THE FINAL CUT

"And if I show you my dark side
Will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you
And show you my weak side
What would you do?"

*The Final Cut-Pink Floyd*

The bridal march's notes coming from a radio strummed in Mickey's ears. Standing at the improvised altar the boy could feel his knees get weak; the numbness that had struck him the past few weeks was starting to fade away and he fought for it to come back. On his few moments of lucidity, he thought how he had gotten here; memories ran through his head like lightings: Ian's smile, him on the couch, the pleasure that had suddenly turned into pain as his father beat the shit out of his loved one and then, out of him, the Russian's arrival, and then how everything had ran so fast; the announcement of the pregnancy, the planning of the wedding and how his life started to become nothing but a blur, always dancing between consciousness and alcohol. He still couldn't believe Ian had looked for him, after everything that had happened, after giving a pasting to him, after denying what he felt to Ian and to himself. He couldn't believe it and he didn't want to believe it; he could hardly stand the thought of marrying that whore in front of Ian, he wanted to fix things, to show the boy nothing had to change, that a Russian slag wasn't enough to tear them apart…but he knew that would only end up in the dead of one or both of them. That thought made Mickey smile right when Svetlana walked down the hall; he gave a quick glance to Terry and saw him at ease. "Poor fucker", he thought, since his dad should be convinced that his smile was because of the sight of the Russian woman.

Suddenly Terry didn't look like such a bad person; if he wanted to, he could hide that badass look of his, almost resembling a normal person, an average father, strict but caring with his family. Mickey smirked once again, wanting to burst out in laughter at that very moment, at how fucked-up the entire world was for not understanding. At the end of the day, what difference does it make if you fuck with men or women? Terry should freak out if he fucked animals; that was gross. But the only way his dad could possibly understand that was by being born again and having a completely different life or if they lived in a utopic world which they didn't; even though, Mickey rejoiced himself in the thought of Terry approving everything. Still, that could never be possible; free will was for spoilt rich kids and Mickey was neither of that.


Everything looked ridiculous, from the chairs to the stupid banner saying "Svetlana and Mickey 4ever" and the bridesmaids, all chubby and cheap and nasty; it was all so surreal Ian felt dizzy and nauseated. He wanted to get away but for some strange reason, he couldn't. It was like one of those Otto Dix's paintings; the sight is so dark and painful you want to look away but still it draws you in, deeper and deeper until you feel you're the wounded soldier in the picture, rotting and crying out for help. Ian fought the urge to vomit.

He looked directly at Mickey as that fucking Russian walked down the hall and what he saw there shocked him: Mickey was smiling. So he actually was happy to be there? He was glad to marry the skank his father had made him screw in front of him to "fuck the faggot out" of Mickey? Ian poured some alcohol in his glass and drank it avidly; if that was how Mickey wanted it to end, so be it, he wouldn't give a fuck anymore. Nobody could say he didn't try.

He didn't mind the beating, Terry had been quite gentle with him; if he had wanted to kill him, he would have done so. Instead, he did something much worse; Ian still wondered how sick one had to be to ponder such cruel things in so little time, but Terry seemed psychotic enough to pull out those kinds of things. Ian didn't mind Mickey's own beating; they had fought before, even their first almost-fuck was after a bashing, but what had hurt him the most was that Mickey was embracing his "destiny" open-armed, he wasn't even trying to fight back anymore, not for himself, needless to say for Ian. He was just there, smiling, holding hands with that harlot as the minister pronounced meaningless words. "It's just a fucking piece of paper", Mickey had said and Ian wished with all his strength it was nothing but that, even though he was finding it hard to believe it. But Mickey was gay, whether he wanted to admit it or not and no Russian whore or demented redneck could change that. Ian drank another mouthful of liquor. It was going to be a long night, a very long one.


"I do"

Mickey winced. Svetlana's words echoed through the improvised chapel. The Milkovich boy swallowed, trying to clear his closed throat and his tangled mind. He could see the man in front of him moving his mouth but could not hear the words coming out from it.

"Great, now I'm deaf", he thought and felt actually comfortable with the condition; after all, if he was deaf now, he wouldn't have to hear Svetlana's fake accent anymore or Terry's insults…or Ian's words.

A sudden ache assaulted his gut and he almost bent down in pain. He had to do something and it had to be quick. He had to make his mind up or there would be no turning back, he would lose forever the chance to be happy…or even human. He had to act quickly if he aspired to keep on living as a sober man and for the sake of his own mental sanity. Suddenly, the entanglement his mind had been, unfurled itself and the knot that had been obstructing his throat, disappeared. He was at complete ease, everything seemed so clear now; he just had to speak his mind, for the first time in his life, with no filter. So, once the minister finished the opening statement, he let his thoughts out.

