Warnings: Language.

Title: Fight For You

It wasn't meant to be this way; it was never meant to happen. None of it was. Their first fight, their first fuck… their first kiss. –None of it should have happened.

If Ian could go back in time and keep that first fuck from ever happening, he'd like to think that he would. But truth be told, even though his heart felt like it was being suffocated by a boa constrictor he would still pick Mickey every time, despite the pain. And, God, the pain. He hurt so bad, so fucking bad that he didn't even know what to do with himself.

So here he was, tears streaming down his face as he pressed his back harder against the chain-link fence of the dugout. All he wanted was for Mickey to love him. And Mickey did, he knew he did, but he also knew that it didn't matter. It didn't matter because Mickey would always fear his father more than he could ever love Ian.

Ian wished that they could runaway together. He wished that they could be alone and only had to worry about each other. He'd take Mickey anywhere that he wanted to go, if Mickey would let him. He would love him, and take care of him until Mickey forgot all of the fucked up things his father made him think about himself. He would take away all of Mickey's pain. Because Mickey was in pain too, he just dealt with it differently.

He dealt with it by throwing punches and spewing harsh words. He dealt with it by taking it out on other people. Namely Ian. But that was okay. Ian would put up with the violence as long as he got Mickey.

His face throbbed suddenly as if to remind him of what the ex-convict had recently done. The ache and the bruises were worth it, though. Mickey was worth it even if he didn't think so, Ian did. Ian would do anything to make Mickey see that.

"You love me and you're gay."

He knew what reaction he would get when he said that, but still, he said it anyway. This wasn't Mickey's usual denial. No, this was serious; marriage was serious. Fuck, it was permanent. God knew that Terry would never let Mickey get a divorce.

"Do you feel better now?" He had asked. He honestly wanted to know. Did hurting him make Mickey feel better about himself? Did it make him feel like a man? Ian wasn't sure, but violence was the only method that Milkovich's used to cope. And so Ian would be Mickey's scape goat, he would bear the burden.

But when Mickey turned his back on him and said, "I feel better now." Ian knew he was lying.

Ian saw it right before Mickey's shoe connected with his flesh. He saw the tears filling Mickey's baby blue eyes. Mickey didn't want to do this. Mickey didn't want to get married, he didn't want to pretend that he was straight. Mickey wanted an escape, and Ian wanted to escape with him.

He thought about it briefly, when he was lying in his bed, crying with an ice-pack pressed against his face. Ian thought about leaving, about running away and dragging Mickey with him.

What would it matter? He thought. He doubted his family would even notice his absence. They sure didn't miss him then, as they all laughed and chatted happily while he was feeling the worst heartache of his life. They didn't care; they didn't even realize that he was completely devastated, that his fucking world was crumbling down around him.

They never paid attention to Ian. And he felt selfish for thinking that way when there were five of them, but damn it, he'd like to matter enough for them to notice how fucked up he was right now. How scared he was that he was going to lose the love of his life. –They didn't care.

Ian choked back his tears as he stared at the bench, remembering the last time he and Mickey were here, remembering what it felt like to touch him. And he was terrified, so fucking terrified that he'd never feel Mickey's touch again.

What was he supposed to do now? How could he make this right?

"Fuck," Ian cried out, kicking an empty beer can that lay on the ground, wondering suddenly if Mickey had left it there. "Fuck!" He repeated, turning around to face the chain-link fence, and running his fingers frantically through his hair. He had to fix this; he had to get Mickey back.

"FUCK!" He screamed, fist connecting with the chain-link fence before he could think about what he was doing.

He couldn't take this lying down. He couldn't stand out here all night and cry like a little bitch because his boyfr- his Mickey was taken away from him. No, he wouldn't do that; he wouldn't be weak anymore.

He would fight for Mickey; he would fight for their dysfunctional relationship. And as gay as it sounded, he would fight for their love. Or he would die trying.

A/N: I started writing this when I saw the Ian/Mickey scene in this week's episode. I just really want Ian to fight for Mickey, and I'd fucking love it if they ran away together. Or killed Terry, you know, whichever. They just can't give up on each other. THEY CAN'T. Anyway, I'll be attempting not to die from feels before the next episode.

Thanks for reading.