a couple of horny queers moving in right next door? Hopefully they’d be twenty minutes max before they passed out and Ian could get back to focusing on his important shit.
Later that morning, he witnessed the sunrise against his will, and his alarm blared to remind him he didn’t get a wink of sleep that night. The noise started to blur in his mind with the memory of his neighbour’s creaking mattress and he felt like throwing the poor innocent clock out the window.
This was really his life now. The same shit every night.
If his neighbours weren’t slamming each other into the wall or making the headboard smack against it, it was books being shoved onto the floor or rhythmic creaking of the mattress or other pieces of furniture Ian assumed was in the room. And there was always the moaning.
Guy number 1 moaned like it was his profession, he definitely made it known when he was really liking something. Ian absolutely did not find his noises in particular arousing. Shut up. Even if he did, luckily it was balanced out by guy number 2 grunting like a goddamn caveman, which would’ve been hilarious if it wasn’t happening for hours on end while the sun slept.
It wasn’t even just the physical act that was clear as day to Ian. While they took an hour or two break between sessions they would sometimes have conversations about preferred methods. One in particular that guy number 1 was insistent he was not into, apparently guy number 2 couldn’t quite get him there by doing it. Ian was really learning so much at college.
Of course Luke was none the fucking wiser, no matter if he slept in the dorm or not, he always had his giant over ear headphones on and sat clacking at his mechanical keyboard like there was no tomorrow.
Between Dean fucking Reynolds and Luke Whateverhislastnamewas - Ian felt a bit bad for not knowing, but he didn’t think he’d ever given Luke his either - his dorm room was becoming an auditory nightmare. He picked his sleep deprived ass up and packed his backpack. Even though it was back to silence he knew he would just end up crashing without taking anything in if he started studying right then. He needed to get the hell out of there.
Ian shoved his headphones in his ears and cracked open his book. He’d managed to find a sparsely populated area in the courtyard with a few benches, near a large stretch of frosty grass with a few booths and some people milling around.
Ian figured the credit card booths would start to disappear after the freshmen settled in during the first couple months of the school year, but it turned out they were never done proselytising to 18 year olds about the wonderful world of accumulating debt in adulthood.
An icy breeze cut through the air and Ian cursed, tugging his coat closer to his neck.
He was getting increasingly annoyed that the words from the music blaring in his ears were being reflected back at him on the page. His fingers gripping the book started to get numb in the cold and he slammed it shut in defeat, taking a deep breath through his nose. Why the fuck didn’t he buy any more cigarettes. Quitting in the middle of the school year was a dumb idea. He was pissed off and cold and uncomfortable.
Ian rummaged through his back for his notepad and ripped out two pages. On one he wrote YES and on the other he wrote NO . He crumpled them both up and dropped them into the front pocket of his bag.
Just as he was about to make use of his primitive magic 8-ball, a 20-something guy in a bright green jacket picked a terrible time to approach him with a clipboard, motioning to his ears. Ian yanked out one of his earbuds, music still blasting in his right ear.
“Yeah?”
“Hey man, you want to sign up for a credit card? Five grand limit and you’ll be instantly approved.”
Ian cleared his throat. “Uh, no thanks. My credit’s tanked enough for a lifetime.”
The volunteer shrugged, still holding out his clipboard. “It all gets wiped after you die anyway.”
Ian narrowed his eyes. He could sniff out someone who’d never had to worry about money in their lives a mile away. “No thanks.”
“Suit yourself, man.” The volunteer remained chipper and hopped off to harass his next victim.
The interaction had thrown him off his train of thought, so he reached back for his book and opened it to a random page. He felt like he had read this part before but honestly he had no clue, and it pissed him off more.
Another guy started to approach him, this time decked out in purple. Ian flipped before the guy could even lift his clipboard from his side.
“What about anything I’m doing right now screams ‘ask me about my credit’?! Could you fuck off?”
The guy seemed taken aback and raised a defensive palm. “Jeez, bro, just trying to create a financially literate youth.”
“You’re being a fucking parasite is what you’re doing.”
“Calm down, dude. I don’t want to have to call security.”