"I don't know"

The minister looked blankly at Mickey and whispered: "Mister Milkovich, I just asked you if you want to marry Svetlana, what is it you don't know?"

"I don't know"

Svetlana pierced Mickey with her gaze and spoke through greeted teeth.

"Mickey, you're supposed to say 'I do' "

"Why?"

"Because that was the…deal"

"Yes, but why? I don't know you and I'm not even sure the fucking kid is actually mine"

The woman pursed her lips and Terry shifted in his seat.

"What the hell is going on? You just have to say 'I do', kid. Is that too much for your brain to handle?"

Mickey felt anger pool in his gut, followed by impotence and fear…and something else. He had been afraid of Terry throughout his entire life, since he was nothing but a brat that had to take on the beatings of a shitfaced man that was supposed to be his father, but now, with Ian's gaze on him, he felt a little less like a hopeless child.

"Mister Milkovich, I remind you this is a wedding and I still have plenty of services to perform. You're just meant to answer the two words why you planned this whole wedding since the beginning!"

"Well that's it, I don't know"

"Mickey…" Svetlana started again but Mickey interrupted her.

"I said I don't know!"

Terry stood up trying to get a glimpse of what was going on at the altar but he wasn't close enough to hear. Mickey kept on struggling with Svetlana and the minister; the woman was begging desperately for Mickey's reasoning and the minister argued he had other things to do and couldn't waste any more time but the boy just shut his eyes, reluctant.

"I'm telling you I-DON'T-KNOW!"

The scream echoed through the place. As a result, all of the guests stopped what they were doing; the bridesmaids stopped chatting, some men at the back stopped drinking and Ian stopped breathing.

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!" started Mickey. "I don't know what to answer, I don't know if I want to marry you; in fact, I don't even know what am I doing here. But there are a few things I DO know. First, this was never my fucking idea; I never wanted this to happen in the first place; second, I'm sorry for you, Svetlana, and for dragging you into this crazy shit. And third, that I'm fucking tired of everyone pretending to know shit about me when they have never even cared! And yes, if you ask me, there IS someone I want to marry, and that person is actually here; I don't understand why you can't just fucking deal with it. But I'm a Milkovich and Milkovichs have balls, Milkovichs speak their minds and Milkovichs keep their word". Mickey then turned to his father, a defiant look on his face. "You wanna know why I said 'person'? Because it's a guy; I want to be with a guy, dad. And you and all of these people here should start fucking coping with it…or you can just go fuck yourselves".


I must be drunk.

Those were Ian's first thoughts on Mickey's attitude. Since the first moment he saw the struggling at the altar, the minister's enraged face, Svetlana's pleading look and Terry's confusion, he knew something wasn't going as planned. When he heard Mickey's scream, it all became dream-like. He was sure he had drunk a few glasses but not enough to have such vivid hallucinations.

Mickey's words sounded strange in Ian's ears, like something coming out of a dream, something his unconscious wanted his partner to say, but it was impossible that Mickey could actually let those words out, wasn't it? It was Mickey MILKOVICH speaking! Not some random idiot pretending to be tough; he was one of the most feared guys around, if not the most. If Mickey had any reason to mess with you, you might just consider yourself a dead man or at least you could expect beatings for the rest of your life if the first one didn't kill you. And there he was letting everyone know what Ian always feared was just an illusion. Admitting he was gay and he loved him, maybe in quite a subtle way, but admitting it still.

Ian didn't have much time to rejoice in Mickey's words before reality struck him. He experienced a sinking feeling in his stomach, knowing what may come afterwards, waiting for his deepest fears to materialise. The ginger got cautiously closer to the altar, fearing the worst. But probably he never thought things would turn out the way they did…


Terry couldn't believe what he was hearing. All those words didn't seem to come out of his son's mouth; after all, he had done everything that was in his hands to get that boy down the right path. He wanted him to be responsible for his actions and saw no evil in urging his son to marry the woman he had gotten pregnant. He was only doing that worthless boy a favour! How did he expect to go far by being a faggot? He was a fucking Milkovich, for God's sake! Still, he had seen it coming; Mickey had always been so weak and fussy, he could hardly stand against older boys at school when he was younger and nowadays, he still wasn't of much use. But that was his entire coke-whore mother's fault, always spoon-feeding him, coddling the kid as if he were a little girl. He should've beaten him more often, showed him how to be a real man, introduced him to more girls, take him out with him more frequently, taught him that liking to take it in the ass was not normal…

Nobody could say he hadn't tried. He himself was impressed with how much effort he put into educating that kid, but apparently that shitty ungrateful bastard would never acknowledge that, would never EVER thank him for what he had done; after all, he was the only one who had tried to save him from becoming the disgusting being he was now.

