Chapter Text
Phillip Gallagher, a respected New York City lawyer took a final drag from his cigarette and opened the heavy door to the office building where his next meeting was scheduled. He hadn't smoked in over four years, but recent events had pushed his stress levels to the max and made him fall back on his nicotine addiction, proving again, that there was nothing better to calm him down, than inhaling the fumes from a cigarette.
The hall of the NYC Sober Companion headquarters was empty, nothing there would have given away the purpose of the company. Struggles with sobriety and drug abuse wasn't something people liked to parade around and that mirrored in the buildings interior design. Everything was impersonal, exchangable and anonymous.
Phillip was glad. If anybody saw him here and assumed to know the purpose of his visit, he would soon loose his big bureau in the top level of the lawfirm he had been lucky enough to be employed in and he would have to find a less nice and less expensive home for his beautiful wife and two adorable children.
The lady at the counter greeted him with a professional smile and licked her perfectly painted lips before she started to speak.
"Welcome, Sir. I'm assuming you have made an appointment with our coordinator?"
Lip nodded shortly and ran a hand through his ash blond hair.
"I was told to state my case number? It's 567388."
The woman typed the number into the computer in front of her and reappeared soon after from behind the big screen.
"Alright then, Mr. Carter is waiting for you in his bureau. Second door to the left. Would you like me to escort you there?"
The smile seemed stuck on her flawless face and Lip shook his head. He had never really liked women like this, because he just couldn't figure out what was behind that mask of politeness and perfection.
He reached the door after a few steps and straightened his gray, tailored suit before knocking. There was a short silence until it swung open and a short man with thin hair and a remarkable paunch offered him his hand.
"Good afternoon, Sir. My name is Larry Carter. Please, come in."
Lip shook his hand briefly and stepped through the door. He was offered to sit in one of the big leather chairs in front of a glass desk and Mr. Carter poured him a glass of water.
"Mister Gallagher. Nice to finally meet you. We've talked a few times on the phone but it's nice to finally connect the voice with a face."
He smiled and revealed yellow, crooked teeth. Lip nodded, talking something about how the pleasure was all his and that he was thankful this all had happened as fast as it did.
"So what are we dealing with today, Mr. Gallagher? Who are you looking for?"
Lip took a moment to collect his thoughts, then spoke truthfully.
"I'm looking for a sober companion for my younger brother. He's had a few problems in the past year and he's going to get out of rehab in a few days and I need somebody to help him stay on track."
Mr. Carter nodded understandingly, then turned his computer screen towards his guest, showing him a register with all the men and woman that were available for hire.
Lip felt lost with amount of people he was presented with.
"I'll need someone who is tough. Someone who doesn't scare easy. Me and my brother grew up in the Southside of Chicago. If I hire someone who is soft, he'll never respect them."
During his words, a smile had spread on Mr. Carters face.
"Say no more! I know just the guy you're looking for." He clicked on the face of a darkhaired man and maximized his file.
"This is Mickey Milkovich. He's one of our top guys. A little rough around the edges and definitely not for everyone, but he'll get the job done. He's got a 98% success rate."
Lip quickly read through his file and liked what he saw. Mickey Milkovich was 24 years old, living in New York for three years and he had the face of someone who had experience and perseverance.
"Unless you've got someone who's got the 100% success rate, he seems perfect." Phillip said, taking his eyes away from the screen.
"He'll be available the day my brother gets released?"
Mr Carter nodded assuringly and opened a drawer in his desk, pulling out some forms.
"Alright, we'll have to go through these, so Mr. Milkovich knows a bit about his protégé. And after that, we're good to go."
The Coordinator went through a couple of basic questions, like age, birthday, birthplace and Lip answered them quickly and truthfully. He loved his brother and he would have done anything for him, but at this point, he was ready to get the hell out of this office.
"What drugs is your brother addicted to?" Lip got his phone out of his pocket and opened the list the recovery center had mailed him earlier that day.
"Uh, everything, basically. But the big one is heroin. That's what the doctor told me."
Mr Carter nodded, unimpressed by the lawyers statement. Then again, this was his job and he had probably seen way worse.
"Any idea what got him hooked on all that stuff?"
Lip took a deep breath. This wasn't something he liked to remember, let alone talk about. The thought itself made his stomach tighten and his blood boil.
