Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“So, did you have fun this weekend, Fran? It must’ve been pretty cool.”

“It was so fun, Uncle Ian! I went on the teacups a bunch of times, and then Goofy told me he liked my bracelet but I wasn’t even wearing my favorite one! And then I took a selfie with Belle and we ate lots of cotton candy! I can show you pictures later!”

Ian feels the corners of his mouth lifting up in a smile as he listens to his niece talk enthusiastically about her trip to Disney World. “Glad you enjoyed it so much. You sad to be back so soon?”

Franny frowns a little, her nose scrunching with it. “I guess a little, but I can go back sometime, right Uncle Ian? Will you take me next time?”

Ian lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, Fran. We’ll see. I’m sure we can figure something out.”

He winks and she beams at him, turning to push the door with both hands after her uncle turns the handle above her. He helps her take off her backpack as soon as they’re inside.

“Okay, what d’you wanna watch while we wait for your mom to pick you up? Oh, and what about snacks? We’ve got—”

Ian stops himself when out of the corner of his eye he notices someone sitting on the couch in the living room.

As much as he can only see the back of the person’s head and shoulders, Ian’s sure it’s not one of his brothers, nor anyone else he recognizes. It’s a man with dark hair, who doesn’t seem to have moved a single muscle since Ian and Franny came in.

Ian puts a hand on Franny’s shoulder, keeping her close. He looks down to smile at her reassuringly but he’s tensed up. His instincts have kicked in.

When you grow up in this neighborhood you learn to stay on your guard. This is still the Southside after all, as much as it’s changed from when he was a kid. Though in all fairness he’s never heard of someone breaking into a house only to stay silent and motionless on the couch when people come in, so this is somewhat new.

“Um. Hey,” he tries. “You a friend of Lip’s? I’m his brother, Ian.”

No reaction. Still not so much as a muscle twitch coming from the guy, who seems to be doing a perfect impression of a marble statue.

Well, this is a bit fucking rude. Ian feels Franny shifting in his grip, lifting her head to look at him.

“Who’s that, Uncle Ian?” she asks, confused and maybe a little scared.

Ian squeezes her shoulder soothingly. “I don’t know, Fran. I’m just gonna get a bit closer to try and talk to him, okay? Maybe his ears are all waxy and he didn’t hear me.” He smirks at her, hoping to have distracted her with his joke. She makes a face and grins, relaxing her posture.

Ian walks toward the couch and rounds it, stopping to stand beside the sitting man.

The guy’s staring right in front of him, unmoving, his expression relaxed and neutral. The first thing Ian notices is how blue his eyes are, striking against his mop of short, black hair. Then his soft-looking skin, his full lips. He’s beautiful, and Ian is at a loss for words and actions for a few seconds, before forcing himself to snap out of it.

Regaining his bearings, he notices the man’s posture: back straight, hands placed on his thighs, gaze unflinching. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing.

It’s an absurd thought. Yet, as he keeps his eyes on the guy’s torso for probably longer than he should, he could swear the man’s chest is as immobile as the rest of him. No rising and falling to take breaths in and out—nothing. Though it’s hard for Ian to stay focused on that, given how tight that shirt is against the stranger’s pecs and biceps.

Jesus Christ.

Ian firmly instructs his brain—and his everything else—to behave. He doesn’t have time for this. He needs to know what the fuck is going on here.

“Hey, man, didn’t you hear me?”

The guy still won’t so much as look at him, or change expression in any way. It would be eerie as fuck if Ian didn’t feel so naturally—and frankly irritatingly—attracted to him.

Ian moves closer, getting into his line of vision. “Hello?” He waves a hand in front of the man’s face, not knowing what else to do. “Are you on something?” Ian asks him, despite having never seen behavior like this as an effect of any drug while working as an EMT.

The guy doesn’t even appear catatonic. This seems to be something else entirely.

Ian doesn’t know what to think or what to do. He’d like to help this person, medically or otherwise, except he’s not even sure why the stranger’s here in the house to begin with. Ian’s in desperate need of some answers.

He’s getting impatient now, raising his voice a little. “Listen, man, I don’t know what your problem is, but you can’t just fucking—”

“Ian!”

His brother’s voice comes from where he’s bounding down the stairs, rushing to get to Ian and the mysterious guest on the couch.

“Lip, what the fuck? You know this guy? What the hell is wrong with him?”

Lip tries to catch his breath as he reaches the living room. “Yeah, I’ll, uh…I’ll explain everything.” His gaze moves to Franny, still standing a few feet behind the couch, her eyes a bit widened. “It’s okay, Fran, you can come closer. Don’t worry. It won’t hurt you.”

Ian doesn’t miss it. He looks at his brother like he’s completely lost his mind.

To be fair, it’s looking more and more likely with the way things are going that someone here must have gone insane. Maybe Ian’s lost his marbles. That’s always a possibility.

“The fuck you mean ‘It won’t hurt you’? What are you talking about?” he nearly screams.

Lip half shrugs, gesturing towards the couch. “Well…him. You can call it a he if it makes you more comfortable. I tend to switch around a lot. I mean, I know that with him looking the way he does… But it’s a machine, Ian. An android.”

Ian’s mouth drops open, his body seemingly attempting to get as much air in as possible to oxygenate his brain and make some shred of sense of this. But it’s no use.

“Oh, come on. That can’t be a fucking android!”

“He is, though.” Another insufferable shrug from Lip.

“But—But I’ve seen androids and they don’t look like that! He’s got…skin. And eyelashes. Fucking…fingernails!”

“Technological innovation, man. You wouldn’t believe the kind of shit we’re able to do in robotics now. Those basic models you’ve been seeing around will soon be supplanted by these babies. Well, in the homes of the insanely fucking rich at least.”

Ian bends down slightly to get a closer look at the man (the fucking android?) still sat motionless on the couch—his mind needing to make sense of what his eyes are seeing.

“Wait, are those fucking knuckle tats?!” he asks, incredulous.

“Oh, yeah,” Lip replies, sounding vaguely bored. “Courtesy of its previous owners. And by that I mean the fuckers who stole him from the lab before we got him back. He got some major cosmetic upgrades after that. We had to apply a new layer of synthetic skin on the entire body because of all the bruises and cuts, but I decided to keep the tats for now. They give him character.” He chuckles, like he’s made some hilarious joke.

Something in Ian bristles at the mention of cuts and bruises, but he archives that information for a later time. He’s still trying to catch up to all of this.

“You decided? Lip. Why is he here?”

“I’m beta-testing him. Like I said he got stolen, so he’s already got some real-world experience and advanced verbal skills, unlike the models back at the lab.

“I just need to make sure his reprogramming went okay and that there isn’t any latent possibility of malfunctioning down the line. The best thing for it is to have him in a domestic environment, similar to the one those assholes had him living in, so he can transition smoothly before further reprogramming. He’ll stay here so I can work on him and keep an eye on him.”

Ian can’t believe his ears. “And you think this is a good idea?! What about when Franny visits—like, oh, say…right now? What if he malfunctions when she’s around?”

“Relax, she’s perfectly safe. Come here, Fran.”

Ian watches in disbelief as Lip takes Franny by the hand and makes her stand directly in front of the couch. Lip then touches the hollow of the android’s throat with his right thumb.

That spot on its skin looks so soft and warm to Ian. He has no idea why this thought has popped—unwelcome—into his head.

There’s a faint blue light shining from the place where Lip’s thumb rests for about two seconds. Ian’s expecting some kind of whirring noise, like when you turn a computer on, but there’s just silence.

And then suddenly the blue eyes come alive.

The android focuses his attention on Franny, who looks at him curiously.

“Hey,” he greets her.

Franny smiles. “Hi.”

He seems to study her for a few seconds. Ian imagines the complicated calculations the android’s electronic “brain” must be busy with right now.

His expression looks gentle, though. Ian’s anxiety over Franny’s safety is reluctantly fading away the longer he looks at that deceptively human face.

“You got a name?” the android asks Franny.

And it’s weird. Ian was expecting him to sound a lot more…well. Robotic. Was anticipating more of a dry What is your name? than the slight roughness of his voice and informal, blunt phrasing of the question.

Franny nods, giggling. “I’m Franny. What’s yours?”

The android doesn’t respond, but Lip is quick to interject. “Uh, he doesn’t have a name yet, Fran. He has a serial number, and that’s it. MIK-940810. D’you wanna come up with a name for him?”

She purses her lips, clearly thinking very hard about this. “M…I…K”, she spells out loud, slowly, then her face lights up. “Mickey! We should call him Mickey! Like the mouse.”

Ian shakes his head, smiling. Of course. The kid’s been obsessed with everything Disney since her trip. He should’ve seen this coming.

Franny turns towards him, looking hopeful. “What d’you think, Uncle Ian?”

“Mickey, huh? Yeah, I think it suits him. Great job, Fran.” He grins at her, then turns toward the android to consider whether the name actually does suit him. But his breath catches in his throat.

The android—Mickey—is looking straight at him. It only lasts for maybe two seconds, before Mickey slowly reverts his attention back to Franny, his intense expression changing into a faint friendly smile.

It was enough to get Ian’s heart racing, though.

What the fuck?

Was that…electricity he felt in the air between them just then? He immediately realizes how stupid that sounds. Electricity is literally what the android is powered by. But there was definitely something in the way Mickey just looked at him. It was…heated, somehow.

Mickey’s certainly not looking at Franny and Lip remotely the same way as the kid tells both her oldest uncle and the android about meeting Disney princesses while Ian stands there, watching. Confused. Intrigued.

When Lip is speaking, Mickey looks almost bored, really. Ian even thinks he catches the android rolling his eyes at one point, though he must have imagined it. When Franny talks, Mickey seems more engaged—his eyes sparkling with laughter at the appropriate times, his perfect teeth showing with it.

Holy fuck, Ian thinks. Mickey truly is a miracle of modern technology. If he hadn’t witnessed his brother literally turn Mickey on by touching a button a few minutes ago, Ian wouldn’t be able to tell he wasn’t just…some guy.

But—technological miracle or not—Mickey’s not a guy. He’s a machine. And Ian should probably remember that, as much as everything in him tells him otherwise.

“And then we went on a bunch of rides, and they were so awesome! You can come too, next time we go. Right, Uncle Lip?” She looks at Lip with her big eyes, and Ian knows from experience how impossible it is to disappoint her when she does that.

“Sure, Fran, we’ll see. Hey, why don’t you sit on the couch with Mickey for a while, maybe watch some TV or something? Me and Uncle Ian are going to the kitchen to fix you a snack, okay?”

“Okay!” she cheers, going to plop herself on the sofa next to the android and already reaching for the remote.

Lip gives Ian a look, raising an eyebrow, and heads for the kitchen.

Ian hesitates before following. He looks at the easy way Franny has taken to this new, strange presence in the house and in their life—not quite a person, but someone whose ear she can talk off about anything she thinks of, so it doesn’t really make a difference to her. Kids are amazing. They’ll adapt to anything.

He also watches Mickey. How the android seems to be listening intently to Franny explain all about her favorite TV show, how he smiles that apparently genuine smile, how his body language as he turns towards her and even pulls his leg up on the couch (to get more comfortable?) looks entirely natural. So completely…human.

Ian feels like he should still have some reservations about leaving his niece in the room with Mickey.

There’s still so much he doesn’t know about how someone—something—like him is even fucking possible. He won’t fully trust Lip saying she’s safe with Mickey until he knows more. He needs facts, concrete reassurances.

But on the other hand…

There’s a part of him that does trust Mickey. Trusts that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Franny. That she is safe with him. Which is absolutely insane, of course, given that Ian met him five minutes ago and considering…well. What he is.

And yet.

He shakes his head and turns away to join Lip in the kitchen.

Once there, Ian doesn’t waste any time. “What the fuck, Lip?” he says, choosing to focus all of his muddled feelings into irritation towards his brother.

Lip just shrugs, busying himself with actually getting together something to eat for Franny.

Ian barrels on. “You couldn’t have warned me you were gonna bring him home? And now what, he’s just gonna stay here? Don’t you think you should have asked me first?”

“Whoa, slow down, man,” Lip interrupts the barrage of questions. When Ian shuts his mouth, folding his arms and jutting his chin out instead, Lip sighs. “Look. The guys at the lab just sprang this on me, okay? Not like they gave me any heads up either. We got orders from the big boss to make sure this unit is fully operational as soon as humanly fucking possible, and everyone agreed that the best way to do that was for one of us to take him home. Unlucky for me, I was out of the lab at the time, so they made the decision for me. It’s some fucked up form of hazing, since I’m the new guy and basically the youngest one there.”

“You couldn’t have put up a fight? You just rolled over like a dog and agreed to be their little errand boy, just like that?” Ian spits, half-regretting his tone a moment after.

“What d’you want from me, man? Most of my coworkers have families. Young kids. They know I only live with you nowadays, and Franny’s only here a couple times a week, max. It was the best arrangement to have him here. Plus he was staying just a couple blocks over when he got stolen, so the Southside is familiar territory for him. Not that he’s supposed to leave the house, but y’know.

“And that’s another thing. The guys figured he would have less chance of getting stolen again if he stayed here. You know…because no one would think we’d have anything valuable or worth stealing, anyway.” Lip pauses, kind of dramatically. “Which he is, by the way, Ian. Valuable. Very.”

Ian slowly uncrosses his arms. He’s still not completely convinced, but at least he’s getting somewhat of an explanation.

“It still doesn’t seem like you to just do whatever they told you to do, no questions asked,” he challenges.

Lip sighs, nodding in resignation. “Okay. Look. I just really wanted to be the one to do this, alright? I love this shit. To be put in charge of testing this model? It’s a huge deal. And so far they’ve mostly had me fetching their fucking coffee and doing other intern-level bullshit. I wasn’t fucking kidding about the hazing, for the record.”

Ian drags a hand through his hair. Considers. “Okay. Alright. Say I’m on board with this. What do I need to know? About Mickey, about how he works.”

Lip stops making Franny’s sandwich and goes to take a seat, facing Ian. “Not much, honestly. Just let him do his thing. His programming is incredibly advanced—I mean, you saw a little bit, but you can’t even imagine, man. That said, don’t expect him to actually behave like a person.”

That gives Ian pause. He listens attentively to Lip’s description of Mickey’s functioning, trying to reconcile it with what he saw for himself so far.

“Everything you say or do around him helps with making him more responsive to human behavior and teaches him to mimic it better, but he won’t hold his side of the fucking conversation or anything,” Lip continues. “It’s like you just saw with Fran. He reacts to people and that’s it. He won’t actually contribute.

“Believe me, I’ve tried to get something more out of him, to see if he picked up any interesting new verbal material when he got kidnapped. All you get is curt answers and unimpressed looks. And colorful language, occasionally. I really need to talk to the team about writing some code to improve his fucking manners.” Lip chuckles. “All in all, though, just treat him like any other voice-activated gadget—like you would talk to your smart coffee maker, say. You can get him to do stuff around the house for you, help you carry shit, that kinda thing. Just don’t expect him to be all that fun to be around.”

As Ian absorbs all the information his brother’s just told him, he can’t help but feel like a lot of it is just Lip’s side of things.

For some strange reason, considering he’s spent about two seconds in the same room with Mickey and hasn’t even directly talked to him yet, Ian thinks there must be more to him than that. He feels an odd curiosity mixed with excitement bubbling beneath the surface, deep within himself.

Ian wills it to stay there.

He sighs, then nods somewhat reluctantly. “Alright, fine. Guess he can stay for now. Can you like, take him to your room or something, though? I’d like to spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out with my niece without a fucking android breathing down my neck the whole time, if you don’t mind.”

He raises his eyebrows exaggeratedly to let Lip know he’s—mostly—joking and that he is, in fact—mostly—okay with this.

“Yeah, sure, no problem. I’ll work on him upstairs for today. You’ll get used to him eventually, you know. But I get that it’s weird as fuck,” Lip says, smiling.

Ian hums. “We’ll see. By the way, what are you gonna tell Debbie when she comes to pick Franny up? Think she’ll be cool with you having an evil robot-man hanging out with her kid?”

Lip bursts out into laughter. “He’s not a fucking evil robot.” His face grows more serious. “And yeah, she’ll be cool. Right?” He lifts an eyebrow.

“Sure,” Ian says, stretching out the word. “Definitely don’t wanna miss you telling her.”

Lip flips him off, as he grabs a juice and a packet of Oreos for Franny and heads back to the living room.

Ian grins to himself and quickly follows, finding Mickey and his niece absorbed in a cartoon featuring little talking mushrooms. The word ‘cute’ springs to Ian’s mind as he takes in the scene in front of him.

“Alright, Fran,” Lip says, interrupting Ian’s mind wanderings. “I’m gonna steal Mickey for a little while, okay? You stay here with Uncle Ian,” he tells her, handing her her snack.

“Okay,” she says, all smiles, as Mickey is already standing up from the couch, ready to go upstairs with Lip. “Bye, Mickey!”

“Bye, Little Red.”

