Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“So what was wrong with this one Ian” Charlotte asked, releasing a sigh of exasperation.
“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with them so much as I don’t need or want one” whined Ian.
He knew these men were just employed to do a job but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to find a way to get rid of them. The first one Kyle was clearly doing a poor job of disguising his obvious homophobia so Ian saw the perfect opportunity for sabotage. All he had to do was parade around partially or mostly nude at every opportunity, all while eye fucking the Steven Seagal wannabe until he became so uncomfortable he quit, probably in fear that the big gay man he was employed to protect was going to pounce on him. Then there was Troy, whose name alone should have been a red flag. He had definitely seen one too many action movies and when he body slammed an overly excited fan for daring to ask for an autograph Ian didn’t hesitate to fire his aggressive ass on the spot.
Bottom line was he didn’t want a damn bodyguard. He could handle himself and felt it was completely unnecessary even if he did technically have a “stalker”. He wasn’t some scared little pussy, he may have been raised on the North Side but he still had South Side blood in him and he wasn’t going to allow himself to be inconvenienced by some anonymous nut job. However the studio felt otherwise and had offered to provide this additional security measure, presumably as if something were to happen to their number one star on their watch it wouldn’t look good for business. How considerate of them to be so concerned about his welfare Ian thought dryly.
Charlotte sighed again and gave him that look, like he was a petulant child having another tantrum. It annoyed the shit out of him and made him feel like he had so many times before, like the only other adult in the room knows better than him, a feeling that he hated as it always triggered old memories. But he had to admit she was good at her job, he wouldn’t have hired her otherwise. When his career started taking off 3 years earlier he knew he needed help with managing his life and work load. Maybe it was her quirky English accent, her sarcasm or her general take no shit attitude but he knew she would fit right in. He accepted deep down that he could be a bit of a dick and needed someone whom he couldn’t walk all over, someone who could kick his ass when he needed. I guess that’s something he always respected in the people he chose to have in his life.
“Ian, this is getting serious, they know where you work and where you live”. Charlotte spoke more gently, explaining the situation as if he wasn’t already aware.
“Fuck Charlotte, I’m not going to be ruled by some obsessive fan who’s probably just some sad virgin who still lives in his mom’s basement and plays too many video games”.
She raised her eyebrow and quirked her lip indicating that she knew something Ian didn’t and this was usually at the point in their conversation where they began their negotiation, which really meant her offering a compromise and Ian giving in. She had this way of wearing him down, with her damn rationality and annoying ability to never raise her voice or appear in any way fazed. Fuck if he didn’t admire her cool headedness sometimes.
“Look at me, 5ft 11, in the best shape of my life, I even take boxing classes, I don’t need some overpaid ex-marine shadowing me and invading my privacy” complained Ian.
“Look Ian, why don’t we try just 1 more and I promise you if this one doesn’t work out then we’ll find an alternative solution, we have someone who’s been recommended personally, protected a friend of a friend of one of the producers, a bit rough around the edges but tough as nails apparently ”.
Ian knew there was no point in arguing with her when she was being so reasonable so he huffed out “Fine” in agreement.
“That’s great seen as I’ve already spoken with him he’ll be here in any hour” Charlotte responded a little too smugly while rubbing her hands together.
He was still irritated beyond belief however. It was most likely just some overzealous fan with too much time on their hands, who’ll probably get bored eventually anyway. Ok, so deep down he was a little unnerved not that he’d ever admit that out loud. Ever since he got his break out role, on the number one show on TV, his life was insane. Sure he had some fans from his previous modelling days and the occasional stranger recognising him on the street but now he was the current shiny new thing that everyone seemed to want a piece of. He couldn’t go anywhere without camera flashes going off or selfie requests or stares or whispers.
Of course his ego enjoyed the attention at first, who wouldn’t love the validation and the adoration. The part of him that for so long felt abandoned, lost and disconnected still lingered and it fed on this new found fame like a parasite. That was until the novelty wore off. He couldn’t live his life in the same way now. No more random hook ups in bars or getting shit faced, not unless he wanted to see the evidence plastered all over the internet the next day.
Then the creepy ass letters and gifts started. At first Ian didn’t dwell on it, fans can be weird and obsessive but it seemed harmless enough. That was until the photos. Admittedly it was a bit worrying that someone knew where he lived or where he was filming and taking photos of him while he was just going about his normal business, well that was some fucked up stalker level shit.
Dammit. Why is Charlotte always right. Guess he should at least meet with the guy, what’s the worst that could happen right.
“Hi, you must be Mickey, I’m Charlotte”.
