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gotta-save-your-ass-for-a-change · 7 years ago

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Who Would Have Thought?: Chapter 20

Chapter Title: Feel Fandom: Shameless, Mickey/Ian Rating: M Summary: Mickey and Ian get into a bit of a tiff that brings back bad memories. Notes: I’ve been gone forever, and I’ll probably have to disappear again for awhile, but I have not abandoned this fic, nor do I plan to. If anyone's still reading, I hope you enjoy!

Title inspired by “Feel” by Darren Hayes.

Ao3 Link

When Ian wakes, it's early, the bright morning sun pouring in through the thin curtains and blinding him as he blinks awake. Mickey's not beside him, Ian notices immediately, reaching out and running his fingers over the empty sheets next to him. With a little huff, Ian let's the corner of his lips tip up as he presses his fingers against his tired eyes. It takes him a moment, but he finally falls over onto his back, sighing heavily and fighting the desire to drift back off to sleep as he pushes himself out of bed and drags on a pair of sweatpants. Grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it on as he heads through the bedroom door, Ian pads down the hall in bare feet, the smell of coffee greeting him as he moves.

Finally, he spots Mickey at the kitchen table, body tense and seeping frustration as he stares blankly at the laptop that sits open before him, the cursor on an empty word document flashing back. Ian can feel the tension in his husband's frame, and he approaches quietly, wrapping his fingers tight around Mickey's shoulders and kneading at the knots he feels beneath his hands. Mickey responds immediately, leaning back into Ian's touch and allowing his head to pillow against Ian's chest.

“Morning,” Ian murmurs, leaning down to catch Mickey's lips as Mickey tilts his chin up to receive the good morning kiss. Ian can feel Mickey melt a bit, letting go of some of the tension and letting Ian soothe him. Mickey's been on edge for weeks, nervous about the adoption process, and worried that, regardless of Lydia’s help, they’ll never manage to have another child. Ian gets it—sometimes he feels it, too—but he’s trying hard to be the optimistic one, if only to help Mickey through his own doubts. It's been no time at all, really, and it certainly hasn't been long enough to worry.

“What's goin’ on, babe?” Ian asks carefully, hoping to head off any possible breakdown before Mickey has a chance to get too deep in his head.

It takes a moment, but Mickey finally sighs and squeezes his eyes shut tight. “I feel like a fuckin’ sellout,” Mickey admits, dropping his head into his hands.

Ian gives a last little squeeze to Mickey's shoulders before shifting to slip into the chair beside his husband. When Mickey finally lifts his eyes to meet Ian’s, Ian reaches out and drags Mickey's fingers into his own, pressing a gentle kiss to Mickey's knuckles. “All right,” Ian says after a beat, weaving their fingers together, “the fuck you mean, you feel like a sellout?”

Mickey rolls his eyes and shakes his fingers out of Ian's grips, but there's a tiny smile playing at his lips that betrays his attempts at passing for frustrated now that Ian's beside him. “I don't know, man,” he tells Ian, gesturing at the computer screen, “this shit, I guess. The idea that we gotta fuckin’ sell ourselves to get a fuckin’ baby. I just wanna give a kid a good home—raise a baby with you. I don't wanna jump through fuckin’ hoops pretending to be some perfect little family.”

“Mick,” Ian soothes, reaching for Mickey's fingers again. Mickey gives in, and lets Ian squeeze his hand in reassurance. “It's a bio,” Ian whispers, forcing Mickey to meet his eyes. “That's it, babe. The agency needs it to show potential birth mothers. We're not selling out, and we're not pretending. We ARE some perfect little family, okay? We don't have to pretend to be anything other than what we are. This thing can be honest, Mick. I want it to be honest. So does the agency. And so do the people looking for adoptive families for their children. If we want a baby, we have to do this, and we have to be honest about it, okay? It can't feel weird anymore for us to admit that we’re fuckin’ movin’ up, Mick. We're not just Southside trash anymore. We're a fuckin’ happy family, and it's time we let the world see it, so we can make this thing happen, babe.”