“Don’t fucking bother.” Ian shoved his stuff in his bag once again and slung it over his shoulder without bothering to zip it up. If he collided with the purple guy on his way up and out of the courtyard it didn’t even register.
“Wow. You look like shit.”
Ian shot his friend a sarcasm-laced grin. “Fuck you too, Jade.” She stepped aside to let him into her dorm room and he immediately clocked the 9 people packed tightly together in her half of the space. “What’s going on in here?”
“Remember I said I wanted to start an LGBT student group? Say hello to the Queer Collective. Guys, this is Ian. Ian, everyone.” Ian waved and was met with varying nods, peace signs, and quiet hello ’s from the group.
“Of course, you know Trevor,” Jade motioned generally and as if waiting for his cue, Trevor’s head popped up in the small crowd and he gave Ian a casual salute. Jade managed to find each person in the group as she continued, “then we’ve got Lexi, Connor, Joaquin, Dina, Aisha, Milo, Quinn, and Cole.”
“Saved the best for last,” said the bleach blond in the front. They made it extremely obvious that they were checking Ian out, tucking a nonexistent loose strand of hair behind their heavily pierced ear.
Ian let himself bask briefly in the confidence boost and turned his attention back to Jade.
“I thought they gave all student groups a meeting space.”
“Um, well, I may have missed the sign up deadline by a couple… months. BUT! We’re here! And we will be officially recognised by the University of Chicago whenever the next sign-up period is. So for now, we gather where convenient.”
“Upsetting that you didn’t say ‘we’re queer’.”
“I’ll remember that for next time, Lex, thank you.”
The door to the dorm room opened again and who Ian assumed was Jade’s roommate came in, hair still wet from the shower. She eyed him up and down.
“Hey, Jade. Who’s your new friend?”
“Don’t even start, Katie, he’s just as gay as the rest of us.”
Katie shrugged, hopped onto her bed and opened up her laptop. “Bummer.” She gave Ian a wink. He never knew what to do with sexual attention from girls. He was usually too anxious to turn them down, but before it got too far managed to blurt out something about Justin Timberlake. Although, lately he was more of a Nick Jonas guy.
“Please ignore my roommate. She’s not gettin’ any.”
“Hey!”
“It’s not my fault you’re constantly barking up the wrong, gay tree, Katie.”
Katie shrugged. “Maybe you’ll introduce me to the bisexual prince of my dreams.”
Jade took a quick glance at the male members of the Queer Collective. “Not likely. So what’s up, Ian?” She raised an eyebrow, “Gay drama?”
“Yeah, I guess? Gay adjacent?” All attention from the QC was suddenly on him like toddlers awaiting story time. He imagined them all sipping from little cartons of milk and snorted to himself.
“So you know the new RA moved in?”
“I’ve heard, yeah. Still never seen the guy though. What’s his name? Dennis?”
“Dean.”
“Right, right,” she motioned for him to continue.
“Turns out the wall between us is about as thick as a piece of paper and he’s been fucking this guy in his dorm room every night this week. For hours. Like I cannot stress this enough. Hours. Every night!”
Jade furrowed her eyebrows. “Dude’s gonna need an ice bath.”
“Bet it sounds hot.”
“No one asked you, Katie! You need a place to crash?”
Ian shrugged, “sleeping’s whatever, I get a little insomnia sometimes so I can handle that, mostly. I just need them to shut up so I can read my shit for my essay due in the morning. I tried going to the courtyard but it’s really…distracting.” Ian thought it best to leave out almost knocking a guy’s teeth out to a room full of new people.
“Tell him to knock it the fuck off! This is a place of learning and they need to be respectful. Why the hell should you leave?”
“He’s the RA. What if I need to ask him for something and he makes it awkward?”
“He made it awkward by not being into breath play. Too bad you can’t slip a ball gag under his door.” Jade turned to rally the troops, “any suggestions, gang?”
A couple of voices made themselves heard.
“You could try the library?”
“Not overnight. It closes at 8pm.”
Ian shook his head. “I can’t even go during the day. All the ambient noise when I’m trying to read makes me want to stab out my eardrums.”
