#Ian Button

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

ALWAYS REMEMBER!!!! 😘

[ridethecyanide]

Goodman Theatre dropped the latest cast photo for Betrayal

[polterwasteist]

HEAR ME OUT-

AU where Susan and Nancy Smelbutz leave their dorkys husbands to date each other 🥺

[hear-that-music-in-the-air]

Helping Hand

My first RD fic! I haven't written proper fanfic in a hot minute but the little pixel people grabbed me by the throat and opened my google docs

Also shoutout to @nightmun for helping me visualize Ian's silly little mug

Summary: After seeing Ada struggle with the rhythm treatments, Ian comes up with a way to help her out.

Fic under the read-more :)

—

Dr. Edega loomed over her, his eyes boring into her back over the top of his clipboard.

"I expect better from you, Dr. Paige. Times are changing. If you can't keep up, then maybe you're not cut out for this job after all,” he said lowly.

Ada couldn't meet his gaze. Instead she stared down at her hands, balled into trembling fists, as her heart pounded in her ears. Burning tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she immediately felt ashamed, like a child being scolded.

She had messed up. She had been treating a patient with the rhythm defibrillator and started to panic as soon as she lost track of the tempo. Ian had frantically swooped in to take over and finished the treatment smoothly, while Ada had watched, feeling numb.

She was distantly aware of Ian pushing past her, positioning himself between her and Edega.

"D-Dr. Edega, sir—this is a very new, experimental treatment method. We're still working out the kinks and—and no one's going to be perfect at it right away."

"That's no excuse. There's no room for mistakes when lives are on the line. You both know that."

"N–Not every case we get is life-threatening," Ian said, and she was faintly surprised at the edge of anger creeping into his tone. "And she'll practice. She can—"

Edega pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"I don't care what she does as long as her performance improves. See to it that she receives more training as soon as possible. And keep looking for any bugs in the program in the meantime."

Ian opened his mouth to say something else, but was silenced by a single look from Edega. He shrunk into himself.

"Y–Yes, sir. Of course."

Edega turned on his heel and strode out of the room, leaving a heavy silence behind him. Ada didn't realize that she was still shaking until Ian placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Ada?" His voice sounded so far away, as though he were speaking to her from underwater. She attempted to pull herself back, focusing on the warmth of his hand as a grounding point. She placed her own fingers unsteadily over his and gave him a tremulous smile.

“I’m…okay.”

Ian watched her face, brow furrowed in concern.

"He—he shouldn't speak to you like that. I—I hate it."

She sniffled and quickly swiped at the tears that were threatening to spill under her glasses. She took a deep breath and straightened, attempting to look professional instead of pathetic.

"No. He's right. We can't afford to make stupid mistakes in this line of work. And it’s not…it’s not just him.” She remembered the way the patient’s heart rate had spiked on the monitor when she missed a beat, and let out a shaky sigh. “I just...can't stop thinking about what might have happened if you weren't here."

Ian frowned.

"Ada. You can't go beating yourself up over what might have happened."

"Sure I can," she joked weakly. Ian didn't laugh.

"We're—we're all trying our best here," he continued. "And Edega doesn't see how much you do for the patients every day. He barely comes out of his office, and when he does it's only to—to reprimand us for something or other. Everyone else in this hospital loves you. You—you're a good doctor, Ada."

As she stared at him, all of the tears that she had swallowed came rising back up in her throat. She let her head fall against his shoulder with a soft thump, and a quiet sob escaped her. She felt Ian freeze for a moment, uncertain, before he awkwardly wrapped an arm around her. She leaned into the warmth.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Not really a hugger."

Ada let out a watery laugh.

"I know, doofus. Thank you."

She pulled back and tried in vain to wipe the tear stains from his coat.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m crying all over you. This is gross.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” Ian said. “But that’s okay.”

Ada collapsed into a nearby chair, suddenly feeling indescribably exhausted. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes before letting out another long sigh. Ian sat down next to her, awkwardly rubbing the back of his hand.

"Personalized care, comforting patients, that's what I'm good at,” Ada said. “You're the one who’s amazing at all the technical stuff.” 

She stared up into the harsh light of the overhead fluorescents, letting her vision go blurry. 

“All Edega seems to care about is getting people in and out of treatment as quickly as possible. Seems like if he has his way, pretty soon everything will be done remotely. I guess I just feel kind of useless,” she muttered.

