Cameron Monaghan Dirty Imagines

Bloody

(In this story Ian isn't gay.)

"What the hell? Ian, what happened to your fucking face?!" I question furiously, getting a good look at his busted lip, swollen eye, and overall bloody face.

"Fiona! Come look at this shit!" I yell up the stairs.

"What, what?" She says running down the stairs. I point to Ian's face and he scowls at me before looking at her.

"Now who the fuck did that?" She demands.

"Don't worry about it," He says walking past me and into the kitchen. He stops for a moment and grabs the side of my face and places a gentle kiss on my cheek, not even looking up.

"Ian, who did it? Do I need to go get my brother?" I ask. Fiona repeats what I just asked and Ian turns around, obviously annoyed.

"No, just stop. I handled it. I don't wanna talk about it anymore," He says and grabs a wad of paper towels and runs it under the sink and dabs at his lip.

"Hey Carl? Can you go get me some rubbing alcohol or peroxide?" I call into the kitchen. I get no answer and Carl walks into the kitchen moments later with a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. "I got you alcohol. It burns more." He says and walks away grinning.

I roll my eyes and blot a paper towel with the alcohol and dab at his forehead above his swollen eye then down to his chin. He winces when I get to his lip.

"It wouldn't hurt if you wouldn't have fought in the first place," I say and toss the bloody paper towel in the garbage can and walk upstairs to the room that Ian, Lip, and Carl  share. He follows me and shuts the door behind him. He twists the lock before turning around to face me.

I plop down on his bed and look up at him.

"So?" I say.

"So what?" He sounds aggravated.

"So are you going to tell me what happened and who did that to your face and why?" I demand.

He lets out a loud sigh and rubs his forehead before looking back up at me.

I wave my hands at him.

"It was Dante," He finally says. My eyes go wide and I stand up.

"Dante." I repeat. "Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck happened?" I yell.

He groans and turns around to face me.

"He's been going around telling people that he wants you back and that he would kick my ass if I tried to do anything about it. Fuck." He huffs and sits down on the edge of his bed. He balls his fists up in front of him and I go to sit beside him. I rub my hand along his thigh in an attempt to comfort him.

He pushes my hand off of his thigh and I jump back in surprise. What the fuck is his problem? I'm trying to make him feel better and he wants to be a dick to me of all people?

"Hey, what's your problem?" I ask, scooting an inch or two away from him.

"You don't have anything to say about it?" He questions.

"Uh, I guess not. I wish you wouldn't have fought him." Is all I can say.

"So you have nothing to fucking say about him 'wanting you back' then?" He questions raising his voice.

"No, I don't. I don't want him so there's nothing to say." I defend myself.

He laughs while rubbing his hair and stand up. He starts making his way towards the bedroom door and I stand up with him.