“Wow, graphic.” said a small voice from the middle of the crowd.
Jade stood on her tiptoes in an effort to find the source of the protest, but quickly gave up, placing a hand on Ian’s shoulder.
“I’m really sorry, sweetie. We’re probably gonna be a pretty full house around here until we can sort out another place to get together.”
Ian nodded. “It’s cool. You’re doing important stuff. I’ll figure something out. See you guys.”
He adjusted the backpack slung over his shoulder and headed back out into the hall.
Most of the members of the QC happily watched him go. Dina was ace, she didn’t get the appeal. It would be more interesting if he didn’t have an ass, like some kind of medical mystery.
“Hate to see him leave… love to-”
“Knock it off, Cole,” Jade scolded. Absolute children, that’s what they all were.
“I’m just saying. I would do gymnastics on that dick.”
Giggles erupted from the QC side of the room as Katie put her laptop back in her bag.
“You guys never let me bitch about guy stuff.”
“Your boy drama just isn’t as entertaining as ours,” one voice from the crowd said.
Katie huffed and opened her mini fridge. “Whatever. I’ll just grab a straight soda, head over to the straight library, and study my straight studies.” The group watched her collect her things and slam the door on her way out.
“We have a straight library?” Chirped a purple-haired boy slouched against the wall.
Jade buried her face in her hands. “How did you even graduate kindergarten, Milo?”
Ian sat with his older brother in the beat up old van that sat stationary in the backyard of their childhood home. When he’d called and asked to talk, Lip promised to bring him some primo weed and meet him there, where they always used to shoot the shit as kids.
They took a while to smoke and catch up. It was rare that they got to hang out like this now that Lip was shacked up with his baby mama in Milwaukee. Lip regaled him with tales of Tami and Freddie, the new baby on the way, his sweet engineering job and all the guys that were showing him the ropes, his AA meetings.
Ian was really proud he’d come so far, though he would always be the arrogant ass 17 year old who was too smart for his own good in his eyes. He figured if Lip could go back and see his younger self he’d beat the shit out of him for being so stupid all the time.
Lip was worried about becoming another Frank, but Ian knew it was impossible. He’d really turned his life around for the better. He was the closest thing to a real dad the Gallagher kids ever had, and he proved it by being an amazing dad to Freddie.
By the time they were halfway through with the joint, it was Ian’s turn.
Lip settled in to hear about the latest drama in Ian’s life, reacting with fake, over the top gasps at all the right moments with the utmost skill and aplomb. At the end of the sordid tale Lip passed the joint to Ian and shrugged his shoulders.
“I say get even. Pick some cute guy up at work and let ‘em have it.”
“The clientele at the Fairy Tail isn’t exactly…” Ian squinted at the lit end of the joint in his hand, “under 30.”
“What the fuck? Thought you were into that?”
Ian winced internally at the memories flashing into his head like a scorching brand on his sexual history. “In a very dark phase of my life, maybe. I would prefer my hookups to be able to keep their teeth in before they go down on me.”
Lip’s eyes widened. “No fucking way.”
“Do not ask.”
Lip raised his hands in defeat, looking out his window to pause for a moment. He couldn’t resist.
“Was it, like, good though?”
“Lip, do not fucking ask!”
“Alright! I’m sorry!” He dodged a punch from his little brother and giggled, settling back into his seat and snatching back the joint.
Ian rubbed his hands over his thighs and sighed.
“Jade thinks I should go over there.”
Lip laughed. “And do what? Beat him up? Thought you were trying to be a respectable college boy now.”
“To talk, asshole, and do I need to remind you of merely some of the shit you were getting up to in college?”
“Touché.” Lip said, the joint hanging out of his mouth. He grinned at the memory of smashed up cars and running from campus security.
“I kinda almost beat up one of those credit card sign up guys anyway.”
“Fuckin’ A. Trust me, it’s a better use of their time than signing up for their shit.” Lip sniffed. “So you want to talk to the guy, fine. How would that go?”