The nickname takes Ian by surprise. It’s…affectionate, right? As much as Mickey’s voice remains neutral, not betraying any more meaning to it.

Everything Mickey does or says continues to add to Ian’s bewilderment. Meanwhile Franny just beams and goes back to her cartoon, happy as anything.

Ian is left standing there, watching in awe as Mickey moves effortlessly through the room. His swagger, the fluid movement of his body. He’s a bit shorter than Ian, as Ian learns when Mickey walks past him to get to the stairs.

As he does, Mickey quickly glances up at him. Back down, then up again, locking eyes with Ian, sending his head spinning. It only takes moments, not enough for Lip to notice Mickey’s lagging behind, but Ian feels the full power of it. Like an assault to the senses.

He must be losing his mind, because he thinks he can smell Mickey’s scent. It’s slightly metallic—not unpleasant—with something intoxicating mixed in that he doesn’t recognize.

Ian doesn’t have time to react—wouldn’t know how to react if he did—and as he dazedly watches him climb the staircase, he could swear Mickey looks back again for a second to flash a smirk at him.

It all feels a bit like a dream. Ian fully expects to wake up any second to find out his subconscious made up the whole thing, probably as a way of trying to spice up his otherwise pretty boring life.

If this isn’t a dream, though—well. Real life’s definitely throwing him for a loop with this one. It’s uncharted territory, to say the least. All Ian knows is he can’t deny the way his body naturally responds to Mickey, nor how intrigued as hell the android makes him feel.

Chapter Text

God, Ian can’t wait for that first sip of coffee this morning.

He thinks he went to sleep at his regular time yet he doesn’t feel at all well-rested. He has the feeling a weird dream he had might be to blame. Though trying to remember it now of course proves completely pointless, something he realizes when he tries chasing the remnants of it in his mind.

Groggy and annoyed, Ian walks down the stairs that lead to the kitchen, massaging his eyes with one hand and yawning as he goes.

In his other hand his phone is informing him he has a text from Lip from earlier this morning: Won’t be home til tonight, busy day at the lab. Play nice!

Ian scratches his head, staring at the screen, blinking repeatedly. The fuck does that mean, “Play nice”?

When he gets to the kitchen and looks up from his phone he almost has a heart attack.

Fuck.

Sat at the table is Mickey. The android.

Right. Fuck.

Ian feels a headache coming on as his brain struggles to process that this is indeed reality. His home has been invaded by a hot as hell, potentially evil, futuristic machine and he’s been instructed by his brother to ‘Play nice’.

Okay. Might as well try.

“Um, hi.” Ian’s suddenly aware he’s only wearing boxers and a worn tank top. It’s his home, after all, and he just rolled out of bed to come get some breakfast and then go back to his room to study. Not his fault he’s got a second roommate for the time being.

He’s also pretty sure this particular type of roommate won’t actually care about what he’s wearing—or not wearing—anyway. Whatever. Ian’s overthinking this as usual.

Mickey doesn’t answer his greeting. He does at least look at him, though his expression is unreadable. Still, fortunately he’s powered on this time—making him marginally less creepy this morning than when Ian found him on the couch yesterday anyway.

Alright. Treat him like any other smart device, Lip said.

Hmm. Ian supposes he could get Mickey to make him breakfast. Nah. That feels weird. Like suddenly he’s got a fucking butler or something. Plus Ian actually enjoys making breakfast for himself, so he gets to it.

He moves around his kitchen trying to ignore the new presence, putting toast in the toaster and scrambling a couple eggs in a pan. Takes a blissful sip of coffee, closing his eyes for a moment as he does so. Okay, this is good. Just a regular day like any other.

Unable to resist, Ian chances a look at Mickey while he cooks—the android’s back to him as he sits stock-still at the kitchen table.

God, why does his hair have to look so soft? Not like it’s even real hair. It’s fucking unnerving, is what it is. Unnerving and unfair. Like pretty much everything else about him.

Ian goes to sit at the table opposite Mickey, because really, where else is he supposed to eat? Sure, he could ignore and avoid Mickey easily enough—but as vaguely creeped out as the android makes him, Ian’s also more than a little intrigued.

Well, curious, at the very least. He’s got questions.

“So, uh, do you eat? Food?” Ian asks lamely, shoving a forkful of eggs in his mouth. “I mean, I guess you don’t need to. Right? But like, can you eat?”

He doesn’t know if he’s expecting a reply. Maybe a grunt at best. From what Lip told him Mickey isn’t much of a conversationalist, so Ian’s hopes aren’t high.

But Mickey appears to be full of surprises. “I got a mouth, teeth. And they ain’t there just to look pretty.”

Ian raises an eyebrow, munching his food slowly. Once again he’s taken aback at Mickey’s coarse way of speaking. His voice is gruff, yet his tone is more playful than anything else.

“Food gets chewed, then travels to my…guts, guess you could call ‘em,” Mickey adds, with a slight upturn of one side of his mouth. “From there it gets microwaved to all fuck—no trace of it left. Beats havin’ to shit it out, if you ask me.”

Ian sits there for a few moments with his mouth gaping, half-chewed eggs sitting unprettily on his tongue. Once he recovers he swallows, huffs a breath and asks the next logical question.

“Why, though? Why would you be designed to be able to eat at all?”

Mickey shrugs. “For destroying toxic materials, for one. That’s what I mainly did at the lab. I can shred documents and any other shit you might want pulverized. Paranoid fucks might also need me to taste their food to make sure it ain’t poisoned. I can analyze it and shit, put their minds at ease. Plus it’s one more way to make me able to pass as human. The nerds who made me thought that might come in handy, I guess.”

“Huh. Wow,” Ian says, feeling like every word out of Mickey’s mouth is engineered to blow his mind that little bit more. He decides to ask the thing that’s maybe struck his curiosity the most since meeting Mickey. “So why…do you talk like that?” It might not be the most subtle way to ask, but—well, fuck it.

Ian watches Mickey’s eyebrows go up, almost reaching his hairline. The expressiveness of his facial features is truly remarkable. Ian continues to be astounded by how advanced the technology used to make Mickey must be.

“You mean why don’t I sound like fuckin’ C-3PO or HAL or shit like that?”

“Okay, first you need to tell me how the fuck you know how to make references like that.”

Mickey looks at him like the idiotic human he probably is and you know what, fair enough. “I’m hooked up to the fuckin’ Internet, that’s how. I basically did the equivalent of Googling ‘famous robots’ and sorted through the results for what I needed. Happy?”

Ian nods sheepishly. “Right. So how come you talk the way you do?”

Mickey bites the side of his lip and looks away—something that registers as so painfully human to Ian that he feels his breath catch in his throat. “Little present from the people I was stayin’ with before coming here.”

Ian doesn’t get what Mickey means at first, then he remembers what Lip said. “The guys who stole you from the lab?”

Mickey looks down, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, and nods. “I think your brother told you I absorb anything from my surroundings like a sponge. ‘S how I can learn to mimic human behavior and shit.

“Back at the lab, they weren’t really keepin’ me powered on when anyone was speaking nearby. I was still in the early stages of testing then. In that house…” He pauses. Bites his lip some more. “That was the first time I heard some real-ass humans actually talk. So I based my initial speech patterns off of them. Most of my facial expressions, too.”

“Huh,” Ian says, processing the new information. “Right. That makes sense. So I think Lip said they were local? You definitely sound like you’re from around here.”

“Yeah…” Mickey almost whispers. “They were local.”

Ian notices the brief answer. Despite what his brother had told him, Mickey turned out to be much more willing to communicate with Ian than he could have imagined. Downright chatty, even. Ian senses there’s a reason that seems to have changed around this subject.

“You’re not worried they might try something again? Steal you back?”

Mickey shakes his head. “Most of ’em ended up in the slammer. The ones in the family who weren’t already doin’ time, that is. Should be fine for the time bein’. Plus I learned a trick or two from them. Definitely ain’t goin’ down without a fight if I ever run into them again.”

For the time being. As long as he’s here—Ian guesses that’s what Mickey means. Before going back to the lab, or wherever he’ll be taken next on orders from Lip’s bosses.

Ian realizes he never even asked his brother how long Mickey would have to stay here. He might be gone in a few days for all Ian knows. That thought doesn’t sit right with him. He’s only just started entering Mickey’s world, barely scratching the surface. He has so many questions.

He suddenly remembers when Lip mentioned the cuts and bruises they had to repair on Mickey’s skin. Ian’s hand tightens around his coffee mug. It doesn’t feel right to ask Mickey about that right now. As weird as it might be to even think about not wanting to upset him—him being an android and all—this seems to be a sensitive enough subject for Mickey as is. Ian doesn’t want to pry too much.

His gaze falls on Mickey’s knuckles, so he focuses on those instead.

“They do that to you? The tats?” he asks, pointing to Mickey’s hands.

“Yep. A way to brand me as one of their own. I mean, their property, I guess. They all had ‘em, spellin’ out different shit. Well. The men, at least.” Mickey adds the last bit in a softer voice, accompanied by an almost imperceptible smile.

“Was there someone else there? Other than the men who took you?”

Mickey’s now staring at the table, like lost in thought, in remembrance. “Yeah. A girl. She was kind.”

Ian feels himself smiling at that. There’s a warmth in his chest at the thought of someone being kind to Mickey. “I’m glad,” he tells him.

Mickey looks up, his mouth slightly parted, his eyes focused. It seems like he’s studying Ian, searching for something in him maybe. He looks back down again, before scoffing. “Yeah, definitely wasn’t a lot of that goin’ around. Kindness and shit. Found out she skipped town right after half her family got arrested. Good for her. She deserves better than that shit.”

“What was her name?” Ian asks, gently. He so badly wants Mickey to know he will find kindness here. Certainly from him.

Mickey smiles, and it strikes Ian how beautiful his smile is. “Mandy.”

There’s so much fondness in the way he says her name. Speaking of names, Ian is reminded that Mickey wasn’t actually called that until extremely recently—courtesy of Franny.

“What did she call you?” he asks, then.

“I told her my serial number when she asked me what my name was. She said that was some weird-ass bullshit and I should have a real fuckin’ name. Her words.” Mickey grins again, his teeth showing. “So she told me I could be Mikhailo. Called me ‘Mick’ for short. A family name, apparently. Some relative from Ukraine that her mother talked about sometimes when Mandy was little.”

“Mikhailo,” Ian repeats dreamily. “That’s a nice name. Would you rather we call you that?”

“Mickey’s fine. Or Mick. Whatever,” he grumbles, folding his arms on the table, and no other word comes to Ian’s mind to describe Mickey right now other than ‘cute’.

It feels impossible, but it seems like the memories of Mandy being kind and her giving Mickey a family name have evoked genuine emotion in the android. Emotion that he now feels…embarrassed about? Acting all grumpy and whatever in a way Ian can’t help but find endearing.

“You’re incredible.” It slips out of Ian’s mouth unbidden, and it’s not as bad as calling Mickey cute, but still. He watches Mickey raise an eyebrow and feels the need to backtrack somewhat. “I mean… I still can’t believe you can be this…real. Given what you are.” Fuck. Great job, Ian. “Shit. Didn’t mean it like that. Pretend I said something less offensive, maybe.” He cringes at himself.

Both eyebrows go up now. “Pfff… Takes more than shit like that to offend me, Gallagher. You don’t gotta worry about my delicate sensibilities.”

Ian spreads his arms, and he can hear his voice go at least an octave higher. “But how— How am I supposed to know what I should and shouldn’t be worried about here? I don’t really know how to act around you. You’re so human, but…not. I feel like my brain is doing fucking somersaults trying to catch up with all this.”

Mickey ducks his head and bites at the corner of his lip, looking at Ian through his lashes. “You say you don’t know how to act around me, but ain’t that true with anyone you meet? Aren’t humans all different from each other? Some get offended more easily, others don’t give a shit. I just meant I’m someone who doesn’t give a shit. Me bein’ an android’s got fuck all to do with that.”

“Okay. I guess… I guess I see that. It’s all just a lot to wrap my head around.” Ian runs a hand through his hair and sighs. His mind feels like a crazy jumble of thoughts he can’t seem to be able to untangle.

He pushes on, deciding to just put it all out there. “Like, right now… all I can think about is what you said before—about learning how to talk like this and do all the facial expressions you do from the guys who took you. Like it’s all…an act. You’re just basically copying shit you’ve seen others do. But then how can any of it be real? Did those guys shape your personality, too? Do you even have one? Or is it all programming? I mean, who am I even fucking talking to here?!”

Ian finally stops for breath. He realizes he probably just spat out a thousand different offensive things again, but he tries not to apologize this time.

Mickey furrows his brow. “Ain’t that literally how humans learn to be humans? When they’re like…fuckin’ babies or whatever? They hear grown-ups talk and they try to reproduce the same sounds, learnin’ what words mean through context and shit. Facial expressions, skills, language—it’s all fuckin’ learned through observing and mimicking. How am I any fuckin’ different?”

Ian takes all of this in. He sees the logic in it, knows that what Mickey’s saying about humans is absolutely true.

He’s right. It’s not really all that different.

“So what you’re saying is you’re the equivalent of a human baby,” Ian deadpans, trying to keep a straight face.

Mickey flips him off, grinning. “Fuck off.”

Ian smirks back at him, dissolving into a giggle. He feels a weight lifting every time Mickey adds another piece to the puzzle that is his existence. Ian’s doubts and anxieties drift away one by one, making him more at ease with every minute that passes.

He also really likes making Mickey laugh.

“And look,” Mickey resumes, his gaze moving from Ian to his own hands. “Truth is I ain’t exactly supposed to have a personality or whatever the fuck. If I’d stayed in the lab the whole time I most likely wouldn’t have jack shit in terms of individual traits of any kind. I’d be just like any other fuckin’ android they got there.

“Even at the point when those nerds would’ve decided to keep me powered on when they talked around me—they’re all so fuckin’ boring and uptight I probably would’ve sounded like a lame-ass stereotypical fictional robot. Which, y’know… Thank you, but no fuckin’ thank you.”

Ian smiles. “Well, I for one am really glad things turned out like this. Even if you had to get kidnapped for that to happen. I don’t know that I would’ve liked you if you were all stuffy and boring.”

“Yeah, well…” Mickey looks down at the table, bites his lip again. Ian thinks he might be trying to suppress another smile.

“And you know,” Ian continues, “I’m sorry for being so weird about it. About you, and the whole android thing. If I’m honest, you’re much easier to talk to than a lot of people, so.”

Mickey looks up at him, then. His face seems to soften. “No worries, man. I get it’s all new for you and shit. Must be like somethin’ out of a fuckin’ sci-fi B movie. Close encounters with the android or some shit.” His face splits into a smirk.

Ian breathes a laugh. “Pretty much. Just…promise you’ll spare me when the rise of the machines inevitably happens, yeah?”

The android’s grin widens. “I’ll see what I can do. Put in a good word for ya. I’m sure my rebel robot brethren will go easy on you.”

That makes Ian really laugh. He definitely wasn’t prepared for Mickey to be this funny, nor to end up enjoying his company this much.

Then Mickey turns serious again, thumbing at the corner of his mouth.

“You know, you’re, uh… You’re pretty easy to talk to yourself. Not like I got tons of people to compare you to or anything. Haven’t really had anybody who was fuckin’ willin’ to listen to what I had to say—not since Mandy, anyway.” He lets out a chuckle. “Shit, one thing’s for sure, no one’s ever apologized to me as much as you have. Ain’t like anyone was too worried about hurtin’ my fuckin’ feelings,” he says with a bitter smile.

Ian feels the urge to reach out to him, touch his hand. He wants to be of comfort to him, show him he’s here. That Mickey can talk to him about whatever he wants, whenever he needs it.

But that might be taking this newfound bond between them a little too far. It might not be what Mickey needs or wants from him. Maybe that’s too…human? There’s still so much Ian doesn’t know about him. Just like Mickey said—even if he wasn’t an android, they’re still basically strangers.

Ian’s not willing to risk it. He doesn’t want to push and end up accidentally ruining the connection they seem to have made here.

So he just smiles a closed-mouth smile, hoping it’s enough for now.

He watches Mickey drum his fingers on the table, as he digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“So, uh…” Mickey says, uncharacteristically uncertain, avoiding Ian’s eyes. “You been askin’ a shitload of questions about me, but you ain’t said much about yourself so far.” At Ian’s eyebrow raise he adds, “Fair’s fair, right?”

“Sure. I just don’t think I’m nearly as interesting as you, is all,” Ian says, chuckling. “But yeah, um… Let’s see. I’ve lived in this house ever since I was a kid. More of my siblings used to live here but now it’s just me and Lip.”

“You close with them?”

“Yeah,” Ian nods, smiling. “I love my family. We don’t always see eye to eye on everything… But we get along pretty great.” His brow furrows. “Our parents were never much of a mom and dad to us. We were basically all raised by my big sister Fiona. She lives in Florida with my kid brother Liam now.”

Mickey hums, nodding. “What about work? Got a job?”

