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"Where is Orange Boy?" Svetlana asked she tried to juggle the baby and light a cigarette at the same time.
"Do I look like his keeper?" Despite his words, Mickey glanced at his cell phone to see if Ian had left him a message. He hadn't.
"That is one word for it." Svetlana gave Mickey a long look. "You will have to watch Yevgeny."
Mickey stared at the baby and checked his cell phone again. Unsurprisingly Ian hadn't texted him in the last ten seconds. Ian was supposed to be here to watch the kid. He was so much better with kids than Mickey was and once his meds had kicked in Svetlana had quickly decided that having Ian around wasn't so bad as long as he was willing to babysit. Hell, Ian actually seemed to like watching the kid.
"Fine," Mickey said. "Put him in his crib or something and I'll watch him."
Svetlana held the kid out. "You put him in crib. I am late already."
"Heaven forbid you're late," Mickey muttered, awkwardly taking the kid. "Some poor man might have to jack himself off."
"Don't kill him," Svetlana said, ignoring Mickey's griping. "And don't wait up."
"What?" Mickey asked, following her to the door. "You're not coming back tonight?"
"No." Svetlana slammed the door in his face before he could argue.
The noise startled the baby and it started crying. Mickey looked down at the scrunched up red face and barely resisted the urge to shake it. "Well fuck."
He took the kid into Svetlana's room and put it in the crib. He had no idea how to make a crying baby stop, so he just left it there and closed the door to muffle the sounds while he tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do.
Ian had told Mickey that he'd be back long before Svetlana went out and Mickey was doing his best not to worry about him. He'd had a doctor's appointment and that was probably just taking longer than normal. Fucking clinic was always backed up.
Still, if he'd had an episode then who knew what could happen? It was hard not to imagine him passed out somewhere, like that night that Mickey had had to carry him home from the club.
Mickey checked his phone again and hated himself for it. Ian could fucking take care of himself. Mickey knew that better than anybody. Relationships fucking sucked and he hated himself for caring so damn much. A few months ago if Ian had bailed on him he'd be pissed instead of worried. He'd rather be pissed.
The baby's screams got louder and Mickey sighed. He needed someone to look after the kid, because he sure as hell wasn't qualified. Unfortunately Mandy was at work which didn't leave him with many options. He scrolled through the phone until he found the number he was looking for and hit call.
"Is Ian okay?" Fiona asked as soon as she picked up the phone because of course Mickey never called her for anything else.
"As far as I know," Mickey replied. He hesitated. "It's actually something else."
Twenty minutes later Fiona was bouncing a blessedly silent baby in her lap. Mickey had no idea how she'd managed to get it to stop screaming almost as soon as she'd picked it up. Come to think of it, Ian seemed to be able to do the same thing. Maybe it was a Gallagher family secret.
"How the hell did you do that?" Mickey asked from across the room. He checked his phone again before shoving it into his pocket and digging out a cigarette.
"Well I didn't just dump him in a room and hope he stopped," Fiona said, disapprovingly. "Seriously, Mickey, how do you still not know anything about babies?"
Mickey shrugged. "I pay for it. That should be enough."
"Not 'it.' Yevgeny," Fiona corrected. "His name's Yevgeny."
"Whatever," Mickey muttered. He took a long draw on the cigarette to avoid saying any number of things that might make Fiona mad enough to leave. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck alone in the house with Yevgeny.
"I don't get it," Fiona said. "I've seen you play with Liam. What's your issue with your own kid?"
Her words brought back unwanted memories and Mickey dropped his eyes to avoid looking at the couch. Fiona was sitting right where it had happened and now that he was thinking about it, he was afraid that if he glanced to the side he would see Ian with blood running down his chest and that damned look on his face—the look that Mickey hadn't been able to handle then and still haunted him now.
His dear old bastard of a father might be in jail, but his legacy was everywhere.
"It's complicated," Mickey said. "And none of your fucking business."
"Well from here it looks like you're turning into a chip off the old block," Fiona said. "Dumping your kid off on anyone you can find so that you don't have to deal with him."
"That sounds like your father not mine," Mickey snapped. Hell, he wished that was his father because his life had always been better when he was neglected. He'd learned early on that attention was a bad thing when it came to his father.