"His, um, boyfriend, I guess. They started dating some time in the spring last year and he kept his relationship and everything very private, but a couple of months later I found out the dude is about 35 years older than him. They started taking them together and I guess he got the drugs to make sure my brother stayed with him."
Mr Carter nodded understandingly and filled In the given information. They settled the payment method and Lip left the bureau moments after, already fiddling for his next cigarette while still in the hallway.
Rehab, Taxi, Airport, Bus, Plane, Bus.
After all these stops, Ian Gallagher had finally made it to New York City. He was tired, exhausted actually, nervous and excited to see his annoying big brother again.
There was also a whole other spectrum of emotions brooding in the back of his head, but he forced himself not to go there and focuss on the moment for now.
Thankfully it only took a couple of minutes to get his bag from the luggage claim and walk through the glass doors that lead to the pick up zone of JFK Airport. Lip was easy to spot, standing a little offside from everyone else waiting for their loved ones, nervously fiddling with the buttons of his jacket.
Lips facial expressions relaxed when he saw a thatch of firery red hair heading towards him, a big grin on his freckled face.
"There he is. What's up little brother?" Halfway through their hug, Ian started laughing and took a step back.
"You know that I'm not suppossed to be around addicting substances right now, right?"
He sniffed Lip again and took another step back. "You started smoking again?" The lawyer's look became slightly panicked and he quickly fiddled the pack of smokes out of his pocket and into the nearest trashcan.
"Shit, Ian. I'm sorry. I don't know how I could've forgotten that. You okay?"
He looked legitimately worried that he had somehow already managed to fuck up his brothers sobriety, but Ian just grinned and laid an arm around him.
"It's all good. Trust me, cigarettes are not the reason I was in that hellhole for 6 months." Lip shot him another apologizing look and grabbed his bag.
"Don't tell Mandy, alright? She'll kill me if she finds out I started again."
Ian chuckled and raised two fingers in the air.
"I swear."
He followed his brother to the parking garage next to the airport and whistled approvingly when Lip clicked the keys to open his giant BMW.
"Jesus, Lip. How much did that cost you? You live in New York. Why the hell do you even own a car?"
Lip shrugged and got behind the wheel, Ian climbing onto the passenger seat. The inside still smelled like plastic and toxins so the car had to be a recent purchase. Lip didn't exactly like to talk about his income and anything that had to do with money, but Ian had a pretty good idea what his brothers monthly income was and he knew that after working his ass off for years and years money finally wasn't a problem anymore.
Ian kept Lip talking the entire drive home, asking about Mandy, his kids, his job, anything he could think of really, that would keep his brother from talking about Ian and his problems. He knew the conversation was unavoidable, but he wasn't there yet. He figured he would drag that out as long as he possibly could.
It took about 20 minutes until they reached their destination, a vintage looking building in Queens, about seven stories high and very dirty.
"Looks good!" Ian said and it did.
There were small steps leading up to the main entrance, used, but still beautiful and there were bushes and flowers growing in a patch in front of the basement windows. The wood of the front door was engraved with flowery carvings, there was even a iron loop to knock on the door.
They entered the building and climbed up four flights of stairs until they reached the second floor. By the time they arrived at the apartment, Ian was out of breath and sweat pearls had formed on his forehead and above his upper lip. Lip shot him a mocking look and he raised his hands in defense.
"I know, I know. I gotta start getting in shape again. I can't do anything anymore without dripping like a faucet."
Lip chuckled and handed him a small silver key.
"Here you go, brother. Welcome to the big apple!" He padded his back slightly as Ian unlocked the dark brown, wooden door.
It opened right into what seemed to be a living room. The first thing that caught Ians eye were the big windows that covered the whole wall in front of him. The view was anything but great, only showing the front of another building across the street dirty and run-down but it let in a lot of light, which Ian liked.
The room was furnished with a dark leather couch in the center, and book shelves covering all other walls. Ians eyes looked around for a TV but couldn't find one.
Lip, who had waited for him to take in the new place, stepped into the room and, as if he had read his thoughts, ripped a large piece of what looked like plastic cover off the wall above a fireplace that Ian hadn't even noticed until now. That revealed a big flastcreen TV, the screen still covered in the protection foil.
