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Mickey kept his eyes on Ian as he came out of the shower. Monica had been dead for five years today, and the anniversary of her death was always a weird time, where Ian would be more shut off than usual. It wasn’t surprising, but the weird thing was just how inconsistent everything about their relationship was. Sometimes Ian would talk about Monica fondly, missing her, and other times he’d just call her a bitch. It wasn’t like Mickey was a stranger to complicated parental relationships, heck he’d been sad when his father died despite hating him more than anything in the whole entire world. But that had been more about mourning the father he never got, rather than genuinely missing any part of him. So that was what threw him off a bit, the inconsistency. Sure, Ian was bipolar and inconsistency wasn’t rare for him, but Mickey couldn't shake the memory of Ian running to his house when Monica came back once all those years ago. He’d looked so broken, which was weird, seeing as he had never been one to ask, let alone beg anyone for help. Then you add the complete one-eighty of him running off with her twice, and visiting her grave for her birthday, death day and for mothers day, as well as that god-awful tattoo on his shoulder. It was just…weird.
The last few years since getting out of prison, Mickey had just given Ian some space about Monica, letting him sulk, or be mad in peace. But lately they had really been trying to be more open towards each other, talking about feelings and shit, and Mickey did actually find it pretty nice. Not that he would ever admit it if anyone other than Ian asked though, of course. Neither of them were particularly used to it, seeing as you just don't do that shit on the south side, but they were giving it an honest try.
So when Ian told him in the morning that he wanted to visit the grave before heading off to meet up with Debbie, Mickey tried to dig a little deeper into this weird mother-son relationship.
“Ian…What’s the deal with you and her? Didn’t you say she was a piece of shit mother?”
Ian shrugged and went to pick out a semi-clean t-shirt from the pile below his side of the bed.
“It’s just…I don’t know, she was the only other bipolar person I knew. People always say we’re alike.”
“But you also used to hate her, right?.”
“You hated your dad, but you were still sad when he fucking died, so why can’t I miss Monica?” Ian said, his tone getting defensive.
“Of course you can fucking miss her, I was just thinking…do you remember that time like a hundred years ago when she came back and you ran to my place? I’ve never seen you like that before man, you were a fucking mess”. Mickey tried to sound soft, but he wasn’t sure if he was succeeding or not.
“We had a kinda fucked up relationship, but I’ve made peace with it. Heck, I guess it even taught me things.”
“Taught you what? How to ditch your meds and go bananas?” Mickey asked, jokingly punching Ian in the shoulder, trying to lighten the mood a bit.
“Very funny Mick. No she taught me like, sex and stuff” Ian shrugged again, pulling a white t-shirt over his head. “It was a little weird and scary at the time but it is what it is, I guess.”
Mickey frowned. He sure wasn’t expecting that answer.
“Hang on? You mom gave you fucking sex tips? That’s fucked up man.”
“Well that too” Ian shrugged as he buttoned his trousers and went out of the bedroom.
Mickey swore and hurried after him.
“Too? The fuck do you mean too? What else did she do?”
“Oh you know…just like taught me stuff.” Ian shrugged again. “Hand jobs, blowjobs…stuff”
“She- what the hell?”
Mickey was too surprised to know what to say, this was a new level of fucked.
“It doesn’t really matter now, she’s dead and I’m gay. I better go now though, I can’t be late or Debs will kill me” Ian said as he finished tying his shoes.
“Ian you can’t just-” Mickey tried to get his husband to stick around but he just slammed the door and jogged off.
Mickey stared at the closed door for a good few minutes before he saw red. He only vaguely remembered Monica’s face, but had the bitch not been dead already he would have killed her himself. His don’t-hit-women rule had found it’s major fucking exeption, and he found himself picturing multiple ways to dig out her intestines and chopping them up to feed to some dogs.
He just hadn’t seen this coming. It’s not like he was unaware of parents doing this to their kids. The thought of his own fathers hands on his little sister still made his blood boil with both rage and guilt over not seeing it as it happened. Had he known about it before the fucker had kicked the bucket he would've happily helped the nun with the plastic bag. Heck, he’d even been subjected to that shit himself technically, even if he refused to see himself as a victim. But the Gallaghers…he just hadn’t thought that about them. Sure, he knew that Frank had hit Ian more than once, even breaking his nose, and that his mother was absolute nuts, but this was something completely out of left field. Ian’s first time being molested. Was that the only time Mickey didn’t know about?
