Archive of Our Own ^beta

They run into her in the supermarket of all places.

Ian’s pretty sure she only recognises them because Mickey’s shouting across the aisles, “Yo, Gallagher!”

He hears a slightly choked off noise to his left, but doesn’t look because Mickey’s storming down the aisle towards him, box of cereal clutched in his hand. “They ain’t got that brand you always have, but it’s all gotta be the same shit,” he says, waving the box around. “Granola’s fucking granola.”

Ian rolls his eyes and then squints to read the back of the box. “It’ll do,” he says. “And I can see you doing that.”

He looks up at Mickey trying to sneak another box of PopTarts into the cart. Mickey freezes and huffs loudly. “I’m a grown ass man, Gallagher, you don’t own me.”

Still, he drops the box onto a nearby shelf and pouts. Sometimes Mickey really is eternally a five-year-old.

“Excuse me for wanting you around for a couple of more years,” he says.

“Cigarettes’ll kill me before the PopTarts do,” Mickey replies and plucks the list right out of Ian’s fingers. “Now what else do we need. I’m getting fucking old here?”

Ian snorts and drops the box of cereal into the cart before twisting back to look at the jars of pasta sauce in front of him. “I don’t know why you bother coming,” he says. “You just complain every time.”

Mickey shrugs, “You don’t want me to come just say so.”

“That wasn’t what I meant, Mick.”

Only Mickey could turn such a simple thing like shopping for groceries into an ordeal. Not that Ian would change it for the world, he quite likes the entertainment. He just has to make sure they don’t have anywhere they need to be for a few hours. It’s never a quick job.

When he turns back around, pasta sauce in hand he literally almost runs straight into her.

Mrs Potts hasn’t changed much. If anything, she’s put on more weight and there’s slightly more grey in her hair, but that’s about it. She scowls at them when Ian makes eye contact. “Well if it isn’t my two favourite charges,” she says sarcastically.

She looks them up and down, noticing the tattoos on Mickey’s knuckles again and no doubt a hundred other flaws in their appearance. “Would have thought you’d have wised up and dropped the dead weight, Mr Gallagher,” she says.

He shrugs, plastering a false smile on his face. It’s almost as false as hers. “One man’s rock is another man’s diamond, Mrs Potts,” he says.

She shrugs. “Surprised to see the two of you have kept out of jail,” she comments. “Especially you, Mr Milkovich.”

Mickey snorts. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “I’m an upstanding fucking citizen now.”

She scoffs, “I find that unlikely.”

“And I think you’re being rude,” Ian says. “But we all have our crosses to bear.”

She doesn’t look sorry in the slightest, but then Ian hadn’t really expected her to.

“Should probably thank you,” he says, hand cupping the back of Mickey’s neck and squeezing slightly. “You are the one that introduced us after all.”

Her eyebrow raises and then both fly right up when Mickey snorts and takes Ian’s hand. He pulls him away saying, “Come on, Gallagher, the bitch is boring me.” He drops Ian’s hand as soon as they start walking, but the message is clear enough.

It’s almost funny, because Ian was sure looking back at their time years ago that Mrs Potts had been aware of what he and Mickey were doing. Apparently not.

“You gonna make that chicken shit?” Mickey asks as they walk away. “With the funny rice?”

Ian laughs, “It’s couscous, Mick.”

He pulls a face. “That sounds like a fucking disease.”

“You’re a disease.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Great come back there, Gallagher,” he says. “That really the best you’ve got? That’s just sad, man.”

Ian only spots Mrs Potts again one more time when they’re at the check-out. He notices her over Mickey’s shoulder as Mickey’s having an entirely one-sided debate about the shitty quality of gum flavouring. She’s looking at them curiously, hand paused where she’s packing up her own food.

Ian smiles at her, chuckling when she looks down.

It’s funny that only now have they become interesting to get. Years after the fact and not when she could have actually maybe done something for them in their lives.

“Like why the fuck bother?” Mickey’s saying, hands gesticulating wildly. The poor check-out girl is watching out of the corner of her eye. “It only lasts for like ten shitty seconds anyway. You may as well not have put it in your fucking mouth in the first place.”

Ian smiles, feeling fond. He really did fall in love with an idiot. “Who are you even talking to?” Ian asks him.

He laughs at Mickey’s indignant expression. “Ay, fuck you,” he says.

Ian grins and makes the check-out girl blush when he doesn’t even try to keep his voice down saying, “Later, babe.”