Ian snatched the joint, taking a quick drag and then using it to animatedly gesture as he spoke. “I literally can’t imagine the conversation not being the worst thing ever. ‘Oh hey, person who has keys to my room, either you’re a really good lay or your boyfriend is majorly overcompensating because I can’t hear myself fucking think when the two of you get going!’ Honestly kill me now.” He stubbed it out onto the dash and threw it out the open window. “I’ve gotta go, I’ve got a paper due in the morning.”
“Those are words I do not miss.” Lip said slowly, lighting up another joint from his coat pocket. Ian was already halfway out the door. “Look, if you don’t wanna get even, just get over it and talk to the guy. Worst thing that’ll happen is he’ll tell you to fuck off. Or uh, join? I guess?”
Ian scoffed. “Thanks. Love you,” he said as he slammed the van door closed.
“Love you too, kiddo. Good luck!” Lip called after him.
Ian had probably made it to the L and Lip’s second joint was barely hanging on when the back door of the Gallagher house swung open.
“Phillip Ronan Gallagher, you really just gonna sit out there or are you gonna come give me a fucking hug?”
Lip smiled to himself. Fi never changed. He clambered out of the van to greet his big sister.
“And where the hell’s my goddamn nephew?!”
Ian made it back to his dorm room just as the sun was setting. Luke was already long gone, his side of the room lacking any sign he’d even returned that day. He did that sometimes. Ian figured he had to have a job or something. It was amazing how little you could know about somebody.
He threw his backpack onto his bed and reached into his overhead cabinet for a jar of peanut butter and a spoon. His breakfast of champions now that he had to have something in his stomach before he took his meds every morning. Lucky for him he loved the stuff. He winced to himself remembering the time he’d had to call in sick to work after demolishing an entire jar. Never again.
Ian cracked open his book and laptop and settled in front of his desk, snack in hand. He was going to make use of every second of quiet time on his night off. He just hoped Dean was having a night off too.
He managed to make it through 8 pages of his book, taking notes as he went, when the peace was shattered.
The door to the corner room slammed and the automatic lock engaged with a click. Ian heard shuffling feet and garments being discarded and thrown from bodies before the moaning started. They wasted no fucking time. Ian scoffed. Fucking time. He groaned and leaned back in his chair. It was going to be another long night.
When the rhythmic tirade of the headboard finally ceased - for the, what, eighth time? -, Ian blinked furiously at the page of his book as he realised he had been reading the same sentence for the past fifteen minutes.. He checked his wall clock. 2:30 AM, brilliant. He needed coffee. Or a meth habit.
Figuring the mixture of caffeine with his medication was the lesser of two evils, Ian pulled on a hoodie and headed out into the hall.
40 cents for a nice hot cup of bitter jet fuel.
He jabbed the worn out screen of the coffee machine a few times before it whirred loudly to life.
He heard a door close somewhere in the hall and suddenly Ian wasn’t alone in the small vending machine nook.
Hello.
The man was shorter than Ian, with neatly cropped black hair and a swagger that said ‘I know I’m hot shit,’ and it was not wrong. His white tank clung tightly to his chest and left little to the imagination. Ian trailed his eyes down to a glorious ass clad in black sweats and to socked feet. Ian couldn’t believe he’d never seen him before.
They made quick eye contact, Jesus this guy gave baby blues a whole new meaning, and Stranger gave him a small nod in greeting as his Snickers bar dropped from the machine. He reached for it with tattooed fingers.
Ian was itching to say something to him.
Hey. My neighbour is keeping me awake having obnoxious sex, wanna help me even the score?
Ian practically felt his dick retreat back into himself at how cringy that would be. Sleep deprived Ian had zero game.
You’ve got really pretty eyes.
Ooh yep, smooth, Gallagher. He was sure the guy with knuckle tattoos that said something ‘U-UP’ would leave him unscathed after that one. He scoffed quietly to himself and collected his now full cup.
Stranger made eye contact with him again, licked his full lips and took a slow bite of his candy bar. Jesus Christ. Ian was freaking the fuck out. Why now? He bit his lip to keep himself from saying something stupid and stared into his coffee cup. He wasn’t looking. Nope. He briefly considered smacking himself in the leg right at his surgery scar to rein himself in.