With heavy steps, he walked to the fridge to get a beer, almost smashing it against the counter before opening it. Maybe it did make sense, after all. Maybe there had been a reason for Ian’s taste for geriatric viagroids, and maybe this was the reason that he’d run away with her twice. Fuck. He drank the beer quickly, and as soon as it was empty, the bottle met it’s demise against the kitchen counter. Fuck parents, fuck mothers, fuck Monica Gallagher, fuck everything. He never thought he’d say it, but he had to call Lip. He didn't know how to deal with this.
Mickey wasn’t alone in seeing red that night. Lip spent a good 45 minutes just staring at a cup he’d smashed in his own kitchen. It made sense, way too much fucking sense now. Ian’s nonchalance about the age of his past sexual partners, his dismissal of the sex-offender chick in the neighbourhood, his defence of Kash, the fact that he was even open to being with Kash in the first place, and of course Ian’s weird relationship with Monica. Lip had hated her before, but now he was livid. He wished he could wash every bit of his DNA he had that came from her.
Eventually he slid down against the kitchen counter, tears streaming down his face. He was very, very thankful that there wasn't any alcohol in his fridge right now. He remained like that until Tami came back home with Fred.
“Lip what is going on? Did you drop a cup?” She asked as she approached him.
“She touched him, Tami. She did more than touch him,” Lip whispered.
“Who touched who Lip?” Tami asked in anxious confusion. “Did something happen to Fred?”
“Monica”
“Your mom?”
“She…Ian”
Realisation seemed to hit Tami as she laid a hand on Lip’s shoulder.
“Wow, that’s horrible, did you just find out?”
“He’s my little brother! I should’ve, I should’ve fucking known!”
“How could you have known?”
“All those old men…he he would fuck all those old men that were totally taking advantage of him but he never saw it and I should’ve just…I don’t know” Lip shook his head and took a deep breath. “I should have done something…should’ve realised that he must have learnt that from somewhere.”
“Lip, you’re literally only one year older than him, you were also a kid. I know you love him, and it sucks so bad that that happened, but it’s not your responsibility”
“But it makes total fucking sense! Everything! And I had to find out from fucking Milkovich. I never even thought to check if something had happened.”
“You couldn’t have known Lip.”
“I need to go see him”
“Right, then do that. But but do you want me to drive you to a meeting first?”
“Yeah I think I’d like that” Lip sighed.
“Why the fuck would you tell Lip? It’s my business, not his, not yours, mine.” Ian asked in frustration as he paced through out their living room.
“As if you don’t go around telling your bitch ass siblings about my business." Mickey said from the couch.
Ian huffed in response, Mickey did have a point there.
“You’re making this into a way bigger deal than it is.”
“Ian, come’on” Mickey sighed. “It is a big deal, you were mole-”
“Don’t” Ian winced. “I wasn’t”
“Eh, you totally were though.”
“But I never like, stopped her. I could’ve.” Ian looked at his hands. “It’s not like she held a gun to my head.”
Mickey winced at the reminder.
“Pretty sure that’s not a requirement, man” he said.
“Look, I don’t wanna think about it like that,” Ian said. “Do you like to think about that night with Svetlana like that?”
“No of course I fucking don’t, but that is still was it fucking was”.
“We never talk about that night" Ian said, quieter.
Mickey sighed and brought a knuckle to his eyebrow.
“Not much to talk about, you saw everything. Now quit changing the subject”
“That’s the problem though isn’t it? That I saw it. If I hadn’t been there it wouldn’t even ha-”
“Don’t you fucking finish that sentence. That shit was all fucking Terry’s fault. Not yours, not mine, not even fucking Svetlanas.”
“I hate that he did that to you”
“Us, Ian. It happened to us.” Mickey said.
That’s how he’d always seen it. They went through the shit that night together. And as much as he hated that Ian saw it all, him being there, him knowing it all, did make him feel a bit better about it.
“I just wish I would’ve helped you more, you know.” Ian mumbled, picking at his fingernails.
“He had a fucking gun man, and again you keep on changing the subject. We said we’d be honest to each other”
“Well, you always refuse to talk about your shit.”
It was true. Even as they were trying to be open to each other, that one night with Svetlana was locked in a drawer and shoved far back into their minds, never reaching the surface of a conversation.
“Fine, then we’ll talk about both our shit. But first tell me more about yours.” Mickey insisted.
“What do you wanna know?” Ian sighed, finally sitting down next to Mickey on the sofa.
“How old were you?”
“The first time? I don’t know…9 I think? Maybe 10.”
Mickey saw red again. He’d thought Ian would’ve at least been a teen. Not that that would make it okay, but this twisted it up even more.
