Chapter Text
“First time when you looked at me
You tried to hide but I could see
A special beauty in your eyes
Passion flying like a spark
Like an arrow to the mark
I feel it sting my jealousy
Before you know there's footprints in the snow”
(Emerson, Lake & Palmer)
“Assholes” Mickey muttered to himself as he slammed his front door shut and tossed his jacket on the couch.
He grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and gulped down half of its contents immediately. He shook his head knowing that his sister Mandy was going to give him yet another irritating and unwelcome earful. But she had just struck it lucky, she actually liked her job, whereas Mickey wasn’t sure he could ever like any job enough to stick it out. Mostly he figured he just hated people, most people anyway so that instantly ruled out an awful lot of jobs. Customer service, cashier, retail, hospitality, you name it, Mickey had tried it.
Between his appearance and his demeanor Mickey never seemed to have much luck with people, usually they took one look at his tattoos and piercings and made their mind up, before he even opened his mouth. And once he did open his mouth, well that only solidified their opinions, which were usually that he was an uneducated, unsophisticated and generally all round piece of shit thug.
Whatever, he couldn’t care less about the opinions of others anyway. He was proud of himself; no one else knew shit about his life and what he had been through, what he had to rise above. At the age of 25 he finally felt good about who he was as a person. He tried is best every day to make an honest living. He had finally come to accept his sexuality and even went on dates occasionally though truth be told most men he met bored him to tears, not that it ever stopped him from fucking them.
Terry, his sorry excuse for a father, had eventually been locked up for good, by the looks of it anyway, having been sent down for attempted murder along with a litany of other charges including kidnapping, false imprisonment, possession of a controlled substance, possession of an illegal firearm and trespassing. The fucker looked likely to die in prison, which was good enough for him in Mickey’s opinion. He would no longer have to live in constant fear of being fag bashed or worse by his own father, no longer forced to listen to his racist and sexist bullshit, no longer dragged into his illegal activities which were often extremely hard to say no to. He didn’t enjoy living like a coward but when it came to Terry he couldn’t deny that he had lived in constant fear of him.
After one too many concussions it had become easier to just remain quiet and go along with his dad’s schemes and orders, after all Mickey might have been a pussy but his survival skills were on point. He wasn’t proud of those years, of what he did, hurting people, stealing, lying, doing things that made him hate himself because it wasn’t him, it was Terry. But in time he had learned to forgive himself knowing that he hardly had a choice back then, he didn’t want to be another of Terry’s victims, he did what he had to and he figured most other boys on the South Side would have behaved no differently. That was the life; you got dealt a shitty hand round these parts and were forced to hustle every damn day.
But that life was behind him now or at least would be if he could hold down a steady job and create some sort of stability in his life, normalcy, whatever was deemed to be “normal” these days anyway. He lived at the old Milkovich house, even though he despised it but it was either that or live under a bridge somewhere and he wasn’t that desperate, not yet anyway. His brother Iggy lived there from time to time, in between girlfriends he figured while his other brother Colin was back in prison. His brothers were most likely lost causes he sadly believed, Colin for sure as he was always the one who idolised Terry the most and enjoyed hard drugs the most too. Iggy preferred weed these days but a little too much to the extent that he was a slacker with zero motivation or ambition. He sold weed to survive and pretty much just hung out at home or at his latest fuck buddies place, if they had one.
Iggy wasn’t home so Mickey set about making something to eat before he figured he should start job hunting again. He was just tossing some eggs about a pan when his phone buzzed and he sighed upon seeing Mandy’s name flashing across the screen. He answered reluctantly and set the phone on speaker so he could continue to make his lunch.
“What’s up bitch” he snarked, as he started buttering two pieces of toast.
“Heard you lost another job Mick, what the fuck”
“Jesus, you fucking spying on me or some shit, how the fuck could you know that already”
“Alison called me, said she was in the shop when you ripped that customer a new one before stomping off like a toddler”.
Mickey snorted and rubbed his hands down his face “Whatever, shithead deserved it; arguing over the price of a fucking avocado…he was lucky I stomped off instead of kicking his snooty ass up and down the aisles”.
“Mickey, cmon, you can’t keep doing this shit, no one will hire you if you have a bad reputation”
Mickey chuckled dryly as he sat down to tuck into his eggs “bit late for that, don’t ya think”
He heard his sister sigh gently down the phone before speaking again, her voice sounding hesitant “Look, I may have a job for you here, one of the guys fucked up…like literally…fucked one of the clients daughters…didn’t go down well as you can imagine….no pun intended”
He cut across his sister with a wave of his hand even though she couldn’t see him “wait, you want me to work at some fucking posh ski resort, waiting on rich assholes…fuck off…rather kill myself”.