"This is not supposed to be like a big reveal, I guess the painters just forgot to take it off when they changed the wallpaper in here."
Ian felt torn between happiness and guilty conscience as it dawned on him how much effort Lip had put in giving him a new home. He could feel the guilt brooding in his stomach trying to convince him that he wasn't worth all this.
"Listen, I think all this is awesome, but it seems crazy expensive. I could just go back and live in Chicago. We have a home there?"
Lip stood silent for a moment, selecting his words carefully. Although seeming fine, Ian was still fragile and easy to disturb.
"It's fine, Ian. I'm excited to have some more family here. Mandy's happy to finally get to know you better and the kids have been talking about today for weeks now."
Ian smiled at the mention of his niece and nephew.
"Plus, I didn't pay a college tuitions worth of money for rehab so you can you right back to Clyde once you're out."
He felt a stab of guilty conscience when he saw Ian flinch at the name of his ex lover. Ian looked down to the floor until Lip grabbed him by the jacket and dragged him onto the next room.
"Stop moping around. You're staying here. It's awesome, let me show you the rest of the place."
There were two bedrooms, plus a big bathroom and a kitchen that looked like it had come straight out of one of these cooking shows on TV. The rooms were all extremely tall, as usual for old buildings and the floors creaked sometimes but all in all it was heaven. Ian placed his bag on the bed and went back to the living room where Lip was sitting on the couch, concentrated on his phone.
"So," he said, while Lip quickly put his phone in his pocket, scooting over for Ian to have room to sit down.
"I think I'll unpack later. What's the plan for today? You got somewhere to be?"
His brother intertwined his hands in his lap and avoided his eyes.
"No, I thought we could spend the rest of the day together. You know, catch up and stuff. I got tickets to the Mets game at four. You wanna go?"
Ian looked at him incredulously.
"What do you mean do I wanna go? I haven't even had a TV for the last months, I'm dying for some entertainment."
Lip nodded his head, relieved, then his expression turned serious again.
"Ian. How are you doing? I mean really? You feeling any better?"
There it was. The conversation Ian had tried to somehow avoid was written all over his brothers face. It was hard, talking about his situation and his feelings when he, himself had no clue how the fuck he was doing. Everything that had happened in the past year while he was on a variety of different drugs was stored away somewhere in his brain and he had avoided to get it out and face it properly so far and he was planning on keeping it that way. At least for now.
"Lip, I'm fine. They wouldn't have released me if they thought otherwise." Lip nodded.
"Yes, I know. But they don't know you like I do. I know that you've mastered the art of keeping everything to yourself and suffering in silence. I get if you don't want to talk about all this yet, but if you do, I'm here for you. Name a single time I've let you down!"
Ian smiled at his brothers words.
"I can't think of one. Thank you, man!"
They hugged awkwardly for a moment, then Lip harrumphed and started biting his nails. Ian smirked.
"You would love a cigarette right now, wouldn't you?" His brother smiled, caught in the act and took his finger out of his mouth.
"It's fine. If you can do it, I can do it easily." He ducked in time before Ians fist hit his upper arm. They wrestled playfully for a while until they were both out of breath, sitting on the floor.
"Seems like you could really use a little exercise." Lip mocked as he eyed his brother who was wiping sweat off his forehead.
"Fuck you, you're one to talk. What's this, huh?", Ian huffed as he pinched into his brothers spare tire.
There was noise everywhere. The people inside Citi Field Stadium were screaming, laughing and singing everywhere and Ian grew more and more uncomfortable each minute. Thinking about it now, coming to a Baseball game probably hadn't been the best idea but now they were here and Ian was determined not to show any weakness in front of his brothers. Lip was already too worried about him and he didn't need his younger brother to feed him more reasons to be.
Lip and him had bought a bunch of different stuff from a bald, sweaty dude in a striped uniform and a hawker's tray and his brother was munching away next to him, eyes glued on the game, hands inside a big bag of salty popcorn. Ian himself had his hands around a hot dog but he hadn't even looked at it since Lip had gave it to him.
Besides all the different noises, there were all these smells, too, proving to be way more difficult to handle than Ian had thought. A few rows below them, somebody was smoking a cigarette, the smoke swirling its way to Ians nose.