Guess it was time for Ian to put his acting ability to the test, he plastered on a smile and prepared to fake his way through this annoying ass meeting.
“This is Ian” she gestures, “Ian this is Mickey Milkovich, of Milkovich Security”.
For once Ian was speechless, this was not what he was expecting. He pictured some 6ft 5 jock with shit for brains like the last 2, not this 5ft 7 stocky dude, with biceps on display in a black cut off, tattoos on his knuckles and a thug like attitude. He was feeling equally impressed and insulted. This dude was smaller than him, how the fuck was he supposed to protect him from any actual assailants. Looking away from his mesmerising blue eyes he couldn’t help but smirk and folded his arms defensively while he looked Mickey up and down.
“Him, really, no offence but you’re what 5ft 7 at most. I’m not exactly feeling overwhelmed in safety right now Charlotte”.
He noticed it straight away, the shift in Mickey’s body, the tension in the room, this look, no scowl, on his face, like he wanted to kill somebody. Well, kill Ian probably.
“Don’t worry about it tough guy, if I can kick your ass I can kick your stalkers ass no problem” he remarked, while staring Ian down, almost challenging him.
Ian didn’t know whether to slap the smirk off his face or kiss it off. What the fuck. This guy was a dick. But damn if he wasn’t beautiful to look at.
Before Ian could do either Charlotte cleared her throat and interjected “Ok so, now that we’ve gotten the formalities out of the way why don’t we sit down and get to know one another a bit better, eh guys….Mickey, I believe you have a family run business and several years’ experience in this industry?”.
“Yup, myself and my brothers, uh, run it. Started out as armed transport and kinda expanded I guess. Got into personal security about 2 years ago when some rich douchebag we worked for needed a bodyguard. Guess he pissed off some mafia boss or something. Anyway worked out for me and he’s still alive and kicking by the way” Mickey retorted while purposely turning his attention to Ian.
“Well your record and references are impressive. So as I briefly explained on the phone Ian has been receiving some threats which has escalated to the point where we feel personal protection is necessary. The person or persons responsible are aware of this address and of Ian’s personal movements. Have you had time to create a plan or have any suggestions Mickey?”
Ian remained uncharacteristically quiet while Charlotte and Mickey discussed additional security measures and how he would protect Ian in public. Instead he finds himself watching Mickey intently taking in everything about him, his eyes, the way a dark wisp of hair is falling down his forehead, the way his lips quirks up at times, the way he fidgets as if he’s uncomfortable but at the same time looks like he could kill you with his bare hands. Those small but strong hands, with those faded knuckle tattoos.
“So what do you think Ian?” What does he think. He can’t fucking think. He has no idea what’s going on or being said. “Sure Charlotte, whatever you think is best”.
“Great that’s settled then. Mickey will start tomorrow. I’ll send over all the relevant paperwork and we can get started on a schedule” Charlotte states assuredly while indicating to Mickey that the meeting has ended. Ian still hasn’t opened his mouth; instead just watches Mickey walk away. And well damn if he doesn’t enjoy watching him walk away.
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Mickey couldn’t light up a smoke fast enough. Who the fuck did that ginger giant think he was talking to. He knew his shit. He was damn good at his job. He hated the way he still allowed himself to feel doubt creeping in, those deep rooted insecurities escaping sometimes. But I guess years of being told you’ll never amount to anything and getting called a pussy or a girl over your size isn’t something that’s easily erased.
While he tried to forget about red hair and freckles he texted Iggy to make sure they were all set. As annoying as Ian Gallagher is a jobs a job and turning down high profile clients is just plain stupid.
When his dad Terry finally croaked a few years previous it was like a weight had been lifted. Not just because of his being in the closet but because he was free, they all were. No more Terry dictating, shouting, abusing or controlling. He didn’t even wait until the fucker was in the ground to start distancing himself from the family business. He had never wanted that life, for himself or his siblings. Iggy and Colin weren’t so quick to escape the life but once they seen that Mickey was serious in creating something new, something legal, something that was theirs and untainted by Terry they came round.
It wasn’t too dissimilar to what he was brought up doing anyway, he was just utilising his skills and experience in a legal way now. Instead of shifting drugs or arms for cartels he was shifting legally obtained profits on behalf of respectable business owners, mostly those in the ever expanding weed industry.