“It’s a good job Mick and they’re not all assholes, the pay is decent and the tips are even better, you’ve probably pissed off every employer on the South Side by now, you got any better ideas”
He paused and ran his hand through his hair as he mulled it over “Cmon Mands, could you really see me doing that shit, they’d take one look at me and be clutching their pearls and hiding the silverware”
His younger sister laughed softly and he could tell she was nodding in agreement “ok one, you’d be in the back, I’m not an idiot. Two, I thought you didn’t care what anyone else thought about you anyway”
“I don’t” he muttered “it’s just, fuck, people like that make me uncomfortable alright, you know how I get…probably last five whole minutes before I smack someone in the face”.
“Mick, I get it alright, you don’t think I felt out of place when I started here, I knew the other bitches talked shit about me behind my back but fuck them, they weren’t gonna drive me away, I worked harder than every last one of em and I earn the most tips and I got promoted to look after the biggest client at the fanciest lodge. Can’t you just rise above it, realise that none of that shit matters. You’d love it here Mick, work hard most the time, play hard the rest. You could even take up snowboarding; you’d be awesome at it”
His skin prickled at the suggestion and he frowned “you know I won’t ever do anything like that again Mandy, I can’t”
“I know Mick, sorry, just thought….” Mandy went quiet and he felt momentarily guilty for snapping at her “Look, just think about it, the season has already started so they’re desperate to get someone else in, I’d make sure you weren’t front of house as much as possible, just cleaning and helping in the kitchen, shit like that”.
“Ok, lemme think about it and I’ll let you know, tomorrow or something”.
They quickly changed the subject and chatted about other less taxing things like Mandy’s crush on a rich client which can only lead to trouble in his opinion, about Iggy’s latest exploits and about Mickey’s last disastrous date with the puppet guy, so called because the guy pulled out an actual sock puppet during the second course, in a completely serious and not even remotely ironic or kinky way. Mickey bolted so quickly from the table he heard his chair tip over, least he think it did, he never looked back to check.
They hung up after another fifteen minutes and he cleared up his plate and utensils before slumping down on the couch. He scrolled through available jobs on the app he had downloaded after he quit his last job but felt deflated almost immediately. The problem with growing up a Milkovich was that no one ever encouraged you or supported you. He hadn’t graduated high school and the only skills he had ever obtained over the years were learned in a strictly illegal capacity. He had zero idea about what he wanted to do with his life; about what he might enjoy doing, what he might be good at. The only thing he had ever really enjoyed had been sullied but that was more of a hobby anyway and not something you could likely make a living out of.
Before he started to dive down that dark and depressing rabbit hole, he distracted himself by opening up the website for the resort where Mandy worked. “White Rock” was a swanky ski resort located along Lake Placid. It had a huge lodge style hotel and smaller private lodges and chalets for rent too. Admittedly it looked beautiful and sort of fun, offering a variety of activities onsite. Mickey preferred winter, always had, the Chicago summer heat was too stifling and he always burned like a mother fucker if he forgot to wear sunscreen but this, this he could do. Snow he could do, cold he could do, crisp clean air he could do.
The question however was could he do the rest, attending to the whims of annoying rich assholes who would most likely be turning their nose up at him. He despised entitled privileged people, people with perfectly smooth and un-calloused hands because they had never worked a day in their lives, not what he considered real work anyway. People who never heard the word “no”, who had everything they wanted at the click of a finger and when they had it they didn’t know what to do with it. People who judged others on superficial shit that meant nothing in reality or judged them on things that were out of their control, like where they grew up or who they had for parents.
But he needed money and money fast. He had bills to pay, groceries to buy. He glanced around at the old house and realised it needed urgent repairs, updating, modernising and had for some time too but having never secured a steady permanent job he had kept putting it off. He felt the responsibility bearing down on his shoulders, responsibility that he never really wanted if he admitted it. He had no love for the house, there was no emotional attachment or sentimentality involved, he had just been left in the position of care taker after Mandy had fled to New York a few years previously. She had begged him to come but he had felt resigned to a life on the South Side, felt some sort of pull to stay but looking back he thinks he was just scared, scared of the unknown mostly. The more he contemplated the easier it was to see the real truth, that he had nothing here of real value, no real friends, no boyfriend, no job, no life.