Mickey drops his eyes, uncertainty painted over his expression as he sucks at his lower lip nervously. When Ian’s fingers squeeze gently at his own, Mickey let's his eyes wander back up to meet Ian's.

“I want to raise a baby with you, Mickey Gallagher-Milkovich. So let's figure this shit out, huh?” Ian smiles big, catching Mickey's eyes when they swoop up to meet his.

“Fuck it, all right,” Mickey agrees with a scoff and a happy smile. “Let's sell the fuck out, then.”

Barely a week later, Ian comes down with the flu, and he's near bedridden for several days. Mickey doesn't take it well, really, and he spends most of his time fawning over Ian and trying to nurse him back to health. For a while, Ian accepts it gratefully, his exhaustion leaving him in no position to argue. As Ian begins to feel better, though, Mickey's hovering starts to wear on him, and they come to blows when Ian announces he’s heading back to work the next day. Mickey's convinced Ian needs more time, and Ian's convinced he’s going to lose his damn mind if he doesn't get out of the apartment really fucking soon.

It's more than Ian can take, though, when Mickey ignores Ian’s insistence that he's feeling near one hundred percent, and Ian finds himself rolling his eyes and stomping to the kitchen as Mickey hurries after him, listing reasons why it's too soon.

When Mickey hits a particularly sensitive nerve, Ian’s irritation breaks, and he can't help the angry scoff that slips out of his mouth. “I don't need a goddamn babysitter, Mickey!” he spits, yanking the cupboard open to dig out a glass. He’s angry and he's irritated and he's fucking done with Mickey's coddling. “I'm a fucking grown man! You don't have to nurse me like a child!”

Ian can feel Mickey freeze behind him, the tension in Mickey's frame catching the corner of Ian's eye, but he refuses to turn and acknowledge it, instead opting to busy himself by filling the glass with water from the tap and gulping it down with his pills.

“You know,” Mickey finally speaks up, his tone biting and his anger barely restrained, “ this feels really fucking familiar, Ian.”

And that brings back a flood of awful memories for Ian that he has no desire to revisit. “Fuck, Mick,” Ian snaps, slamming the cupboard shut a little harder than he’d intended as he shakes his head in disbelief, “This isn't like the last time. You can't just fucking assume I’m leaving you every time we get into it. We're trying to have a baby, Mickey! We can't be in this place if we're going to bring another child into our life!”

For a moment, Mickey's face falls a bit, but it's replaced by anger. “How the fuck else am I supposed to respond to this, Ian?! All I ever wanted was to love you, to take care of you. And you fucking abandoned me for it! Do you know how that felt? To know that I wasn't enough? That you couldn't love me when I gave a shit?! That fucking destroyed me, Ian, and when this shit happens it takes me right the fuck back there, okay? I can't fucking help it. I don't want to feel this way, Ian. I don't ever want to feel this way again, but it's there, and I can't just fucking get over it, okay?”

Mickey's eyes are full to the brim with unshed tears, his body shaking in combination anger and fear, and Ian can see the desperate love Mickey holds for him behind the mask of frustration. It breaks Ian’s heart because Mickey's right, he knows Mickey's right, and Ian doesn't fucking deserve the man laying his heart bare in front of him. A flood of guilt washes over Ian then, as he realizes just how much it must hurt when he rejects Mickey's attempts to care for him. Ian’s eyes soften then, and he reaches out, closing the short distance between them. At first, Mickey flinches away, his own anger raising his defenses. It's not long, though, before Mickey gives in, falling into Ian's arms as Ian pulls him close and plants gentle fingers in Mickey's hair.

“I love you, Mickey,” Ian confesses, lips pressing to Mickey's temple before he pulls back just enough to lock eyes with the other man, a sad smile tilting his lips. “I am so, so sorry. I know I deserve this. Fuck, I can't believe you trusted me enough to let me back in at all, but I need you to know that I love you more than life, and I will never leave you. Sometimes I'm gonna get irritated and sometimes you are—we’re fuckin’ hot-headed, man—but that doesn't mean I'm going to leave you, and it doesn't mean I love you any less. But Mick, sometimes I just need some fucking space, all right. Especially after I’ve been cooped up in bed for days on end. And I don't even need to be away from you—I just need you to let me do shit now that I'm feeling better. I fucking hate feeling helpless, Mickey, and I know that's probably exactly why you hover when I'm sick, but fuck, man, I need you to let up a little, all right?"