Fiona opened her mouth, but before she could say anything else, the door opened to reveal an exhausted looking Ian.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Mickey nearly yelled. He was vaguely aware that he was taking his anger at Fiona's words out on Ian, but he didn't care.
"At my fucking doctor's appointment." Ian gestured at Fiona. "Did you call my sister just because I was a little late?"
"A little late?" Mickey repeated in disbelief. "You said you'd be back before Svetlana left. You could have fucking texted."
"Out of charge." Ian took his cell phone out of his pocket and chucked it at Mickey, who barely caught it before it hit the wall. The last thing they needed was to replace a broken cell phone. "But thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Whatever." Mickey was not in the mood for this shit. Between the screaming kid and Fiona talking about things that weren't any of her business he was already on edge. The last thing he needed was a stupid fight with Ian. "I'm going for a walk."
**
Ian stared at the door that Mickey had slammed on the way out of the house and wondered what the hell had happened.
"He didn't call me about you," Fiona said.
Ian turned back to his sister and walked over to join her on the couch. Yevgeny reached for him as soon as he got close and Ian smiled at the little guy. Ian took him from Fiona and kissed his nose. "Then why are you here?"
"Yevgeny was crying," Fiona answered. "He didn't have any idea what to do and as soon as I got here, he got as far away from the baby as he could."
Ian sighed and cradled Yevgeny closer. "And I'm sure you tried to talk to him about it."
"Of course I did!" Fiona exclaimed. "He's the kid's father. And from the looks of things, you're the one who's been filling the role."
"It's complicated."
"That's what he said." Fiona leaned back and rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "Just once would you explain things to me? You know I've got your back."
Ian gave her a small smile. "Yeah, I know. But Fi, this isn't about me. There are things that I have no right to tell anyone."
"But you're okay being with a guy who would abandon his own kid? He's one step away from that and after everything we've been through…"
Ian closed his eyes. He knew that Fiona meant well, but the situation was too fucked up to fit her idea of right and wrong. "I thought you were going to lay off Mickey a bit?"
"I'm honestly trying," Fiona said. "I came tonight when he called for help."
"Thank you for that," Ian said. He leaned back and rested Yevgeny face down on his chest, lightly stroking his back as he tried to decide what to tell her. He'd refused to talk to Lip about this before, but Fiona would probably be more sensitive about it. It may not be entirely his story to tell, but that didn't mean it wasn't a heavy weight on his chest. "Hypothetically, if a girl was raped and got pregnant how do you think she'd feel about the baby?"
Fiona's eyes widened. "But Svetlana is fine with the baby. Isn't she?"
Ian just stared at her until slow understanding dawned in her eyes. "But how?"
Ian looked away and stared blankly at the wall. The last thing he wanted was to go back to that night in his head. "Terry came home and caught us. Things went downhill from there."
Fiona reached out and grabbed his hand. "You weren't—"
Ian shook his head. "He only cared about fucking the fag out of Mickey. I got off light with a few punches." Ian hesitated. "But he made me watch."
"Oh, Ian." Fiona squeezed his hand.
Ian cleared his throat. "Anyway, when I look at Yevgeny I see Mickey's eyes and Mickey's nose and I love Mickey so I can't help but love him. I don't know what Mickey sees. He's always refused to talk about that night." He finally looked over and met Fiona's eyes. "You can never repeat any of this. To anyone. I didn't even tell Lip much when it happened."
Fiona nodded. "You have my word."
Ian let out a breath, feeling slightly lighter now that he'd told Fiona. It may be a breach of Mickey's trust, but Ian had been through hell that day too and it was hard keeping it all inside. Hopefully this would help.
"The wedding?"
"Terry's doing," Ian replied. "Now do you understand how big a deal it is that he came out for me?"
Fiona nodded. She scooted closer and rested her head on Ian's shoulder. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when all this was happening."
"It's okay. I did a good job hiding everything." Ian shook his head. "Or at least I did until I got wasted and made a scene at the reception. I don't remember much, but Lip told me I was screaming about commie skanks and accidentally outed Mickey to Mandy."
Fiona laughed. "If there's one thing that we Gallaghers are good at it's making drunken scenes."
"Well we learned from the best." Ian chuckled. It wasn't really funny, but the most important thing that he'd learned growing up was that you had to laugh about these things or you'd end up crying and he'd cried too many tears over this already.