“You’re not useless,” Ian said quietly.

Ada made a noncommittal sound.

“Like you said, there’s so many other things you’re good at. Trust me, Ada, we—we’ll always need you. You’re everyone’s favorite doctor. Otherwise, they’d all be stuck with me,” he joked.

She attempted to muster a smile, but she knew it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Ian frowned again and fell silent for a long moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then he stood abruptly, nearly startling her out of her seat.

“Oh! I—I might actually know a way to help you!” he cried, pacing excitedly. “M–Meet me in the basement when you come in tomorrow.”

Ada blinked up at him, baffled. “Oh…um…okay? What—?”

Ian was already gone, scurrying down the hallway towards the door that led to the basement. Ada shook her head bemusedly, before scooping up her clipboard from the nearby table to see which patient she needed to check on next. She took a moment and closed her eyes, mentally preparing for the rest of her shift. 

Deep breaths.

She heaved herself onto her feet, and set off in the other direction towards Cole’s room.

—

When she came down to the basement the next morning, Ian looked haggard, yawning and rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. When he saw her, however, he lit up in a smile and eagerly waved her over.

“Ada! Hey! C-Come here, I have something to show you.”

On his desk was the rhythm defibrillator device, and attached to it was a new button that she didn’t recognize.

“...What’s this?” she asked as she slowly descended the stairs.

Ian spun around in his chair to face her, gesturing enthusiastically.

“I was up all night testing this, but it—it works! Basically, it modulates the detected heartbeats to—to simplify them on our end, and then it translates the button input back to the original complexity to match the patient’s heart pattern. S-So you’ll still be administering the same treatment, but it should be easier to—”

Tears welled in her eyes all over again, and Ada practically fell forward to pull him into a hug, grinning from ear to ear. Ian stiffened uncomfortably, and she suddenly remembered herself.

She stepped back and laughed sheepishly as she wiped away the tears.

“Right. Not a hugger. Sorry, I really need to be better about that.”

Ian looked at her for a moment, sighed, and then smiled. He stood from his chair and wrapped her in another hug, tighter than before.

“I’m willing to make exceptions,” he mumbled into her shoulder. Ada’s heart swelled, and she squeezed him back just as tightly. Then Ian let out a yelp as she lifted him off his feet in her excitement, and she quickly set him back down. 

“Too much?”

Ian laughed weakly, smoothing down his rumpled coat.

“Too much.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She returned her attention to the new button, running her fingers over the smooth surface. It looked fairly similar to the standard one, though slightly bigger. She gently pressed it down and it made a satisfying click.

“Thank you, Ian, seriously. This is…incredible.”

Ian scratched the back of his neck bashfully.

“It’s the least I could do. You already work so hard. H–Hopefully, this’ll make your job a little easier.”

Ada suddenly remembered his words from yesterday. You’re everyone’s favorite doctor. Otherwise, they’d all be stuck with me.

“You’re doing a good job, too, by the way,” she said softly. “Edega’s an idiot if he doesn’t see that. I know that a lot of your work is behind the scenes, but it’s just as important.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Ian looked away, embarrassed. “Y-You don’t have to say that.”

Ada smiled fondly.

“Just want you to know that you’ll always be my favorite radiologist.”

“I’m quite literally th–the only radiologist that we have.”

“Still.”

Ian finally broke into a smile, too. “Okay, okay. H-How about we test this thing?”

—

A week later, Ada told him that she had a gift for him, and produced a small white coffee mug from her coat pocket. Ian burst out laughing when he saw it.

“Wait, d-does that say ‘number one radiologist?’”

It was a “Number One Dad” mug from the dollar store that Ada had drawn over with a permanent marker. She had added two lines under the first D to turn it into an R, and had scribbled “-iologist” underneath, along with a little smiley face at the end. The mug soon became a permanent fixture on Ian’s desk, and she grinned to herself every time she passed by it.

[guessimdumb]

Faces - Three Button Hand Me Down (1970)

The Faces first LP is pretty underwhelming with the exception of a few tunes; this being my fave off the album.

I don't need no one's opinion On the matter concerning my dress

[maysshortmoviereviews]

The Split : Barcelona (2024)

Hannah and her family are reunited to attend the wedding of Hannah's daughter Liv and her fiance Gael.