Mickey sucks in a shaky breath at that, his body relaxing in Ian's grip as he lets out a little sigh and reaches up to cradle Ian's cheek in his palm. “All right,” he gives in, pressing his eyes closed for just a moment, “you're right. I know you're right, it's just—fuck, Ian, I just want you to be okay.”

Ian smiles at that, his lips tipping into a little smirk as he closes the tiny distance between their bodies and lets his fingers trail down Mickey's arms. “I am okay,” Ian insists, voice dropping low as he lets his eyes wander over Mickey's features. “How about I take you to bed and show you just how okay I am?”

For a moment, Mickey tries to pull off an exasperated glare, but it doesn't last long when Ian leans in and latches his lips to Mickey's neck, leaving soft kisses in his wake and whispering his love against Mickey's skin.

After that it doesn't take long for Ian to coax Mickey to their bedroom, his fingers never leaving Mickey's skin.

“Ian,” Mickey tries to insist as Ian's laying him out in their bed, “we need to talk this out.”

“Don't want to talk,” Ian argues, seeking out Mickey's lips. And when Ian kisses him deeply and begins tugging at Mickey's clothes, Mickey gives in, melting against Ian and accepting everything his husband's giving.

“I love you,” Ian murmurs the words over and over again as he presses open mouthed kisses to Mickey's skin, his body pressed tight to his lover’s as deft fingers work to divest them both of their remaining clothing.

“Ian,” Mickey breathes out, letting his fingers wander into the soft strands of Ian's hair and tugging just a bit.

Ian smiles against Mickey's neck. “Need to show you how much I love you,” Ian murmurs, hands finding Mickey's hips as he raises his head to capture Mickey's gaze. “Please, Mick. Just let me show you.”

The pleading tone Mickey hears in Ian's voice leaves Mickey utterly incapable of argument. Instead, Mickey nods, eyes still a little wet with emotion as he holds Ian’s gaze. “Yeah, okay,” Mickey finally utters, lips tipping into a delicate smile, “Show me, love.”

Ian smiles at that, swooping down to catch Mickey's lips again as they melt against one another, Mickey surrendering easily to the man he loves.

Later, when they're both sated and resting comfortably against one another, Mickey's insecurities come flooding back. Everything about the whole situation feels too raw and familiar. It feels like all those times before Ian was medicated. All those times Ian hadn't wanted to talk. When he'd used sex as a distraction to avoid any discussion of his behavior. When he'd spent his time cheating and lying and Mickey had been left feeling like a fucking fool for how much he’d ignored.

When his stewing finally gets the best of him, Mickey speaks up, working to keep his tone gentle. He doesn't want to scare Ian off or reopen old wounds—he just wants to know where they stand.

“We still need to talk about this,” Mickey whispers, his fingers stroking through Ian's damp hair.

Ian turns to Mickey, a tiny touch of a smile tilting his lips. “I know we do,” he admits, shifting a little closer and tucking an arm around Mickey's waist. “We can talk, babe. I'm not avoiding, I swear.”

Mickey nods a little at that, eyes tracing over Ian's features. “I don't want to be shitty about this, Ian, but I need to know things really are different now. Because this is the first time you've needed caring for like this since I’ve been back, and you were pretty fuckin’ quick to lose it on me, man.”

“I know,” Ian admits, but Mickey's not done, and Ian shuts up quick to let Mickey finish.

“I need to know this is different, Ian. Because you're fuckin’ right—we can't bring a baby into this if we're just gonna end up right back there,” Mickey insists, and Ian can hear the pain and fear in Mickey's tone. “I'm your husband now. It's my fuckin’ job to take care of you. The last time you freaked out about that, you fuckin’ left me. That can't happen again, Ian. I can't fuckin’ lose you because you're too goddamn stubborn to let me take care of you.”

