Will always choose cats over humans.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Wherever I go

They’re leaving a restaurant, after a successful third date. It’s been going so well, it kinda scares Ian. It can’t be this easy, can it?

When the time comes to say goodnight, it’s like his whole body, heart and soul don’t want to let go. He wants to feel this for a little while longer.

“Can I walk you home?” He’s not angling for an invitation, even though he wants Mickey. There’ll be time for that, he hopes. But no, tonight is about romance.

Mickey nods, a shy smile on his lips. “Sure thing, Red”.

.-.-.-.-.-.-

Drive

Mickey’s driving and he has Mandy on speaker.

“Shit, Mickey. Seems like you got it bad.” He’s told her about Ian and his red hair and his puppy eyes and their make out session outside his apartment the other night.

That’s an understatement. Mickey’s gone on this guy.

“So, what’s the matter?” Mandy knows him well.

“What if…” he doesn’t have to say it. He’s always thought that love wasn’t in the cards for him. 

“Oh, Mick.” Mandy says softly. “The only way to find out is taking the chance. Is he worth it?”

“Yeah.” Mickey’s sure of it.

.-.-.-.-

Just say yes

Ian’s sitting across from Mickey in a park. Today it’s a fun, Sunday picnic date.

“This is all I want”, he thinks. It’s perfect. He’s perfect.

And yet… Ian is... Ian. The cracks in his soul are there and it won’t be long before he finds himself flailing, like a fish out of water.

Will Mickey reject him for it?

Mickey kisses him out of his reverie. “What’s wrong?”

Ian feels it in the kiss; Mickey won’t discard him. It’s so simple and he knows it.

“I have something to tell you”. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he begins.

.-.-.-.-.

Hairdresser

Ian’s hairdresser is mid-cut, hearing about how Ian told Mickey about his bipolar. He’d described it in broad strokes. The things he’s done when manic or thought about when depressed saved for another day. He tried to contain it.

“He said it was fine. Asked a couple of questions.” Ian says quietly.

“So why the long face, baby?”

Ian glances at his feet. “He’s been ‘busy’. Haven’t seen him since and he hasn’t answered a text since Monday”.

 “I’m fine” he announces, faking a smile while he looks back at her.

She merely nods.

I’m fine.

Someday it’ll be true.

.-.-.-.

Pumpkin Spice

“Let me explain.” Mickey’s standing at Ian’s door, with a pumpkin spice latte in his hand.

Ian grabs the coffee, tries not to show how hurt he is. “You went home, googled about the bipolar and decided to ghost me. It’s happened before. You don’t owe me anything.” Ian starts walking away.

“Not what happened. C’mon, stop”. Mickey’s trailing behind him. “Let’s talk tonight, I’ll take you out, make it up to you”.

Ian hates this. “Not interested in just fucking, Mick”.

“Good. Me neither. Just say yes. I’ll explain everything”.

“Fine, whatever.”

Mickey better have a damn good explanation.

.-.-.-.-.--.-.---

Trick or treat

“One guy said he didn’t want to wake up to a constant game of fucked up trick or treat. Another one said that I was making it up. Should I go on?” Ian’s nursing a cup of coffee while they talk. “Whatever it is this time, I don’t want to hear it.”

Mickey tells him anyways. “I had to make sure that my father didn’t get parole. He… tried to kill me. He did some nasty shit to Mandy. I know I should have told you. I’m sorry”.

“Shit”. Ian’s face softens. “Are you ok?”

“Are we ok?”

Ian smiles. “Yeah.”

Endure 2

“Take your clothes off. Now”. Ian is in a bossy mood, already discarding his own shirt and pants.

“Whatcha gonna do if I don’t, Gallagher?” Mickey smirks as he toys with the hem of his shirt.

Ian huffs as he rolls his eyes. “I’ve endured three fucking weeks without you. Take. Them. Off.”

He crowds Mickey until he’s against the wall. “I’ve missed you. I thought…”, he shakes his head. “Please, Mick”, he adds quietly.

Mickey notices the shift, from bossy to pleading. “Hey, hey.” He grabs Ian’s jaw as he stares into his eyes. “You got me, ok?”

COMPETITION

“Ok. You’ve won. Don’t even know who you were competing against, but yeah. It’s over”. Mickey lays on the bed, trying to catch his breath. 

They’ve been together all weekend, making up for lost time. Ian’s done things to him he didn’t even know were possible. He’s moaned, whimpered and screamed so much, he’s surprised the neighbors haven’t complained. 

“Yeah?” Ian asks next to him. He looks just as blissed out as Mickey feels.