This is a posh (?) soap opera-type show. I got a bit tired of the previous seasons because they were kind of sad and depressing, but this one was actually pretty good. It had a sort of feel-good "holiday in Barcelona" vibe, where things go wrong and then people come together to fix them, a typical Christmas vibe :) I enjoyed it. I wasn't that invested in the characters and only watched it because of the nice scenery and sunny location.

[krispyweiss]

Song Review: Faces - “Three Button Hand Me Down” (Live, April 1, 1972)

Faces knew how to tighten up when the BBC came calling.

The bluesy swagger of “Three Button Hand Me Down” is surprisingly together as it follows “Stay with Me” from the infamously sloppy band’s forthcoming (Sept. 6) Faces at the BBC - Complete BBC Concert & Session Recordings 1970-1973.

Recorded April 1, 1972, for “Live on Sounds for Saturday,” it finds the band sailing smoothly on Ronnie Lane’s thumping bass; the backgrounds are tuneful; Ronnie Wood’s guitar work is taut; and the band executes a false ending flawlessly.

While these elements are shocking, Rod Stewart’s near-perfect performance at the mic is not.

Grade card: Faces - “Three Button Hand Me Down” (Live - 4/1/72) - A

8/19/24

[bra1nxfreeze]

[cultfaction]

Preview- Button Moon: The Complete Collection (DVD)

Join Mr Spoon and his family in Button Moon: The Complete Collection, brought to you by Fabulous Films,  including all 7 series of the hit 1980’s animated Thames Television show, finally here for you to enjoy for the first time ever as a complete collection on DVD. The Spoon family – Mr Spoon, Mrs Spoon, Tina-Tea Spoon and Eggbert live on Junk Planet. Everyday Mr Spoon flies off in his spaceship…

[ridethecyanide]

Umm…who’s getting naked in Betrayal?!?

[atlas-affogato]

First line of the song goes "I got my eyes on you, you twinky little ginger" and I added it to Finn's playlist IMMEDIATELY

[acmecorpgraphicsarchive]

(via Gridllr)

i-D issue 200 August 2000

This is out of order because Tumblr puts the shuffle queue button right next to the photo button. I didn't feel like putting it back in proper order

[demilypyro]

Ian Flynn really got his hands on the Sonic comics and put in team consisting of a "sniper wolf", a "decoy octopus", a "revolver ocelot", a psychic and a guy with a minigun.

Then named them the "diamond cutters" and had them hang out on an oil rig.

I know Konami was watching that shit like a hawk with a finger on the lawsuit button

The ocelot even wears a beret for chrissakes

[cinnamonlouu]

“Somebody Else?”

Smoke (elijah) x black!reader

Elijah hadn’t touched her in two days.

Not in the way that mattered.

He still made her breakfast. Still brought her home from work like he always did. But it was different. There was no warmth in it,just duty. Muscle memory. His hand on the small of her back felt like a placeholder, not a claim.

⸻

It started after that dumb argument about her wanting to go out of town with friends. She hadn’t even planned the trip, just mentioned it. But he’d gone quiet in that slow, dangerous way he did when he was thinking too much.

“Do what you want,” was all he said.

And he meant it.

Not out of freedom.

Out of detachment.

⸻

Now it was Thursday afternoon. Elijah was out on the back porch, talking low with his twin brother, Elias—Stack, the fast-talking one, always grinning like he was trouble.

Marie was in the kitchen. Window cracked.

She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Not at first.

But then she heard her name.

And then she heard another one.

“Shanice.”

She froze.

Stack laughed. “She still callin’?”

“Yeah.”

“And you still pickin’ up?”

Elijah didn’t answer right away.

Then: “She don’t run her mouth when I tell her something . Peaceful.”

Marie’s chest dropped like someone had kicked her heart down a flight of stairs.

Stack whistled. “That what you want now? Peaceful?”

“Maybe,” Elijah said. Flat. Cold. “Think I been to easy with Marie she been pushing my buttons lately.”

Stack made a noise like he didn’t believe him. “You serious?”

Another pause.

Then Elijah’s voice, low and final:

“I love her but Ian waiting for her to grow up.”

⸻

She didn’t even realize she was crying until the floorboards creaked under her bare feet.

She backed away from the window, heart in her throat, mind spinning. Shanice? Who the fuck was Shanice? And why was he answering her calls?

She sat on the couch in silence. Too sick to cry, too stubborn to panic,at least not out loud.

He came in half an hour later like nothing happened. Washed his hands. Looked at her once,he then turned toward the hallway.