Terry could hardly stand to look at what his so-called son had become. He could no longer see Mickey; instead, he saw nothing but a queer. And all queers deserved to die; they should all burn in hell, especially that one who claimed to be his son. He was no longer worthy of bearing the Milkovich's last name; wasn't enough to disgrace his whole family by letting that ass-digger ginger fuck him, now the damn kid wanted to embarrass them in front of everyone they knew.

The Milkovichs had a reputation to hold up. And damn right Terry Milkovich was going to make sure they maintained it.


"How dare you embarrass me in front of all our guests? I swore I'd fuck the faggot out of you, but if I can't do it, I'll make sure you can't ever get another cock up that asshole of yours!"

Everything happened faster than anyone would've expected. Terry drew his gun, pulled the lock back, loaded it and aimed right at Mickey's chest. Svetlana's screams accompanied the sound of the gun's mechanism being activated, sounding altogether like an odd choir. Blood stained Mickey's shirt and face; some of his blood even tinted the bride's dress. Ian jumped over Terry, tackling him in a way only a military-trained guy would.

Everything became pandemonium; the room seemed to spin around as the screams mixed with thick words and crying, as well as gunshots. The smell of gunpowder filled the air.


Mickey drew an arm toward his chest, though the pain wasn't coming from it, but from the side of it. The bullet hadn't gone through his chest, piercing his heart, but a little bit lower than his clavicle and a little higher than his left nipple. It hurt like hell and he immediately regretted touching it.

A few meters away he could see Ian fighting Terry, Mandy approaching to help as well as Lip. Mickey felt Svetlana's hands grasp his shoulders, the woman too altered to do anything useful. The dark-haired boy tried to get off the ground when an acute pain in his leg stopped him from doing so. He hadn't even noticed when that bullet hit him but he didn't care; he could only think about helping Ian before Terry got even crazier and shot him.

The older man was already on top of Ian, pistol-whipping him but the boy was no rookie at fighting, so he managed to drag Terry back to the ground and started hitting him back. Mandy managed to get closer. Everyone else seemed to be glued to their spots.

"Stop this now, you two! For fuck's sake, Ian, you want to die?"

The girl's screams were useless since the two men underneath her were still fighting…to death.


Ian felt the sweet metallic taste of blood in his mouth; he could also feel it dripping from his forehead, staining his hands and Terry's clothes. He thought for a moment he could actually win, but when Terry knocked him to the ground, all of his hope seemed to vanish. He was conscious of the pain of the first blows until it became so intense he could hardly feel anything at all.

"The fucking faggot thinks he can put up a fight? I'm gonna teach you how a real man fights!"

Terry kept on yelling at him and he could also hear Mandy and Lip but he wasn't able to see them. He was also worried about Mickey, about not knocking Terry soon enough to stop him from killing his beloved one, and though his body pleaded desperately for unconsciousness to take over, Ian wouldn't let it, he first had to make sure Mickey was ok; if he wasn't, all of this would be useless. He heard his big brother thread on Terry and caught a glimpse of the old man grabbing his gun and pointing it out, just like the day he had pointed it towards him. Still, Mickey's dad was too busy beating the shit out of him to seriously thread on his brother.

And suddenly, the beating stopped and Ian no longer felt pain, only a comfortable dizziness and a strong urge to call out Mickey's name.


Terry managed to grab his son by the jacket, pulling him away from Svetlana's hold just to start pistol-whipping the boy. Svetlana had never thought things would turn out like this, but of course she never thought on ending up working as a prostitute or even moving to America, but she supposed that was the greatness of life, how unexpected it could be.

She could still remember the day she met Mickey, and since the first moment she saw him, all covered in blood, his face so bruised she could hardly find anything human in it, a ginger boy sitting next to him, she held a vague idea that being around would be troublesome. The whole family seemed quite fucked up; not that she had ever seen similar cases but they never happened to be so close to her.