“Fuck” he exhaled as he thumbed his nose and flicked through the images in front of him one more time.
He was only 25. He wanted a life. He wanted friends, he wanted sex and maybe even love one day, he wanted fun and all that shit that people his age were supposed to have. Not just sitting in a dreary house with his stoned brother, in between jobs and in between shitty dates. The South Side wasn’t the same anymore and he didn’t feel like he belonged there anymore which didn’t have to be a bad thing. Maybe change was good, maybe he could change or at least try to better himself because he deserved those things, those nice and happy and fun things. He figured it was worth a try and what’s the worst that could happen anyway, he had a free holiday until he got fed up and quit. The house would still be there, he would ensure the bills were paid while he was away and have it to return to if shit went sideways.
He took a deep breath, opened his messages and typed out the short reply to Mandy before he could change his mind. It was done, no going back now, all he could was hope that he wasn’t making a huge mistake.
“I’m in”
----
Ian rolled over and attempted to catch his breath as he ran his fingers tenderly down his boyfriend’s spine but like usual Wesley was already slipping out of bed and pulling away from his post coital affections.
“Before I forget, I can’t make lunch today” the blonde, blue eyed man said casually as he made his way towards their lavish en suite “back to back meetings”.
Ian lay back and sighed, having long become accustomed to his excuses “Least you can’t run away from me at the lodge”.
Wesley grinned and approached him before pecking his lips lightly “Always so dramatic” another peck “I’m not running away from you sweetheart, it’s my job, you know how busy we’ve all been because of this merger”
“Just can’t remember the last time we spent more than ten minutes together Wes that’s all…you sure you have time for a vacation right now”
He stood and cocked his head at Wesley, a frown upon his face and a look of defiance sweeping across it too undoubtedly.
Wesley snorted and crossed the room, placing his perfectly manicured hands on his shoulders “Course I do, made time didn’t I”
Wesley kissed him again but more deeply this time. His way of apologising Ian figured, something he always made a point to do when they were on the verge of arguing “Always going to make time for you”.
Ian kissed him back, sinking into it like he always did because it was the easier option and well for all his faults his boyfriend was a really good kisser. He wasn’t the most affectionate of men for the most part but when he was Ian couldn’t get enough of it, craved it, always wanting more.
They weren’t always like this of course; they had met in college when Ian was earning his Business degree. At first they were hot and heavy, always finding time to party and fuck in between studying. He liked how Wesley carried himself, so confidently and commanding, the stereotypical jock or frat guy who everyone wanted to either be or be with. He was popular and came from a rich powerful family, not unlike his own so he could have any guy he wanted but he had chosen Ian.
He wasn’t Ian’s usual type; although he wasn’t exactly sure he had a particular type. He had always just found himself falling into relationships easily, never remaining single for too long. Ian was a good looking guy; he knew that, with his tall athletic physique, red hair and green eyes. He too could have any guy he wanted and before Wesley came along that had always been the case. But for some reason this particular guy had somehow managed to ensnare him finally. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was or even if it was just one thing but he found himself hooked and unable to say no to him.
After that first night they had become inseparable overnight, Wesley helping Ian study when he was having trouble with certain subjects and the pair spending alternating weekends with each other’s family. That was another thing that sort of just clicked into place, how similar their backgrounds were, at least for the previous decade of Ian’s life anyway. Wesley had a younger sister and his parents were both highly respected doctors while Ian had one older brother Jacob. His father Clayton was a top investment banker and his mother Lucy was basically a kept woman but she was perfectly content with her situation.
He and Wesley fit together perfectly in some ways, both accepted quickly into each other’s families and on paper he was everything Ian had ever dreamed of, a handsome, successful and charming man who adored him and liked to show him off. Surely that was enough he wondered, he never laid a hand on him, he hardly ever raised his voice, he wasn’t needy or smothering and Ian knew that he was desired wherever they went. In fact he got off on the fact that he was one of the most powerful and desirable men in all of New York.
Yet sometimes he felt like something was missing, like he was becoming more and more bored or content, a word he hated to use because there were nothing more mundane and uninspiring than being “content”. The passion they once shared was fizzling out and when they did spend time together it was always within the same circle of friends, colleagues or acquaintances. Usually these “dates” would take place in upscale bars or hotel restaurants, with similar menus and decors and mind numbingly pretentious “jazz” music playing softly in the background.