“I swear I’ll dig up the bitch and smash every fucking bone of hers”
“Mick…” Ian warned. “Please don’t go back to prison.”
“Right, right, sorry. Did she do it often?”
“Not really, just a couple times here and there you know.” Ian shrugged. “Like I said this morning, I probably learnt a few things.”
“Ian that’s fucked up. Like, majorly fucked up.”
“Maybe…whatever. She stopped right before she took off after Liam was born. When she came back, she found out I was gay so it never really happened again…And she's dead, it's over".
“But it hurt you.”
“Everyone gets hurt on the fucking south side Mick, you know that better than anyone.”
“Ian, that’s not what I’m talking about… She like, screwed up your self-picture or whatever it’s called.”
"It wasn't like that” Ian grimaged. “ She…well she was really never there for any of us. So when she did stuff with me, it felt like the only time she liked me, I guess? And I thought if I just let her, if I was a good boy like she praised me for being back then, maybe she would just stick around for once.“
“I’m so fucking glad she’s dead” Mickey muttered, feeling his heart sink in his chest some more.
“Frank hated me more than the others, always did" Ian continued. "He never hit the others, you know? Only me. Not like, often. Not like Terry, but it happened sometimes. It didn't even have to do with the gay thing, so I never understood it until we found out he wasn’t my real dad. He must've suspected it somehow.”
Ian’s eyes started tearing up for the first time that day, and Mickey hated that sight, especially when he couldn’t do anything about the source of that hurt. He couldn’t even get revenge because both of the people Ian was talking about were already gone and buried.
Ian started speaking again after a few minutes.
“We all looked up to Fiona. Lip was Monica's favourite. We all loved the little ones…and then there was me. But Monica said I was special during those times….Yeah. she didn't do it with Lip, her favourite, but she did it with me. So I just…I don't know I guess I just finally felt like I mattered somehow."
“Ian…fuck” Mickey said, running a hand through his husbands hair.
“Do you think I’m gross now?” Ian asked, looking right at Mickey for the first time since the conversation started.
“What?”
“Cause I did stuff with my mum, and It made me feel special.”
“ She did stuff to you,” Mickey said. “Do you think you’re gross”
Ian shrugged. “Sometimes, I guess. If I think about it too much.”
Mickey didn’t like that answer.
“I mean, you smell real gross sometimes, but that has nothing to do with this”
“Oh fuck off” Ian said, cracking a smile.
“I love you, you know.”
“I know.” Ian nodded. “I love you too. Can we go get pizza or something?”
Mickey knew the conversation was pretty far from over, and he knew he had some own sharing of things to do before they could finally put all of this behind them. But he figured they had had enough for one day.
“Yeah, let’s get some fucking pizza”
When Lip called at night, Ian wasn’t particularly interested in talking anymore about it. He managed to at least get Lip to wait until the next day to come over. But he woke up with his bones aching, and as they were both sitting on the sofa in Ian and Mickey’s tiny living room, he kind of wished they would have just talked on the phone. After his talk with Mickey last night he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of going over everything again.
"Why didn't you tell us?" Lip asked, after a good few minutes of silence.
"Didn't think it mattered" Ian said, flatly.
“Ian for god's sake, what if it was Debbie? Carl? Liam?”
“That’s different.”
“How the hell is that different?”
“I was bound to be messed up either way” Ian said, pointing at his head. “Would’ve gotten her bipolar genes no matter what. They still have a chance”
“You know they have the same genes right? Like it could happen at anytime”
“Yeah I know, but it doesn’t have to.”
“Is this why you…is this why you’re gay?”
Ian didn’t know whether to scoff or laugh.
“What? What the hell man?”
"Cause like, when you fucked that woman from the L you were really up-"
“That is so not how that works” Ian grunted, getting frustrated. “Don’t you think Kash would have fucking canceled that out if that was the case?”
"Yeah yeah I guess, sorry"
“Don’t make me go all gay Jesus on you man” Ian sighed, but with a slight smile.
He knew Lip just cared, but man was it annoying to be asked things like that. His smile faded though as he remembered why they were even discussing this in the first place.
"Honestly…I didn't tell you cause I thought y'all would think I was like, disgusting or something" He admitted.
"Ian, she was disgusting, not you."
"Well, I let her."
"You were a fucking kid." Lip raised his voice slightly
“I was in ROTC I could have fought her off if I'd just…tried"
"Ian, I’m pretty sure that's not how it works"
“Can’t we just drop this? It was so long ago and-”
“I just wish I’d been there for you” Lip interrupted.
“You’ve always been there for me Lip”
“I should’ve done something Ian”
“I never told you about it, how would you have known?”
