More Than That

Chapter 6: Stripper

  It was Ian's night to work the floor, grinding on old men's laps and having dollars shoved down his tight and barely existing shorts. It was enough to wipe away all the joy from seeing Mickey. He'd just loose Mickey all over again if the thug knew what he really was and boy was that a bitter pill to swallow. The very thought had his chest tightening and he faltered in his job. The stripper caught himself a moment later though and lent over closer to his client, so close that he could feel the man's hot, heavy breath on his neck. It was disgusting but it got better tips.

  Little did he know but Mickey had actually followed him that night, curious. He was standing there in the club with a glass of whiskey watching as Ian ground down on the grey haired, rich old fag's lap. The thug had been waiting so as soon as Ian finished Mickey strode up and grabbed his arm.

  "Hey no touching," Ian told him before really seeing and realising who exactly it was. As soon as he did his eyes widened and he tensed up. Shit. Shit. Oh God it was all ruined and it had been so perfect. This was never meant to happen, Mickey was never meant to find out. He wasn't meant to be here.

"How about we take this outside," Mickey suggested, leaning in close to talk into Ian's ear over the thumping music.

  They made their way through the crowds of various men and Ian led them out of the back door that only the workers really used, one that led into an alley. All the while he had to focus on his breathing, the tightness in his chest. He knew the tension must have been radiating from him but he couldn't change that. Had Mickey followed him here, he had been curious about the job Ian had rushed off to? Then a more unpleasant- and more likely, shut up!- thought came to him. Mickey was here to find some twink to fuck. He had only hooked up with Ian for the sex and told him all that stuff to keep him coming back but really it didn't matter. Mickey only loved his dick and when Ian wasn't there for round two...

  Once outside Ian turned to Mickey, crossing his arms over his chest both in a protective gesture and a desperate way to keep a modicum of body warmth. He was only in those stupid shorts and a fishnet vest with a black feather boa around his neck. No attire for the Chicago winter. Mickey just stood there with raised eyebrows, tongue flicking over his bottom lip. He was nervous. Please let him have followed me.

  "So you're a whore now," he sniffed eventually.

  The word struck him hard. He hadn't expected it but then... He thought of himself as a stripper, a definite line. In the past, when he had been manic, he had given blowjobs for fifty dollars but... he was a stripper not a whore or a hooker or a prostitute or anything like that. He wasn't. Maybe he, hell he probably fell into that catagory before but now was different. How was Mickey meant to know though? How did this look to the other man? Mickey's wife was a whore and he hated her, or at least claimed to, so what would he think of Ian if he thought Ian was one too? God this was... bad.

  "I'm a stripper. I'm not a whore," he said quietly to the floor after a moment. A stripper was still a desperate job, people didn't respect people of his profession. They were all just meat. Just like whores. Was he any better? No, probably not, not in societies eyes, not in Mickey's. 

  "And why the hell are you working as a fucking stripper?" Mickey growled. He was angry, Ian just hoped that he would storm away without hitting him. It wouldn't do to go back to work with a black eye, neither the customers nor his manager would like that.

  "I got the job when I was manic," Ian blurted, looking up at the other briefly and trying to gauge how from violence the other was, he couldn't tell but he needed to try and explain himself, "I- I know that is no excuse but I couldn't stay at Kash and Grab. It... everywhere there was- was you. And I the pay it is good. I came here because I was horny and the manager said I would be a good dancer. So I... became a dancer."

  There was a long moment where Mickey said nothing and Ian stood looking at the thug's worn shoes fighting tears. The last thing that Mickey would want was a weak and pathetic stripper. Why did this have to happen now when things were good? He really wanted to know as well if Mickey had just come here because he was horny to. 

  "So why are you still doing it? You're not manic now. Fuck Ian you're underage!" Mickey half yelled and there was so much emotion in his voice that Ian had to look up. The blue eyes were full of sadness and Mickey looked to be on the verge of tears also. Probably not going to hit Ian then. Emotion meant care?

  "I need the money and I'm good at this, the manager doesn't care about the age, I'm close enough to eighteen to pass for it," Ian told him.

  "Fuck I have a whore wife and you're a stripper. I know how to chose them," Mickey laughed sarcastically.

  "Mickey please don't- fuck please don't be mad. I don't get any closer than a lap dance. It's a job and it pays the bills. Please don't let that stop-" Ian began only to be cut off as Mickey kissed him full on the mouth hard.

  "Don't like this Ian but if you do nothing more than touch 'em clothes..." Mickey trailed off.

  "I promise Mick," Ian said still shivering. Mickey must have noticed because he moved closer and began rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

  "Good," was his reply.

  "Possessive Mick?" Ian smirked against the other's lips, he needed to joke or he would cry.

  "I'm allowed Gallagher now you probably have to get back so I'll see you around," Mick grinned back before pushing him away and making his way back towards the streets.

  "Wait Mick!" Ian called, he needed to know.

  "What d'you want now Freckles," Mickey huffed in fained annoyance.

  "Did you um- did you follow me or... or for a hook up?" Ian got out.

  A sad look crossed Mickey's face but before he spoke he hid it again, "followed you dumbass. You tired me out earlier anyway."

  Ian couldn't help but grin then and watched as Mickey flipped him off before disappearing.

***

  After that they regularly met up and stayed curled together for hours. Ian would never have believed that it would have been possible to have this with Mick, to have the blue eyed man love him. He had never taken Mickey to be the cuddly type. Only once before had Ian slept, as in actual sleeping, with Mickey and been able to watch his face when he was. How relaxed and beautiful he looked. One day he hoped that he could tell Mickey how gorgeous he found him but for now he still wasn't sure that he wouldn't still run away.

  After finding out about Ian's job, Mickey often stopped by the Fairytale. He would watch him dance and drink, making sure that people didn't do any unnecessary touching. That last part he was more than grateful for, not that it didn't make him uncomfortable to have Mickey watching him. The truth of it was that Ian still wasn't sure that Mickey would watch and realise how disgusting and low Ian was. That or he would spot someone more worthy of his attention. That didn't seem to be the case up to that point as more often than not seeing Ian dance made Mickey want him and on his breaks Ian would either fuck him in the alley or blow him in the bathroom.

  It got to the point where Ian was comfortable taking his meds in front of Mickey as they were around each other so often. In fact it got to the point where Mickey knew when he took them and actually got the pills out for Ian himself. He had actually gone and researched bipolar, had told Ian as much. When Ian had asked him why he had looked at the floor and swiped a nervous hand under his nose before replying that he wanted to make sure Ian was always alright. That had ended well for him with Ian worshipping his body and showing him just how much he loved him.

  Ian genuinely didn't think it could get any better until one morning when he was smoking his regular morning cigarette in the abandoned building. He had been standing at the window and so watched Mickey approached with a content smile.

  When Mickey appeared in the doorway he looked to be practically bouncing with energy and Ian cocked his head to the side wondering about the ways he could use it up. That was when he looked at Mickey's face and saw that there was that look that meant that he had something important to say.

  "My dad's in for life."