Gallavich AU: The Fault in Our Shooting Stars

Chapter Eight: Decoding Delinquents

That night I sat in my usual spot at our perfectly ordinary Gallagher dinner table with people shouting and Carl flicking his peas and Liam smashing his hands in his mashed potatoes. I couldn’t help staring at that spot in the kitchen, imagining the way his white knuckles had gripped the bench top while I was on my knees in front of him, remembering the sounds that had come out of his mouth.

I mean sure, we almost got caught by Jimmy but he’s mostly oblivious to anything that doesn’t involve Fiona, or lately, Liam.

But my lungs didn’t crap out on me and that’s probably the only decent thing they’ve ever done for me since diagnosis.

I must have been just picking at my food because when I snapped back to reality I caught Fiona’s worried gaze.

“Not hungry?” she asked over the general rumble of dinner conversation – if you could call it that.

“Oh, just, taking it slow, you know,” I said and she gave me a smile.

“I can make you something else?” she offered but I shook my head.

“No, Fiona, don’t worry about it. I’m just slow tonight, okay?”

She sighed a little and nodded.

It doesn’t matter how many times I say ‘don’t worry’ because she always will, just like it doesn’t matter how many times people ask if I’m okay because ultimately, I’m not.

I offered to clean up after dinner and Lip just grinned, pretending that he couldn’t hear Fiona when she yelled at him to help so she enlisted Carl to dry. He wasn’t too happy but he wiped the dishes with a scowl on his face anyway.

I scrubbed down the mashed potato pot, trying to get the blackened bits off the side. I have no idea what happened in this pot but I’m not sure I want to either.

Carl sighed loudly as he dried one of the dinner plates and I looked over at him with a smile.

“You got something on your mind Carl?” I asked.

“Got detention the rest of the week and I have to tell Fiona,” he grumbled.

“Ouch,” I said. “What did you do?”

“Punched a kid in the face,” he said, grinning a little.

“Okay, why?”

“Because he’s a douche,” he said and I laughed.

“That’s not a reason to deck someone Carl,” I said.

“You sound like my teacher,” he said.

“Yeah probably, but you know you should probably do that outside of school, then they can’t punish you.”

“They can’t?”

“I don’t think so, just find out which way they walk home and do it then. You know, so long as you’re a faster runner.”

“Cool,” he said, a plan clearly formulating in his head and I really hope Fiona doesn’t find out that I just told him that.

We finished up and I made my way to my room to finish reading a chapter of my latest book. I’m not usually a reader but these last five years I’ve needed something to do for hours at a time and we’re not exactly in the right socio-economic state to afford an iPad or some bullshit like that. Instead, Carl’s been stealing books from the library for me since this whole thing started.

See, Carl is one of those kids that people look at and see the next big loser with his life going nowhere, probably going to end up in prison for one thing or another. That’s not him at all. I mean, he does some stupid shit, really stupid shit, but he would do anything for his family.

He feels kind of guilty about my cancer, that’s why he steals me books every chance he gets.

I should probably explain that.

Back before I was diagnosed, Frank made up this story to Carl about how he caught cancer from grandma Gallagher. We didn’t know about it at the time, it was only after it happened that we realised what he’d done.

He saw this story on the news about how a kid got some sweet shit for being sick with cancer and at that point none of his kids were dying, well not that we knew of, so he picked Carl to make up this whole elaborate scheme to.

Of course he believed it, he was only a kid, still is. Frank went all out, shaved his head and told him it was to let the sun’s rays in, healing powers and all. He even took him down to try and get him to a basketball game to get some merchandise but it was too late in the season.

In the end, Carl ended up going to some cancer camp and Fiona lost her shit at Frank. He didn’t live with us for a while after that, but he came back. He always does.

Anyway, when I got diagnosed not long later, Carl thought I had caught it from him. He felt so bad that I lived with a permanent buzz-cut for years because he thought it would help to heal me like it healed him. I didn’t even mind, I just hated that Frank had made him feel like my cancer was his fault.

I’m pretty sure Fiona’s talked to Carl about it, told him that he never really had cancer and that Frank is just a liar and a drunk, but still, I get a book every few weeks because he wants to do something.

He doesn’t understand that you can’t just punch your classmates in the face when you feel like it, but compassion? When it comes to his family he would do anything. Even for Frank.

As I was finishing off my chapter I heard a knock at the door and Lip opened it up without waiting for my reply.

“You know, when you knock you’re supposed to wait for the person to say ‘come in’ or something like that, otherwise the whole act of knocking is kind of pointless,” I said with a grin.

“Oh come on, it’s not like you were jacking off or anything,” he said.

“How would you know? Can you see through doors now?”

“Nope, but the walls are like paper,” he said.

“I know, you realise I was in this house, in this very room, for almost the entire time you were dating Karen?” I said with a raised eyebrow. “I know the walls are like paper.”

“So what had you all weird at dinner?” he asked and I rolled my eyes.

“Why you asking me that? Did Fiona send you in here?”

