Work Text:
November 1, 1945. Chicago, Illinois.
Ian let himself into the Milkovich house, knowing no one would be home. Only when he did a voice came to him from the back, crooning. Ian set his cane silently against the wall, creeping down the hall.
“Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling, from glen to glen, and down the mountainside the summer's gone, and all the roses falling, it’s you, it's you must go and I must bide…” Ian froze in the hall, listening to Mickey sing. “But come ye back when summer's in the meadow. Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow. I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow. Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.”
With a grin Ian folded his arms and leaned against the door, almost causing Mickey to jump out of his skin by the curse he let out. He flicked water off his razor in irritation.
“Christ Gallagher let out some noise when you walk. You’re a gimpy giant, it’s fucking weird.”
“Who’s Danny, Mick?”
Mickey kept his attention on the mirror. “Fuck off.”
“How come I never heard you sing before? You shouldn’t quit your day job but-”
“You really wanna keep babbling while I’m armed?”
Ian’s grin broadened but he kept his mouth shut. He let his eyes wander over Mickey’s biceps, trying to keep from licking his lips. Mickey just kept his eyes on the mirror. He pretended Ian wasn’t there for another thirty seconds before he flicked the razor again.
“My ma used to like it when I sang. Haven’t much since she passed.”
Ian walked in, leaning against the wall. “You don’t talk about her much.”
“And?”
“Just saying you could if you want.”
Mickey’s eyes flicked to him and back to his reflection. “I know.”
He finished, rinsing his face. Ian handed him a towel. That was the same second they both realized how close they were to each other. Mickey brought the towel over his face slowly, tilting his head at Ian. He raised his eyebrows in question. Ian answered by grabbing his belt and pulling him forward. Mickey smiled as Ian brought their lips together. Ian took his time, enjoying the way Mickey smelled, the way he tasted. He ghosted his fingertips across his freshly-shaven jaw. When he had Mickey sufficiently breathless he broke off smiling against his lips. Mickey let out a protest and Ian chuckled before he started to sing.
“Living for you, is easy living. It's easy to live when you're in love.”
“Gallagher no!” Mickey tried to clamp his hand over Ian’s mouth. “You can’t sing worth shit.”
Ian danced away and kept it up. “And, I'm so in love. There’s nothing in life, but you.”
Mickey chased him as he ran through the empty house, singing loudly and as off-key as possible.
“I’ll never regret! The years I’m giving they’re easy to give when you’re in love! And I’m so in love!”
Finally his leg gave and Mickey tackled him to the sofa, pinning his arms above his head with one hand and covering his mouth with the other. They struggled, Ian not really trying that hard. He went limp, and Mickey shook his head.
“Are you done?”
Ian nodded and Mickey removed his hand. “I’m happy to do whatever I do for-”
Mickey was forced to shut him up by kissing him.