Ian Gallagher (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
justlikemom) wrote2015-01-24 09:25 pm
justlikemom) wrote2015-01-24 09:25 pm
4th Idea // Get Detmer
[ Spam ][ Mostly closed to Andrew ]
[ Ian had been finally getting his bedroom in order while Mickey was downstairs. He actually felt great. Apart from that weird conversation with Chris, he was feeling good. Holding a poster against the wall with one hand, he reached over to the small box of tacks on his nightstand, but he found none. Fairly certain there were more down in the kitchen, he dropped the poster and trotted out of the room. But he hit the top of the stairs when he heard Mickey talking to someone.
He stayed at the top of the stairs, just listening. He had to strain to hear Lydia's side of things from his perch at the top of the stairs. It started as mild curiosity at hearing Mickey get so mad when he uttered Detmer's name. Someone Ian hadn't crossed paths with and Mickey had never mentioned before. But the longer he listened, the angrier he grew, and at some point, he just stopped consciously thinking as the rage overwhelmed him. And then all at once it just clicked. It was Andrew's fault. Mickey's weird behavior and his caginess on the mirror side. But he couldn't do anything. Andrew was in a coma. Before he could hear anymore, he charged back into his room, not saying a word.
Eventually, he was able to calm himself down. And seemingly forgot the entire thing had happened. But it was always just sort of lurking in the back of his head. And a few days later, when he set up resuming his task with the walls, he recalled it in full force. Hit hit him like a fist to the stomach, the paper in his hands wrinkling and tearing. Before he could think, he was out through his bedroom door and charging down the stairs. He grabbed the bat from it's hook on his way down. Oblivious to whether Mickey was even around, he blasted through the door, bare feet hitting the floor of the corridor hard.
He headed for level 7, his face set in uncharacteristic rage. This wasn't like the anger he'd flung at Chris or Cambridge. This was unadulterated, unrestrained furious rage. ]
[ Ian had been finally getting his bedroom in order while Mickey was downstairs. He actually felt great. Apart from that weird conversation with Chris, he was feeling good. Holding a poster against the wall with one hand, he reached over to the small box of tacks on his nightstand, but he found none. Fairly certain there were more down in the kitchen, he dropped the poster and trotted out of the room. But he hit the top of the stairs when he heard Mickey talking to someone.
He stayed at the top of the stairs, just listening. He had to strain to hear Lydia's side of things from his perch at the top of the stairs. It started as mild curiosity at hearing Mickey get so mad when he uttered Detmer's name. Someone Ian hadn't crossed paths with and Mickey had never mentioned before. But the longer he listened, the angrier he grew, and at some point, he just stopped consciously thinking as the rage overwhelmed him. And then all at once it just clicked. It was Andrew's fault. Mickey's weird behavior and his caginess on the mirror side. But he couldn't do anything. Andrew was in a coma. Before he could hear anymore, he charged back into his room, not saying a word.
Eventually, he was able to calm himself down. And seemingly forgot the entire thing had happened. But it was always just sort of lurking in the back of his head. And a few days later, when he set up resuming his task with the walls, he recalled it in full force. Hit hit him like a fist to the stomach, the paper in his hands wrinkling and tearing. Before he could think, he was out through his bedroom door and charging down the stairs. He grabbed the bat from it's hook on his way down. Oblivious to whether Mickey was even around, he blasted through the door, bare feet hitting the floor of the corridor hard.
He headed for level 7, his face set in uncharacteristic rage. This wasn't like the anger he'd flung at Chris or Cambridge. This was unadulterated, unrestrained furious rage. ]
no subject
He's in the kitchen with a pot of spaghetti on the stove -- about the most complicated thing he can make, but hey, he's cooking -- when he hears the door slam.]
Ian?
[He cranes around to look for him, frowning when he doesn't see him. Whether he's sick or not, a slamming door in the Gallagher house probably isn't a great sign. He starts out of the kitchen, but has to double back, cursing, when the pot starts to boil over. It's precious seconds lost in turning the fire off and tossing the pot into the sink, and by the time he makes it to the front door Ian's already about to hit the stairs with the bat in his hand.]
Shit. Hey! [He takes off after him.]
What happened? What are you doing?
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It's a twisted rendition of an event so long ago. The first real turning point for him and Mickey. Only now it's Ian charging off to defend Mickey's honor. Little does he realize that just like then, this is also a gross misunderstanding. But even that probably wouldn't have stopped him.
He doesn't even slow down until he reaches Andrew's door. His fist slams against against it. ]
no subject
[He doesn't catch up with him until he's in front of Andrew's door, and when he realizes where they are, his stomach churns. He makes a grab for Ian's wrist.]
What the fuck are we doing here?
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It's his fault!
[ It's all he could come up with, all he could offer. Everything else was noise that he understood but couldn't quite make sense of. Andrew had hurt Mickey. That's all that mattered. ]
no subject
[He looks over his shoulder at the door, then back to Ian, and completely misunderstands what's going on -- but if his stomach was flipping before, it drops to the floor now.]
Did that son of a bitch do something to you?
[Because shit, if so, Mickey will take the bat himself.]
no subject
It's what he did to you.
[ He tapped Mickey on the chest with the bat. ]
no subject
[He looks down at the bat, up at Ian's face. Then he shakes his head, just a tiny movement at first, then for real, and tugs at his wrist with increasing urgency.]
Hey, no. No. We're not doing this. We need to go.
no subject
You won't do anything about it. Someone has to.
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He directs his words mostly to Mickey, because of course, he assumes he's the one who decided to come over here.]
What do you want?
no subject
[His focus remains on Ian, which helps, because he still has no desire to so much as look at Andrew. He pulls hard on Ian's arm, giving him an intent stare. He adds, quietly:]
We got nothing we need to do here.
no subject
[ He snapped at Mickey, yanking his arm free as he wheeled on Andrew. There was wild fury in his eyes, but he managed to not raise the bat. Yet. ]
You touch Mickey again, you come anywhere near him, you're dead!