When she was a little girl and dreamt about getting married, she never thought it would all end in a fight between the groom and his father because the boy was gay. The Russian woman felt like she should be doing something to help Mickey, to stop Terry from killing his own son but at the same time, she didn't know what the man was capable of doing and she certainly didn't want to find out, so the most useful thought she could come up with was running away. After her last clumsy efforts for getting Terry off his son, she ran to the entrance of the improvised chapel. She wanted a Green Card, but she was not willing to die for it.

As she walked aimlessly down the cold streets, her wedding dress stained with dry blood, she lit a cigarette. That was definitely not what she had imagined for her wedding day.


Mickey was still on the floor, receiving each of his father's blows gladly; that at least would guarantee Ian's safety for a while. Attracting Terry's attention hadn't been too hard; a few attempts to get up were all it took to upset his father.

"You…worthless…piece…of shit!" Terry barked between every hit he gave Mickey. "I should've killed you when I had the chance; you're not my son, you're not a Milkovich!"

"Terry, that's enough!" Lip grabbed Terry's arm with the help of some of the guests that tried to control the man. Mickey remained on the floor, spitting blood through his seriously damaged mouth. He slowly turned his head, looking for Ian; the boy was just a few steps away from where Mickey was and turned to look at him at the same time. As soon as the ginger realised his mate was looking at him, he managed a smile, a crooked one, tiredness written all over his bloody and swollen face, but still triumphant. And with that sight, Mickey fainted.


It had been a month since the failed Milkovich wedding. Mickey walked peacefully down the road, on his way to the Kash 'n' Grab. The wind blew on his face, cooling him up and making him unconsciously wrap his coat tighter around him. He entered the store hastily, crossed a few words with the cashier and exited the place. The dark-haired boy lit up a cigarette and looked at the auburn coloured leafs that fell from the trees, covering the concrete floor like a natural carpet. After a few minutes, Ian got out of the place, slapping Mickey on the nape and making the dark-haired chase after him.

They arrived at the Gallagher's home all sweaty and breathing difficultly.

"Damn Gallagher, how much did you have to practice to beat me?"

"Practice? Oh, I raced a few turtles on my way to work".

Mickey launched himself against Ian and they both fell to the floor, the brunet on top of the ginger. Ian smiled, mockingly.

"You can't wait to get on me, can you?"

"Shut up, fuckhead!" Mickey slapped Ian's head, making the younger boy laugh, the dark-haired only staring back, unamused. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey; the boy stiffened.

"Easy Mick, we're all alone now. No one will be home until night; and I think I know a way to make the time run faster."

The ginger boy grinned and Mickey couldn't resist anymore. He pressed his lips against Ian's and started sucking desperately, letting his tongue run free over the other boy's lips. Ian's grip on Mickey's hips tightened, responding to the kiss willingly, savagely, letting Mickey bite his lower lip in that violent way of his.

It wasn't long before both boys were torso-naked and licking each other's body. Mickey bit Ian's neck, first carefully, almost imperceptibly, and then harshly, as if he wanted to rip his skin apart, a bit of blood dripping from the place where Mickey's teeth sank. Ian pulled back Mickey's head, grabbing his hair, making him loose his balance and landing on top of the brunet. He then started licking Mickey's left nipple, playing with it, letting his tongue run freely and staring intently into Mickey's eyes that were as sharp as usual but half-open, just as his mouth from which some quiet groans escaped. The ginger loved seeing the effects his actions had on his mate; he was so tough and protective but at times like this he looked so vulnerable it made Ian want to tear him apart. He caressed Mickey's scar from the wedding day, the one near his clavicle and thought about the one on his leg that resembled the mark Kash's bullet had left before. The brunet seemed to read his mind.

"Why do I always have to end up shot when it comes to you?" asked Mickey, a smirk dancing at his lips.

"There's more than one reason why I am 'firecrotch'."

Mickey grinned widely along with Ian just before the younger one went back to his mate's nipples, this time tugging at the one on the right and sliding slowly down to his navel and beyond. When Ian got to Mickey's dick, the boy was already leaking, which made the redhead smile. He let his lips dance up and down his mate's length, almost not touching it, after a while, he let the tip of his tongue out and stroked Mickey's cock with it. Mickey dug his fingers in Ian's hair, pulling at it as he shivered under the redhead's touch; he started shoving Ian's head against his penis, too excited to speak. Ian understood his mate's motion but decided to torture him a bit more before taking his whole length inside his mouth. Warm breath and wet lips caressed Mickey's cock, making his whole body quiver. In a trice, his dick was inside Ian's mouth, the boy's lips pressing against it, his tongue playing with the tip, licking it upside down, deep throating him. It felt so good Mickey could hardly hold himself back.