He had to jump through a lot of hoops to get his licenses and all the other bullshit paperwork sorted but eventually it all came together. He was a legal business owner. He started out with a single customer and from there it grew, customer after customer. The Milkovich name and reputation still meant not to be fucked with, even if Terry was long gone. Soon him, Iggy and Colin had several armed trucks and were branching into private security, while Mandy ran the books and kept shit organised. She might be a pain his ass but that girl was the glue that kept the whole operation together.
Mickey (10.31 am): Yo got the contract
Iggy (10.35 am): What’s the place like, bet its fucking huge, that dude is rich as fuck
Mickey (10.36 am): Whatever just meet me at the place so we can talk shop
Mickey (10.36 am): and bring Colin
Iggy (10.37 am): What’s he like, bet he’s cool
Mickey (10.39 am): He’s an annoying ass ginger fucker that’s paying us the big bucks, that’s all ya need to know
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The next day Ian started with his usual regimen, intense workout followed by a carefully crafted meal as per the nutritionist Charlotte hired a few months previous. Since Season 2 was confirmed they decided or rather she did and he begrudgingly agreed that he should be as fit and healthy as possible, considering the role he was playing was regarded as the biggest sex symbol on TV. Well, that and the fact there were going to be even more nude scenes this time round.
It was almost by accident he even got this role. He was spotted by a casting agent at a random modelling gig who thought he looked perfect for the role. Apart from the odd advertisement Ian hadn’t done much acting, other than a school play but the casting agent didn’t seem put off. In fact it was amusingly his ginger hair and freckles that got him the job in the end. While he had to audition like everyone else it was apparently his “unique look” or whatever that stood out. He had even surprised himself with how the audition scene went and apparently discovered he had hidden acting skills. Guess those blurry years of pretending to be someone else, pretending to be Curtis or whoever some rich old guy wanted him to be came in useful after all.
While he read over his script edits for that week, he was distracted by the intercom. It was Charlotte of course but she wasn’t alone. He had totally forgotten about Mickey. Suddenly Ian wished he had of remembered so he could’ve had a shower and changed at least, he grimaced looking down at his sweaty workout clothes. When they entered Ian was once again uncharacteristically tongue tied. What the fuck. He had no idea what was going on with him or his reaction to this man and it was not a comfortable feeling. He didn’t like feeling out of control or unsure of himself.
“Ian, you remember Mickey, he just wants to have a quick look around, get a feel for the place”.
“Sure, that’s fine. Erm Mickey, you need me to give you a tour, show you around”, Ian felt his face blush. Again, what the actual fuck.
“I’m sure I’ll manage Red”.
Ian noticed Mickeys smirk because let’s face it his mouth was as mesmerising as his blue eyes. But it was his undeniable swagger that really had Ian’s head spinning, the way he was waltzing around his apartment like he owned the place. Ian found himself once again following his movements, this time with a smirk of his own.
“So, are you all set for the scenes this week”, Charlotte’s voice broke him from his daze.
“Yeah but they keep changing the script every fucking day, I may as well not bother learning my lines anymore”
“Such a tough life you have Ian, number 1 TV show, most sought after new talent, millions in fees”
Ian gave Charlotte the finger but smiled nonetheless, she’s right after all, considering where his life could’ve gone he should be pretty thankful. His health is good, he has a beautiful penthouse, can demand large fees now, with job offer after job offer flying in. But something always seemed missing; he couldn’t put his finger on it. He wasn’t unhappy, he was content and secure. But sometimes he just didn’t feel especially happy. Not that he thinks he ever understood what it meant to be happy anyway.
“Erm, think I’m all done here, just needed to know the layout, exit points, ya know” Mickey was looking around as if he was uncomfortable again. Ian found it strangely fascinating, like this man was a walking contradiction.
“Still don’t think this is necessary Charlotte, I’m perfectly safe here”.
As much as Ian didn’t mind looking at Mickey he still didn’t want to feel like he needed babysitting and wasn’t totally on board with this plan yet.
“Look Red its nothing to me if your giant ass gets murdered or not, I’ve got bills to pay and judging by the looks of that supposed security guard downstairs and the lack of CCTV out there” Mickey gestured to the hallway as he tails off, seemingly making his point.
“Fine” Ian sighed reluctantly. “So you gonna be like my shadow…. or maybe a little puppy following me around all day….you gonna be standing there watching me with my dick in my hands if I need a piss”.
He couldn’t help but notice Mickeys face blush and Ian thought it looked fucking beautiful. Was this dude gay, no way. Didn’t seem like it. Though he did just react to Ian mentioning his dick, didn’t he?
“Have zero interest in your dick Firecrotch, my job is to keep your ass alive and that’s what I’ll do”.