“Yeah. Now let’s go eat something before we pass out”. 

Ian eyes him playfully. “Ok, but then we’re coming back. There’s something I’ve been meaning to try…”

.-.-.

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT

“You’d look good though. Up there on the stage.”

They’ve gone out dancing. Ian thought it would be fun. He didn’t know that the club he chose would have nearly naked dancers on platforms.

“Why would you say that?” Ian’s voice shaking, memories resurfacing from a time he’s worked hard to move past, his paranoia winning out. “Did you see me? Back then? Did I dance for you? Did we…?” 

He storms out, a concerned Mickey on his heels. 

Ian doesn’t stop; he starts running once he’s outside. 

It can’t be. He would remember Mickey.

 Mickey would have told him, right?

.-.--.-

CRAZY POSSESSIVE

Ian’s thinking how he’s going to explain his freak-out. 

The truth is, he wouldn’t remember Mickey. He remembers events.Some actions sometimes feel like they were burned into his skin. Faces and names escape him. 

But he’s pretty sure that Mickey wouldn’t have waited this long to tell him if they had met back then. 

He feels sick. Mickey’s sort of crazy possessive sometimes so he wonders how he will react to this. Knowing what Ian used to do. How it was exacerbated by the fact that he was unmedicated. 

But Ian owes him the truth.

 The rest is up to Mickey. 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Grinch

He feels like the Grinch, dumping all of this on Mickey right before Christmas. 

Happy Holidays, Mickey! Your boyfriend was a coked up, manic whore for a bit there… 

There’s no way Mickey’s gonna be ok with this. No one ever is.

“I see”. Mickey’s looking straight at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

Ian’s face falls as he prepares to leave. 

“Where’ya going?” Mickey asks. 

Ian shrugs. 

“I’m sorry I said that. At the club. I didn’t know it would… trigger you or something.” He holds Ian’s hand. “Stay. This doesn’t change anything. I love you”. 

.-.-.-.-.-.

Gravity 

Ian looks at a sleeping Mickey next to him. 

The past few weeks have been good. They’ve been going out, sleeping at each others apartment almost every night, it’s domestic and tooth rottingly sweet, is what it is. 

And Ian just knows, like he did all those months ago when they met at that club, that this is it. 

That he’s supposed to gravitate around Mickey for the rest of his life. 

Mickey wakes up, groggy, eyes still half shut. 

“Whatcha staring at, Red?”

Ian doesn’t even hesitate. “Do you wanna move in with me, Mick?”

“Sure”. Mickey smiles as he stretches his limbs. 

It’s Ian’s turn to smile. 

This is their new beginning. 

.-.-.-.-.-

Embroidery

“What’s this thing you’re doing?” Ian eyes suspiciously at Fiona, who is fighting with a needle and some thread. 

“Embroidery. Got bored of knitting but I’m supposed to keep busy or something”. 

She’s visiting from Florida, it’s her first time in Ian and Mickey’s new apartment. It’s her first time meeting Mickey. 

“So when is this magnificent boy of yours coming home?” 

“In about an hour. Fi, you’re gonna love him, he’s… been really good for me.”

Fiona smiles softly. “This is the happiest I’ve seen you. That’s a damn good start.”

Ian runs a hand through his hair. He wants this to be perfect.

.-.-.-.-.

STICKER

There’s a stubborn sticker still stuck to the bottom of the mug Fiona’s drinking from. It’s just another thing she doesn’t like about what she’s seeing here. 

Ian’s boyfriend stormed through the door a few minutes ago, barely even acknowledged her and locked himself in the bedroom.

“I… Mickey’s not usually like this. Something must have happened. I’ll… let me check on him, ok?” Ian disappears into the room. 

She hears hushed voices arguing inside while she texts Lip. 

Fiona: “I thought you said this Mickey guy was fine?”

Lip: “Better than the others. Something happened?”

Fiona: “He clearly isn’t”.

DON'T

“Mickey…” Ian’s at a loss. Mickey knew Fiona was coming over and that it was important to Ian that they make a good impression. Ian tries to get closer. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t”. Mickey extends his arm, preventing Ian from getting any closer. “Terry got himself a new lawyer. He’s getting out.”

“What? No, there must be something we can do.” Ian can ask Lip if he knows a good lawyer, maybe they can stop this. It can’t happen. 

“There isn’t. It’s a done deal.” He grabs a bag, starts throwing Ian’s stuff inside. “You need to go. Now”. 

Ian freezes. “What?”

HUNT

HUNT

Fiona: Hey can you… come pick us up from Mickey’s? 

Lip: “Us”? What happened? 