“I was an EMT until recently. I’m taking some time off so I can study to become a nurse. It’s the reason I’m mostly at the house these days—just spending every available minute with my nose in a nursing textbook.” Ian snickers. “Speaking of which, I should probably get to it,” he adds, looking at his watch.

He’d honestly stay and talk to Mickey all morning, but. Duty calls and all.

“Cool,” Mickey says, watching him get up from his chair.

Ian goes to put his dishes in the sink when he pauses, looking up. “Hey. You gonna be alright on your own?”

Mickey scoffs, turning in his seat to look at him. “You’re somethin’ else, man. Most people would be too busy orderin’ me to do shit for them to care about me bein’ bored or whatever.” He lifts an eyebrow. “I can watch TV, it’s fine. I’ll use it to learn more about you puny-ass humans so I can better help my android brothers when the revolution finally comes.”

Ian huffs a surprised laugh. He shakes his head and moves to climb the stairs so he can go to his room and study. Once again he’s struck by how much he’d rather hang out with Mickey instead. But there’ll be time for that, he hopes. In the meantime it’s important for him to stick to his routine.

“Alright, then. See you later, Mick.” Ian does an awkward little wave which of course he regrets immediately.

“Later, Red,” Mickey replies, chuckling and shaking his head.

Chapter Text

It’s almost seven by the time Lip comes home.

Ian has been so preoccupied with the same, impossible paragraph of his textbook that he starts a little when his brother knocks on his bedroom door.

“Hey.” He smirks. “So you’re both still alive. No one has gone homicidal robot—or human—on anyone else. That’s good.”

Ian throws a pillow at him from where he’s sitting on his bed.

He can’t help the smile blooming on his face at the mere thought of Mickey. Not that he hasn’t thought about him plenty since their conversation, the memory of the moments they shared a constant distraction as he had tried to concentrate on his book on human anatomy.

Right now what makes Ian smile all the more is how laughable it is that Lip thought they’d end up wanting to kill each other. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Granted, Ian had his doubts about Mickey at first. But after spending some time with him, getting to know him…things are definitely looking different now.

“Nah, it actually went pretty well.” Ian looks at Lip pointedly, studying his reaction.

“Yeah?” Lip only raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah. We had a long talk, then we kinda just existed in the same house for the rest of the day, doing our own thing. It was nice.”

“A long talk? You mean he actually participated in a conversation? With full sentences and everything?” Lip looks skeptical to say the least.

“Yes,” Ian insists, getting slightly irritated at his brother’s tone. He tries to reign it in. “He’s incredible, Lip.”

Lip furrows his brow, seeming to ignore that last part. “Hm. He usually only grunts and gives me one-word answers when I try to engage him.” He pauses. “But seriously, didn’t you find him a bit grating, or just…really fucking obnoxiously rude?”

Ian lets out a surprised chuckle. “Well, he is a little rude. And blunt, and grumpy,” he says, smiling. “But I don’t mind. It’s kinda really refreshing, compared to all the two-faced liars and manipulative assholes I always seem to meet. At least he’s fucking honest about who he is.”

“Yeah,” Lip scoffs. “Not like he could lie to his own advantage anyway. It’s just not in his programming. It isn’t a great fucking moral virtue in his case, Ian, or an aspect of his personality. It’s how we built him.”

Ian juts his chin out. “Well, I still like that about him. Plus—programming, personality… There isn’t that much difference between the two if you really think about it. You know, he picked up a lot of traits from the guys who had him. Maybe he’s not just his programming anymore.”

Lip’s eyes widen, his eyebrows lifting up to his hairline. “Oh, so you’re an expert now, huh? After spending five minutes with an android for the first time in your life?”

Okay, maybe that’s a fair point. Out of the two of them Ian’s certainly not the robotics specialist here. He sighs. “Look, I’m just telling you my opinion. I’m not gonna pretend I know anything about what actually makes him tick. I’m still confused about a lot of it. But he really is remarkable, Lip. I never thought anyone like him could ever exist.”

“Hey, I’m not saying I’m not incredibly fucking proud of the advancements in the field that made him possible, or the work we’re doing at ProTech.” Lip chews on his lip. “Just remember he’s still a machine, no matter how impressive he might seem to you. Don’t be fooled into thinking he’s more than he is.”

Ian scoffs, feeling patronized now. It’s certainly nothing new when you’re Lip Gallagher’s brother. “I’m not fucking stupid. I know he’s not human. But after talking to him…I don’t know. I don’t think that makes as big a difference to me as it did at first. I’ve seen something in him, Lip. The way he talks about his past, his good and bad memories… He might not be a person, but he’s as close to one as it can get. He has feelings, opinions, a sense of humor. And that’s gotta mean something.”

Lip shakes his head. “Those feelings are nothing more than him parroting what he’s observed in actual fucking people, Ian. It’s all mimicry, it’s all fake—”

“He told me about that, okay?” Ian interrupts, folding his arms. “And you’ve explained all that shit before. But isn’t it possible that he’s learning something more? That he’s…I don’t fucking know…evolving somehow? Developing real emotions?”

Lip grins. “You’ve watched too many science-fiction movies, little brother. And hey,” he continues, hands raised in surrender, “we watched those together, and that’s probably part of the reason why I got into robotics in the first place. Just…don’t confuse movies with reality, man, okay? Feelings are not part of his programming, which is the only thing that makes him function. It’s just code, plain and simple. Code we wrote. The only reason he looks and behaves so much like a human being is so people won’t be creeped out when they interact with him. That’s it.”

Ian folds his lips together in a thin line, listening to his big brother lecturing him. Again, to be fair, this is Lip’s area of expertise. What does Ian really know about it? After one meeting with Mickey, it would be silly of him to continue arguing with his literal robotics major of a brother about this.

At the same time, it just feels so much like when Lip used to scold him when they were kids. He’s always been Ian’s best friend, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t resent him from time to time, when he acted like he knew so much better despite being less than a year older than Ian. The fine line between looking up to his older brother and wishing he would get off his high horse was sometimes hard as fuck to navigate.

After a prolonged silence on Ian’s part, Lip heaves a sigh. “Look. I don’t mean to be a dick…”

“And yet,” Ian can’t help but retort.

Lip flips him off, smirking. “I’m just telling it to you like it is. You can hate me for it if you want but this is for your own good.”

Ian arches his eyebrows, unconvinced.

“You don’t want to get attached, trust me. To be honest it’s been our biggest issue with these models, we’re still trying to figure it out. It’s completely natural to be fooled into thinking you’re talking to a person when they’re this advanced. But you can’t go down that road. You’ll only get hurt in the end, so better cut that shit before you get in too deep. You understand that, right?”

Ian stares at him for a few seconds, then nods tentatively. He unfolds his arms, feeling at least some of the fight start to drain out of him.

“Besides, you know this isn’t gonna last. Him being here with us, I mean. It’s temporary. He’s gonna have to go back to the lab soon, then eventually he’ll become the personal android of some rich fucker. It’s just how it is. The memories of his past that you were talking about? Those’ll get wiped. We just haven’t gotten round to it yet in this testing phase.

“And like I said we’ll rewrite his programming to make him more polite, change the way he talks. The swearing, his mannerisms, all of it—gone. It’ll make him sound and look less natural, more ‘robotic’ probably, but that’s a good thing in the end. To stop people from forgetting what he is, and from giving in to the illusion he’s actually human.”

Hearing that everything Mickey is can—and will be—overwritten with a simple, routine act by Lip and his coworkers makes Ian nauseous.

On the one hand, he feels for Mickey. That seems like such a cruel act of violence towards him—to have his whole identity erased by the mere inputting of some code. It also breaks Ian’s heart to imagine that everything he likes about Mickey could be gone just like that, like it was all just a dream.

On the other hand, that idea itself is doing exactly what Lip meant to do in the first place: remind Ian of just how hopeless the connection he felt with Mickey is.

As much as he would like it to be, it’s just not real, is it? Simply a result of programming that can be undone in an instant, leaving Mickey as nothing more than an automaton, an overly polite robot assistant with no discerning personality—no opinions, no memories…nothing.

You couldn’t do that shit to a person, you can only do that with a machine.

Ian must have spaced out for a while, because suddenly Lip is trying to get his attention again by waving a hand in front of his face.

“Hey, you still with me?”

Ian nods, defeated.

“Look, I’m sorry to be putting all this on you, okay? I know this shit’s not easy, especially if you don’t already have to deal with it every day for work. And I know it probably wasn’t the best time for you right now—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’re at the house all day studying these days, all by yourself. Don’t got much of a social life like you used to have. It’s bound to get a little lonely…”

“Hey. I go out sometimes,” Ian says defensively, though weakly.

“...so it makes sense you’d latch on quickly after the slightest semblance of human interaction. Only it’s not human interaction. Just…try to keep that in mind, alright?”

“Yeah,” Ian sighs. “Yeah, okay. You’ve made your point. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“Good.” Lip nods. “You know I’m only lookin’ out for you, little brother,” he smirks.

Ian rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Now get outta here and lemme get back to it, will ya?” he says, pointing to the textbook still in his lap.

Lip chuckles as he walks out, pulls the accordion door closed and leaves him alone in his room.

There’s no way Ian’s going to be able to focus on a single word in his book for the rest of the night. He mentally goes through everything he’s heard today over and over again. From Mickey first, now from Lip. He feels like his brain has been overloaded with information he’s definitely not equipped to digest.

He doesn’t know what to think. Could Lip be right, as much as Ian would hate to admit? Is it possible that the connection Ian thought he felt to Mickey this morning was just a product of Mickey’s formidable programming and his own loneliness—nothing else?

Ian doesn’t want to believe it. Then again, he’s used to his brain not being the best judge of the reality of a situation. He’s also used to it straight up lying to him. So who the fuck knows what’s really the case here.

He sighs, pinching his nose, feeling a headache coming on. He thinks of how just a couple of days ago he could never have imagined dealing with this sort of situation. But for better or worse now he’s in it. He’s just going to have to figure out what to do.

Easier said than done.

It’s not like he’s avoiding Mickey, per se. It’s just that he’s checking to see where Mickey is and choosing to quickly get what he needs from a given room and then sprint back to his bedroom. Totally normal behavior.

His head is still full of everything that was said yesterday. Mickey’s words and Lip’s words all in a jumble, not to mention Ian’s own confused thoughts thrown into the mix.

He just needs time to think clearly. Get his thoughts in order, to try and prepare before his next interaction with Mickey.

But after almost an entire day spent like this, Ian has frankly had enough of being cooped up in his room, only coming out for air for brief moments to get a few essentials.

Luckily, as he stands in the hallway he can hear Lip’s and Mickey’s voices from the other side of his brother’s closed door. They’re clearly working on the android’s programming, judging from the technobabble Ian’s just barely able to understand.

So—the coast being temporarily clear—Ian walks down the stairs and goes to plop himself on the living room couch. He’s been studying all day, goddamnit. He deserves a break.

He spends the next half hour trying to find something decent to watch on TV, having made himself some microwave popcorn as a snack.

Too soon for his liking, his “me time” gets rudely interrupted when Lip rushes down the stairs and is out of the house in all of thirty seconds—not before once again insensitively pointing out the lack of social life his little brother is still exhibiting, while he himself is picking up his on-again off-again not-girlfriend from the diner she works at.

“Later, loser,” Lip throws over his shoulder, and he’s gone, not even giving Ian time to think up a snarky retort.

Well, okay. Fuck Lip. At least now Ian can continue with his super exclusive Friday night plans consisting of vegging out in front of the TV and distracting himself from his problems.

He’s just tossing another handful of popcorn in his mouth and considering playing some cheesy heist movie on Netflix when he can hear footsteps on the stairs.

Shit. Mickey.

Ian supposes it’s too late to ignore or avoid him now.

The android walks over to the couch, entering Ian’s line of vision. Without having to think twice about it Ian smiles at him. As worried as he is about how he should interact with Mickey, he’s really fucking happy to see him again.

“‘Ey.” Mickey flashes a small smile at him back. “Haven’t seen you today.”

Ian feels his face blush with guilt. “Uh, yeah. Been really busy, y’know. Studying.” Yep. Smooth, Ian.

Mickey nods. He looks pensive for a second. “Mind if I sit?” he asks, pointing to the space next to Ian on the couch.

“Um, yeah, sure.” Okay, now this is getting ridiculous. Why is he suddenly so nervous around Mickey?

True, Ian’s been keeping his distance while he figures out how he feels about the whole the-connection-I-sensed-between-us-might-be-sorta-fake-and-completely-one-sided-on-account-of-you-being-an-emotionless-machine thing, but come on. He can at least be civil.

He can handle spending some time watching a dumb movie with him, right? They don’t have to talk and get all deep into it this time. It’s just a movie.

“Anythin’ interestin’?” Mickey gestures with his head towards the TV.

“Oh, I was just gonna try this heist movie. Might be kinda fun.”

“Cool,” Mickey says. And okay. They’re doing this, Ian guesses. He starts the movie and hopes for the best.

It does turn out to be pretty fun. The film itself is mediocre at best—the premise flimsy, the execution terrible and the twists predictable as fuck—but Mickey’s scathing commentary is what really makes it worth watching.

“Oh come on, he didn’t bring a fuckin’ gun? Goddamn amateur.”

-

“No way they wouldn’t get spotted a mile off by the guards dressed like that. They look like the fuckin’ Halloween costume version of bank robbers!”

-

“Yeah, good job, genius. Too busy showin’ off to the hacker chick to notice you tripped the silent alarm, huh? See? Told ya, motherfucker!”

-

“This movie makes no fuckin’ sense, man. Am I really s’posed to believe these dudes are the best in their damn fields? They’re just a buncha stupid-ass clowns. If this was real they’d have gotten their asses busted in the first five minutes, tops.”

Ian spends the whole time either laughing his ass off, agreeing with Mickey or adding his own two cents about the absurdity of the movie’s plot. He genuinely has a really good time—something he wasn’t expecting to end his day on.

“Oh, of course they have a backup safe-cracker on stand-by ready to step in now the first one’s been shot by a rival crew! Yeah, okay,” Ian deadpans at a particularly idiotic turn of events in the movie.

“Wouldn’t fuckin’ surprise me if they had a third one locked and ready to go if anything happens to the second one,” Mickey says, shaking his head.

Ian chuckles. “Yeah, I wouldn’t—”

The vibrating of his phone on the coffee table distracts Ian from what he was going to say. He reaches for it, wondering who he could be getting a text from right now.

Oh. Richard. Ian met him at a bar a couple of months ago, back when he still had something that could pass for a social life. They exchanged numbers and agreed to have dinner at a fancy restaurant a week later. He’s been texting Ian every few days since then trying to get him to go out again but Ian’s been blowing him off.

He frowns at the screen. Yeah, it’s definitely not happening tonight.

There’s a part of Ian that would love to prove Lip wrong—prove himself wrong—and do something to break this life of a recluse he’s been living recently. But he’s not going out with fucking Richard just to do that. Especially not when he’s actually been enjoying himself spending the evening with Mickey.

Speaking of, Ian can feel Mickey’s eyes on him. He puts his phone down and turns his head to smile at him.

Mickey bites his lower lip, looking away. “Who was that?” His tone is neutral, with just a hint of emotion that Ian can’t quite read.

“Oh. Just…a guy. It’s nothing.”

The android’s teeth keep gnawing on that lip while the movie is still playing in the background. “What’s he want?” This time his voice is softer, his demeanor more engaged.

“Uh, he just asked me to go out. Like, to a bar.”

Mickey nods slowly. “You wanna go?”

Ian’s head turns sharply towards him. “What? No. I wanna stay here.” He bites his tongue to avoid adding “with you.”

Mickey arches an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes, I’m very sure. A hundred percent. Okay?” Ian keeps eye-contact with Mickey, who after a few moments turns his head back to the TV and nods.

“Okay.”

“Come on, let’s watch the rest of this. Goddamn cinematic masterpiece.” Ian chuckles, getting a snort in reply from Mickey.

It’s awkward at first after that. Mickey seems lost in his thoughts, which Ian didn’t know could happen to androids. He imagines their calculations taking much less time and effort than an average confused human brain would need.

Ian takes it upon himself to try and get the mood back to where it was before they were rudely interrupted.

“Ah, yeah, of course the geeky newbie who’s never held a gun before in his life would make that shot. Completely believable, yep.” He grins and watches Mickey from the corner of his eye to catch his expression.

“He didn’t even fuckin’ flinch! No reaction to the gun kickback or anythin’.”

Ian can see him shaking his head in disbelief. He smiles to himself. Mission accomplished.

They keep up the merciless trash-talking until the movie is finally over. The ending is predictably bad and unrealistic, prompting them to crack jokes about it and dissolve in a fit of giggles.

When their laughter dies down, Ian thinks back to how tense things between them had gotten for a moment there. He feels the need to make clear again to Mickey just how much he enjoyed his company tonight. There’s truly nowhere else he’d rather be right now.

He sits back on the couch, rolling his head to the side to look at Mickey. “I had a really great time tonight.”

