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“Carl, don’t shovel it in like that, you’re going to burn your mouth,” Fiona frowns in disapproval. She’s made a big batch of potato soup for dinner, and honestly, it’s really fucking good. Mickey’s not used to home cooked meals. Him and his siblings are either eating what little is around the house or whatever they manage to steal.
“I’m hungry ,” Carl says in between mouthfuls.
“Jesus,” Ian mutters.
It’s mostly quiet around the table. Debbie chatters about school and fucking Lip adds in a thing or two about his own life that Mickey couldn’t find it in himself to give two shits about.
Even so, it’s kind of...nice he supposes, to sit around the table like this. Fuckin’ weird , but he’s never really had this. Back when his mom was around, they never ate together. She was always sprawled out on the couch, passed out and intoxicated.
Ian’s fingertips leave a ghostly trail on his leg. The electric current shoots up Mickey, leaves him tingling, and he flushes, hoping nobody else notices.
“Mmm,” Liam says suddenly. He looks up at Fiona with a toothy grin, soup around his mouth. “ Mmm .”
She laughs. “It’s good, huh?”
He nods and mmms , again.
“Well, at least I have Liam’s approval,” she says to the rest of them humorously.
“He’s just trying to get on your good side,” Ian teases, “so you don’t give him a bath.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Fiona groans. “I think it’s my turn.”
“Glad it’s not mine,” Debbie says. “I hate doing it now. He splashes too much.”
“I don’t mind,” Carl pipes up now that he’s almost done with his bowl. “He makes it look like a waterpark in there.”
“Yeah, that’s just what we need,” Fiona deadpans.
Lip wipes his mouth, takes a drink of his beer. “I think Mickey should have a turn,” he says, and Ian and Mickey’s head swivel in his direction. “It’s only fair now that he’s living here.”
Fuckin’ asshole . Mickey glares at him.
“No fucking way.”
“Come on, Mick,” Lip must have a fucking death wish. “Haven’t you bathed a kid before?”
“Lip,” Ian says warningly.
“What? I’m just saying. We always rotate the chores.”
“Mickey helps out around here,” Ian says firmly. Yeah, he fucking does. Doin’ the laundry, the dishes and other shit. He never did any of that at home. “If he doesn’t want to bathe Liam, he doesn’t have to.”
“Ian’s right,” Fiona agrees. Huh, Mickey takes a second to blink. “He doesn’t have to.”
“Okay, okay,” Lip grumbles, holding his hands up in surrounder. “It was just a suggestion.”
“Yeah, a stupid ass one,” Mickey interjects. Lip rolls his eyes.
Silence falls over them again. Their spoons clink against the bowls, chairs creaking whenever someone shifts.
“Ickey,” Liam pipes up again. All heads turn his way, expressions flicker with confusion.
“What did he say?’ Ian asks.
“Ickey,” Liam repeats.
“He said Ickey...” Debbie furrows her brow. “Is he trying to say Mickey?”
“ Ickey ,” Liam emphasizes. This brings forth a laugh from Fiona and Ian.
“It’s fitting,” Lip quips. Mickey scowls.
“What the fuck ever.” He digs into his bowl, taking a large scoop and ignoring them all.
Fucking assholes.
*
Mckey thinks it’s a one and done kinda thing. For a while, Liam doesn’t say it again, and the others make a few jokes for a couple of days before they move on to something else.
Of fucking course it isn’t that simple. Liam waits for the perfect opportunity to strike. He’s a fucking sadist, Mickey’s sure.
Today, Colin and Iggy drop by. His brothers are starting to be around more since Mickey came out. It’s uncomfortable as fuck, even though Ian beams like it’s the most fucking precious thing he’s ever seen.
His boyfriend really is gay as hell.
“What do you fuckheads want?” Mickey demands, His words don’t have as much heat to them, not really, it’s just how he talks.
Iggy tosses a plastic bag his way. “Here's more of your clothes, Stupid.”
“What brought what we could,” Colin shrugs. “Terry burned most of it.”
“Asshole,” Mickey mutters.
Iggy nods a little too enthusiastically. “Shoulda seen it. He made a huge fire pit in the backyard.”
