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“Okay, so you stabbed him? Then what?”
“I could’ve stabbed him more but the fuckin’ guards were on me in a second and they were takin’ him off for the medic to look him over. I didn’t even break the skin, he’s just a fuckin’ pussy.”
“Language!” Fiona called from upstairs where she was gathering up laundry.
“And how long did that get you?” Carl asked, undeterred by Fiona’s shout.
“Only a month. It was a bad month, I almost ran out of smokes,” he cast a glance up at Ian who just shrugged. Kash had stopped putting money into Mickey’s account after the third time. His interest in Ian had waned once he’d found out about Mickey and he only tried to get Ian to put out once after that before they were definitely done.
Fiona came into the kitchen then since she’d finished shoving all the kids’ clothes down the chute. She stirred whatever was on the stove thought it was obviously a futile effort since Debbie was on dinner duty tonight and had been taking care of it. She used it as an excuse to be in the kitchen to watch Mickey. She didn’t trust him even after Ian insisted he wasn’t a bad guy, and she continued to monitor him whenever he was at the house. ‘I don’t care if you’re marrying him,’ she’d said, ‘as long as you’re outside your room, I wanna know what he’s doing and saying.’ And so it had been.
“Did you see him again after that?” Carl asked, clearly not done with the story even if no-one else was particularly interested. Since Terry had disappeared Mickey had started spending more time at the Gallaghers. Carl had pretty much stuck to Mickey’s side whenever he wasn’t asleep or otherwise occupied with Ian. Mickey told him stories about drug busts and gun deals and the times he’d almost been arrested and the times he’d actually been arrested and the fights he’d gotten in and juvie and Carl just loved it. One time when Carl had been super duper sleepy and a little rambly he’d confessed to Ian that Mickey was the coolest guy he knew and he didn’t know gay guys could be such badasses. He’d pretty much passed out after that and Ian had carried him up to bed and he’d never said anything about it since. He didn’t need to say anything about it though; he lit up when Mickey agreed to tell him stories or help him with stuff or just hung out with him. Fiona would probably try to keep Carl away from Mickey if she was home often enough to see how often it happened.
She wasn’t, always busy with work and Mike, but this time she was fuming about Mickey’s influence on Carl. “You better not go around stabbing people after this. If you keep giving him ideas you’re gonna have to find somewhere else to crash, Milkovich.”
“Yeah, yeah. Calm your tits,” Mickey said, waving Fiona off and lighting a smoke. He passed it off to Ian and Carl intercepted it, and yelped when Ian snatched it from him. He continued the story to placate Carl. “I saw him again, but he was too scared to even look at me,” he laughed. “That’s what he gets for trying to steal my fuckin’ Jell-o.”
“Watch your language, Mickey!”
“Yeah, Mickey, watch your fucking language!” Lip said, passing through the kitchen on his way out to visit Mandy.
“Lip,” Fiona warned and Lip didn’t respond, just ducked out the door. Fiona scowled at it as he slammed it behind him.