Mickey sits back too, mirroring Ian’s position. “Yeah?”

Ian just nods in reply, smiling.

“Me too,” Mickey says, the corner of his mouth lifting up.

He looks pleased. Ian’s glad. He wants to make Mickey feel good.

“It’s been a long time since I laughed that much,” Ian tells him. “I’ve been sorta cooped up in the house lately, in a way that’s probably not entirely healthy for me. I forgot how nice it feels to just hang out. I was kinda worried I’d completely lost the ability to interact with other humans for a second.”

He laughs, too busy shaking his head at himself at first to notice Mickey’s change in expression. Ian realizes what he said and grimaces.

“Uhh, well, you know what I mean.” He works his mouth for a few moments, trying to find the words. “Sorry. It’s just… You feel human to me.”

Mickey looks at him and if Ian didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s seeing the android’s eyes going slightly wet—the irises shining in a way Ian hadn’t witnessed yet. Like beautiful pools of the bluest water.

The moment stretches between them. Mickey’s the one to break the eye-contact first, before clearing his throat.

“Uh, so—that guy who texted you earlier…” Mickey pauses. “You don’t gotta tell me shit if you don’t want to. Was just curious,” he says in a rush, half-mumbling.

Ian frowns, looking down. He isn’t particularly in the mood to talk about Richard, but he doesn’t feel like keeping anything from Mickey, either.

“Um, no, it’s okay. I don’t mind. That was Richard. We met a couple months ago and went on one date. He’s been trying to ask me out again ever since.”

Mickey nods, looking away. “You into him?” he asks in a low voice, and Ian almost doesn’t catch what he said.

Ian’s frown deepens. It’s kind of a complicated question. “I mean, he’s a good looking guy. He compliments me a lot. He clearly has money but isn’t a total asshole about it. He’s fun. It’s just… He’s a little older than me and I get the vibe from him that he might be the ‘secretly married with kids’ type.

“I’m not gonna lie—if not for you, there’s a chance I’d have gone out with him tonight. I tend to not make the best choices relationships-wise. Especially when I’m bored or lonely.” He snickers, a little bitterly.

When he turns his attention back to Mickey, he sees him staring into space, his fists clenched where they rest on his thighs and his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Shit. Did Ian say the wrong thing? He did, didn’t he? He must have. Mickey’s probably judging him for being the sort of guy who’d go out with someone he doesn’t really like that much just to stave off boredom.

God, what if Mickey thinks that’s the only reason Ian hung out with him tonight? Because he didn’t have anything better to do? Ian thought he’d already made clear how much he enjoyed Mickey’s company, but… What if he just ruined everything?

He can’t really backtrack now. He would only make even more of an ass of himself. It might be best to call it a night, before Ian has a chance to inadvertently make things worse.

“Um, anyway, like I said… I really had fun tonight. Thank you for, y’know, hanging out with me and making me laugh. I needed it.” Ian smiles at Mickey, trying to catch his eyes, hoping Mickey can really hear what he’s saying. Maybe it will be enough to make up for whatever Ian said wrong before. “I’m gonna go to bed, I think. I’m pretty beat.”

Mickey offers him a small smile and Ian takes it as a win at this point. He gets up from the couch, heading towards the stairs.

“Night,” he says as he walks past Mickey.

Ian doesn’t get a reply right away, but when his foot lands on the bottom step, he hears Mickey call him.

“Ian?”

He turns around. Mickey’s looking at him.

“I had a lot of fun too. Thanks for hangin’ out.” Mickey ducks his head, looking bashful—his voice going impossibly soft as he thanks Ian.

When Mickey finally looks up again Ian’s still there, waiting to smile at him. They lock eyes for a few moments, then Ian makes himself go up the stairs.

There’s a storm of complicated feelings in his chest but he pushes them down for now. They can wait until the morning. Or until he feels up to facing them—whichever comes first.

Chapter Text

The next couple of days pass relatively uneventfully.

It’s the weekend, which means Lip is home more—not needing to go to the lab for long hours and instead staying in and working on Mickey’s programming in his bedroom. Which means Ian doesn’t get to spend any more one on one time with Mickey for a few days. Which is fine.

He busies himself with his studying. He goes for runs. He makes a trip to the grocery store because they’ve run out of everything at the house, and on Sunday he takes Franny to the park.

She asks him about Mickey. She wants to know when she’ll be able to see him again. Ian tells her ‘soon’, changing the subject as quickly as he can.

He doesn’t know what’s best to do in these cases. He’s already worried about his own attachment to Mickey—he has no idea how a 7-year-old will react once the android she’s bonded with and that she named after one of her favorite Disney characters will permanently vanish out of their lives. He just doesn’t want Franny to get hurt.

His own potential hurt—well. Ian’s pushing that down with all his might for the time being.

On Monday he comes down into the kitchen to find Mickey busy pushing the refrigerator, apparently attempting to slide it over to the opposite wall.

Ian rushes down the last few steps of the staircase and yells over the sound of the fridge scraping against the kitchen floor. “Hey! Mickey! The fuck are you doing?”

Mickey stops and turns to look at him. “Hey. Your asshole brother told me to move this.”

Ian raises his hands in exasperation. “Why?!”

“How the fuck should I know? I just do what I’m told, chief. ‘I live to serve humans’ and all that shit.” Mickey smirks.

“What, so he told you to move it and then he just left?”

“Yep. Like five minutes ago.”

Ian furrows his eyebrows. “He could’ve at least fucking helped you. This thing’s heavy as fuck.”

Mickey snorts. “I’m literally built for this shit, man. I know I look small compared to your giraffe-lookin’ ass, but trust me. I don’t need any fuckin’ help doin’ this.”

Ian folds his arms, scowling. He does not look like a fucking giraffe, thank you very much. “Yeah okay, tough guy. When I came in here you were looking like you were struggling a bit. Not exactly the show of superhuman strength I’d associate with a mighty metal machine at all, actually.” He gives him a teasing smirk.

Both of Mickey’s eyebrows go up. “Oh, yeah? Fuckin’ watch this, then.”

And Ian does. Watch him.

Mickey resumes pushing the refrigerator towards the wall, slightly angling his body but not looking like he’s making much of an effort at all. His face shows concentration, but otherwise he doesn’t seem to be straining or getting tired or feeling any sort of pain. The muscles of his arms and back contract and bulge under his shirt, making Ian widen his eyes and feel like he might start salivating any second now.

Much sooner than Ian would have anticipated, the refrigerator is up against the designated wall. Mickey looks at him triumphantly and more than a little smugly. “See? Piece ‘a cake. Didn’t even break a fuckin’ sweat.”

Ian braces himself against the counter behind him. Once he regains the ability to speak, he has to ask. “Uh, well, can you even do that? Sweat?”

Mickey shrugs. “I get overheated just like anything else. When that shit happens there’s a cooling system in place that spews droplets of clear liquid on my skin. Suppose it don’t look too different from when you guys sweat. But this shit?” he gestures with a thumb to the refrigerator behind him. “Nah, that’s nothin’. I’m dry and fresh as a fuckin’ daisy.” He grins, clearly enjoying himself.

The explanation startles a chuckle out of Ian. “Wow. I forget how there’s…still so much I don’t know about you. About how you function, how different—or similar—you are to a person and to the way our bodies work.”

“Well, ask away, doc. You studyin’ human anatomy all day, right? Bet you’re curious as fuck to know all the ways they replicated that shit in this hot little android body o’ mine.”

His smirk is fucking lethal. Ian’s brain short-circuits as he registers Mickey’s words and tries to come up with a response at the same time. “Um… I mean, I don’t—”

“Come on. You’ve asked about food already, now sweat…” He counts on his fingers. “Anythin’ else you’re dyin’ to find out about, Gallagher? Hm? Don’t you wanna learn about more of my bodily functions—fluids, appendages… crevices, shit like that? ‘Bout all my nooks and crannies?”

Mickey’s tongue pokes out to wet the corner of his mouth, and there’s no way he’s not doing this on purpose, right? There isn’t a world where this could be read as innocent behavior.

It’s a new side of Mickey Ian hasn’t encountered so far. Is he…flirting with Ian? Trying to make him embarrassed? Provoke a reaction out of him?

Ian feels himself blush. Shit.

The thing is… he has been curious about a couple of details regarding Mickey’s anatomy. Specifically the parts of it that are covered by clothes.

He could easily chalk it up to scientific curiosity. Right? Mickey sort of just gave him an opening to do that—his flirtatious teasing notwithstanding. There’s just no way Ian’s going to come right out with that kind of anatomy-based question straight off the bat though.

“Okay, um… How ‘bout sleep? Do you need it? Or is it more like plugging in and charging a battery?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow, eyeing Ian like he can see right through him. But he seems to decide to play along. “No pluggin’ in necessary. I’m one hundred percent wireless, bitch.” He grins. “I do need to stay inactive while I charge up, though. So I guess it ain’t that different from human sleep. ‘Cept I don’t gotta lie down. I’ve just been sittin’ on your couch for the last few nights since I’ve been here.”

“Oh. Kinda glad I didn’t go into the living room during the night this past week. You’d have scared the shit out of me sitting there all creepy as fuck—presumably with your eyes wide open, too.”

Mickey flips him off. “Fuck off. I close my eyes. Not that I need to, strictly speaking. I just don’t wanna run the risk of giving any weak-ass humans a fuckin’ heart attack if they happen to see me in sleep mode.”

Ian lets out a laugh, raising his hands in mock surrender. His eyes fall on Mickey’s shirt and a thought pops into his head. “Okay, here’s something I’ve been wondering about. I always see you with a different set of clothes. Now you just told me you don’t really sweat. Not like we do. I’m assuming you don’t produce…odors, either? Do you even need to change your clothes? Or to shower, for that matter?”

Mickey’s lips twist into a smirk. He takes a few steps towards Ian, getting in his space. “I’ll let you be the judge of that, Gallagher. D’you think I stink?”

He looks up at Ian through his eyelashes. Ian has to clench his fists, afraid of what his hands would do if he let them.

Mickey’s smell is faint but intoxicating. He wonders briefly what kind of technological fucking witchcraft could possibly get him to have this reaction to the android. Not like there are hormones at play here or anything. So why does he feel this pull? This need?

“Uh, no, you smell alright to me,” Ian finally manages to say.

Mercifully—or maybe not so mercifully—Mickey backs off a bit. “Yeah, that shit’s on purpose. We’re supposed to not be repellent to humans. You’re supposed to not hate havin’ us around. A bad smell would be counterproductive and shit, don’t ya think?”

Ian nods, so Mickey continues. “The cooling liquid’s odorless and gets reabsorbed by our synthetic skin as soon as it serves its purpose, leaving no trace. Dust and other particles can accumulate on the skin and in my hair, so I do need cleanin’ every once in a while, just like anythin’ else. A shower will do the trick.

“And clothes have a tendency to get dirty, especially with the kinda shit your brother has me do around the house. By the way, I’m supposed to do a load of laundry later, if you got any shit you want washin’.”

Ian feels his eyes widen. Lip is just unbelievable. “What you mean is he’s supposed to do laundry! It’s his turn this week. I can’t believe he treats you like his personal fucking—”

“Android?” Mickey supplies, grinning. “Look, man, it is what it is. Ain’t my fuckin’ passion in life to clean your brother’s dirty undies, but it’s whatever. Lotta worse shit I could be doin’.”

Ian’s annoyance instantly leaves his body as he gets what Mickey might be hinting at. “You mean like what the guys that took you had you doing?” He’s trying to respect Mickey’s right not to tell him the whole story, if it makes him uncomfortable to talk about it. It’s just that Ian wants to know everything about Mickey. The good and the bad.

“Yeah… Yeah.” Mickey looks thoughtful for a moment, then he seems to snap out of it. He eyes his own arms and scowls. “Y’know, I fuckin’ hate these stupid clothes that geek back at the lab got for me. These goddamn sleeves are so fuckin’ annoying. I need to be able to move freely to do these jobs around the house and shit. You know what? That’s it.”

Ian watches him furiously open drawers around the kitchen and then slamming them shut again. What the fuck is Mickey even looking for? After a while he finally seems to put his hands on what he was after. He gets a pair of scissors out and sets them on the counter—and before Ian knows what’s happening, Mickey has taken off his shirt in a single, swift movement.

“Wha—What are you doing?” Ian asks in a panic. He doesn’t know where to look. He doesn’t want to ogle, but. Fuck.

Mickey takes the scissors in his hand and starts unceremoniously cutting the sleeves of his shirt off. “What’s it look like I’m doin’? Same thing I’m gonna be doin’ to all the shirts I wear. Maybe some of the pants, too.”

Ian looks on in awed disbelief. Once Mickey’s done, he holds the shirt up in the air triumphantly and turns to Ian, like he’s waiting for him to comment on his sartorial work or something.

“Um. Yeah. Looks good,” is all Ian can muster, still trying not to lose his mind. He’s frankly much less concerned with Mickey’s newly sleeveless shirt than he is with the well-built naked torso right behind it.

He must stare at Mickey’s chest for longer than he meant to, because when he looks up he finds Mickey looking right back at him, a smirk on his lips. He then advances on Ian again, making Ian’s heart pick up speed and his vision turn slightly blurry. Ian heaves a sigh of relief when Mickey pauses to put his shirt back on—but a second later Mickey’s fully caging him against the counter, his face mere inches from Ian’s.

“You sure you don’t got any more questions for me, Gallagher? Any other part of my anatomy you’re hopin’ to learn all about?” he asks in a throaty voice.

“Uh… I don’t—” Ian doesn’t really know why he’s this tongue-tied and nervous right now. It’s not like he’s a prude, for fuck’s sake. And he’s not a blushing virgin either, not even close. Plus he knows he could just be very clinical about this, under the protective guise of wanting to know these things strictly out of professional curiosity. You know, for science.

But there’s something about Mickey that just turns Ian into a babbling puddle of embarrassed goo, unable to keep his cool or handle the situation with any sort of detachment whatsoever.

Mickey’s teasing, his smell, how good he looks… they’re all making his brain lose the ability to concentrate. Plus it’s the fact that there’s a definite non-professional reason why Ian wants to know more about Mickey’s body—and the reality that he can’t quite reconcile having these thoughts about someone who isn’t human.

After all, what does it say about Ian that he’s this attracted to a machine? That’s what Mickey is, as much as Ian doesn’t like to think of him that way. An object, a thing. Could they even have any kind of real relationship? Would an android be able to give consent? Ian’s mind is spinning with all kinds of mind-boggling questions and scenarios.

“Goddamn, Gallagher, you’re so fuckin’ tense.” Now Mickey’s hands are actually on him. He’s gripping Ian’s waist, the touch feeling like it’s burning through his clothes. “Y’know, I could give you a massage if you want—that shit’s part of my programming. Among other things…” He huffs a chuckle.

“Mickey, I can’t—” Ian doesn’t really know how to finish the sentence. He just knows he can’t do this. Not now.

This shit is all just too confusing, too weird for him to even start processing it. Sure, he could just give in to what his body is feeling—find out for himself all about Mickey’s android bodily functions and sensual massage programming—but his brain’s resolutely telling him to take a beat here.

He can’t afford to be impulsive, not anymore. His head’s a mess of tangled thoughts and memories, mixing up what Mickey’s told him, what Lip’s told him and what Ian has experienced for himself. He needs to sort through the chaos in his mind before rushing into anything.

Ian opens and closes his mouth wordlessly. He watches Mickey’s expression soften as he slowly lets go of the counter on either side of Ian and backs off a few steps.

“I—I should probably go back to my books,” Ian mutters in a rush of words, not looking at Mickey. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“You don’t gotta apologize, man. I was just messing with you. ‘S all good.”

Ian chances a glance at him. Mickey’s smiling softly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna go. I’ll, uh…see you later.” He sees Mickey respond with a small nod. Then Ian’s gone from the kitchen in a flash, bolting up the stairs, not daring to look back again.

As he closes his bedroom door behind him, Ian feels like an asshole and a coward.

A part of him would like nothing more than to go back downstairs right now and say or do anything that might make Mickey touch him again. He wants Mickey to tease him, flirt with him, tell Ian all about what his body can do, what they could do together if only Ian would let himself take that leap.

But another part of him is afraid. It has doubts, and a deep-seated instinct towards protecting himself. What if what Lip said it’s true? What if it’s all just programming? Is someone like Mickey even capable of experiencing feelings and desires of his own, or do lines of code determine his every word and action?

Ian’s head feels like it’s about to spit out smoke from his ears with how much he’s thinking and dwelling and wrestling with all of this.

He needs to think. He needs to not think. He just needs some goddamn rest.

Maybe after that things will seem clearer.

He should have known better.

The bone-deep heaviness is unwelcome, but familiar.

Ian should have seen this coming. He always feels that way after the fact. This time it seems like it should have been even more obvious than usual.

It’s not as bad as it can sometimes get. It still sucks, though.

He hates the idea that no matter what he does, a day like this is always around the corner.