“No, not this time,” he said. “You were just off in fantasy land is all.”

“It’s better there than in this shithole,” I said and he laughed.

“Not wrong.”

“You given any more thought to going to college yet?” I asked and he just scoffed.

“How many times do I gotta say I’m not going to college?” he said. “I’ll just get a job and help pay for some of the shit around here, help Fiona out a little.”

I dropped my gaze, he would never say it but I know that one of the reasons he’s being a stubborn ass about college is because he knows we could be even slightly better off if he just found a steady labour job to help pay some medical bills. We’d be fine without it, and it would mean he could do something with his intellect, but like I said, he’s a stubborn ass.

“Don’t be an idiot,” I said. “If I was as smart as you I’d sure as hell get myself into a scholarship. I wouldn’t be wasting my time around here bitching and moaning.”

“Yeah, but you’re not as smart as me, or else you might have figured it was a good idea to stay away from that Milkovich kid.”

“What did Jimmy tell you?” I asked.

Lip shrugged, “Not much, said he was around here today. You know his dad’s a fucking psycho right?”

“Fiona said exactly the same thing,” I said. “Mickey’s not psycho, he’s just…”

“An angry asshole with a Napoleon complex?” Lip said.

I shook my head, “Okay now I know Fiona sent you in here.”

“She’s just worried about you man, doesn’t want you to take unnecessary risks,” he said, leaning against the wall.

“Getting kind of sick of being told what risks I can and can’t take,” I sighed.

“She wants you to have fun, just…”

“Not the kind of fun the rest of you get to have?” I asked and he raised an eyebrow at me.

“What does that mean? What kind of fun are we having that you aren’t?” he said with a smirk and I just rolled my eyes, flopping down onto my side with a groan.

“You’re an asshole Lip!” I grumbled and he just chuckled.

“Hey, I don’t want to know what kind of fun you’re having anyway, so long as you’re using a raincoat!” he said as he headed out the door.

He’s full of laughs my brother.

It wasn’t until two days later that I heard from Mickey again, this time via Mandy. She called me up, clearly bored of Mickey’s shit.

She invited me over and I heard Mickey shouting belligerently in the background, and that was probably the biggest selling point of the call.

“You busy? Shit, I mean, you’re probably not,” she said and Mickey made a scoffing sound.

“Dumbass what the fuck do you think he does all day?” he shouted.

“Shut the fuck up asshole!” Mandy yelled and I held the phone away from my ear.

“No, I’m not busy,” I chuckled. “Why what’s up?”

“Latest season of the Walking Dead, Iggy stole it and it’s all high def and shit,” she said.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be over soon,” I said.

“Tell him to bring food,” Mickey yelled.

“I said shut up asshole! Ignore my brother, I do.”

I was up and on my way as soon as I’d hung up the phone, and though that sounds like I could get there in about ten minutes it actually took me over half an hour and that was even with Jimmy lending me the car.

When I knocked on the door Mandy yelled from inside and I just let myself in. She was sitting on the floor with a beer in her hand and Mickey was stretched out over the couch.

“We started without you,” she said. “We’re only about ten minutes in, you’ll just have to kick Mickey’s ass off the couch.”

“My ass ain’t going anywhere,” he said, taking his eyes off the screen to look up at me.

Our gaze locked for a moment before I smiled a little and he rolled his eyes, turning back to the TV.

“I can just sit near your feet,” I said and he watched me carefully as I walked over to the other end of the couch.

“It’s okay you can just sit on his right foot,” Mandy said with a grin and Mickey reached out to tap the back of her head.

“I’m good with the couch cushion, looks less painful,” I said and Mickey bit his lip, looking over at me with a smug grin.

“What, you not into that?” Mickey said and I flipped him off.

I’m beginning to wonder if anything can come out of Mickey’s mouth that isn’t a profanity or a dirty pun. I’m also wondering what he’s willing to put into it, but that’s a whole other train of thought that I’m not going to get into. At least not right now.

We made it through two and a half more episodes before Mickey got restless.

“Yo Mandy, thought you said you were going to make pizza bagels,” he said.

“You ate like an hour ago,” Mandy groaned. “What the fuck do you do with your food?”

“It was like four hours ago dipshit, we got through all these fucking episodes since I ate, plus Gallagher might fade away without it,” he said, jabbing his thumb in my direction.

Mandy turned around to look at me. “You hungry Ian?”

I was about to open my mouth when Mickey cut me off. “He’s hungry,” he said.

“I’m not your fucking slave asshole,” she snapped.

“I could go make something,” I offered with a small smile because from the look of these two anyone would think that they hated each other.

“No,” they both said in unison.

I raised an eyebrow and they looked at one another before Mandy rolled her eyes and stood up. “I’m only doing this because I’m starving not because you’re a bossy douchebag.”

As she headed into the kitchen my eyes followed her until they settled on Mickey, sat on the opposite end of the couch and looking right back at me.

Don’t be awkward, don’t be weird… don’t get a half chub from the fact that his eyes are basically tearing your clothes off…

That last part wasn’t working, quite the opposite really.