On his left, a bunch of teenage kids had managed to get a cup of beer from somewhere, which they were now passing around for everyone to have a sip. The kid sitting next to Ian, a blond, teenage boy with acne and round glasses was next in line, but he failed to grab the drink so it fell on the ground and spilled all over everything, spreading the smell that made Ian long for a sip of the cool beverage.
He tried to suffer through it for a few minutes, Lip beside him oblivious to what was going on, but he knew he had reached his limit.
Without another word he jumped up, threw the hot dog onto the kids lap and ran like he was being chased, away from all the temptation and into the mens bathroom, where all the good smells were covered up by the stench of piss and sweat. Just this once, Ian was actually thankful that most men were such pigs when it came to public bathrooms.
He ran his hands through the cold water and leaned on to the sink. He had known getting from the most protected rehabilitation center to the real world would be tough, but he was still surprised of how difficult it actually still was for him to resist from relapsing, when every part of his being was screaming for it.
One day at a time. That had been the mantra that Dr. Rosery had always told him when he had a particularly rough day. One day at a time was easier said than done, when all he wanted to do was go back into the ranks and ask around if somebody was selling anything.
It didn't take more than five minutes until the door swung open and Lip appeared, cheeks flushed and a piece of popcorn stuck to his lower lip. Ian chuckled and shook his head shortly, ordering his body to get its shit together.
"Ian, you okay? Where the fuck did you disappear to? The redhead shrugged and made a gesture around the room.
"What does it look like? I had to take a piss." Lip laughed but he could still see the worry in his eyes. That look of a mixture between pity and worry that he had seen from everyone in his family and that he had grown to despise.
Lip seemed to see through his charades because he offered Ian an easy way out of the situation without embarassing him.
"Looks like the Mets are gonna loose. You ready to get out of here? Ian nodded and walked through the door that Lip was holding open for him.
"Have you thought about diving back into the dating world?"
Lip asked as they walked to the restaurant that, according to Lip was only a couple of blocks from the stadium. Ian huffed. He was far from over the whole Clyde fiasko so dating definitely wasn't on the menu. He was, however, a man with basic human needs, so he saw nothing wrong with looking for a little fun.
"Not really ready to do that, yet."
Ian answered truthfully. They stood by the side of the road, waiting for the caravan of taxis to clear and give them a chance to cross the road. Ian scanned the front of the restaurant to maybe already get a glimpse of the menu when he saw something else.
"Scratch what I just said. I'm willing to do whatever that dude over there wants me to do."
Lip chuckled and let his eyes wander to see who his brother was crushing on. The smile froze on his face when he realized who Ians eyes were glued to. He stopped Ian, who was about to use the rare chance of a free street to head over to the restaurant and turned towards him.
"Yeah, that's not going to happen. You and that guy."
Ian furrowed his brows and eyed him questioningly. Lip looked sheepishly to the floor when he continued talking.
"Look, man, I didn't know how to tell you this, earlier, so I've been kind of putting it off throughout today. The guy is a sober companion I hired for you. We're going to have dinner with him now to get to know him."
Ian felt like a mouse who was realizing that the cheese cube it was munching on, really was part of a mouse trap and Lips words were the metal wire that was snapping down on him, breaking his neck.
All the happiness and good mood suddenly turned into anger and frustration. Instead of giving in and acting on them, he turned around and started walking away.
It only took seconds until Lip had caught up with him. He grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket and forced him to face him.
"Listen, Ian. This is not meant as a punishment, I'm only trying to help you."
His expressions was helpless and sorrow was radiating from his eyes. Ian took a deep breath, reminding himself that his addiction hadn't only destroyed his life, it had also affected the lives of his family, especially Lip.
"I can't do this. I told you I'm fine." His brother nodded, but it was obvious he still had doubts about that.
"Look, it's non negociable. You wanna live here and have your own place and everything, that's my condition. It's scheduled for six weeks, then we'll go from there."
He could see that his words weren't really pushing Ian in the right direction, so he rowed backwards. "Just come with, listen what he has to say and decide after the dinner how you wanna proceed."
Lip knew, he wasn't really giving Ian an option, but he had been prepared by Mr. Carter that something like Ians current reaction was likely to happen.
His brother was fuming. It was obvious. He was practically radiating anger with his clenched fists and trembling lower lip but Lip wasn't going to back down so he gently pushed Ian across the street when the road became clear again.