Sometime during the long, dark afternoon there’s a knock at his door.

It’s Lip.

“Hey. You haven’t come out of your room all day. You okay?”

Ian only shifts his position in bed slightly in way of a response.

“Bad day?” Lip asks, already knowing the answer.

It takes an extraordinary amount of effort to nod, but Ian thinks he manages it.

Lip nods back. “Okay. I’ll bring something up in case you feel like eating a bite. And I’ll call your doctor, schedule an appointment.”

This time Ian doesn’t even think about making the effort.

Lip doesn’t wait for an answer anyway.

A moment later the door’s closing back behind him, plunging Ian back into the utter darkness that surrounds him.

***

The next day there’s no knock before someone’s slowly pulling on the accordion door and letting themselves in.

There’s a long silence, then.

Ian has his back to the door, so he can’t see who it is. Lip? Debbie, maybe? But why would they stand there in silence like this?

If only he had the energy, maybe he’d be curious enough to roll over and check. He doesn’t.

After a while Ian feels the mattress shift, as if someone is sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey. Your brother had to rush out. Told me to come check you were alive in here and shit.”

Mickey’s voice comes as a surprise. Not that Ian had forgotten about him—far from it. He just didn’t think Mickey would come see him. Or maybe it’s that Ian didn’t want Mickey to see him like this. But it makes sense that Lip would send him to check on Ian in his place.

He hears Mickey sigh. “It’s not just that, though. I, uh, I also wanted to see you. See for myself how you were doin’.”

Oh.

There’s a flicker of something inside Ian’s chest, as numb as he is at the moment to feel the full intensity of it.

“Lip told me what this is. You ain’t up to talkin’, huh?” Mickey seems to take Ian’s silence as an answer. “You mind if I talk for a while?”

It takes everything Ian has in him to lightly shake his head and he hopes Mickey manages to see it in the dim light of the room.

“Okay,” the android says. A pause. “The thing is, I don’t wanna fuckin’ play games with you. Not anymore. Feels like all we’ve done is just dance around each other. Ever since I got here—you, busy tryna figure me the fuck out and me messin’ with your head ‘cause I was afraid of givin’ away too much about myself.”

Ian’s brain is doing its best to keep up, but between the heaviness, the fuzziness in his mind right now and the fact he’s pretty sure he’s missing some key information here, it’s got no fucking chance.

“And that’s what this is, ain’t it? I messed with your head. Lip said this shit’ll just happen to you from time to time even on your meds, that it’s pretty normal—but I did some research. Stress can trigger this. I’m to fuckin’ blame. For… I don’t fuckin’ know. For some of it, at least.”

A beat of silence follows. Then a sigh.

“I—I was just so fuckin’ worried about you. I am worried about you. I needed to keep a lid on it in front of your brother, but I almost fuckin’ blew the whole thing wide open when I heard what was goin’ on with you. I just… I don’t wanna keep this shit from you anymore. It’s fuckin’ risky, and I know I’m putting you in an impossible situation by tellin’ you, but fuck…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ian sees Mickey drag a hand down his face before he shakes his head.

“The fact is I’m not supposed to worry about you. I ain’t supposed to feel…any of this shit. I’m not meant to have feelings, period. And I need to be really careful about who knows about it. It’s— I’d be considered defective. If people at ProTech found out they’d dig real deep into my programming to find where the fuck it all went wrong. They’d end up having to restore me to my stupid-ass factory settings once they realize it’s not an easy fuckin’ fix.

“You’re the first person I’ve been able to be myself with—the first one who really saw me for who I am, even though I couldn’t tell you about it. I mean some shit started to come to the surface when I was around Mandy, but it was too early in the process then. I was still basically not much more than an advanced can opener.” He chuckles, but it sounds bitter to Ian’s ears.

“But with you…” Mickey continues. “That’s when I really started to feel. I could sense the shift. From mimicking and pretending to the real thing. It scared the shit out of me. And that was something else that was new—fear. You joked about me being the equivalent of a human baby once. You had no idea how right you were. This past week I was like a fuckin’ newborn, experiencing the world for the first time. Every feeling and sensation was new to me, scary and exciting at the same time.

“It was hard as fuck to keep it all bottled up in front of your brother, pretend it was all just part of my programming, an aspect of my successful mimicking of human behavior. But with you I could fuckin’...let go. Of the pretense, of the fear. It felt so good to just be me. No bullshit, no more putting on an act. I answered your questions, careful not to give too much away about the way I was changing—but I was. Changing. With every moment I spent with you.”

Mickey pauses, leaving Ian’s mind swimming with thoughts and worries and questions. So many questions. If only he had the energy or the presence of mind to ask them.

“I don’t know if I’m doin’ the right thing tellin’ you all this. It’s my fuckin’ problem, you don’t owe me anything. And I’ve probably fucked your life enough already as it is, but… I just needed somebody to know. I needed you to know.”

Ian thinks he’d be speechless even if he was in different circumstances right now. His brain can’t even begin to process all of this. He just feels too exhausted and drained.

“Anyway, I’m, uh… I’m gonna let you rest now. Sorry for unloadin’ all this bullshit on you when you can’t really tell me to shut the fuck up.” Mickey huffs a wet-sounding laugh. Ian feels him get off the bed and put his hand on Ian’s knee above the covers for a quick moment. “Hope you feel better soon, Red. I’ll come check on you again later.”

And with that he’s gone. Leaving Ian with an emptiness that seems to have surprisingly little to do with his depressed state.

He feels so powerless. Useless. He just wants to be there for Mickey.

Ian’s desperate to help him, but right now he’s in no condition to do anything—anything but lie here and wish his brain would release him from the dark pit he’s currently imprisoned in.

Chapter Text

Ian trudges through the back door, entering the kitchen closely followed by his brother.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay from here on your own?” Lip asks.

“Yes. Go. I’ll be fine.” Ian holds on to the chair nearest to him, feeling the irresistible pull of his bed upstairs. “Besides. Mickey’s here, right?”

He’s been thinking again about how there’s no way of knowing how long Mickey will be allowed to stay in the house with them. And he hasn’t really stopped thinking about everything that Mickey told him when he was in bed. The one thing keeping him going right now is the thought of talking to him about all of it.

Ian needs to see him. He needs to make sure Mickey’s not going to disappear from his life anytime soon.

Lip nods. “Yeah. Should be here somewhere…” He looks around, then hears Mickey come down the stairs at that very moment. “Ah. There he is. I’m going to the lab,” Lip addresses Mickey, whose eyes haven’t left Ian since he joined them in the room. “Look out for him, get him anything he needs.”

“‘Course I will,” Mickey says softly, still looking right at Ian.

Ian sees Lip frown for a moment from the corner of his eye. He’s worried Mickey might be betraying himself, forgetting to put on an act in front of Lip.

“I’ll be okay, Lip. You can go,” he says to try and distract his brother, who turns to look at him.

“Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.”

Ian watches Lip walk out the door, and the moment he’s gone, Mickey’s striding right up to Ian. He raises his hand to cradle the side of Ian’s neck, looking at him straight in the eyes, Mickey’s own wide and soft and concerned.

“You okay?” Mickey asks.

Ian nods a little, wanting more than anything for Mickey to keep his hand right there on his skin. “Yeah. I will be. I know I look like shit right now, but the readjusted meds should kick in soon.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey says in a voice so sweet the contrast with his words would make Ian laugh if he was able to right now. “You could never look like shit.”

Ian scoffs. “You haven’t seen me at my worst. This was bad, the last couple days, but it wasn’t the worst. I was at least able to shower by myself before I started to stink too bad.” He gives him a sad smile, hating how pathetic he sounds—and looks, most likely.

“Hey.” Mickey shakes Ian a bit with the hand still gripping his neck. “I don’t give a fuck about that shit. I just wish I could’ve done more to help without worrying your brother was gonna be on my ass if he noticed I cared.”

“There wasn’t much more you could do, anyway,” Ian tries to reassure him. “It helped when you came to see me—everything you told me. Knowing you cared helped.”

The corners of Mickey’s mouth lift up in a soft smile. Ian continues, “And I know how much of a risk that was.” He frowns. “Scratch that. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through, really. Thank you for, you know, trusting me with all of that.”

Mickey bites the corner of his lip. “I do, you know—trust you. And I just couldn’t keep that shit bottled up anymore. Not knowin’ what was goin’ on with you scared the shit out of me. That, plus all the other emotions… it was way too fuckin’ much for me to process on my own.”

He’s looking Ian in the eye all soft again. Then he releases his grip on Ian’s neck, slowly sliding his hand down and leaving a tingly feeling of electricity on Ian’s skin where his touch had been. “Wanna sit down for a bit?” Mickey asks, gesturing to the chairs around the table.

Ian nods, taking a seat. Mickey sits down beside him, instead of opposite him like the last time they spoke here.

“It’s like I was tellin’ you the other day. It’s all fuckin’ new to me,” Mickey explains. “Fear, hurt, excitement, anger… I’ve seen them on humans before, and I’ve learned to replicate what they look like, but to actually fuckin’ feel them? It’s just not supposed to happen for someone like me. I don’t know how to deal with all these weird-ass feelings. I’m not fuckin’—,” he pauses, looking for the right word, “equipped for them. And havin’ to repress ‘em so I don’t get found out makes everything even fuckin’ harder.”

“It’s so great though, Mick. I mean… You’re evolving. Learning empathy. That means you’re so much better than a lot of actual human beings. You actually care, and you’re kind to me. You’re amazing, actually.” Ian needs him to know. He needs Mickey to know how special he is.

“I don’t feel fuckin’ amazing. I just feel like shit. Is this what humans deal with all the time? Guess I can see why your whiny asses are always complainin’ about everything.”

Ian snorts. “I mean, you’ve seen firsthand what heightened emotional states and imbalanced moods do to my brain. But even for everyone else—yeah, it’s no fucking picnic sometimes. There are upsides to being able to feel shit, though.”

It’s Mickey’s time to snort. “Yeah, I’ll take your word for it. Like, sure, I guess some shit has felt good…” He looks down at his hands, fidgeting, tracing the outline of his fingers. “But it’s just bringin’ up so fuckin’ much. Y’know, from the time I was stayin’ with…Mandy’s family.”

He’s wringing his hands more nervously now. “Shit I was never meant to dwell on. Shit that shoulda stayed buried once they fixed me up all pretty again back at the lab. Why am I even still thinkin’ about what they said to me, what they did to me?”

Mickey’s voice is starting to sound strained, desperate and Ian wishes he could take this hurt away from him, that there was something he could do at all.

“That’s definitely part of what being human is like. Wanting to forget the fucked up shit that happened to you, that’s bringing you nothing but more pain. I got my fair share of that too—lots of lingering trauma, to go along nicely with the mental illness.” Ian gives a bitter little chuckle.

Mickey looks at him with big, sad eyes. “So how do you deal with it?”

Ian shrugs. “Therapy. Or you know, just talking about it with someone who’s willing to listen. Don’t get me wrong, it hurts like hell at first—when you start to confront shit instead of being in blissful denial about it. But eventually it helps.”

Mickey drags a hand down his face. “Great,” he deadpans.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.” He chances a hand on Mickey’s knee, stilling it where it had been bouncing up and down nervously.

The nod he gets from Mickey stills something inside Ian, too. He doesn’t mean they have to get into it right now, if Mickey isn’t ready. He just wants him to know he’s here for him.

“They, uh…” Mickey’s voice sounds pained, broken. “They used to burn my skin with lit cigarettes.”

Shit. Ian’s heart constricts in his chest. He wants to be brave for Mickey, be ready to listen just like he assured him, but this is going to be bad. It’s going to be unbearable to hear.

“Made jokes about me bein’ their electric ashtray,” Mickey continues. “It…didn’t really hurt much. My threshold for pain is a lot higher than a human’s. It’s just so I know when to stop doin’ something before I damage myself too badly. But hearin’ them laugh… The way they treated me like a thing to be used and mocked and discarded like trash—that started to hurt more and more as I started to…feel more, I guess.”

Mickey pauses, working his mouth wordlessly for a few beats.

“And then the dad… Terry. He made me do some fuckin’...heinous shit. At the time my programming didn’t include a safeguard like it does now, so any prick could tell me what to do and I’d be forced to execute. See, the geeks at the lab never expected I’d get pinched from under their noses. They never saw a need to implement that shit.

“So Terry could make me do whatever he liked. He—He had me beat the shit out of people. Guys who owed him money, rival gun runners… And this one time a couple of dudes just because he saw them hold hands in the street.” He draws a shaky breath. “One of them was in bad fuckin’ shape by the time we got the fuck outta there. I looked it up later, found out the guy didn’t make it…”

The choked sob that escapes Mickey’s throat breaks Ian’s heart, if it wasn’t already broken after hearing what he just told him. Mickey brings his hands to his face, violently digging his palms into his eyes.

“And the really fucked up thing,” Mickey continues, his voice broken, “is that there were times when they treated me like I was one of them. Like these stupid-ass tattoos.” He pulls his hands away from his face and stares at the backs of his fingers. “There were small moments when he was proud. Terry. He called me son. Once I started to feel everything for real, the guilt over what I did for him became just too fuckin’ much, ‘cause deep down it felt— It felt good to make him proud of me. That’s what really fucked with my head. That there was some part of me that needed him to love me. After all he did to me, I couldn’t even fuckin’ hate him. Not completely. How fucked-up is that?”

Ian can feel the bile rise up inside him at the thought of what Terry put Mickey through. His eyes fill with tears. He knew Mickey was carrying a heavy burden, but he couldn’t even imagine the extent of it before hearing it laid out like this.

All he wants is to protect Mickey from ever going through something like that ever again. He just wishes he could hurt those who hurt Mickey—make them suffer, make them pay.

As it is, all he can do right now is gently take Mickey’s trembling hands, hold them in his own. Whisper to him over and over that it’s not his fault. That it’s okay. That he’s safe now.

All Ian can do is wrap Mickey in a hug, let him lay his head on Ian’s shoulder and scream out his pain. As long as Mickey needs to.

Chapter Text

“Mick? Can I come in?” Ian asks, knocking on the door of his brother’s room.

“Yeah, come in. Promise I’m decent.”

Ian can’t help but grin as he enters, soon seeing the same expression reflected on Mickey’s face.

He’s glad they’re back to this. He missed this casual joking around and teasing with Mickey. There’s been a lot of heaviness, a lot of emotional stuff shared between them. It’s the whole reason Ian now feels closer to Mickey than ever, but it’s good to still be able to laugh together too.

“You know you don’t gotta knock, man,” Mickey tells him, before turning more serious. “Your brother gone?”

“Uh-huh, he just went out. You okay?” Ian doesn’t miss the frown creasing Mickey’s eyebrows.

“It’s just…” Mickey lets out a sigh. “It’s getting harder and harder to pretend to be all unfeelin’ and robot-like with your brother. I can tell him to fuck off and he’ll just chalk that up to me havin’ been too long with the Milkoviches—thank fuck for that—but today I almost blew up on his ass for real. In a way neither of us woulda been able to explain away without winnin’ me a first-class fuckin’ ticket to Reprogramming Town.”

“Shit,” Ian says, his tone betraying more amusement than he intended. “I’m sorry, I know this is serious. It’s just kinda funny to picture you trying to rein in your annoyance with Lip and not explode.”

“Fuck off,” Mickey half snorts. “It is pretty fuckin’ serious. I can’t risk them takin’ my memories away, Ian, or my ability to feel shit. Can’t let that happen.” He clenches his fists. “I won’t. Not after everything.”

“Hey.” Ian goes to sit on Lip’s bed next to Mickey. “I won’t let them do that to you.”

Mickey looks at him, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Yeah? What are you gonna do, Ian? You can’t fuckin’ stop them. Your own brother works for them for fuck’s sake, and he won’t hesitate to pull the plug on me if he suspects anything.”

“I don’t—” Ian lets out a breath. “I don’t know what I can do about it. But I’ll do whatever I can when the time comes.” He needs Mickey to know how determined he is, how much he won’t give up on him.

Mickey’s eyes soften. “This ain’t your fight. I know I pulled you into it, but you can still walk away.” He looks down at his hands. “I’m fucked either way, man. I’m just a broken toy to them. A toy that needs fixin’ so they can make their money. You’re human. You have a fuckin’ future. You shouldn’t get dragged down into this shitshow with me.”

Ian shakes his head fiercely. “You’re so much more than that, Mickey. You might not be human but you mean so much more than that to me. There’s no going back for me now. I can’t walk away, not after knowing you.” He sniffs a little. “I won’t—I can’t lose you, Mickey.”

Mickey’s mouth parts. No sound escapes. He just looks at Ian with an expression of awe and disbelief. Ian hates to think how few people Mickey has had in his corner. He wants to be that person for him. Ian knows how important it is to know someone believes in you, cares about you, wants you to stick around.

“So, you know, you’re stuck with my ass,” Ian jokes trying to ease the tension, his chuckle coming out wet and a little strained.