"Is he going to stay married to Svetlana?"
"I don't know," Ian replied. "I hope not, but we've never really talked about it. Too much other stuff going on." He glanced at the door. "I should probably go look for him. Can you stay with Yevgeny?"
Fiona took the baby from Ian. "Go."
It didn't take Ian long to find Mickey because he knew exactly where to look. Whenever Mickey was upset he went to that same abandoned building. This time there was no gun or booze, just Mickey sitting under the window smoking a cigarette.
Ian sat down next to him and took a cigarette from the nearly empty pack sitting on the ground between them. From the pile of cigarette butts it looked like Mickey had spent the entire time that Ian was talking to Fiona chain-smoking.
Mickey wordlessly handed Ian his lighter and they smoked in silence. Ian wasn't stupid enough to bring up the baby right now and he wasn't sure what else to say. For most of their relationship he'd forced Mickey to talk when he didn't want to, but he knew that he couldn't always do that.
"What did the doc say?" Mickey finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Oh," Ian said. He'd almost forgotten what had started this whole thing. "He actually got me a last minute appointment with a specialist. That's why I was late."
"And?"
"She said that I can go off the anti-depressant entirely." Ian crushed his cigarette out next to him and picked up the lighter, idly flicking it on and off as he talked. "She said that anti-depressants can do funny things with bipolar disorder and it's better if I can get by without one."
Mickey blew out a long stream of smoke. "What about the rest of the meds?"
"She tweaked a couple of dosages, but otherwise as long as they're working she said I should just keep with them."
Mickey cut his eyes over to Ian, a small smirk pulling at his lips. "So how long until you can fuck me?"
Ian grinned and leaned his head back against the wall. "Hopefully it'll be out of my system in a week."
"I'll mark my calendar."
Ian rolled his eyes and grinned at Mickey. "I thought you said the dildo was enough."
"Fuck off."
"In a week."
Mickey grabbed another cigarette and used the still smoldering butt of his first one to light it. "Fiona still with the kid?"
"Yeah," Ian answered.
"I just didn't know how to make it stop crying," Mickey said defensively, almost desperately.
Ian played with the lighter, turning it over and over to avoid reaching out and taking Mickey's hand. He wouldn't appreciate the gesture right now. He'd see it as a sign that Ian thought he was weak. "It's fine."
Mickey turned his head, looking at Ian straight on for the first time since he got there. "Like hell it is."
Ian sighed. "What do you want me to say?"
"Tell me to stop being such a pussy and man-up," Mickey said. "Cause that kid is mine whether I like it or not."
"Stop being such a pussy and man-up," Ian repeated. "Cause that kid is yours whether you like it or not."
Mickey looked down at his cigarette for a long moment before looking back at Ian with a raw, pained expression on his face. "I'm not like my father."
Ian's eyes widened. "Of course you're not. You're nothing like that asshole."
"I might not know how to be around him, but I would never fucking hurt the kid," Mickey said, quietly. "I'm not like him."
"Mickey, it's not the same at all." Ian did reach out this time and rested his hand lightly on Mickey's arm, glad that Mickey let him. "What did Fiona say to you?"
"It's not important." Mickey rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and Ian wondered if he was trying to hide tears. "Fuck Ian, I don't know how all this shit comes so easy for you. Family and feelings and shit."
"Mick, nothing is easy for me." Ian slid his hand down Mickey's arm and cupped Mickey's hand with his own. "I just do what I have to do."
Mickey gripped onto Ian's hand almost tight enough to hurt. Like he was falling off of a cliff and Ian was the only thing holding him up. "I guess it's about time you teach me how to be a father or whatever."
Ian ran his thumb gently over the back of Mickey's hand. "Sure thing. When we get back, we can start with bath time."
"Bath time? Does it—he—really need a bath?" Mickey asked. "He didn't smell."
Ian laughed and bumped his shoulder against Mickey's. "You're not teaching him your idea of good hygiene."
"Hey! You like the way I smell."
"Yeah," Ian said, softly. He knew that Mickey wasn't really talking about smell anymore. He was looking for confirmation of something else—words that both of them had trouble saying to each other. "Yeah, I do."
Mickey loosened his grip on Ian's hand, but didn't let go entirely. The gesture spoke louder than words.