By the time he looked up again Stranger was already gone.
Did that even just happen? Ian was so sleep deprived at this point he was about 80% sure he had just hallucinated that whole thing. Stranger must’ve been someone he’d randomly seen once on the street that his brain was deciding to fixate on, like it does with random people in your dreams. He took a sip of his steaming coffee and winced at the burn on his tongue.
Ian sighed and retreated back to his room. Whatever. Real or not, unless Stranger was a mega power bottom it would never have worked out anyway. Ian was way too tired to fuck.
He flopped back onto his bed just in time for the moaning to kick off yet again. Back to reality. He buried his face in his hands.
“Exceedingly quick turnaround that time, guys. What are you, superhuman?” He implored quietly.
Ian heard an ah, fuck from the other side of the wall that made his cock twitch. He ignored that.
“Well, lucky you, I guess.”
He let his mind wander to whatever Stranger had been up to, needing the vending machine so early in the morning. Maybe he should have tried to chat him up, maybe he was a mega power bottom and Ian could’ve just laid down and let him have it. If he was even real, that is.
He palmed his hardening erection through his sweatpants and could feel heat rising on his cheeks in embarrassment that this was all getting to him.
Look, it had been a really long time since he’d hooked up with anybody, and it wasn’t his fault that fucking Jake Bass had moved in next door. It was especially not helping that he’d just crossed paths with the hottest guy he’d seen in months.
Fuck it. Ian decided at least getting off would chill him out a bit. He shoved his sweatpants and boxers down to mid thigh and wrapped a loose fist around his cock. He was already rock hard and leaking at this point, it really had been a while, just the skin of his bare hand providing him so much sensation.
He closed his eyes and couldn’t help but picture Stranger bending over at the vending machine, making eye contact with him and licking his lips. He was honest to god straight out of some sort of Christopher Meloni/Chris Keller inspired prison porn, tank top, tattoos and all.
I’m so fucked up, Ian thought as his hand moved in a blur on his dick. The Stranger in his head was peeling off his white tank top and dropping to his knees in front of him. He pictured tattooed fingers wrapped around his cock, blue eyes looking up at him.
In the next moment, Stranger was flushed and on top of him rocking back and forth, dark hair sticking to his forehead, palms resting on Ian’s chest to steady himself. His eyes fluttered shut and his lips spelled out a fuck the exact second Ian heard it through the wall. He felt the familiar heat building in his belly, too fast. He came hard in his hand a moment later with a short grunt, biting hard down on his bottom lip to keep himself quiet. From what he could hear, he wasn’t the only one. He let his body relax. He was so fucked up.
The dull beep of Ian’s alarm woke him up bright and early at 7:15am. He smacked it quiet and was about to rub the sleep out of his eyes before he noticed his hand had dried come all over it. He felt like such a creep. Jacking it to three strangers all at once. He groaned and made his way to the small sink in his room to clean himself up. Thank god Luke never came back this early.
He usually went for a run before a submission but he was about 800 words away from making the bare minimum effort on this essay. All he had now was SparkNotes and a dream. He was going to absolutely tank his GPA at this rate.
His stomach gurgled angrily as he dried his hands. Right. Food. Meds. The cup of coffee he’d gotten a few hours ago was still sitting on his desk, full of liquid that was now long south of room temperature. He yanked open the cabinet above his desk to find that his jar of peanut butter was wiped so clean it looked like it had never had any contents. Ian cursed himself under his breath, getting quickly dressed in sweats and headed to the vending machine in the hall. He was really craving a Snickers all of a sudden.
One king size candy bar and his morning cocktail of drugs later, Ian sat down at his desk to make sure his essay was at least coherent before the 9:30am deadline.
He made five more trips out to the hall for snacks and coffee in the next two hours. He checked the word count every time he added a new sentence. The number slowly crept toward the 1700 minimum. Ian had a headache. He truly felt he had never put so much effort into an assignment and it was an absolute piece of garbage. He had already decided he was buying himself a carton of Marlboros after this. Fuck it.