Fiona: Not sure, I think they’re breaking up? 

Lip: What? Ian just moved into Mickey’s apartment two months ago. 

Fiona: Who’s Terry and why would he “hunt Mickey down”? 

Lip: Oh shit. Mickey’s dad is getting out? 

Fiona: Apparently?. 

Lip: Ah fuck. I’ll be there in 20. 

Fiona: Ian is putting up a fight and all, but I don’t think he’s going to win this one. Let me know when you get here.

Lip: Stop them if they actually try to kill each other.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

STEAL

“You can’t just leave me”. 

It’s Ian standing in the doorway with his shit all packed up, but Mickey is the one leaving Ian. 

“You don’t get it, Gallagher. It’s not my choice. Terry will find me and when he does, you can’t be here. It’s for your own good”.  Mickey walks into the bedroom, closes the door behind him. 

Ian feels Fiona tugging at his sleeve. “Lip’s downstairs. Come on.” 

He doesn’t move. 

“You can’t stay, Ian. Give him some time, try again tomorrow.”

Still, he takes out the keys Mickey gave him less than two months ago and he drops them on the floor. 

.-.-.-.--

RUINED

“So you panicked?” Mandy is sitting in Mickey’s apartment, which looks half empty again, because he kicked Ian out. 

“I didn’t panic. Terry can’t find him here.” Mickey grits his teeth. Why doesn’t anyone see it for what it is? Terry coming out means Mickey dies. He’s minimizing the damage, he’s keeping Ian safe. 

“We’re not safe, you’re right on that. But I think that Ian and all the others, his family, our friends… They make us stronger, not weaker.” Mandy lets it settle. They are not helpless teenagers anymore. 

“Fuck. Did I ruin it?” 

“Only he can answer that, Mick”.

.-.--.

REFLECTION

Ian stares at his reflection in the mirror. It’s been two days since Mickey kicked him out. He doesn’t look different, just a little tired. But he feels different. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s probably Mandy. Again. 

Ian hasn’t answered a single call from her. She’ll either try to explain what Mickey did, or she’ll call him an asshole and Ian doesn’t want to hear it. Not from her. 

He hears someone behind him. 

“Uhm. Mickey’s here to see you… should we… like… let him in?” Fiona says softly.

Ian holds onto the sink and he closes his eyes. 

“Ian?”

FLUTTER

Ian’s eyelashes flutter while he tries to get rid of the tears in his eyes. 

“Ian?” Fiona is still waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah. Just give me a sec”. Mickey’s too stubborn to leave without seeing him. But what is there to talk about? By kicking him out, Mickey effectively broke up with him. 

Ian goes down the stairs a couple of minutes later. Mickey’s standing in the kitchen. He looks nervous, fidgety. 

“Ian…”

Ian says nothing. 

“I’m sorry.” Mickey says, walking over to Ian, who takes two steps back. 

“Apology accepted. Now get the fuck out of my house”. He walks up the stairs again. 

.-.---.

FERAL

Fiona is looking at him, she watched the whole thing play out. 

“I don’t know you” she states, “And I don’t particularly like you right now, but… Lip said you made Ian happy. Is that right?”

Mickey nods, “When I’m not royally fucking it up, yeah.”

“So you got two or maybe even three choices. You leave, you go feral or… you can go talk to him”. 

“He doesn’t want to talk to me”. 

Ian all but stormed upstairs, barely even looked at Mickey. 

“He’s stubborn and you hurt him. But I know him. Give it another try”. 

She’s right. He walks up the stairs. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

COMING HOME

Mickey walks in, sits by the door. 

And he tells Ian everything. About a lifetime of abuse and violence. About one event which ended up with Terry locked up. 

He tells him that falling in love with ian was unexpected, scary and dangerous. And how Terry is being released and he just knows that his first stop is going to be a gun shop and then he’s not going to stop until he finds Mickey. 

Mickey looks at the guy again. Ian lifts his chin in acknowledgement and leaves it at that.

"Doesn’t he have something else to do than stare?” Mickey doesn’t really like the idea of the guy knowing his every move. Call it paranoia, call it having to look out for himself since he was a child.

“Ian, if I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to be attending group. Still not going?”, the orderly asks calmly.

The guy shakes his head, “I’m not sick.”

“Three different shrinks and that van you blew up would beg to differ, but whatever. You know how it goes. You refuse treatment, they won’t let you leave. Simple as that”.

Now that gets Mickey’s attention. That skinny bitch managed to blow up a van? Mickey’s impressed. He watches Ian as he gives the orderly the middle finger and he walks inside his room.