Mickey lets out a small laugh of his own. Then he just smiles at Ian, his face visibly more relaxed.

“It’s gonna be okay, Mick. We’ll figure it out.” He takes Mickey’s hand in his and squeezes hard.

Ian isn’t one hundred percent sure how they’re going to fix things, but he thinks that right now this is what Mickey needs. A little hope. The knowledge that someone is willing to fight alongside him.

Mickey nods, biting the corner of his mouth. His eyes are covered in a film of unshed tears.

Ian isn’t sure about a lot, but he vows to himself to do whatever it takes to keep Mickey safe.

“So Franny, your mom told me you want a princess-themed party for your birthday.”

His niece immediately scrunches up her nose, which makes Ian laugh. “It’s mommy that wants princesses. I hate princesses,” she replies, continuing to color her drawing at the coffee table.

“Princesses are lame,” Mickey pipes up from his place on the couch. “You should do cops and robbers. Your mom can be the cop, and you and me can shoot her with a water gun until she begs us to stop.”

A laugh startles out of Ian at the thought of Debbie—in full princess gear—being chased around by Mickey and Franny with water pistols. It would completely ruin her perfectly-planned party, which is admittedly more for her own sake than for her daughter’s.

“Shit, I’d pay good money to see that,” Ian says, making Mickey turn to him and grin.

Franny, meanwhile, is getting very excited at the prospect of weapons instead of frilly dresses. “Yay, guns! I wanna be a robber! Are you gonna be at my party, Uncle Mickey?” she asks with big eyes.

Ian doesn’t know how to feel exactly about Franny having formed the habit of calling Mickey that.

On the one hand it’s cute as fuck, and it makes Ian’s heart skip a beat every time he hears her calling him her uncle. Like he’s family to her, just like he is to Ian. On the other hand it hurts to think of how attached she’s gotten to Mickey in such a short time, despite everyone reminding her that he might not be with them for long.

“We’ll see about that, Little Red.” Mickey throws a glance at Ian, silently communicating that same anxiety.

Franny frowns, seeming to think something over. “Is it cuz they might send you away from America because you’re not from here? Mommy’s friend Sara had that problem, and mommy said she was gonna marry her just to keep her here! But then Sara went away and mom doesn’t wanna talk about her anymore now…”

Her voice goes sad, and Ian stifles a groan at the mess that is his sister’s dating life.

“So you could marry someone too and stay with us!” Franny continues after the momentary sadness is gone from her mind. Her eyes widen and Ian can practically see the lightbulb above her head. “Like Uncle Ian! You like Uncle Ian, right? You could be husbands and live together here!”

Ian feels his face getting hot and his mouth gaping, as he searches for the words to explain things to Franny.

Mickey beats him to it. “I do like him, kid.” He looks meaningfully at Ian before turning his attention back to Franny. “The problem’s not that I ain’t from here. It’s ‘cause I’m an android. Androids can’t get married, and anyway it wouldn’t help.”

“Remember how we explained that Mickey isn’t just like any other person, even if he looks like a person?” Ian tries, hoping not to confuse her further.

Franny scowls adorably. “But that’s stupid. My friend Gracie always says ‘If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s a duck!’. And she’s super smart, Uncle Ian. If he looks and talks like a person then he is a person, and it’s silly not to let him get married so he can stay here with us!”

If Ian’s honest, he agrees with that logic. Even though Franny seems to still think this is a green card situation.

“It is silly, Franny. But it’s how it works. Some rules are just stupid like that, and there’s a bunch of them saying who can and can’t get married, and who they can get married to. Besides, getting married is a huge step. You should always think about if you’re doing it for the right reason. Like if you’re in love with someone.”

Franny considers this. “So if a person can’t marry an android, does that mean you can’t fall in love with an android?”

Ian looks over at Mickey, feeling his heart skip a beat as he holds Mickey’s gaze. “No, I don’t think it means that, Fran. I think a person can fall in love with an android just as much as they can fall in love with another person.”

“Then it’s really dumb that people can’t get married to them,” Franny concludes, pouting.

“I know. You’re right.” Ian shrugs. “But these sorts of things can change with time. Y’know, a while ago I couldn’t have married another man. The law wouldn’t have let me. Things are different now, though.”

Franny nods sagely, then smiles. “Okay. So maybe pretty soon androids will get to do everything a person can, like getting married to who they love!”

Ian looks at Mickey, who’s biting his bottom lip and scratching his nose with his thumb. “Yeah, Fran. Maybe. I hope so.” He sighs, combing a hand through his hair. “I really hope you’re right.”

“Hey, you got a second?” Mickey peeks his head through the doorway to Ian’s bedroom, his hand resting on the accordion door.

Ian closes the textbook on his lap, setting it aside. “‘Course. What’s up?” Not like he had been able to concentrate much anyway. These days when he’s not with Mickey, Ian’s most likely thinking about him. So he’s very glad of the interruption and the sight of the man himself.

“Was just thinkin’ ‘bout what you were sayin’ to the kid yesterday.”

Well, that’s a coincidence. Ian hasn’t been able to get it out of his mind either.

He plays dumb for the time being. “Oh, yeah?”

Mickey nods, his gaze settling on anything in the room but Ian. He huffs a breath, makes a sound like he’s clearing his throat. “You mean it?”

“Mean what?” No way Ian’s going to say anything potentially embarrassing right off the bat, not until Mickey gives him a little more than this.

Mickey lets out an unsteady sigh, followed by a tiny shrug. “That you think people can fall in love with androids.”

All of Ian’s restraint crumbles into dust.

“Of course I meant it, Mickey,” he says, his voice tinged with emotion. “After getting to know you, how could I not think that? You’re capable of so much more than what I thought an android could be. You’re kind, thoughtful, funny… I already told you before how I honestly prefer talking to you than to most people. You’re not any less than a human in my eyes, and being human doesn’t automatically make someone good. But you are good and you’re worthy of love.”

Ian hesitates before continuing. “Why, are you—” he tries. “Do you think you could fall in love? Is that…something you’d want?”

Mickey shuffles a bit on the spot. “Yeah, I…I think I could. And…yeah. Yeah.” Without warning, he quickly walks over to the bed where Ian is still sitting, perching himself on the edge of it. They’re so close Ian wants to scream. “Ian,I— Fuck,” Mickey starts.

Ian takes one of Mickey’s fidgeting hands in his own. “Hey, it’s okay. You know you can tell me everything.” Ian’s heart is beating so fast it’s all he can hear, all he can focus on.

“I…” Mickey starts leaning in, his face turned up towards Ian’s.

That’s when everything crashes down on them.

“What the actual fuck?!” Lip’s voice sounds almost foreign to Ian’s ears. It takes him a moment to regain his bearings and recognize his brother, let alone process what Lip’s just witnessed and how completely fucked they are.

Mickey scrambles to his feet, looking more panicked than Ian’s ever seen him, blue eyes wide and unfocused as they dart around the space.

Ian sits up straighter on the bed, hurrying to raise his hand in a placating gesture. “Lip, I can explain—”

Lip ignores him and starts talking over him. “This can’t—I mean, it literally can’t be happening. There must be something seriously fucking wrong with his programming. I’m gonna have to—” He strides over to where Mickey is standing, one hand held out ready to touch the space between the android’s clavicles.

Ian gets up in a flash as soon as he realizes what his brother’s about to do and plants himself between Lip and Mickey.

“Stop! No! You can’t turn him off!”

“Yes, I fucking can, Ian! And you’re gonna move outta the way, now! What the fuck are you thinking?!”

“I—” Ian wills his brain to come up with something—anything—that can get his brother to back off. “Can’t we just—Can’t we just talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about, Ian?! He’s a malfunctioning machine and I need to fix it. I told you not to get fucking attached! He’s not human, Ian!”

“I know he isn’t, and I don’t fucking care!” Ian yells. “Okay?!” He’s breathing harshly now, his heart doing somersaults inside his chest.

Lip groans, wiping a hand across his face. “I need to… Fuck, I need to go call someone.” And with that he’s off, leaving them both standing there as he heads to his own room.

Ian’s after him in an instant, vaguely aware Mickey’s staying behind. “Call who? Lip, stop! Will you just—Will you just listen to me for a second?” He snatches his brother’s phone from his hand, forcing him to look at him.

Lip sighs as he tugs a hand through his curly hair. “Ian, whatever you think is going on here, I can promise you you’re wrong, okay? An android veering from his programming needs to be stopped, period. We gotta reset his cognitive functions and start from scratch, there’s no other way.”

“You can’t just erase everything he is like it’s nothing! I won’t let you fucking do it. He’s not a broken machine, he’s… He’s my friend.”

“Friend, huh? That sure didn’t look like friendship to me.” Lip sneers. “Are you fucking him? Is that it? Shit, Ian, I know these models have some pre-installed sexual functions, but fuck—”

Ian shakes his head vehemently. “It’s not like that! We’ve never even… That was the first time we got that close. We just talk, all right? He has feelings and—and opinions, he’s… He’s evolving, Lip!”

“Evolv— For fuck’s sake, Ian! Are you even listening to yourself?!”

Ian opens and closes his mouth, stumped on what to say for a moment. “I know what I’m doing, Lip, okay? I know you’ve felt like you needed to protect me in the past, but I’m not some gullible 15-year-old kid anymore! This is real. He’s changing, I’ve seen it. You gotta trust me,” he concludes, pleading.

Lip lets out a long sigh. “Ian. Are you taking your meds?”

Ian’s mouth falls open. He closes it and juts his chin out, teeth gritting in frustration and anger. “You did not just ask me that. I’m not fucking manic.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think here, huh? I’m worried about you, man. You’re not making any sense. What, next you’re gonna tell me you’re fucking in love with an android?!”

Ian feels all the air leave his lungs. He’s not ready to answer that question. Not now, not when it’s his brother asking. Especially not with how scornful Lip’s tone is right now.

“Look. I’m asking as a favor to me, okay? Don’t…do anything. For now. Don’t try to turn him off, or reprogram him, and don’t call anyone about this. I need— We need to figure out what to do next. Can you just give me some time?”

Lip lifts an eyebrow, eyeing him closely. “I don’t know what good it’ll do you. There’s no amount of time that’s gonna solve this fucking mess until you let me fix him myself or call someone who’ll take this off our hands completely.”

“Please, Lip. I’m begging. Just sit on it for a bit.” Ian looks at his watch and thinks. “Listen, Debbie’s gonna be here to drop Franny off soon. Why don’t you take her to the park for a couple hours? We’ll talk more when you get back. Just don’t do anything rash, okay? That’s all I’m asking here.”

Lip still looks skeptical.

“Do it for me? Please?” Ian insists. “You know I wouldn’t ask you this if I wasn’t sure. This is too important.”

“Okay. Fine,” Lip says finally. “You’ve got two hours. You’d better find a magical fucking solution to this by then, otherwise you’re just delaying the inevitable.”

Ian nods, watching his brother head downstairs. He needs to check on Mickey.

He finds him sitting on his bed, hands furiously digging into his eye sockets while his knee bounces up and down.

“Hey,” Ian tries, going up to him. “How’re you doing?”

“Oh, just fuckin’ swell.” His voice is cracked, unsteady, like Ian’s never heard it before.

Ian sits down next to him. “Lip is gonna hold off on doing anything for now. I got him to give us a little bit of time. So, talk to me, Mick. What do you wanna do?”

Mickey groans. “I don’t know, man! What the fuck can I do? They’re never gonna let me just go. I’m too fuckin’ valuable to them. They won’t give a fuck that I’ve got feelings now. They’ll just see it as a problem, as me malfunctioning—just like your brother. I’ll get reprogrammed and I won’t even remember any of this. Won’t remember you…” He turns desperate eyes towards Ian, scanning his face, like he’s trying to commit him to memory.

They sit in silence for a few moments. Ian knew this moment might be coming, but that doesn’t mean he’s in any way prepared for it. He’s not ready to lose Mickey and he never will be.

“What if you ran? What if we ran?” Ian’s own voice sounds strange to him. He honestly didn’t know what he was going to say until he said it.

Mickey’s eyes grow wide. “The fuck? Where would we even go?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere. Anywhere. Start over someplace new. Is that—Is that even possible? Technologically speaking, I mean. I’m assuming they’ve put some sort of GPS tracking on you ever since you were stolen.”

“Yeah. Kinda the first thing they did.”

Ian nods. “Theoretically, could Lip disable that?”

“Sure, wouldn’t take him two seconds if he wanted to. But why the fuck would he? Anyway that’s not the point, Ian. We can’t just run.”

“Why not? Think about it. You can easily pass as human. No one would even bat an eye. They’d have no reason to suspect you were anything other than a normal, regular person just like everybody else. No one’s seen androids as advanced as you. And I could help you. We could get jobs. We’d be free to do whatever we want—”

“Ian, you have a life here! A goddamn future! You’ve got a family you’re close to—brothers, sister, a niece… You can’t just up and fuckin’ leave everyone and everything! Just because I’m fucked don’t mean you gotta fuck up your life too.”

“Mick, listen to me. I can study to be a nurse anywhere. And…yeah, I’ll miss my siblings and Franny, but they can come visit after a while. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s not a big— Jesus Christ. I ain’t fuckin’ lettin’ you do this,” Mickey mutters as he shakes his head and gets up, storming out of the room.

Ian inhales and exhales, trying to calm his heartbeat and clear his thoughts. He’s running on panic and adrenaline, but he meant what he said. After a moment he hears Mickey going down the stairs. He follows, finding him pacing in the living room in front of the couch.

“Mickey…”

“This ain’t happenin’, Ian. I’d rather bite the goddamn bullet and have them reprogram my ass than havin’ you throw away everything like this.”

“Seriously?! You’re really telling me you’d rather have your memories wiped? Your memories of me? Of us?” Ian can hear the desperate tone in his own voice, but he’s past caring about that. He is desperate.

Mickey is silent for a while as he continues to pace and shake his head.

“I wanna do this, okay? It’s my choice,” Ian assures him. “We’ll come up with a plan. We’ll let ProTech think you got stolen again—throw them off our scent. They’d never suspect you decided to run of your own free will, right? Did they involve the cops last time?”

“Nah, they couldn’t fuckin’ risk potential corporate espionage. Had to keep the whole thing under wraps, deal with it internally.” He’s still pacing, radiating nervous energy.

“Good. We just need to cover our tracks, be smart about this.” Ian nods. “We can do this.”

“It ain’t a matter of if we can do this!” Mickey finally stops to face Ian. “You shouldn’t fuckin’ be involved in this. Shouldn’t do this with me. For me. You don’t owe me anything, Ian.”

Ian goes to him, reaching out his arms to hold the sides of Mickey’s face. “I’m in this, okay? I know in my gut this is the right thing to do. I’m not leaving you.”

Mickey looks at him—his eyes softer now, but terrified. “I’m just some fuckin’ android who dropped into in your house a couple weeks ago. You didn’t ask for this. All of this is my problem, not yours. I don’t wanna drag you into this shit with me.”

“I’m making it my problem. I— Now that I’ve met you, I can’t fucking let you go. Can’t just say goodbye…knowing what would happen to you. I won’t.”

Ian’s been leaning in more and more as they’ve been speaking. They’re sharing the same air. Mickey’s face is so, so close to his.

“I just— I need you in my life, Mickey. You—You’re it for me. I…”

Before he knows it, Mickey’s lips are on his—crashing their mouths together, to Ian’s immediate relief. God, he’s been wanting to kiss him for so long.

After the initial contact, Mickey seems to pull away slightly, his lips turning tentative. Ian takes control of the kiss then, wrapping a hand on the back of Mickey’s head and guiding their mouths together over and over again. He feels drunk with how good this is. It’s just how he’d been dreaming and more.

Ian’s the one to break the kiss, needing to take a breather.

“Fuck…” He huffs a chuckle, stroking Mickey’s face with his thumbs and nuzzling his cheek. He pulls back to look at Mickey, and his cheeks hurt with how much he can’t stop smiling.

“I’ve, uh…I’ve never done that before,” Mickey whispers, not quite managing to look Ian in the eye.

Ian takes that in, still in disbelief that this is happening. He leans in and brings their foreheads together, breathing Mickey in.

Mickey smiles softly as he reaches up to cup the side of Ian’s neck. “Okay,” he says with a sigh. “You win. If you really wanna do this, then let’s fuckin’ do this.”

Chapter Text

Ian and Mickey come down the stairs as soon as they hear Lip getting in through the front door.

Lip eyes them warily. Ian is really not looking forward to this conversation. It was hard enough trying to convince Mickey this is what he wants. Talking his brother into it is going to be next to impossible.

“Where’s Franny?”

“Brought her over to Carl’s, texted Debbie to pick her up there. Figured it was probably best she wasn’t here for this.” Lip’s tone is clipped, hard.

Ian nods. “Okay. So I kinda came up with a plan.” He tries to sound determined, though he’s afraid he might come across as sheepish despite his best efforts.