Mickey was early. Not usually his style, but with new employers it was always wise to seem eager and overpunctual. He was standing in front of the restaurant that Phillip Gallagher had ordered him to and he had his hands in his pockets to shield them from the slicing cold wind. He had been looking forward to take a break from his usual diet of deep dish pizza and pepsi, but given that he was standing in front of an Italian place, his excitement was bound to be disappointed.
Just as he was about to loose his nose to the frostbite, he saw two men heading across the street, one of them fitting the description of Phillip Gallagher, Mr. Carter had given him.
He was accompanied by a redheaded adonis of a man. About a foot taller than his brother, Ian Gallagher seemed broad and muscular underneath his black leather jacket. He was wearing slim fitting jeans that fit him perfectly and dark, rundown sneakers.
All in all, Mickey was sure it wouldn't be hard at all to keep an eye on the ginger, who was looking as if somebody had just murdered his family. They reached the other side of the street seconds after and Phillip Gallagher shook his hand when he introduced himself.
"Mr. Milkovich. Good to meet you. I'm Lip, this is my brother Ian."
Mickey offered the redhead a hand, but he just stared him down without moving.
"Hello, Ian. Nice to meet you." He earned a scoff and Ian shot his brother a deathglare.
"Yeah, can't say I feel the same way." Mickey smiled. This wasn't his first rodeo.
"Well, we'll see if I can change that." Ian sighed and turned to face his brother.
"Why is he talking like our demented english teacher Mr. Jackson?"
Lip smiled at Mickey, mouthing an apology but he didn't mind.
"I had an english teacher named Mr. Jackson, too. See? Already something in common."
Over the past two years working this job, Mickey had made a game out trying to piss off his protegés with being overly nice and Ian was a very easy target. One of the things that came with his job was that not many people he worked with liked him but he didn't mind, preferred it even.
They entered the restaurant and sat down in a booth that was a bit apart from the rest of the tables. Mickey sat on one side, the Gallagher brothers on the other.
Lip tried hard to get a conversation between the both of them going, but his brother didn't give him much to work with.
He was staring at his phone in his hands and ignored everybody that tried to talk to him. Mickey tolerated it for a few minutes, talking about the game the Gallaghers had just been to, then he decided that he was done being ignored and snatched the phone out of the gingers hand.
Their hands touched during the action and Mickey tried to overlook the tingling feeling in his stomach. He would have to figure that out later, when there wasn't a redheaded pitbull staring at him, ready to jump his throat and kill him.
"What the fuck?" Ian muffled, trying not to make a scene in public.
Lip had a hand on his brothers arm and talked to him soothingly. He held the phone up and demonstratively put it into the pocket of his jacket.
"Alright, listen here, joker. You wanna behave like a little girl? That's fine. But you listen to me for five minutes before you decide you're too good for this."
Ian didn't respond he just kept glaring and yanked his brothers hand off of him.
"Good. So, here's how the sober companion thing works: We leave here later, I come with you. I live with you for six weeks. If at the end of that you're sober and good to go, I leave you alone. If not, you'll go back to rehab. If you're sober but I think you're in danger of relapsing, I stay a while longer."
Ian had calmed down now and it seemed like he was listening. Defiant, but listening.
"Now, here's my rules. Honesty, Transparancy, privacy. You feel like you wanna use, you come to me. You feel like you might want a drink to calm down, you tell me. It's easy. As long as you stick to the rules, I'll be a pleasure to have as a house guest." Ian opened his mouth to say something, but Mickey wasn't done yet.
"And the last thing, and this is important. Do not, I repeat, do not disturb me while I watch Game Of Thrones."
The redhead rolled his light green eyes and Mickey tried not to think about how hot he looked doing it.
Hot, male and pissed off, that's how he liked his men and Ian fit right in. But this wasn't going to happen here, this was a work thing.
Or so Mickey told himself.
After what must have been the most infuriating dinner Ian had ever been a part of, the three of them headed back to Lips car.
He did not like it one bit, but he didn't have any other option than to agree to his brothers conditions. It was only six weeks after all, then that Milkovich character would get ouf of his apartment.
Six weeks wasn't a very long time. Not a lot could happen in six weeks, Ian thought, oblivious to how utterly wrong he was.