“Elijah,” she said, voice too thin.

He stopped.

Didn’t turn.

“You wanna talk about something?” she asked.

He looked over his shoulder, calm as ever. “No.”

That was worse than yelling. Worse than anger.

He didn’t care if she knew.

Didn’t care if it cut her.

And God—it did.

⸻

That night, she couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t eat. Could barely breathe with him lying in bed beside her, face turned away, body distant. She reached for him once—he didn’t flinch, but he didn’t hold her either.

Just laid there.

Let her feel it.

The hollow.

“You gonna leave me?” she asked, voice shaking.

He sighed heavily sitting up against the headboard looking over at her with those eyes.

“You already crossed the line,” he said. “You push my buttons every chance you get.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked up, slow. “Sorry ain’t always gon cut it with me?”

Her throat clenched.

Marie tried to hold her ground, but her lip trembled.

“I don’t want nobody else,” she whispered. “Even if I act stupid sometimes. I don’t. I don’t want no peace if it ain’t with you.”

He searched her face. Hard. Silent.

“Why now?” he asked. “Why not when I was giving you multiple chances?

She choked on the truth. “Because I thought I had you. Thought you wasn’t goin’ nowhere. I got comfortable.”

“You got careless.”

“I know.”

“You got everything other women begging for and you act like this ,” he said. “So I reminded you that you’re not the only one who want me.”

Tears spilled hot down her face. “You gon leave me?”

“No,” he said. “Dont need to.”

“But you wanted me to think you did.”

He didn’t answer.

And that was the answer.

She laid her hands on his chest, soft and trembling.

“I don’t want to feel this again,” she said.

“Then don’t give me a reason to make you.”

“Elijah… I love you.”

He leaned down until their foreheads touched. His hand cupped her jaw.

“You gon’ show it now?” he whispered. “Or I gotta keep remindin’ you I don’t beg for what’s mine?”

She nodded through her tears. “I’ll show it.”

“Good,” he murmured, brushing her lips with his. “Now get undressed. You gon’ prove it tonight.”

⸻

Everything was fine after that she had still spent her days making it up to him when he already forgave her.

Until she got a little visitor one after closing up her boutique.

⸻

Marie was locking the boutique door when she heard heels click behind her.

She turned, slow, the evening sun casting a soft gold behind her.

A woman stood there, arms folded, lips glossed, looking too pretty for a chance meeting.

“You Marie?”

Marie didn’t answer right away. She already knew.

“You must be,” the woman continued. “I been meanin’ to meet you.”

Marie slid her bag up her shoulder. “That right?”

“Mmhmm.” She stepped closer. “I’m Shanice.”

Marie didn’t blink. “And what exactly is it you wanna talk about?”

Shanice smiled, slow. “Elijah.”

There it was.

Marie took a breath, calm. “You his cousin or somethin’?”

“No,” Shanice said proudly. “But we been talkin’. A lot.”

Marie’s heart ticked—but her face didn’t move. “You telling me this for what?”

“I want you to know what it is,” Shanice said, stepping forward. “He look like he real tired. Said you been actin’ like you got better things to do.”

Marie laughed. “He told you that?”

“Yeah. And from the way he talk, I figured it’s only a matter of time ‘fore you out the picture.”

That one hit different.

Shanice saw it too.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said, arms folded. “He picked up when I called. Stayed on the line too. Real quiet. But I know what that silence meant.”

Marie’s chest pulled tight, but she kept her voice light. “You real bold.”

“I’m honest. And I know when a man’s already half-gone.”

Marie looked her over. “He ever take you home?”

“No.”

“He ever sleep over?”

“No.”

“Cook you breakfast? Wash your hair in the shower when you tired? Tell you how you not going anywhere?”

Shanice’s face twisted.

Marie stepped forward, real close now.

“Don’t matter he gon be mines sooner or later,” she said like she was so sure.

“You thought you could take somethin’ I bled for? I suffered for? You thought you could walk up here and tell me he yours like I’d hand him over?”

Shanice blinked, faltering.

“You ain’t built for the kind of man he is,” Marie said. “He quiet, but he ain’t soft. And when you fumble with him, he make you feel it. He make you sit with it.”

Shanice stepped back.

Marie didn’t.

“You ain’t got the years I got with him. The nights. The fights. The history. You saw him alone one time and thought that meant you was next. But he ain’t nowhere near done with me.