“Whoop de fucking doo .”
He’s pretty sure both his brothers are complete idiots, because Colin glances around, not even trying to be subtle here. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
There’s this change to his tone at the word boyfriend , like it’s this strange new thing for him to grasp. Mickey supposes in a way it is.
“None of your damn business, that’s where,” he retorts.
“Cool it, Mick,” Colin rolls his eyes. “I’m just askin’.”
“He’s just protectin’ his boy, ain’t that right?” Iggy grins.
“Do you wanna fucking die? ”
He staggers back when Colin uses the palm of his hand to push his chest.
“You forget that we changed your diapers,” his older brother snorts. “We’re not scared of you.”
Iggy nudges Colin. “Remember when he used to get mad if he thought we didn’t hug him enough before bed.”
“I never did that!” Mickey snaps, his ears going pink.
“ God ,” Colin shakes his head. “He used to throw the worst tantrums. Worse than Mandy ever did.”
He doesn’t need any of that information to get back to the ears of any Gallagher. “If you don’t have anything else for me then get the fuck out,” Mickey orders.
“Aw, Mick-”
“We were just messing around, dumbass.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Mickey folds his arms.
At that moment, they all hear thudding coming down the stairs. Mickey assumes it’s Carl until he turns to find Liam all dressed in his pajamas.
“Liam, come on. It’s time for bed,” Fiona’s voice is getting closer. Kid musta ran right outta the bathroom.
Unfortunately, he has really bad timing. He spots Mickey, beams and says,
“Ickey!”
Fuck , Mickey sulks while his brothers crack up laughing.
“Did he just call you Ickey ?” Colin howls.
Iggy is laughing so hard he leans against Colin for support. Liam giggles too, even though he probably doesn’t know what’s so funny.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Mickey sneers. “It’s real fucking funny.”
*
“Ickey.”
“ Mickey ,” he enunciates slowly. “Quit forgetting the M, kid.”
They’re sitting at the kitchen table where it all started, just him and Liam. Ian comes down the stairs, shooting Mickey this shit-eating grin. He comes over to the cabinet to get himself a glass, filling it with kool aid.
“How’s the spelling lesson going?” He asks lightly, taking a seat beside him.
“Fuck off.”
Liam just doesn’t listen no matter how many times he tries. Mickey thinks it’s a Gallagher trait.
“Mickey,” he repeats.
“Ickey,” Liam says solemnly.
Ian snorts. Mickey contemplates strangling him.
“It’s not Ickey ,” Mickey says through grit teeth. “It’s Mickey .”
Liam does not agree. “ Ickey !” He exclaims defiantly because that’s all these Gallaghers knew how to do.
“No!” Mickey barks.
“Has anyone ever said you’d be a good teacher?” Ian says.
Fuckin’ Gallaghers.
“I’m never touching your dick again if you don’t shut the fuck up,” Mickey threatens.
“You make a really compelling argument,” Ian says, not at all sincere.
Remind him again why he chose this dumbass?
“You know, if you keep bringing attention to it, he’ll keep doing it,” Ian continues. “Just ignore it.”
“No,” Mickey shakes his head. “Cuz he’ll think he’s won and he didn’t win.”
“He’s three, Mickey.”
“So what? You think your ginger ass wasn’t annoying at his age?”
“You didn’t know me at three,” Ian says, amused.
“Don’t have to know you. You’ve always been fucking annoying,” Mickey says. “Nah, I ain't gonna acknowledge it unless he says it right.”
Ian rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”
“Seriously, Firecrotch.”
“You’re at war with a three year old, you know that right?”
Mickey ignores that. He knows he can win this. He ain’t gonna be outsmarted by a damn kid.
It goes quiet. Liam loses interest in the conversation so he goes to color in the living room. Mickey accepts a beer that Ian offers him, and they just sorta sit there, close and enjoying that the house isn’t currently being overrun with a million Gallagher brats.
Few minutes or so pass when Mickey feels a tug on his jeans.
Liam has a picture he wants to show him. “Ickey, look!”
So he deliberately turns away.
“Oh my God,” Ian mutters.