"You…inside…now", commanded the older boy and Ian willingly obeyed. He had been waiting for this moment the whole day and now that he had Mickey right before him it seemed too surreal to be true.

Ian quickly removed his pants and took Mickey's off, as well as their boxers and placed his hard cock outside Mickey's entrance, teasing. The game didn't last long; they were both too excited to wait any longer, so the redhead entered his mate, making him groan with pleasure.

Mickey grabbed firmly Ian's back, scratching it and making the redhead moan. As the younger one thrusted, Mickey got closer to his mate's ear and started licking it slowly, slipping his tongue in and out, sliding it along and tracing the outlines of the boy's ear, blowing his hot and wet breath into it. Ian moaned loudly and thrusted quicker and deeper and Mickey was no longer aware of time; he could hardly remember anything about his day. The only thing he could do was living the moment and feeling his whole body wretch and shiver under Ian's expert hands.


Ian and Mickey layed on the couch; the TV was on and they were supposed to be watching it but they seemed absent, each in his own thoughts. Mickey had one leg over Ian's body and the boy was distractedly caressing it. The redhead suddenly grabbed the remote control and turned the TV off.

"What the fuck…? I was watching that!" Mickey squealed.

"Come on, Mickey. We can't just keep on staring blankly at the TV", replied Ian before adding in a lower tone: "How's Terry?"

"How do you want him to be? He shot his own son twice, pistol-whipped him afterwards, nearly killed him and almost beats to dead one of his neighbours, so what do you think? Fucked up is what he is". Mickey kept on staring at the front while answering.

"How much time?" asked the ginger boy, glancing cautiously towards Mickey. The dark-haired stretched out to grab a package of smokes, taking one out and lighting it up. Mickey took a puff and kept on staring at the front.

"Who knows? And who the fuck cares as long as he stays inside? This time it won't be that easy for him to get out as other times, not even if his friends try to help".

"Have you visited him?" inquired Ian, wondering if he wasn't pushing Mickey over the edge. The boy exhaled the smoke from his cigar.

"He doesn't want to see me. Can't say I didn't try…"

Both boys fell silent. Ian certainly didn't want to piss Mickey off. He knew that even when Terry was a prick, the concept of "family" was very important for the Milkovichs and the subject of his father was delicate for Mickey. Instead of saying anything else, he snatched the cigarette from Mickey's hand and pressed himself against the boy, turning the TV back on. Mickey glared at Ian with feigned annoyance and shook his head.

"You're a dick, firecrotch"

"It's one of my most envied features, yes", responded Ian with a silly grin. Mickey then grabbed him by the neck and mixed his hair.

"What the fuck, Mick! Take it easy!"

Mickey pressed his lips against Ian's hair. "Don't ever cut it again, idiot. I like it long".

The brunet let go of his mate and leaned back on the couch. Ian placed himself on Mickey's side, their skins slightly brushing; he couldn't hold back a smile as he took another puff and gave the cigarette back to Mickey, who took it willingly and moved closer to Ian, making him shiver.

Ian couldn't remember the last time he had felt that peaceful and at ease, just sharing a smoke and watching TV. The day before everything went to hell had been close to this, having a beer at Mickey's place and watching 'Under Siege', but still there was a bit of tension between them, unexpressed feelings, guilt, secrecy…and now everything seemed to be falling into place and he knew Mickey felt that way too. Deep inside of him, Ian was glad Terry wouldn't be out for a while; he didn't know what would happen when he did, however, he was now enjoying the present time. He wasn't the same as before the unsuccessful wedding and neither was Mickey, therefore there was no reason to believe things couldn't work out. Besides, he had recently convinced Mickey to move to the Gallagher's "residence" and though he was reluctant at first, he had finally accepted and was already getting used to all the craziness that came along with living in the same house the whole Gallagher clan did.

Mickey suddenly smiled for no apparent reason and Ian knew he was thinking the same as him. The freckled boy no longer needed his mate to tell him he loved him because he had already proven that; not with words, that wasn't Mickey Milkovich's style, but with actions. And Mickey was definitely a man of action.


A/n: So, that was it for my first Shameless fic! Tried to keep both boys in character...or so I thought. I really needed a turning of events for that wedding, otherwise I couldn't have been able to live with myself. I'll be writing some more of this pairing, a bit of angst, a bit of love, so if you liked this one stay tuned for more! Reviews and thoughts are highly appreciated. Sorry for the length of this whole thing, but I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

Cheers!