Nothing was ever spontaneous or messy or playful or juvenile anymore. Once they had graduated Clayton had offered them both positions at his own company. Wesley was now a thriving corporate lawyer and Ian was a senior associate, having skipped the junior part due to nepotism of course. His brother also worked for their Dad as an investment banker, following in Clayton Gallagher’s footsteps. It wasn’t surprising considering both of their futures had been set in motion long ago and it was always assumed they would join the family business.
He was earning close to 250k a year and he couldn’t complain about that, feeling that he earned every cent of it due to the hard work and long hours he put in. Although Ian didn’t really have the best head for number and figures he had a knack for communication, for speaking and persuading and wooing people. His charm wasn’t as obvious and as blunt as Wesley’s but it was as successful all the same which helped him during negotiations and meetings. Besides, he had junior associates working under him to assist with any financial bullshit that he had trouble following.
Sometimes his path crossed with Wesley and he really was a sight to behold when he was working, ruthless and sharp and persistent, almost reminded Ian of a dog with a bone, unyielding and determined beyond measure. But sometimes it was scary how relentless he was, verging on arrogant and lacking in empathy or emotion, as if he was a robot, not a human. He wanted to win, at all costs, every time because losing simply wasn’t in his vocabulary. Ian figured Wesley had never heard the word “no” very often in his life and was too used to getting his own way and that was something that was evident in all facets of his life.
Ian understood it for the most part, he too being competitive and ambitious and driven but he liked to think that he still retained some sort of emotion when he was working especially when it came to stripping companies of their assets or relinquishing people of their livelihoods. He could certainly admit that this was not his ideal job, wearing expensive suits every day, massaging the egos of wealthy clients, helping larger companies to take over smaller ones, engaging in less than tasteful corporate tactics occasionally when it was deemed necessary.
He smiled a lot at work but it was faked, all of it felt fake to a degree, the schmoozing and the wining and dining and the bargaining and manipulating. He was playing a role and not just in the office or at other clients offices but he sometimes felt like he was playing a role throughout his entire life, a role to please his parents, an expected role that was thrust upon his shoulders some years ago.
He tried to shake the nagging negative thoughts from his head so that he could ready himself for his last day of work for a few days. Both he and Wesley had taken Friday and Monday off so that they could join Ian’s family at Lake Placid for an extended weekend break. Wesley, Clayton and Jacob had been buried deep in a new merger and his father had suggested a well-timed break, in order to rest up and re energise.
The Lodge was a private 4 bedroomed house set on an exclusive skiing resort not too far from New York, where he resided with Wesley on the Upper East Side for the past year. Although they didn’t technically own the rental vacation property it was common knowledge that it was always to be kept free for the Gallagher family at all times and was exclusively theirs to use whenever they pleased. It had a large hot tub, modern fully fitted kitchen, several wrap around balconies with incredible views and came with its own members of staff who attended to their needs.
The staff took care of the cooking, cleaning, carrying of bags, shopping, hiring of equipment and whatever else his parents could think of. It sometimes made him feel uncomfortable, having people wait on him 24/7 but his father always ensured he tipped them well and despite their privilege and wealth his family weren’t assholes, they treated the staff with respect and manners, for the most part anyway.
Given his start in life Ian still felt like somewhat of an outsider at times or at least like he didn’t fully fit into this world, like he was still that poor neglected kid who had to struggle and fight every day until he was “saved” by his birth father. Maybe that’s why he never complained and just kept his head down, wanted to make his parents happy and proud because he felt he “owed” them in some way. And what had he got to complain about anyway, he wanted for nothing, he had a hot boyfriend, an awesome apartment, a secure job for life and a family who loved him, things could be worse. Things could be a lot worse than feeling content.
He packed a bag and took it with him to the office, where he would leave straight after his last meeting. He and Wesley would drive together to the airport and meet his parents there, along with Jacob and his girlfriend Jules. Wesley always insisted on driving everywhere meaning Ian could take in the scenery and play DJ, much to his boyfriend’s annoyance.
“Really Ian” Wesley side eyed him, clearly taking offence to the music he had selected, a song by one of his favourite bands, Death Cab for Cutie.
“What, they’re a great band, you never want to listen to anything I like” he complained as he stared back at the man.