“Ickey,” Liam repeats. He frowns when Mickey doesn’t respond in any way. “Ickey!”
“Seriously?” Ian sighs.
“Ickey!” Liam starts to poke him incessantly . Mickey takes a deep breath. He won’t let himself be bothered.
Except it does bother him.
Poke, poke, poke.
“Ickey, Ickey, Ickey-”
“What?” Mickey explodes, whirling around in the chair to face him. His outburst startles Ian a bit but Liam is unfazed. He’s grinning and holds up the drawing.
“Look!”
Ian stands up, bringing the cup to his lips as he passes by to put it in the sink. “I guess Liam won,” he comments nonchalantly.
*
Now he’s not just goin’ around calling him Ickey . He’s been sayin’ My Ickey too.
“My Ickey,” he’ll say at random times, just pointing to him.
Maybe it’s because they’re around each other a lot. Him and Gallagher stay at the house whenever Mickey’s not working while Ian tries to get adjusted to these new meds. So he sees them two more than anybody else.
Ian says Mickey is partly to blame, he shouldn’t be saying, “No!” whenever the kid says it because it’s just encouraging him.
What the fuck ever.
Like now, while they’re trying to watch TV, Liam decides he should be the one in the middle.
“My Ickey,” he says to them seriously.
“You wanna sit next to Mickey?” Ian grins. Liam nods.
“Too fucking bad,” Mickey says blandly. “Stay there, Red.”
“He’s just a little kid, Mick-”
“So what?”
Liam becomes impatient from a lack of action. He pushes his way onto the couch, trying to separate them. Ian laughs and scoots over. Mickey wishes he wouldn’t. He’ll fucking murder somebody if they knew but he liked having his redhead right there with him.
Once there, Liam leans into Mickey, hugging his arm. “My Ickey,” he says, strangely firm for a kid.
“I think I have competition,” Ian snickers.
“Ay, Kid,” Mickey tries shaking his arm but Liam has a good grip on it. “Let go.”
Liam ignores him.
“Face it, Mickey,” Ian says cheerfully. “You’ve won the hearts of two Gallaghers. How’s that feel?”
“Fuckin’ great,” Mickey deadpans, although there might be some part of him that warms ever so slightly. It’s not like he’s used to people seeking him out other than Ian.
That warmth floods him from head to toe when Laim squirms his way into his lap, his head against Mickey’s chest. He’s pretty sure Ian’s giving them those heart eyes right now.
Whatever. This Ickey shit still has to go.
*
He’s trying to sleep. He’s nearly there when he feels a tug on his shirt.
“Wha-” he mutters sleepily.
Liam’s beside the bed, clenching a stuffed bear that’s seen better days.
Ian’s sleeping soundly as is Carl. Mickey sits up slowly so he won’t wake his boyfriend. “What’s up, Kid?” He yawns.
“Ickey,” he chews on his lips. From the moonlight, he can see tears in Liam’s brown eyes.
“You have a nightmare?” Mickey says, hushed.
Liam nods.
“Fine. Go on,” Mickey jerks his head towards the bed Liam’s using, the one that Carl used to sleep in back when Lip was here.
The kid climbs onto the bed and Mickey follows. Liam’s been having a lot of nightmares recently, and with no one else up at this hour to tend to him, that falls on Mickey.
“What happened this time?” Mickey whispers.
“Monster,” Liam sniffles.
“Ay, it’s okay,” Mickey pulls the blanket up so it’s covering Liam again. “There ain't no monsters here. No unless you count that goofy ass red giant over there.”
His words do little to comfort the kid.
Come on, work with me here , he thinks.
“Look,” Mickey says, “even if there were monsters, we wouldn’t let ‘em get to you, alright? We’d let ‘em eat Lip if we had to.”
This makes Liam giggle. It makes Mickey start to smile unconsciously.
“You good now? Think you can go to sleep?”
Liam considers this, and nods.
“Good.” Mickey doesn't kiss him goodnight or anything, he just starts to get off the bed when Liam throws his tiny arms around his neck to hug him.
“My Ickey,” he whispers.
Mickey sighs, a smile emerging against his will. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, for once not at all annoyed like he should be. “Your Ickey.”