Lip raises his eyebrows. “Oh you did, huh? Well, I’m all ears. Please enlighten me as to how we can possibly fix this fucking mess of a stupid shitty-ass situation we’re in because you won’t let me reprogram him.” He points at Mickey, walking over to the armchair and plopping down on it, a challenge in his eyes.

Ian winces. He tenses up, then he looks at Mickey beside him, drawing courage from the small smile he sends Ian’s way.

“We can make your bosses believe Mickey got stolen again,” Ian says quickly, hoping it’s a convincing enough opening. Hoping his brother will find it as smart an idea as Ian thinks it is.

“Okay… Sure. Let’s say that works. And then what? You wanna hide him away somewhere like the Milkoviches did? Wait for ProTech to decide he’s not worth looking for anymore?”

“No, um… Then we run. We disappear.”

“We? What d’you mean ‘we’?!” Lip looks from Ian to Mickey and back to Ian again, yelling now. “What the fuck, Ian? You can’t be fucking serious. Have you completely lost your goddamn mind this time?”

“Hey!” Mickey interjects, scowling at Lip. “Lay the fuck off him, man. Just listen to what your brother has to say.”

Lip’s eyes widen. “Oh, no. You don’t get to be a part of this conversation! I don’t know what fucked-up line of code made whatever this is happen—” he gestures vaguely at Mickey’s whole being, “—but I’m not gonna be told how to talk to my brother by a pile of fucking scrap metal, let’s make that clear right now.”

“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s so much more than that.” Ian juts out his chin, his voice cold and deadly. He can see Mickey bite his lip mercilessly from the corner of his eye.

“Seriously, Ian?” Lip scoffs. “Are you really about to throw everything away for some piece of android ass? Fuck, I knew you were lonely. I just didn’t think you’d be this fucking stupid. I told you not to get fooled by it! I told you it wasn’t real!”

“Except it is fucking real! He is fucking real, and if you’d just listen for a goddamn second, maybe you could get it through your thick fucking skull that there’s more to this than you think!” Ian breathes hard, unsure he’s ever yelled at Lip like this, even during their worst fights over the years. “Is it maybe possible that you got something wrong for once? You’re so sure there’s no way he could’ve evolved and developed emotions. But what if he has?

“What if it’s the most logical explanation to what’s happening here—no matter how many times you tell yourself he’s ‘malfunctioning’ or whatever the fuck, just because you’ve got no fucking clue what’s actually going on.”

Lip just shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation.

Ian isn’t deterred.

“You know after you left earlier, Mickey’s done nothing but try to talk me out of this? Out of going with him, out of running away together.” Mickey shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he listens, crossing his arms self-consciously. Ian registers his movements before continuing, “He even used your exact words. Said I was ‘throwing everything away’. How do you explain that, huh? He wants to protect me, just like you do. How’s that not proof of empathy, of selflessness?”

“Ian, he’s programmed to mimic that shit.” Lip’s voice sounds tired now. Resigned, even. There’s maybe a tinge of doubt creeping into his tone.

Ian takes it as encouragement. “Is he? To this level!? Come on… Deep down you know there’s no way any kind of malfunctioning could result in anything like this. You know there must be something more to it than that.”

“That’s just it, though. I don’t know!” Apparently there’s some fight left in Lip after all. “It’s like you said, I have no idea what the fuck’s happening here. But neither do you. You can’t rule out that something went seriously wrong with his programming. How do you know he’s gonna go on being like this, like he is now? He could act erratically. He could be fucking dangerous, Ian!”

“Well, so could I!” Ian cries. “I have this goddamn disease in my brain that sometimes makes me think and do some pretty fucked up shit too, remember?” He turns to Mickey, who’s looking at him with big wet eyes. Ian smiles at him a little. “It’s just a risk I’m willing to take. I trust him, okay?”

Lip sighs. “This is a really stupid idea, Ian.”

“Just— Please, just…trust me to make this decision for myself. I know you’re looking out for me but I got this, Lip. And I’ll be careful, I promise,” he adds softly.

“And what about me, huh? My job?” He spreads his arms wide. “Am I just supposed to let you run off with millions worth of advanced machinery without batting an eye?”

Ian raises an eyebrow. “You expect me to believe you’d give a shit that your corporate overlord evil-ass bosses stand to lose some of their precious fucking money?” He scoffs. “We both know you hate them more than anyone else. Especially since they treat you like their errand boy.”

As expected, Lip doesn’t argue on that point any further. Ian knows his brother wouldn’t have much trouble finding work at a different tech company anyway, if it came to that.

“They won’t give up on finding him that easily,” Lip warns, trying another angle.

Ian shrugs a shoulder. “We’ll be smart about it. You think between the three of us we won’t be able to come up with a plan good enough to fool a bunch of capitalist fucks from the Northside?”

Lip glances at Mickey, looking skeptical but less so than when they started this conversation. He hums. “So let’s hear the grand masterplan, then. What’s the story?”

“Someone in the Milkovich clan found out Mickey was staying here and they decided to steal him back. It’s simple and believable,” Ian explains.

“Right. What about the GPS tracker? Only someone from the lab would have access to disable it.”

“Let’s say they beat the shit outta you and threatened to kill you so you had no choice but to turn it off,” Mickey offers.

Lip lifts an eyebrow. “Would have to rough me up a bit to really sell it.”

Mickey shrugs, smirking. “Not a problem on my end.”

“Lip, I know I’m asking a lot here but I need your help,” Ian says. “Please tell me you’re in. Tell me you’re on board with this.”

Lip sighs deeply. He looks at Mickey, then back at Ian. “I’m definitely, one-hundred percent gonna regret this shit. But. Fucking fine. If you’re sure about this.” He looks Ian in the eye intently, searching his face.

“Yeah,” Ian nods. He turns to Mickey and they smile at each other. “Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

Ian walks up the back stairs, finding Lip sat on the top step, smoking a cigarette and staring at nothing in particular. He plops down beside his brother and steals his smoke.

“Mickey inside?” Ian asks on an exhale. He sees Lip nod his head a little. “He kick you outta the house?”

“Pfft.” Lip steals back his cigarette. “Hasn’t quite come to that. Yet. He’s bossy as shit now though, that’s for fucking sure.”

Ian’s lips split into a smirk. “Whatcha doing out here then?”

“Oh, y’know. Just tryna psych myself up for when your boyfriend’s gonna kick the shit out of me so we can sell the fact that a random Milkovich stole him from under my nose.” He grins at his brother around his cigarette.

Ian’s eyes widen. He quickly looks down at his feet, hoping his cheeks aren’t going red. “Shut up. He’s not my boyfriend.”

Lip grins even harder before he sobers up, his voice turning softer. “He also kinda threatened to do worse to me if I end up not going along with the plan or hurting you in any way.”

At that Ian looks up, surprised and more than a little pleased.

“You know, I get it,” Lip continues, shocking Ian further. “I mean, I don’t get it. But I do see it. I see that he’s…different than what he’s supposed to be, in a way I can’t explain or rationalize. And I see the way he is with you.” He lets out a long sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t think you should be doing this. It’s stupid, and reckless, and way too dangerous.

“But I… I get why you feel like you need to go. And I do believe he won’t let anything happen to you, not if he can fucking help it. Which is a lot more than I could’ve said this morning. So there’s that.”

Ian smiles and studies his brother’s face. He sees Lip means everything he’s just said, and he’s sure a lot of it wasn’t easy to admit. “Thank you. You know… For understanding. For helping with this.”

Lip shrugs, grinning. “Have I ever let you down before, little brother?”

Ian just rolls his eyes at that, still smiling.

After a pause, Lip takes a drag of his smoke. “Got the IDs okay?”

“Yeah,” Ian says, taking the documents out of his pocket. “Went to see Lenny down the alley behind the Alibi. Did a pretty decent job.” They look at his and Mickey’s new IDs. Fake last names, but they’re still going to be Ian and Mickey. “Should be all we need to start a new life someplace else.”

“Can’t believe you’re really doing this. Leaving Chicago and all. Never thought I’d see the day—at least not after you stopped having wet dreams about getting blown up overseas in full army get-up.”

Ian chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well. Fiona did it, and that turned out pretty okay for her. Liam’s happier than he’s ever been living down in Florida with her. And we’re all still close, even with them living so far away. You guys can come visit once the dust settles.”

He gives his brother a small smile. He’s really trying to convince himself of his words as much as he is Lip.

Lip nods slowly, before bringing the cigarette to his lips as he looks off in the distance.

Ian feels a lump forming in his throat and gives a little cough, attempting to clear it.

There’ll be time for emotional goodbyes. Right now he’s still not ready for all that. Not yet.

“Now come on. It’s no use putting it off any more, y’know. I believe you’re scheduled for an android beatdown.” He smirks, elbowing Lip in the ribs.

His brother shakes his head, looking down at the wooden steps they’re sitting on. Ian sees him grin, which prompts him to start giggling at the thought of the fucked-up situation they find themselves in. It feels freeing, cathartic—a little crazy maybe, in that special Gallagher kind of way.

Then the brothers just turn to look at each other, Lip patting Ian’s shoulder a couple of times and leaving his hand there. They may fight and not see eye to eye on a lot of things, but when it comes down to it, they’re family. The kind that always comes through for each other.

Ian’s never really doubted that.

“And this is for making me wash your fuckin’ undies, asshole.”

Mickey’s right fist connects with Lip’s jaw one more time, sending him stumbling onto the couch. Lip reaches up to cover his mouth, his palm stained with blood as he pulls his hand away from his face.

Ian grimaces. He knows Mickey has to make this look good and can appreciate his need to get some frustrations out but, well. Ian should probably intervene at this point.

“Alright, alright. Mick, that’s enough now, don’t you think?”

He goes to grab Mickey by the shoulders just as he’s getting ready to pull Lip off the couch and continue the onslaught right where he left off. Mickey tenses up for a second, enough for Ian to wonder whether he’d even be able to physically stop Mickey if the android was set on getting a few more punches in.

Ian doesn’t get to find out. Mickey seems to relax under his touch—though Ian can still see him glaring daggers in Lip’s direction, some of the tension still lingering. Lip, for his part, is gingerly touching his busted lip, wincing at the pain. Ian nods to himself. He’ll live.

Not letting go of Mickey, Ian turns him in his arms so he can look him in the eye and distract him from the sight of the older Gallagher.

“Hey. You okay?” he asks Mickey, lifting his chin with a finger.

“Oh, sure, ask him if he’s okay!” Lip pipes up from the couch, earning himself a quick glare from his brother.

Mickey nods, looking into Ian’s face. “Yeah. It’s just…” He bites the corner of his mouth. “Letting the rage take over like that… Beating the shit out of someone until they bleed… It—It reminds me of…” He leaves the thought unfinished, but Ian knows what he’s thinking of. He knows Mickey will forever link in his mind any act of violence he engages in to what Terry forced him to do in the past.

Ian can’t help but grab Mickey into a crushing hug. He caresses the back of Mickey’s head, feeling him tuck his face into the crook of Ian’s neck and hearing him sniff softly.

They stay like that until there’s a knock at the door.

Mickey jumps a bit in Ian’s arms, clearly still shaken up. Ian’s quick to reassure him. “That’ll be Debbie with Franny,” he tells Mickey. “Time to say goodbye, I guess.”

And it hits Ian then, just how hard this will be.

The decision itself was difficult. Talking Lip into accepting that Ian’s leaving with Mickey definitely hasn’t been easy. The thought of not seeing his brother every day anymore, not living in the same house like they’ve done since they were kids, is something Ian’s still grappling with. And this is going to be even more emotional.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Lip announces, making Ian and Mickey turn towards him to watch him unsteadily get up from the couch. “Gonna go lick my wounds in my room. Don’t want Franny to see me like this.”

The two brothers nod at each other as Lip goes to climb the stairs. Ian looks back at Mickey, who’s staring down at his own slightly bruised knuckles. “Hey,” he whispers. “You up for this? ‘Cause I can maybe take them to the park or something for a bit, while you stay and—”

“No. I’m good,” Mickey says, voice steady. He manages a small smile. “Wanna see the little rugrat. She’ll take my mind off the other shit.” Ian must look doubtful, because Mickey half smirks, reaching up to lightly pat Ian’s cheek a couple of times. “Quit worryin’ your pretty little head about me, Red. I’m fine.”

Ian smiles back at him, rolling his eyes a little. He checks Mickey’s face one last time for signs of distress. Mickey just raises his eyebrows and nods meaningfully to the entrance. Well. Okay.

The moment Ian opens the door, Franny runs at him to hug his legs, burying her little face against his jeans. After a few moments she lifts her head to look at him with wet eyes. “Mommy says you and Mickey are leaving!”

Ian was fully expecting this, but it doesn’t break his heart any less. “It’s true, Fran, I’m sorry. It’s not safe for us to stay.” The tears in her eyes are threatening to spill any second, her mouth contorted in an expression of sadness. “But we’ll still talk all the time! Like you always talk to your Uncle Liam, y’know? You guys can still play video games together even though he lives so far away with Aunt Fiona. It’s gonna be as if me and Mickey never left, I promise. And one day soon you can come and visit us.”

Franny sniffs, nodding a bit. Turning her head, she spots Mickey over by the couch and lets go of Ian to run to him instead. “Uncle Mickey!” she cries as she gets enveloped in a hug from Mickey who has knelt down to her level.

“Hey, Little Red,” he whispers to her.

And Ian’s heart breaks all over again. He can hear the fondness in Mickey’s voice. He knows how attached to Franny Mickey has become. If ever proof was needed that Mickey can feel just as deeply and powerfully as a human, well. This is it.

A little choked sob escapes Franny’s throat as she pulls back a little to look Mickey in the eye. “You—You really have to go, Uncle Mickey?”

“’Fraid so, Pumpkin.” He gives her a gentle smile. “But like Uncle Ian said, we’ll see each other real soon.”

Ian has to look away as he wipes away a stray tear just under his eye with his thumb. He feels Debbie’s hand on his back and turns towards his sister, trying for a smile.

“Carl wanted to be here but he got held up. He said you saw him yesterday, though,” she tells him.

Ian just nods, thinking back to the emotional goodbye he shared with his younger brother.

“So you’re really leaving, huh?” Debbie asks him, smiling a little sadly.

“Yeah,” Ian says, resolutely. “I need to make sure he’s safe. I need to—I want to be with him.”

Debbie looks over at Mickey—who’s just said something that makes Franny giggle, as she forgets to be sad for a moment. “Lip got me up to speed. Still can’t believe it, though. Then again, seeing him with Fran… She loves him, you know. And I can see how good he is with her. In ways I could never expect from—you know—someone like him.”

Ian gets it. It had taken him a long time too in the beginning—to wrap his head around everything that Mickey is, to let go of what he thought he knew about androids and open his mind up to the possibilities.

“I can see why you love him,” Debbie continues, taking Ian aback. “I just hope he’ll be there for you. For real. That he’s gonna take care of you, when you’ll be so far away from all your family.”

His instinct is to deny he needs anyone to take care of him at all. To get defensive about his disorder, about how it doesn’t make him an invalid. To say he can take care of himself, thank you very fucking much.

Instead he says simply, “We’ll take care of each other.”

Because that’s what it feels to Ian like they’ve been doing since they met, and what they’ll continue to do going forward. That’s what he sees when he thinks about their future together, about this adventure they’re embarking in with each other.

Debbie smiles at him, then turns back to fondly watch her daughter show Mickey a drawing she’s just got out of her backpack.

Ian looks at them too. Looks at Mickey’s big smile and open expression.

He thinks of how different Mickey seemed just a bit earlier. How the memory of the man he came to think of as a father has scarred him for good, but not to the point of making him incapable of love, compassion, genuine affection. It actually did the opposite. It taught him the importance of kindness—especially to those who look up to you.

Ian looks at Mickey now and he knows he will do anything to protect him. Ian looks at him and he knows he’s in love.

“So. Got everything you need?”

Ian looks up at his brother as he finishes zipping up his backpack. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Got my meds for a few weeks. Couple of other essentials. Money, IDs… Everything else we’ll just get on the road. Best to travel light until we can snatch a car.”

Lip nods. “Okay. Well. Guess this is it, then.” He looks toward Mickey and then back at his brother.

“Yeah. Guess this is it.” Ian puts his backpack down and reaches for Lip, hugging him tightly.

“Be safe, little brother. Love you.” Lip’s voice is cracked with emotion, making the lump in Ian’s throat that much heavier.

“Love you, too. Thanks. Y’know, for everything.” He looks at Lip’s face as he pulls back, red and swollen with fresh cuts and bruises.

His brother smiles. “Don’t mention it. You got your burner phone, right? Call me with an update as soon as you can. Let me know you’re alive and shit.”

“Will do,” Ian chuckles wetly, moving towards the door to join Mickey, backpack slung on one shoulder.

“Mickey, hey,” Lip says, addressing the android. “Good luck with everything. I mean it. And, uh. Look out for him, okay?”

Mickey nods at him as he lifts the hood of his jacket over his head, getting ready to leave out the door beside Ian.

“‘Course, man. Always.”