9:26am. 1711 words. Finally.
Ian attached the file to an email and sent it off without proofreading or so much as a ‘here ya go prof’.
He snatched up his jacket and keys to pick up his smokes and planned to finish an entire pack before he returned to sleep for the rest of the day.
On Thursday night, Ian closed his locker in the staff room and tugged on his sequined tank top. Some of the other guys were huddled around the work schedule. Two of the usual stage dancers were having a back and forth over whatever was written on the page.
“How do you even pronounce that? Mick-eye-lo? Mick-ay-lo?”
“Well it’s like Russian right? The K is probably silent.”
“Mi-hail-oh?”
“I have no fucking idea dude.”
“What’s going on?” Ian caught sight of the paper above the heads of his coworkers.
Floor Security: Mikhailo A. Milkovich
The shorter of the two, Justin, turned to him.
“New guy. They’re trialling some like undercover security guys. They’re supposed to just look like customers but they’re keeping an eye out for drug deals and shit.”
Adam scoffed. “There’s no way this guy isn’t sticking out like a sore thumb. I heard he was in prison.”
“He’s gonna be this fucking roided up Russian mob guy, I’m telling you,” Justin agreed, “or like, a vampire.”
“Could be hot,” Adam said, mostly to himself, tugging the piece of paper off the wall and reading the name over and over.
“Ugh, you slut.” Justin poked his friend in the side.
Britney’s Piece of Me started blaring through the speakers and the open staff door to the stage. Justin gave himself a last once over in the mirror.
“Oop, that’s my cue, Mary. Try not to drool all over the page thinking about your big, strong mobster.”
Adam sighed in a dreamy, over-the-top way and glanced up at Ian.
“Lucky you, Red. You’ve got basically every shift with my future husband next week.”
Ian took the paper from him. Mikhailo A. Milkovich was set to work every day Ian was, 6pm-2am. He was down for wingmanning.
“I’ll be sure to give you a full report.”
“If he’s any shorter than you then I don’t wanna know.” Adam shuddered imagining such a possibility and left to join his friend on stage for the next song.
Ian loved his job sometimes. He needed this distraction. He pinned the paper back on the board and headed out to the bar.
“Before you all run off for the weekend, please come up and collect your graded essays.”
Ian slung his backpack over his shoulder and started wringing his beanie in his hands as he lined up in front of Professor Saddler’s desk with the rest of his classmates.
He made it to the front of the line and she flipped through her remaining papers, finding his.
“Ah, Mr. Gallagher, here you are.” she said to his essay, holding it out to him.
Ian grabbed his marked assignment and his heart sank at the big red D staring back at him. He could’ve made a million jokes if he wasn’t so pissed.
The professor gave him a disappointed look. “Certainly not your usual effort, Mr. Gallagher. Is there anything going on I need to know about? Questions about any of the material?”
Ian scratched the back of his neck. “Just uh, some stuff going on at home.” Definitely shit his professor didn’t need to know about.
“Are these going to be long term issues?”
“No, no. I’ll sort it out.”
“Be sure that you do, Mr. Gallagher. You had a very promising first half of the year. I don’t want to see all that effort going down the drain,” she lowered her voice, “Especially with your scholarship to consider.” If you ever somehow forget you’re poor, someone will always very helpfully remind you.
Professor Saddler waved him off and started rummaging for the next student’s paper. Ian rubbed his temple as he turned away.
Ian’s fingers brushed a ball of paper as he dug around in his backpack for his keys and he took it out, straightening the page. On it was written a single word.
YES.
Fuck it.
Ian found his room key and threw his bag into the room when he unlocked the door, letting it close and pocketing his key. Ian moved so that he stood outside the RA’s door and huffed out a breath. He could hear rock music playing inside so he knew Dean was home.
He scrunched his face up as he raised his fist to the door, took one last breath, and knocked four times in quick succession. He stepped back and folded his arms, hearing more movement from inside, nerves twisted in his gut.
After a few moments the door swung open, and Ian was once again face to face with a pair of gorgeous blue eyes.