“That’s not even true….I came to that concert last month didn’t I”
Ian snorted and rolled his eyes “Yeah and you spent the entire time scrolling on your phone and checking your watch”
“It’s just not my thing sweetheart, I prefer a bit more culture in my life, classical music is the only way to go…maybe jazz too…but it’s not your fault…”
Ian cocked his head and felt his heart start to thump in his chest “the fuck does that mean, not my fault”
“Jesus Ian you don’t need to curse like a sailor and bite my head off all the time…doesn’t suit you…I just meant that it’s not your fault that you didn’t have much in the way of culture growing up that’s all…but you do now…so you can broaden your horizons huh”
Wesley turned his head for a moment and grinned at him smugly before switching the song to something classical and sure, Ian wasn’t that petty, he could appreciate all kinds of music but in that particular moment he could have slapped that smile off his boyfriends face. Instead he folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the window in an attempt to grab a quick nap before their short flight.
He wanted to shout and argue and tell Wesley to go fuck himself but it wasn’t worth being stuck in a tension filled car and small private plane together in the aftermath. Instead he made his usual choice, the silent treatment, making it crystal clear that he wasn’t listening to Wesley or his boring as shit music anymore. In order to really hammer it home how pissed off he was he flipped his boyfriend off, his eyes still closed before huffing grumpily against the window.
The last thing he heard was a chuckle before the music was turned up and Ian could only hope that he would sleep all the way to the resort, for Wesley’s sake. His hands were clenched into fists in his lap until he felt Wesley grab the nearest one and bring it to his lips for a quick peck.
“Can’t ignore me forever Ian”
He knew what Wesley was doing of course, trying to appease him, trying to charm him into forgetting what he was mad about. The guy was such a control freak he couldn’t let things sit, let things simmer or fester, no, he had to always fix things and have the last word too.
“Especially not in this car sweetheart”
“Jesus fucking Christ” he exclaimed “trying to sleep here in case it wasn’t obvious”
“And I’m trying to make up…cmon Ian…you know I don’t like it when we quarrel…whatever I said to upset you I’m sorry”.
He laughed dryly and finally opened his eyes, turning his face towards the other man.
”Wow what an apology, so incredibly sincere and heartfelt”.
“I love you…you know that…I’m truly sorry for hurting your feelings”
“How can you be sorry if you don’t even know what you’re apologising for huh”
Wesley let go of his hand and sighed deeply, a sound of frustration and impatience “you tell me Ian, what the fuck have I done this time. Not my fault you’re so sensitive, Jesus I can’t say anything around you without you taking it the wrong way”
Ian chuckled on hearing Wesley curse, knowing he was pushing his buttons “Least you sound like a human being now and not a fucking robot…cursing’s not dirty Wes…it’s not fucking uncultured…its fucking normal”.
Wesley locked eyes with him and sighed dramatically “Oh my god, is that why you’re being such a drama queen right now…nothing I said was a lie Ian…you grew up poor and uncultured and uneducated but it wasn’t your fault”
“Then why do you always bring it up when you’re trying to make a point huh like you’re trying to use it against me, as if it makes me lesser or something”
“I don’t think that about you Ian, I think you overcame your beginnings and that actually makes you better than most”.
Ian laughed sarcastically and ran his hands down his face “Oh well lucky me being better than most huh, a regular phoenix rising from the ashes of my former destitute life. If it doesn’t make me lesser then why have you never visited them with me, they’re my family too and they loved me and did their best by me…you afraid you might catch something…some disease huh...like poverty”
“Enough Ian” Wesley shouted unexpectedly before remembering himself and taking a deep steadying breath “You’re projecting, reaching…putting words in my mouth…I don’t particularly want to spend any of what little free time I have in Chicago that’s all…I’m sure they are lovely people Ian and if you really want me to meet them then we can fly them out to New York ok, put them up in a nice hotel, I’m sure they’d appreciate that”.
He rolled his eyes and stared out the window in silence. Sometimes he wished Wesley would shout more, argue more, throw things, storm off. It was something that Ian could work with at least, it showed passion and heat and emotion. Honestly sometimes Ian wondered if his boyfriend ever really felt anything real, for anything or about anything, those deep and electrifying emotions that Ian very rarely feels anymore. He would give anything for an explosive fight that resulted in even more explosive sex afterwards but that wasn’t to be. Like usual the pair became stony quiet, neither giving in nor giving up but ultimately not engaging any further either.
Ian felt resigned and tired, again typical feelings for him it seemed, as he closed his eyes attempting to drift off again.
“I love you” he heard, whispered over the music which had been switched back to Ian’s playlist.
He smiled softly, even though it felt like an effort and reached his hand out, a peace offering of sorts which Wesley took instantly.
“Love you too”.