#has Ian ever talked to a girl about Mickey that wasn't related to one of them

[arrowflier]

One of the Girls (Ficlet)

Daily Speedwrite #8.  The struggle is real today; I spent longer than I meant to at work and haven’t done a single productive thing since I got back.  But now I locked myself in my study with a gin and juice and my computer, so let’s see what happens before I need a refill.  

When Ian told Mickey that girls wouldn’t want to hear about their sex life, he had no idea just how wrong he was.

He had been on his way down to the laundry room of their new apartment complex when he ran into Jill and her friends, holding a pile of stained bedsheets and boxers discreetly wrapped in a plastic bag.  One of these days he’d convince Mickey that they needed a basket, but for now this would have to do.  

They were wandering down the hall just in front of him, and he assumed they were heading out since they weren’t holding anything of their own, but to his dismay they turned into the laundry room before he did.

“I’m telling you,” one of Jill’s friends was saying, “you have to spice things up a little!”

Another woman laughed.  “Have you even met Alan?” she asked.  “I don’t think he’s up for spicy, Kelly.”

Jill gave them both a soft whack on the arm as she made for one of the machines, glaring back at them when she bent down to open it.  “Shut up,” she groused.  “We’re doing just fine.”

Ian hovered in the doorway a moment before sliding through quietly, hoping to avoid notice by taking the machine closest to the entry.  He set his bag down and started to rustle through it, wincing inwardly at the not-so-discreet sound of the plastic.

Just as he pulled the first item free, he was spotted.

“Ian!” Jill greeted, a little too eagerly.  She shushed her friends, clearly glad to have a distraction, and leaned forward to rest her arms on the top of her machine.  “This is Kelly,” she introduced, pointing to the blonde that had tried to give her advice, “and this is Ricky.”

They both gave short waves, Kelly looking him up and down in a way that made the back of his neck go red. 

“What are you doing down here?” Jill asked, going back to pulling her clothes from the washer.  She passed a few wet items to Ricky, who bent to throw them into a dryer across the narrow room.  “I thought Mickey did the laundry.”

Ian choked on a sudden laugh, and then schooled his expression when he saw Jill’s eyes widen.  “Uh, yeah,” he said.  “But he keeps bringing back the wrong stuff, so...”

“Oh yeah,” Jill realized.  “Alan went on forever about that damn shirt, even though you returned it.”  She shrugged.  “Oh well.  I’m sure Mickey is happy to pass off some chores anyway.”

Ian felt his eyebrows rise.  Just how often was Mickey down here, anyway?

“So,” Kelly started, moving forward to crowd Ian against the wall.  “You got a roommate?  That’s cute.”  She flashed white teeth at him, and he moved sideways until he was stopped by the washer he had claimed.

“Something like that,” he replied cautiously.

“Kelly, back off,” Jill said with an inelegant snort.  “He’s married.”  When her friend just looked at her, she added, “to Mickey.”

Kelly pouted, but backed away.  “Too bad,” she said, then, “I guess now I know what the big deal is.”

Confused, Ian just turned back to his task, letting Jill wrangle her friends.  He just wanted to get the laundry done and get back upstairs to his husband, who was impatiently awaiting the clean sheets.  Someday they’d have to get a spare set.

But as he pulled them from the bag, a pair of underwear fell free onto the floor, and all hope of avoiding further conversation was lost.

“Whoa, what happened to those?” Ricky asked from across the room.

Ian looked down, expecting a few awkward stains or something, and instead found Mickey’s boxer briefs, torn clear apart at the side seam with frayed threads visible against the tiled floor.

“Um,” he said.  “Nothing?”  He moved his tongue in his mouth, paranoidly checking for fabric in his teeth and thanking any deity that would listen when he found none.

“That,” Kelly said with a raised brow, “is not nothing, my new gay friend.”

Even Jill seemed curious, and they all came closer.  Ian glanced toward the open door, but it was as good as a mile away with the three women standing in front of it.

“Tell us everything,” Ricky demanded.

---------

Almost an hour later, Mickey wandered down to the laundry room in one of Ian’s old hoodies and a pair of too-large boxers, wondering what the hell was taking him so long.  Did he not know how to use the fucking machines or something?  Mickey did their laundry all the time, it wasn’t that complicated.

He heard the raucous laughter from halfway down the hall, and sped up when he recognized Ian’s voice among it.

“Moral of the story, ladies,” his husband was saying, “don’t add hot sauce to your food before you--”

“Ian!” he yelped from the doorway, taking in the sight of the redhead leaning casually against a dryer, surrounded by women who appeared to be completely enraptured by his story.

Ian cut off, and they turned to look at him as one.  “Mickey!” they all cheered, and he finally noticed the empty bottle of wine balanced precariously on a pile of clean clothes in Jill’s laundry basket.

Ian looked away first, confused, and asked “Wait, how do you guys know Mickey?”  Jill gave him a look, and he added, “Not you, Jill, shut up.”

Oh good, so his lightweight of a spouse had been drinking too.  Mickey sighed.

Jill answered anyway.  “Mickey’s in here all the time, isn’t that right girls?”

Kelly and Ricky nodded enthusiastically.  “He has the best stories,” Kelly gushed.  “Talks about his husband all the time,” she added slyly, and Mickey wanted to deck her when a smug smile blossomed on Ian’s face.  

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted.  “Hate to disrupt this love fest, but grab the sheets and let’s go, Firecrotch.”

“That’s what he always calls you!” Ricky chortled.

“Ooh, doing sheets again already?” Kelly added.  “Talk about keeping things spicy.” She waggled her eyebrows, and Mickey knew his own eyebrow was twitching. 

“No, no,” Ian said, “we just talked about that, spicy is bad!”

Then they were off again, until Mickey dragged Ian up by the arm and steered him to the door.

“That’s enough, man,” he complained.  “Stop tellin’ everyone our business.”

“But you tell them our business, Mick,” Ian said plaintively.  “Why is okay for you to do it?”

“I do not,” Mickey denied, but he was immediately undermined by Jill calling out, “See you next week, Mickey!  Bring a new story!” as they walked away.

“Damn women,” he grumbled as he shoved Ian ahead.  “Can’t keep a fuckin’ secret to save their lives.”

“Aw, don’t worry Mick,” Ian said as he slowed, making Mickey run into his back so he could get an arm up and around his neck.  “I think it’s cute that you’re one of the girls.”

Mickey shrugged out of the awkward hold, only to get up next to Ian and wrap an arm around his waist instead.  “You’re one to talk, Gallagher,” he said.  “Getting white girl wasted on laundry day, Jesus.”

Ian stopped again, mouth a perfect O, and slapped Mickey in the chest.  “Mick, we forgot the sheets!”

Mickey groaned, then turned around to face the music again.  Of course they fucking did.

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #original character #but really #has Ian ever talked to a girl about Mickey that wasn't related to one of them #because I think they'd be more interested than he thought