“Don’t worry about him giving you any trouble. Underneath all that bravado, he’s a pretty sweet kid”, the orderly says before giving Mickey some final instructions. They know he’ll be going through withdrawal so he’s not expected to show up for anything for the next few days and the staff will be making regular appearances to help him out, if needed.

Mickey doesn't see or notice much for the next couple of days. He gets the shits, the shakes, the chills, the vomiting… you name it. It takes a few days and he reminds himself why he tries to stay clean for as long as he can. He sees a shock of red hair from time to time, and then he sees the orderly.

After the worst has passed, Mickey wakes up in the middle of the night with cold sweats and someone placing a wet, cold rag to his forehead. It’s the shock of red hair that gives him away.

“What are you doing here?” Mickey asks, while he grabs Ian's wrist to stop him. “Where's Jean?” She's been taking care of him through this.

“You asked me not to call her, don't you remember?” Ian replies quietly. He's sitting there, all folded up in a chair next to Mickey’s bed, with a rag in one hand and the other one holding a pan steady. Mickey doesn't remember.

“So you what? Decided to play nurse instead?” Mickey spits out, “Fuck off,” he adds for good measure. He doesn’t need the hot redhead from across the hall to take care of him.

Instead of cursing him out, Ian smiles broadly. “Fuck you. Stay still or you'll sleep on a wet pillow”. He stays for another hour, he changes the water twice. Mickey falls back asleep eventually and when he wakes up, he's alone in the room.

The next night, Mickey wakes up to a repeat of the same scene.

“Again?” He asks through a mild headache.

Ian shrugs. “You sort of yell and I can't sleep anyways”. He dips the rag in the cold water. “You're doing better tonight, though”.

Mickey nods. “So what are you in here for anyways?”

Ian frowns as he drops the rag in the pan. “I'm not sick,” he says, jutting his chin out.

“Ok, so you're not sick. Watcha in here for, then?” Mickey asks calmly.

Ian stares at him for a moment. “My family. They hate me. I was the quiet middle child in a litter of six. No one had to worry, no one had to pay any attention. I sorted my shit out on my own”. Ian's rubbing his arms, his hands going up and down slowly, he's tucking his legs close to his chest. “And then I got sick of it. I couldn't hide it anymore. They saw. And Fiona got all worried and then Lip… They… Dumped me here”. He lifts a hand to rub his eyes, they're glassy and sad. “I know I haven't been good lately, it's all just been a lot. But they didn't have to get rid of me like that, you know? I was always there for them, when they were having a rough time. I didn't abandon them, I didn't send them away”. He lets out a soft sigh. “They hate me.”

Mickey lifts a hand and he places it over Ian's knee. “And the docs? What do they say?”

“Bipolar”, Ian breathes out, “Like my mom”. He stands up to pace the room. “They never liked her. They always said I was the most like her. I should have known. They hate her and they see her in me. They can't stand it.”

Mickey can tell that Ian's getting all worked up, raising his voice and walking fast. They can't really get caught in the same room at night, so he gets up to soothe him. “Hey, it's ok. You know? My sister dropped me off. Said I should look at it like summer camp. Group activities and shit, a break from the routine or some crap like that”.

Ian glances at him, but continues pacing.

“Never went to summer camp. There was never any money. As soon as I was able I was expected to go get money, summer was the best time for it, I didn't have school.” He points a finger at Mickey. “I always brought in my share and then some. Fiona never cared where it came from until she did. ‘Dancing, Ian? What's next? What else are you getting paid for?’ Oh she fucking knew. Where else would I be getting that kind of money?” He glances sadly at Mickey again, closing his mouth into a thin line.

Mickey walks closer to Ian, grabs his shoulders bringing him into a tight hug. If the kid continues pacing and yelling like that, they'll have the orderlies all over them in less than five minutes. “Hey. Summer camp. Come on. I never went either. Too busy running drugs and trying to stay alive.. But maybe we can do it together, right? Have our own not fucked up version of this?”

Ian doesn’t struggle. He just settles inside Mickey's arms almost organically for a moment. “Maybe”, he says as he leads Mickey back to the bed. “You should sleep.” He says as he detaches himself from Mickey.

“And you should stay”, Mickey says immediately, grabbing Ian's hand and pulling on it.

They sleep together, wrapped up in each other as if they were born to do it. A few minutes before rounds, Ian leaves the room, kissing Mickey’s forehead.

Mickey doesn't see Ian for the rest of the morning. In the afternoon, he sees Ian sitting alone in group therapy. He makes his way to him.

“Summer camp, right?”, Ian murmurs, a sad smile on his lips.