“But I did know about Kash, and Ned. And then the club.”
“Not really your responsibility though. I was kind of an adult when I worked at the club.”
“I wouldn't call being 17 an adult Ian. Did you ever do more than… dancing at the club?”
“Yeah” Ian admitted with a shrug.
“Why are you so dismissive about this?”
“Lip, I talked to a lot of other gay people during all the…stuff.” Ian said, illustrating an explosion with his hands. “And It’s not exactly a rare experience for us. Not the dancing, the age gaps or even the…turning tricks or the pornos”
“You did pornos?!” Lip interjected.
“Just one” Ian said, already regretting the admission.”I wasn’t thinking very clearly, it was right before the road trip with Yevgeny.”
“Shit, man”
“Yeah…shit it was. I didn’t get any STDs though, so at least that’s something”
“Oh, that’s good.” Lip said, nodding.
Ian sank deeper into the couch. He wanted to ask Lip, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.
“Lip, did she really never do any of those things with you? I know you were her favourite when we were kids” Ian asked, his voice a little quieter than before.
“No, never.” Lip said, shaking his head.
“Then…why me?” Ian said, his posture deflating even more.
“I don’t know man,” Lip said. “ You were definitely the kindest and calmest when we were kids, you know. The rest of us were complaining about shit all the time.”
“Is that why I was Frank's punching bag too? Why they hated me so much?”
“I don’t know Ian, but they’re both dead now. And I don’t think either of them hated you. You were just a middle kid I guess.”
“Just a middle kid,” Ian agreed, sighing.
“Still my little brother though,” Lip continued. “And Fionas…we should have protected you”.
Ian sighed again. He could feel his energy starting to slip out of him, despite having slept for quite a few hours last night. That wasn’t a great sign.
“Look, Lip, it is what it is. You can’t know what I don’t tell you.”
“But still we should ha-”
“Lip, I don’t feel that great today, could we finish this conversation another time?” Ian interrupted him.
It wasn’t a lie. The aching in his bone from this morning had only intensified and he could feel the sounds around him start to pick at his ears.
“Of course,” Lip nodded. “Do you need anything? Want me to call Mickey?”
“Nah, I think I’ll just have a nap. Woke up feeling a little off.”
“Do you want me to stick around awhile?”
Ian shook his head. He just wanted to be alone for a bit.
“Mickey will be home soon, I’ll be fine.” Ian insisted.
Lip looked unsure, glancing at the clock. Ian sighed. He knew Lip was shook up about the whole thing right now, and still weary whenever Ian was even slightly off balance in any way. Monica might not have fucked Lip, but she sure fucked them all up. He followed Lip’s eyes wander towards the kitchen counter, where they usually kept the knives. To his surprise they weren’t there anymore.
“Did you move the knives?” Lip asked, his frown deepening.
“No, Mickey must’ve” Ian said, slightly annoyed that his favourite person didn’t trust him today. “Which there was no fucking need for, I wanna add.”
This shit with Monica had already happened years ago, it wasn’t a new thing. Talking about it had stirred things up a bit, sure, but this wasn’t a hide the knives and don’t leave Ian alone - kind of situation. They hadn’t had one of those in over a year.
“Look, if it’ll make you feel better to sit out here until he comes back, you’re welcome to do so, but I’m gonna go take a nap.” Ian gave in with a sigh. “I’m fine though, really. Just feel a little off”.
“You know we all just care about you, right?”
“I know Lip, I know. And I care about you too.” Ian said, his voice softer this time. “It’s just frustrating sometimes. I got shit under control. I’m not like her.”
“I know, sorry,” Lip said, sounding sincere, but he remained on the couch.
“I’ll see you later if you’re still here when I wake up.” Ian said, yawning a little.
“Sure man.”
Ian got up from the couch and walked over to his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Lip didn’t object to the closed door, which felt good. He laid down on top of the covers, not bothering to change out of his clothes. He was already only wearing sweats anyway. Finally laying down, he could feel his remaining energy slowly drain away as the whirlwind of these past two days hit him. His bones were aching and he just wanted to sleep, but he knew he’d be okay. His husband would be home soon and his brother was on the other side of the bedroom door. Feeling less alone than he had in years, he fell into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of absolutely nothing.
He only woke up briefly when he felt a hand touch his cheek.
“Hey…Lip texted. Are you okay?” he heard his husband ask.
“Mmm fine” Ian mumbled back.
“Just sleep for a bit, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Ian didn’t have the energy to answer, but mouth widened in a peaceful smile as he drifted off again.