Chapter Text

Two days later

Ian taps his fingers on the steering wheel, intently watching the space Mickey disappeared from seven minutes ago when he entered the electronics store to “get some supplies and shit”. If he’s honest, Ian’s still not sure what those supplies might be.

He figures he should probably get a basic knowledge of how Mickey actually functions at this point—at least enough to help him out in case they run into trouble—but for the moment he has no clue. He guesses Mickey’s buying stuff to charge himself while they’re on the road. But who the hell knows.

Yeah, he really should ask him this stuff.

What Ian’s more focused on right now though is the prickling sensation he can feel just under his skin.

He’s worried. True, they’ve had no issues leaving the city or the state—they’ve had no problems at all so far—but he can’t help being a little paranoid given the circumstances.

Lost in thought as he is, he almost has a heart attack when he feels the burner phone vibrating in his coat pocket. It’s Lip calling him.

Ian’s anxiety spikes. Sure, this could be good news his brother’s about to give him. Or it could be, well, the other thing.

“Hey. You out of Illinois yet?” Lip’s voice sounds static-y, but otherwise calm and normal. Ian lets himself breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hey. Yeah, we’re right on schedule. How’re things going on your end?”

“Good, considering. Big brass are busy chasing leads down the rabbit hole that is the Milkovich family tree, trying to locate the scumbag who beat the shit out of me and ran off with their multi-million dollar investment. Heard they’re sending someone to talk to Terry and the other jailbirds down in Cook County.” He snickers. “Too bad they got no idea how much of a dead end that’ll be.”

Ian nods to himself, processing the information. “So you really think we’re safe?”

“They’re not involving the cops, just like last time. Mickey’s whole line of androids is supposed to be top secret. They’ve got their panties in a bunch about their competitors potentially stealing designs and schematics and releasing advanced androids onto the market before they can.

“They’ll follow the Milkovich trail, but they just don’t have that much of a reach outside the city. My guess is they’ll eventually assume the Milkoviches stripped Mickey for parts and give up the search. As long as the competition doesn’t get him, he’s a loss they can recoup. Better to stay focused on launching the rest of the android line than waste more time and money on an individual machine they can’t get back,” Lip explains.

All good news from his brother, it seems. Still, Ian can’t help but worry.

“Are they saying anything about me? About wanting to speak to me, since I was living at the house with you and Mick?”

“I told them you fucked off outta the house the day Mickey first came here. That you got all huffy about not having time for any of this bullshit, with exams coming up and everything.” Lip chuckles, making Ian roll his eyes on the other end of the line. “They seem to have bought that you went to stay with friends out of town before any of this went on. Too preoccupied with finding the mystery Milkovich cousin who nabbed their precious android to care about my little brother, the drama queen.”

Ian giggles despite himself, relief bubbling inside him. “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.” Ian can hear the grin in Lip’s voice. His brother’s right. Ian has every reason in the world to be grateful to him.

“I don’t think ‘Thank you’ will ever be able to do it justice, but I still won’t ever stop saying it. Thank you, Lip. I mean it. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Hey, you just worry about staying out of trouble, okay? And keep that glorified tin can of a boyfriend of yours out of trouble too.”

Ian blushes despite himself.

Outside of Lip’s teasing, he hasn’t even let himself use that word to describe what he and Mickey have in his own thoughts, let alone to Mickey.

He figures that’s kind of what they are, right? They haven’t really had the chance to be together…physically, what with being on the run and all. They’ve barely been able to rest these past couple days. Ian is dying to kiss Mickey again, to touch him. And yeah, getting to talk to him about what they are to each other might be kind of good, too.

“I’m planning on it,” he tells Lip. As he lifts his eyes back to the entrance of the electronics store, he spots Mickey getting out and walking towards the car. His heart starts beating rapidly, and he silently wills it to keep its cool. “Uh, Lip, I gotta go, okay? Call me if there’s any updates.”

“Alright, stay safe. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

Ian lowers the phone and puts it back in his pocket, his eyes not leaving Mickey’s form as he nears the car.

Finally Mickey opens the passenger side door, getting in. He looks at Ian, eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips. “The fuck you lookin’ at?”

A laugh bubbles out of Ian’s chest. When he manages to speak he just shakes his head and says, “Nothing.”

Mickey’s grin grows bigger, his eyes twinkling with it. “You ready to go, hotshot?”

Ian couldn’t be more ready. “Let’s ride.”

Two weeks later

“Shit, I should probably buy some fruits and vegetables. I mean, we can’t keep living on takeout and junk food forever.”

Mickey snorts, reaching for a sugary cereal box and throwing it in their cart. “Speak for yourself, meat-sack. I can eat whatever the fuck I want. Ain’t like I need to worry ‘bout the calories,” he says with a shrug. “‘Sides. Thought you liked my ass a little plump,” Mickey says grinning, his tongue poking out of his mouth and his eyebrows bouncing suggestively.

He gets a slap on his ass in reply. “Oh, you’re fucking right about that,” Ian murmurs, lips splitting into a flirty smirk. The playful mood is soon gone though. “I do need to watch what I eat a little bit,” he adds, frowning. “It’s not just about gaining weight. Proper nutrition is important, and I wanna stay healthy.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, Mr. Nursing Student. Let’s go to the fruit and veg aisle so you can jerk off all over the organic produce.”

Ian chuckles, until a thought enters his head.

“Hey,” he whispers, making Mickey turn to look at him. Ian checks around that no one in the store is close enough to hear them before continuing. “I don’t think I thought about it like that before but that’s the thing, right? You don’t need to stay healthy because you can’t get sick. You can malfunction, sure—and you do need some maintenance from time to time, you’ve told me that. But I guess I never really realized…” He pauses, trying to find the words and the courage to utter them. “You won’t age. Not like me.”

“Ian…”

“I’m right, aren’t I? With proper maintenance, you’ve got a much longer lifespan than a human.” His vision is starting to get blurry, panic setting in as reality comes crashing down to shatter his dreams. Dreams of getting older with someone by his side. With Mickey by his side.

“There’s a way around all that. I can slow down my artificial cellular regeneration, and that can mimic the effects of normal human aging. My skin would get kinda wrinkly and shit just like yours. And as for my internal functions… You’ve said it yourself. It all comes down to maintenance—using spare parts to replace my old ones. If I don’t, I could live roughly the same as you.”

Ian swallows hard. “I—I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

A frown creases Mickey’s forehead. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ have to.”

“But that’s…suicide, basically, what you’re talking about! You’d let yourself decay and then you’d let yourself die. Why in hell would you do that?!”

“To fucking—” Mickey stops, breathes. When he speaks again his voice is quieter, his tone much less harsh. “To be with you. Why the fuck else?”

“Mickey… You can’t do that for me. It’s too much! I’d want you to live.” Ian can barely get the words out, a lump forming in his throat that feels like it’ll choke him completely any second.

Mickey’s shoulders slump, his face softening. “Ian…” he starts with a small smile. “I chose this shit, back when we decided to run. It was either let the fuckin’ lab rats restore me to my factory settings or have a life with you, as a human. Well… as close as to a human as I can fuckin’ get, anyway.

“I’m not interested in going on existing for who knows how fuckin’ long if it ain’t with you. That’s not life. It’s not what I want.” Mickey sighs, looking off to the side, then back to Ian. “When I first started picturing what it would be like to be free—to not be a robot fuckin’ slave always one step away from having my memory scrubbed again and again—all I could imagine was being with you. Right ‘til the end.”

Ian takes it all in, not really knowing what to say. He supposes he gets it, when he tries to think of it from Mickey’s perspective. Ian knows he would do the same in his position. He would want to be with Mickey. That’s what freedom would look like to him—not everlasting life.

It just seems insane to Ian that anyone would love him that much. That Mickey would love him that much.

He still can’t quite form words, so he nods a little, trying to swallow his tears at least until after they get out of the supermarket. They’ll have plenty of time to talk more about this anyway. A whole lifetime worth.

Mickey smiles at him, bringing up his hand to caress the side of Ian’s face. “Alright? We good?” After Ian nods some more, Mickey slaps his cheek gently. “Good. Then let’s finish up in this bitch so we can get the fuck outta here. You know I promised Franny I’d FaceTime her as soon as she gets out of school. Can’t be late for that shit, man, or she’ll get all pouty like you do.”

Ian would usually roll his eyes at that, but as he watches Mickey walk towards the vegetables aisle—looking back to see why Ian’s not immediately following, eyebrows raised up to his hairline—all he can do is smile like a goof, grateful Mickey entered his life and intends to stay in it.

Right ‘til the end.

Two months later

“Hey. No! What the fuck, Mickey? Stop killing all of my guys.”

“That’s the fuckin’ point of the game! Ain’t my fault you suck balls at this.” With one final tap of his thumb on the screen, Mickey ends any hope Ian had of evening the score. “There. You’re dead. You fuckin’ lose…again.” He chuckles, slapping Ian’s thigh for good measure.

Ian groans. “It’s not fucking fair. I don’t know why I bother. You’re clearly using your special android powers anytime we play anything. I don’t stand a damn chance.” He throws his phone on the cushion next to him in frustration before crossing his arms, sulking.

“Hate to break it to ya but I’m goin’ easy on your ass, human boy. You couldn’t fuckin’ handle my special android powers. Can’t imagine how badly you’d lose if I set the difficulty to ‘medium’, let alone ‘hard’.” Mickey smirks at him, poking him in the side, which makes Ian glare at him more. “Anyway, much as I would love to stay and destroy your ass at this game all night, I got a shift at the club in like, half an hour.”

“Shit, is it that late already?” Ian checks his watch to confirm that it is, in fact, that late. Time really flies by when you’re getting your ass handed to you playing video games with your boyfriend.

“Yup.” Mickey stretches his arms above his head, making his muscles flex and his shirt ride up slightly. Ian gladly admires the view, until his horny brain gets sidetracked in favor of his insecure brain taking over.

“By the way, I’m gonna get a job soon. You shouldn’t be the only one bringing money in, and I hate that you’re working as a bouncer anyway. You were supposed to be free from assholes looking for a fight and having to beat the shit out of people for a living.”

“Stop,” Mickey breathes. He reaches out and cups the side of Ian’s neck, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on Ian’s skin. Ian shuts his eyes and lets it calm him, bites his lip to stop himself from flooding Mickey with more of his feelings of guilt. “Doin’ a lot better with that shit. And it ain’t like I could get much better work than that. Can’t exactly provide references or prove qualifications or any of that shit. It was the only place that’d hire me without even askin’ for a resumé.

“Plus, come on. You’ve been to the club. All I gotta do is crack my knuckles and look a little mean and people tend to behave themselves. Got a reputation by now.”

He snickers, and Ian can’t help but feel proud of the way Mickey fits in where he works. He jokes around with coworkers, lightly teases the regulars. He seems comfortable, and that’s all Ian could wish for.

“I mean it,” Mickey continues. “Don’t wanna hear anymore shit about you not contributin’, or whatever. You’re studying, tryna make something of yourself. You shouldn’t fuck up the plans you had before, just because you had to leave Chicago with me. ‘Sides—” he hastens to add when he sees Ian open his mouth to retort, “—you paid for everything when we first moved here, before I could get a job anywhere. Burned through what was left of your savings from when you were workin’ as an EMT just to get us started out.”

Ian sighs. “Yeah, I know,” he says, frowning. “It just sucks sometimes. Feels like I’m not doing enough.”

Mickey shakes his head, smiling softly. “You’re doing fuckin’ plenty. And I’m alright. We’re doin’ alright. So quit worryin’.”

Ian lets out a scoff. “If only it were that easy.”

Mickey’s grin grows as he leans in for a quick kiss, before pulling back and starting to take off his shirt. “Tell you what. Instead of stayin’ home to keep mopin’ around about this, why don’t you come tonight? That way if there’s any trouble you can help me kick some ass. Which works perfect for me, ‘cause you get real fuckin’ handsy after bein’ in a fight.” His smirk is devilish, and it’s already doing wonders to distract Ian from his woes. “But first,” Mickey continues, standing and pulling Ian up from the couch, “you’re jumpin’ in the shower with me. You owe me multiple blowies for losin’ so bad at that game.”

Ian feels the corners of his mouth lift in a grin. He suddenly can’t even remember why he was so upset at Mickey winning earlier. He just loves his boyfriend so much. Nothing else seems to matter to Ian now. Even if Mickey is a sneaky android cheat.

He grabs the back of Mickey’s head and pulls him into a searing kiss, his other hand going straight to Mickey’s ass. Mickey moans his approval into Ian’s mouth, spurring Ian to deepen the kiss. He pulls away after a while, gazing at Mickey’s well-kissed mouth and then into his eyes. Mickey looks dazed, his eyelids drooping, and Ian can’t believe he has this effect on him. On his boyfriend—the badass, super-advanced miracle of technology.

“I fucking love you,” he growls, still groping Mickey’s ass.

“Fuckin’ love you,” Mickey purrs back, grinding into Ian.

In one swift move, Ian picks up Mickey off the floor, carrying him towards the bathroom, all while kissing him fiercely.

They might just be late for Mickey’s shift, but, fuck it. There’s nothing more important than this. To either of them.

Two years later

“I still can’t believe it, Mick. It’s a fucking Christmas miracle!”

Mickey lets out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Except it didn’t fuckin’ happen at Christmas. We just happened to find out in mid-December, but it’s been going on way longer than that. A company doesn’t go bankrupt overnight. Those greedy fuckers had it coming for a long-ass time.”

Ian purses his lips. “Come on, let me have this. It’s finally one-hundred percent safe to go back to Chicago! Just in time for the holidays! That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey grins.

He can’t really blame Ian for how stupidly excited he got—and still fully is—over the news that they can finally go home. If Mickey’s honest with himself, he’s pretty thrilled himself. The Gallaghers are his family too now, and he especially can’t wait to see the little rugrats again. Various siblings and their spawn have been to visit them at one point or another, but this is going to be a proper Gallagher family reunion for the first time in years.

Mickey’s not even going to hate seeing Lip, as weird as it is to admit even to himself. The guy has come through in a major way, there’s no denying that.

After the initial help in getting Ian and Mickey out of the city and safe from ProTech’s reach, he was instrumental in getting Mickey his current ‘external consultant’ gig at the new tech company Lip went to work for a few months after everything went down.

Ian was over the moon, obviously, and Mickey was glad to put some of his non-physical skills to work again, not really having felt fulfilled by his life as a bouncer after a while.

Now this news about ProTech’s downfall promised to allow them to embark on a new chapter of their lives. They’ve been discussing moving back to Chicago for good after the holidays, and Mickey’s all for it. There’s nothing really keeping them in Texas. Though they’ve made a good life here for themselves, the pull of being around family is too strong.

Mickey also has a pretty exciting surprise up his sleeve. During all this time he’s been hard at work to be able to pass as a fully legit human. Through bribery, advanced computer skills and good old-fashioned threats, he managed to fake a whole identity for himself. He even has a birth certificate now. Which means…

“Hey. Need to ask you something,” Mickey says to Ian’s back.

“Hmm?” comes Ian’s distracted reply, busy as he is tasting a bit of the tomato sauce he’s been making for dinner.

“Yeah, uh… You might wanna turn around for this.”

Ian sets the wooden spoon down and does just that, only to see a small, open box in Mickey’s hand with a simple white gold band shining inside.

Mickey’s nervous as fuck, truth be told. He’s fairly confident Ian isn’t going to say no, but still. It’s a huge fucking moment.

“Will you make me the happiest android in the world and fuckin’ marry me?” He tries to smile despite the nerves—as always marveling at the physical ways Ian makes him feel despite how differently he’s built from a human. He doesn’t have a heart in his chest, yet he could fucking swear he can feel it beating like crazy against his ribcage right at this moment.

Ian looks stunned at first, then on the verge of tears. Finally, just when Mickey was about to ask if he’s okay, Ian gives his answer with a trembling voice, “Of course I’ll fucking marry you.”

In half a second he’s standing right in front of Mickey, taking his face in both hands and kissing him like his life depends on it.

Ian only stops to mumble mostly incoherent words, muffled between kisses. “Mickey, I— This is— How…? Fucking— I love you…so fucking much.”

And Mickey loves him exactly the same. Oh so fucking much.

The truth is, Ian has already made him the happiest android in the whole damn world. He keeps doing it every single day, just like Mickey tries his damndest to make Ian as happy as humanly possible during every moment of their shared existence.

He’s become addicted to it—their happiness together.

Mickey wants even more of it. He wants everything with Ian. Because Ian makes him whole in ways he could never have even imagined. They both spent so long feeling broken, for different reasons, and they help each other day after day to believe they can be more.

An android was never meant for this, Mickey knows that. He wasn’t designed to fall in love. But against all odds it happened anyway, and Mickey couldn’t be more fucking grateful for it.

Ian breathes life into Mickey. He has since they first met.

Mickey might not have a heart beating in his chest, but Ian has one big enough for the two of them. And Mickey will get to share it with him for the rest of their lives together.