Mickey nodded to Charlotte, an indication that he was done here. She muttered again about contacting him with a schedule while walking him to the door. Ian wasn’t really paying attention anymore because he was too busy beaming internally about his new nickname.
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What the hell was he doing, Firecrotch? Really? It’s like his head betrays him every time he’s around the freckled fuck. And why did Ian bring up his dick anyway, what kind of a dude says shit like that to another dude he just met. Well he’s not going to think any more about Ian’s dick…or his hand…or his hand around Ian’s dick. Nope. And he’s definitely not going to Google him later or watch that stupid show that Iggy won’t stop talking about. And he’s definitely not going to jerk off to that particular sex scene in episode 5 where he’s butt ass naked. Nope.
Mickey woke up to the ping of his phone, the schedule he and Charlotte worked out. Ian was working on set for most of the week and so Mickey would be watching his ginger ass in case some nut job stalker decided to say hi. He lit up a smoke before taking a much needed shower, looking down in disgust at the remnants of dried cum from the night before. He never got distracted like this over a dude, hell he barely ever even got a dudes name before banging him in a club or alley or very occasionally a bed. It’s the way he liked his life. Simple. No complicated relationships. Just the carefully selected small circle of people he trusted. He worked hard and scratched that itch when needed. It worked. He was happy. Yup.
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Ian heard the intercom buzz and the voice of Billy, the adequate but equally underwhelming security guard.
“Got a Mickey Milkovich here to see you”
“Sure let him up Billy”.
Ian didn’t know why he was nervous. He knew his lines, he was prepared for the scenes they were filming on set. Yet he fussed over his hair for the 100th time in the mirror and felt himself take a deep breath before opening the door. It was as if every time he saw Mickey he looked even more beautiful. And hot, so fucking hot. Ian had fucked a lot of guys, most of them forgettable, just a means to an end.
When he was a mess though he attached himself to whatever swinging dick came along, usually older men who wanted to buy him expensive shit and parade him around. But he never really cared for any of them. He knows he could probably nab any guy he went after but he never seems to want any of them, other than certain body parts anyway.
But looking at these blues eyes and that fucking smart mouth, he thinks he’s never wanted anything more. And that’s saying something considering the amount of coke and pills he once consumed.
“Hey Mick, you want to come in and have a coffee or something, we have time?”
“It’s Mickey and I’d rather just get this show on the road if that’s ok”
“Fair enough, let me just grab my shit and lock up”.
Ian felt a bit deflated but equally turned on. It made no sense. He wasn’t used to rejection, most guys fell at his feet but the fact that Mickey seemed to hate him was really getting under his skin. And his dick didn’t seem to get the memo.
They drove in relative silence until Ian couldn’t stand it anymore.
“So you work with your brothers, what’s that like?” Ian asked tentatively, awaiting another smart ass response or raised eyebrow.
“Alright I guess family’s family. Want to kill them sometimes but I trust them and they do what they’re told so”
Ian noticed Mickey’s face in the mirror, glancing at Ian while he spoke, absentmindedly licking his lip, as though he was nervous.
“Yeah I get that, family can be tough” he didn’t know where he was going with this but it wasn’t what Ian wanted to be talking about right now. Thankfully Mickey broke the silence.
“What’s so tough about growing up on the north side huh?” he joked but with a slight annoyance to his voice.
“Just cos I grew up on the North Side doesn’t mean I haven’t got a fucked up family tree like everyone else. We all have shit. Besides I’m as much South Side as I am North Side”
Mickey was laughing heartily and even though Ian knew he was the punch line he thought it was the most beautiful sound and something he wanted to hear more of.
“South Side huh, no fucking way, you?”
“Yup have 3 half-brothers and 2 sisters, well really cousins if were being technical but that’s a longer story, didn’t find out about them until a few years back but were cool now. Visit them when I can”
“No shit”. Ian caught Mickey looking at him, as if he wanted to say something else but he didn’t continue and just turned his attention to the road instead.
They soon arrived at the set and Ian realised that he now had a shadow. It should have bothered him but somehow it didn’t. Ian never felt like he needed anyone to watch his back but he couldn’t deny that he suddenly felt lighter.
As much as Ian loved this new part of his career, the process of filming bored the shit out of him. People think acting’s a sexy job, it’s not. Hours of standing around while people fix lighting or make up or decide to change lines, again. Getting man handled like a piece of meat or having to do intimate scenes with a room full of people analysing the shit out of your performance.
Ian was normally a very confident person but he was feeling out of his depth even now, those old insecurities often stirring. And now he had an extra set of eyes on him. It made him feel even more exposed.