He lifted his legs – sorry, leg – off the couch and stretched out, his back cracking in about four different places. He stood up and walked over to the door at the front of the hallway, stopping to turn back and look at me.

He didn’t say anything but he gave a suggestive nod of his head in the direction of the door and I was up in about half a second – which is actually more impressive than it sounds for me.

I followed him into the room behind the door with the words ‘stay the fuck out’ scrawled onto a sign on the front. He looked around the corner to see that Mandy was on her phone at the same time as she was putting things onto a tray and then shut the door behind us.

My heart was practically audible as it pumped inside my chest and when he turned around to look at me I just kind of froze. I could see him breathing heavily and his tongue darted out to run over his bottom lip as his hands reached for his belt and he began to unbuckle.

My hands were quick to my own belt as he was easing his jeans over his hips, I fumbled and he reached out to grab me by the shirt, yanking me in closer. The oxygen at my side nearly fell over and I had to let go of my stubborn belt buckle to catch it but it didn’t seem to deter Mickey.

His hands were at my belt in an instant and I bit down on my lip so I wouldn’t make a sound. His hand reached into my boxers and he wrapped his fingers around my stiffening cock, giving it a squeeze and a quick few pumps as I tried to reach for him too.

His jeans had slipped down his thighs and I could see him parting his legs to stop them from going any further. I slipped my fingers under the band of his boxers and changed my tactic, I let my hand slide around his hip bone and down over his ass, giving it a squeeze, and he pulled his hand out of my boxers so he could do the same, pulling me into him and grinding with his hips.

My spare hand braced the door and I could feel his hot breath on my face before I looked up at him. He gave me a look that said ‘don’t even fucking try to kiss me’ and I just closed my eyes instead as he rolled his hips.

I could feel his chest against mine and his fingernails digging into my skin, and the only bad thing about it was that I had to keep reminding myself to breathe evenly.

There is nothing sexy about turning blue and passing out.

He took one hand away from me and I opened my eyes to see him put one finger in his mouth, suck it down a little and then slip his hand into the back of my boxers. His wet finger rubbed against my entrance and the gasp that came from my lips was definitely louder than it should have been.

As he slid his finger around the tight ring of muscle I saw him smirk.

“See, I knew you’d be into that…” he panted, and I just bit down harder on my lip.

With his other hand he grabbed my wrist, pulling it away from him and I knew what he wanted before he had the chance to say anything.

I took my middle finger into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it a few times before taking it out. Mickey pulled away from me, holding up his jeans and turning so his back was to me. He pulled the boxers down so they sat mid-thigh with his jeans and I think I might have spent too long staring at his ass, which, I have to say, looked completely perfect.

“The fuck are you waiting for,” he said.

I grabbed his hip with one hand, the other I slipped my finger between his ass cheeks and circled his hole slowly, making him ball up his fists against the door. I pushed just the tip of my finger inside him and the sound he made was exquisite.

Spit didn’t exactly do much good as lube, but for one finger it would do, and as tight as Mickey was, it wasn’t hard to figure out that this wasn’t the first time he’s done this. Though I imagine the other times he’d done it himself.

I pushed in a little further, curling the tip a little and making him push back against me.

“Seems like you’re sort of into it too,” I said, careful not to use too much breath.

“Shut up,” he said hoarsely. “Go faster.”

I pushed my finger in all the way to the hilt, curling it a little more as I pushed back and forward. His head leant against the door and I could see him holding back so that he didn’t make a sound. The only sound that came from the room was from our heavy breathing.

I reached down to wrap my fingers around my own length, the way Mickey was pushing back against my other hand was enough that I needed to do something.

“Fuck,” Mickey hissed, letting me curl my finger a few more times before pulling away, turning around and swatting at my hand.

I used one hand to hold firmly to his ass while I pumped the other quickly around his cock and his hand was doing the same on mine.

Breathe, just fucking breathe, don’t forget how to fucking do that!

Mickey’s jaw went slack and he dropped his head, his hand working faster around me and it didn’t matter how close he was because I was right there with him.

A strangled groan escaped my lips and that was when I felt him come undone in my hand, and I followed only a few seconds after. My spare hand lifted to the door to balance myself and I felt one of Mickey’s hands wrap around my waist, holding me up as my dizziness took over for a moment.

As the aftershocks passed by I felt him pull away, chuckling a little to himself as he reached over to the bedside table to grab a handful off tissues. I did the same and he just stared at me a little before buckling up his pants and walking past me and out the door.

I don’t know if he’s going to get easier to understand, but as long as he gives me the chance I guess I can learn to live with that.

I cleaned myself up and buckled up, taking a moment to catch my already shaky breath before walking out of the room. Mickey was back on the couch and Mandy was still in the kitchen, sitting on the bench with her phone in her hands.

I don’t know how long we were in that bedroom but clearly she didn’t notice.

I took my seat on the end of the couch and turned my head to look at Mickey who had his eyes firmly glued to the TV.

No, I don’t think he’s going to get any easier to decipher.