Ian reaches out then, wrapping his fingers up in Mickey's and drawing Mickey's hand to his lips. “You're right, Mickey,” Ian admits as he strokes back Mickey's hair. “It wasn't fuckin’ fair of me. Not now, and not then. But this is different. I swear to you it's different. I love you. I'm stable. But sometimes, when I feel helpless, it takes me right back there, too, to a time when I wasn't so stable. And that scares me just as much as it scares you, and I go fuckin’ stir crazy, man. Sometimes, I just need to do shit for myself. I love you for the way you care for me. But I also need you to let me recover on my own terms. And that goes for the fuckin’ flu and for anything else that comes at us.”

After a moment of staring into Ian's expectant eyes, Mickey finally lets out a deep sigh. “I get that,” Mickey gives in, leaning forward to catch Ian's lips in a sweet kiss. “But I need you to communicate that to me, not just fuckin’ stew until you go off. Just tell me, and I’ll back off.”

Ian smiles at that. “Yeah,” he agrees, pulling Mickey close and snuggling into his husband's chest, “I can do that.”

They remain silent for long moments, Ian curled into Mickey's arms. Mickey thinks this should be it. That he shouldn't be feeling the nagging pressure of doubt gnawing at the back of his mind, but he does, and he can't help but voice it, even with Ian on the verge of sleep.

“Do you really think we're ready for this?” Mickey whispers the words, as though he fears if he voices them too loudly he’ll make his doubts reality.

Ian tenses against his husband then, unsure as he lifts his eyes to meet Mickey's. “What?” he questions, disbelief coloring his tone.

For a moment, Mickey's silent, eyes downcast and avoiding Ian's as he blinks rapidly and tries to stamp away the overwhelming emotion he feels just at the thought before speaking again, voice still quiet and shaky. “Do you really think we're ready for this? For a baby?”

Ian shoots up then, leaning his weight on his elbow as he hovers over Mickey, eyes unreadable as he stares his husband down. “What are you saying exactly, Mickey?” Ian asks, voice guarded. “Because I have never wanted anything more than to have another child with you, but it sounds like you're having second thoughts, and I really fucking hope that's not what's happening here.”

“Ian, fuck,” Mickey forces out, trying to find his words, “it's not that I don't want this. I really fucking do—you know that—but it's also really fucking scary, man. With Yevgeny, we didn't have a choice. And I love that little boy more than my own life, but to actually decide to have another baby? When a fuckin’ cold nearly just broke us? We keep doin’ shit like this, and we're gonna fuck up this kid. We have to be better at this if we're gonna have a baby, Ian.”

When Mickey's words sink in, Ian finds himself breaking into a smile as he presses a brief kiss to Mickey's lips, laughing lightly at the confused expression Mickey wears when he pulls back. “You're just nervous, babe,” Ian informs as he reaches up to stroke at Mickey's hair. “We had a fight, Mick. It lasted five minutes. It didn't almost break us. It was barely even a fight. We're fine."

“But, Ian—” Mickey tries to protest, sighing when Ian cuts him off.

“I get why you're scared,” Ian confides softly, lowering his head back down to Mickey's shoulder and interweaving their fingers. “I'm scared, too. And I know this whole thing brought back some bad memories. I'm sorry for that, Mickey. I really, really am, and I am going to do better. I promise you that. I will do my best to communicate with you about this stuff before it becomes a thing. But it's not going to break us. We're going to be just fine. And we're going to have a baby, Mickey, and you are going to be the most amazing father.”

“You don't know that,” Mickey insists, tone full to the brim with a vulnerability Ian knows no one else is allowed to hear.

“I do,” Ian argues gently. “I know because you already are.”

Ian stops there. There's nothing more to say, really, and he ends Mickey's argument with another soft kiss, shifting their positions until he can hold Mickey against him. Mickey moves easily in Ian's arms, letting Ian's confidence soothe away any remaining fears as he clings to the man he loves.

A few days later, Mickey's the one laid up in bed, and Ian can't help but laugh as Mickey yells a stuffy “I fuckin’ hate you,” after him as he’s headed out the door.

#mickey/ian #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #s7 #canon divergent #fluff #wip #who would have thought?#chapter twenty #my writing

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