Shanice shifted, trying to hold pride in her spine.

Marie tilted her head.

“Because If he was done with me, you wouldn’t be here tellin’ me. You’d be home with him.”

Silence.

“Now get out my face,” Marie said. “Before I mop my floor with yo cheap ass bundles bitch.”

⸻

Later that night, Marie didn’t bring it up to him. Just made sure while he was in the shower to call her and let her hear who he was fucking and putting through the mattress at night.

Tag list: @chrisevansmentee @queenofklonnie22 @christinabae @secretlifeofpreshap @thefutureemmywinner @monstaxmomma0 @cocooned-butterfly

[fandomlit]

gif cred belongs to @shmoo06

imagine appearing briefly as a crew member on the smosh channel and the fans becoming obsessed with you

"can we all give a round of applause for y/n?" ian spoke from his host stand, host personality still on despite the interruption of a malfunction. you smiled as you adjusted the overhead mic. the crew and cast members onstage for the game cheered and clapped, making your face turn red as you ran a few tests with your extra microphone pack to gauge the issue.

"can we all give a round of applause for y/n's waist?" courtney spoke when the applause died, causing them to start back up as laughter burst out everywhere. "oh, wait, it's not there!" you laughed, face going even redder as you propped the microphone back up to loom over the set.

"y/n is probably the calmest person i've ever met," ian continued on, leaning on his stand as a few crew members laughed at his casualness, "they're the best as solving tech problems, they're.." you pressed a few more buttons on your tech and then gave them all a thumbs up before scurrying offstage. "devastatingly humble, obviously. one more round of applause for y/n!"

that moment, which usually would have been cut, somehow made it into the video when it was posted. you were never a person for being the center of attention, but the comments on the video made you feel like you had stolen the show with your minute of fame.

smoshluver229: 24:32 who else has a new smosh crush??? -> laineybabey: no because i'm actually obsessed with them, they're adorable

simpnation2004: wait y/n is so cute!! how is this the first we're seeing them??

haileysc0ment: 23:58 i just KNOWW they're the office crush -> kingofthewerk: THAT'S WHAT IM SAYING

shourtney4lyfee: actually fiending for more cast interactions with y/n.. how did they steal my heart in less than two minutes?? -> celiacc87: it was the blush for me, way too sweet looking to ignore -> interwebb3r: @ smosh pit WE NEED MORE Y/N!!!

[iandarling]

Ian wakes up in the hospital with memory loss after getting a head injury;

- - - - - - -

“Mr. Gallagher, your husband is here!” said a cheery nurse, waking him up from his groggy sleep. His head was pounding and the light burned his eyes.

Ian had no idea what she was talking about.

The last thing he can remember is smoking weed with Lip as they did each others homework. Lip was always better at maths than him, but Ian excelled at English. So.

“Huh?” He mumbled as his eyes closed and opened again. The light was bright and his leg hurt like a motherfucker. Actually, his leg felt…longer than usual. It was heavier to move, and not just because of the cast.

“Jesus Christ, Ian.” He heard a rough but concerned voice, as a man entered through the open door.

Ian knows he knows that voice. He focused he eyes and stared ridiculously at Mickey fucking Milkovich.

“— and you’re always the one complaining ‘bout me not checking both ways before crossing the road, and now look at ya! A broken leg and a concussion, you scared the fucking shit outta me Ian.” Said Mickey Milkovich as he leaned down and kissed Ian on the mouth.

Mickey kissed him. They had never kissed before. Ian distinctly remembers the other guy saying that kissing was gay, and that he would never do it. Until now.

Wait, husband?

“I don’t know what’s going on.” Ian said dumbly, not sure how to begin forming his thought. Mickey had grown smile-lines, and Ian could see the shadow left from his shaven beard. And he was much taller and broader than he’d ever been before.

Mickey looked older. Much older. Ian was suddenly aware of how long his legs felt, how his toes touched the bed railings, how his arms felt heavier and bigger. His distress must’ve been obvious, because Mickey immediately looked upset.

“Your head hurtin’? Nurse said she gave you the good stuff so you shouldn’t be in pain…” Mickey bit his bottom lip and sucked in some air. He was concerned. Mickey Milkovich was concerned about him.

“Why did the nurse call you my husband?” Ian asked. Before he could get an answer he asked another, “and why do you look so old?”