By the time they broke for lunch he was starving. He usually ate on set but today he wanted to get away for a bit, he was stressed and needed some peace and quiet.
Of course he wasn’t allowed to be alone and mostly likely wasn’t going to get any peace. He knew there was no point in arguing with Mickey so they walked in uncomfortable silence to the nearest diner. It took him a few moments to realise that Mickey wasn’t taking a seat with him but instead was hovering near the door, looking around in full on work mode.
Ian couldn’t help but laugh, “Hey Mick take a fucking seat and stop acting like you’re a secret agent or something”.
For a moment he thought he went too far but then he could have sworn he saw a repressed smile as Mickey slowly took a seat opposite him.
“Order whatever you want, it’s on me….well it’s on the production company” Ian stated while placing a credit card on the table.
The waitress took their orders while blushing at Ian and almost stuttering over her words.
“Do you ever get used to that?” Mickey asked, the first thing he had said since he sat down.
“Not really, part of the job I guess but yeah can feel pretty intrusive sometimes”
“I couldn’t deal with that. People thinking they know you or own you or whatever”
Ian couldn’t help but noticed the distinct lack of eye contact from Mickey, he got the impression that he didn’t talk to people much or at all really.
“So how did you get into security Mick, you like it?”
“Well long story short, my family were career criminals until my pops finally bit the dust, best day of my life…then I decided I didn’t want that shitty life anymore and set up my first legal business….not exactly a stretch to go from breaking knee caps to armed transport…just putting my skills to better use I guess”
“Wow, well that’s impressive Mick, turning your life around like that, not easy to do”
“And what would you know about turning your life around then Red, about dragging yourself up outta the gutter?”
“I know plenty about it Mick. Maybe I’ll tell ya about it sometime”
With that their waitress arrived and they ate in silence but Ian didn’t miss the glances from Mickey, like he was trying to figure out some great mystery.
The shoot went on until late and Ian just wanted to get home, have a shower and sleep like the dead. But if he was honest with himself what he really wanted was to somehow convince Mickey to stay, take a shower with him, sleep naked beside him, all after he fucked his brains out of course. Instead he had to settle for Mickey doing his job, ensuring his place was safe before politely leaving.
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Mickey survived his first day on the job. He wasn’t entirely sure how. He felt uneasy, like he couldn’t sit still and he was jumping out of his skin. Why couldn’t he just have had another middle aged overweight rich douchebag for a client instead of some ginger haired, freckle faced, 6ft Adonis, with that disarming smile and those fucking green eyes that somehow left him feeling completely powerless.
And somehow he was starting to think that he wasn’t such a dick after all, to make matters worse. He wanted to be around him and get to know him, make him fucking smile and listen to him ramble on. Jesus he was such a bitch.
Mickey was woken up to his phone again, this time its incessant ringing. His brothers and Mandy know better than to call. He never answers. He likes texts, not calls. But when he saw it was Charlotte calling he knew it must be important.
When he arrived at Ian’s place less than an hour later, he noticed 2 detectives just leaving, which left just Charlotte, Ian and another man who he learned was some sort of studio exec. Ian looked less together than he usually did, shook even.
“So what the fuck happened”, Mickey didn’t have time for pleasantries he needed facts and a plan of action.
“Billy fucked up, again, probably for the last time…he fell asleep, found this envelope under the door when I got up this morning” Ian explained, as he handed it to Mickey, not really catching his eye.
There were multiple pictures inside, taken outside the set and at the café of both of them together. Mickey’s eyes were scratched out. With the typed message “Think he can protect you. He’s nothing. You’re everything. You’re mine”. To make it even worse the message was smeared in blood and what looked like cum.
“Fucking freak” Mickey exhaled. He had to gather his thoughts, bad enough this psycho is following Ian but now he’s vaguely threatening him. Fuck his guy.
“Right, this is what’s gonna happen, in addition to the detail when you’re in public were gonna have someone posted outside your door. Billy is fucking gone. I’ll speak to the security company here and make sure we don’t get another fucking donkey”.
Mickey noticed a slight smile from Ian and couldn’t help but blush and feel warm. Making Ian feel safe was his job but this was more than that, he realised he fucking cared about him.
“Ian gimme your phone” He then proceeded to enter his personal mobile number to Ian’s surprise.
“Now you can call me whenever you need, no going through Charlotte or whatever” He paused before continuing, compelled to reassure him further “it’ll be ok Ian, I got this, this is what I do, he won’t get near ya”
“Thanks Mick. I know ya do, I trust ya”