“That’s a shitty joke, Gallagher,” Mickey began but soon realised Ian was not joking. He must’ve seen the truth on his face, because he took a step back.

“What do you mean, old?” His tone was flippant but Ian could hear the concern underneath it.

“You’re definitely not sixteen anymore,” Ian responded and began touching at his own face. He could feel stubble and his jaw was wider.

“Try twenty-six,” Mickey whispered as Ian gaped in horror. That would make him twenty-four, maybe even twenty-five, if his birthday had passed. What time of year was it?

For some reason Ian found himself instantly believing Mickey words, despite it all sounding insane. Somehow Ian had ended up in the future, a future which contained a calm and gentle Mickey Milkovich. A Mickey who kissed him because they were —

Ian forgot how to breathe. He had a husband.

“We got married!” Ian gushed as he admired Mickey Milkovich standing before him. Ian could feel his cheeks heat up as he smiled at him. Mickeys eyes softened impossibly, a sight Ian had never seen before but knew instantly he wanted to see again.

“Yeah, man. Two years ago. Hold on, I’ll call the nurses or sumthin’ because this ain’t right.” Mickey pressed a button beside Ian’s bed, and moved to open the door.

Ian stopped him by grabbing at his hand. He could feel the cool metal ring against his skin. It was a nice silver colour, perhaps a little basic, but definitely masculine in that way jewellery for men looked. Ian decided he liked it.

“What’s going on, Ian?” His husband asked. Ian had no idea how to answer that.

“I was doing homework with Lip, and then I woke up in this bed, and I’m older and married and my leg fucking hurts.” He blurted out and Mickey looked even more panicked than before.

He gripped a chair with one hand, and pulled it closer to Ian’s bed, sitting down beside him. Ian was still holding his left hand, fingers touching the ring and the rough tattooed skin under it.

“You got hit by a bike on your way home, hit your head pretty bad, and fell on your leg.” Mickey began explaining. A concussion he said, it might explain the headache and confusion.

Ian was twenty-four, an adult, married to Mickey Milkovich.

“I can’t believe we got married,” Ian blushed as he studied the ring some more. As it lifted slightly from the skin, he could peek some letters etched into the inside. Ian.

“I had the biggest crush on you, I was obsessed! And fuck if you don’t look even better as a grown man. God, look at those biceps.” He pretended to ignore his own red face as he soaked in the sight of Mickey in a tight black t-shirt.

“Not too bad looking yourself, stud.” Mickey tried to joke, but Ian could tell he was anxious. His foot was tapping fast on the linoleum floor, and his breathing was getting quicker by the second. Ian felt a need to squeeze his hand in comfort.

A nurse came in, and Mickey began talking. She paged a doctor, and Mickey explained everything again. Ian’s head was still hurting, and his confusion was only getting worse. It didn’t help that his leg was in a cast and he couldn’t move properly.

“Just tell me it’ll be alright,” Mickey pleaded with the nurse who was asking Ian a series of questions. Who’s the president (wrong answer,) what day is it (again, wrong,) what did he have for breakfast (wtf is a chia seed pudding??)

“It is not uncommon with head injuries that a person may experience memory loss, and most of the time their memories will come back within a day or two.” The doctor said as she wrote something down on her clipboard.

Ian felt Mickey squeeze his hand. It was grounding. Safe. Familiar, somehow, even though they never held hands before. But Ian supposed his body might remember things his mind had forgotten.

“The important thing is to keep to your regular schedule, your routines and habits, without overstimulating or overwhelming yourself. I assume you’re going home with your husband? Still, we’d like to keep you for observation for another couple a’ hours.” The doctor said and Ian nodded. He didn’t mind.

“I texted Lip earlier, said he’s on his way. They all are.” Mickey smiled at him and Ian eased up a little. His big brother was coming. They all were, the whole Gallagher clan. Just like they always did — they showed up for one another, come rain or shine, they would always be there.

Ian wondered how they would look all grown up.

“Is there anything else you remember? Try and imagine smells or tastes — our senses are tied closely to our memories.” The nurse spoke gently, and Ian closed his eyes and tried as hard as he could.

Snippets and visions appeared and disappeared just as quickly as he saw them. It was all a mess, like his mind scrambled ten years of memories into soup, but he tried to filter some of it out.

The colour yellow, an ugly suit, mayo?

“We were in prison?!” Ian shouted at Mickey who finally coughed out a laugh. He could remember the cold cell and the itchy suits. Panic consumed him once more.

“Yup. We’re two gay ex-cons, but we have our own legal business now. Renting an apartment on the fucking west side and everything.” Mickey was proud as he spoke, but Ian couldn’t wrap his mind around the prison of it all.

He could smell fire and smoke, but the room he was in was still safe.

“Arson?” He tried a guess and Mickey nodded sheepishly. Fuck.

“Technically you tried to stage a political protest but it sorta ended up violent. Don’t worry, it’s all good now.” He squeezed Ian’s hand again, and he found it comforting.

While he wanted to ask more questions, his train of thoughts were interrupted by a gaggle of Gallaghers entering the room. Lip walked first as expected, but what Ian had not expected was to see him carry a little boy in his arms.

“Eeeeen!” The boy screamed and clapped his hands in his direction. Two years old perhaps, maybe less, Ian wasnt the best at gauging ages.

Everyone looked older. Carl was taller, Debbie had become a young woman, Liam was a whole teenager, and an unknown blonde woman walked with Lip. And who was the little redhead girl who ran up to Mickey with a big grin in her too big boots?

“Uncle Mickey!” She shouted happily and jumped into his lap. Mickey, barely blinking at the onslaught, wrapped an arm around her tiny frame, one hand still holding onto Ian.

“Hey lil red,” He mumbled. The little girl looked just like Debbie did as a child. The same quizzical expression and big grin. Debbie had a daughter, Ian remembered in horror.

Mickey turned his head back to Lip and spoke again. “Ian’s struggling with some memory loss from his concussion. Go easy on ‘im, aight.” It was a threat, but not a dangerous one. Ian knew what those sounded like.

“Hey Ian,” Lip began and moved towards him. The baby in his arms was cooing and clapping his fat hands at Ian. “You remember this one?” He joked, as he held out the little boy.

No, Ian thought to himself. He had no idea who this was. But he knew in his heart that he cared deeply about him. “He’s yours?” He guessed, and Lip nodded in that peculiar way of his. He always seemed to be eight steps ahead of the game.

“You wanna sit with uncle Ian, Freddie?” He asked his son, and without hesitation plunked the little boy down in Ian’s lap. Lip had a son, Ian was an uncle. And he was married to Mickey Milkovich. Turns out the future isn’t all that bad.

Ian held onto the little boy with one arm, and kissed his head. He had always loved babies. As he looked around the room, his eyes landed on his youngest brother. Liam had tears in his eyes as he waved a little. He was no longer a baby.

“Last I saw you, you were still in diapers.” Ian tried to joke, and he heard a few scattered laughs.

“I outgrew them.” Liam joked back. Hearing him speak full sentences threw Ian a little, but he smiled at his siblings and pretended everything was okay. Mickey squeezed his hand again, as if he could magically feel Ian’s distress. Ian squeezed back.

“Heard you broke your leg again, that fucking sucks man.” Carl told him and lifted up the plain blanket to take a look at his cast. So Carl hadn’t changed a bit, that’s good to know.

“I’m Tami, Lips fiancé” The tall blonde girl said, and nodded towards him. Ian smiled back.

“Lucky Lip, poor you.” She laughed, Lip flipped him off. Everything was normal. Ian breathed deeply and tried to remember more. Fiona was not here, because she had left…she had left for Florida of all places. He remembered a picture of her sunburned face under some palm leaves.

When he told the group this they all exhaled in relief and began talking like normal. It seemed his memories would return eventually, he just needed to unscramble the eggs his brain had become.

Thankfully, the nurse had given him some more painkillers, so his head wasn’t hurting him anymore. Ian talked and smiled as he played with Freddie, his nephew, all while holding Mickeys hand. It was pleasant, if not strange, to see his family all grown up.

After a while it was decided the guests would leave, and Mickey could take Ian home.

Home. He had a home he shared with his husband. For a strange reason, Ian could remember the touch of the blue coloured carpet in their living room. Huh.

Mickey handed him some crutches and Ian balanced on them as he got out of bed. His legs were fucking long, and he towered over Mickey. He liked that. Very much.

“Let’s get you home.” Mickey kissed his jaw nervously. Ian smiled and leaned down for a proper kiss. He could do that now — kiss Mickey Milkovich — they were husbands.

Ian couldn’t wait to remember every memory they’ve made together.

“Yeah, I wanna go home.”