Ian Galagher

“What the fuck, Iggy?  Since when do you start setting me up with guys?”

Iggy shrugged, grinning.  “Hey, I’m just looking out for you.  Trying to break you of the habit of bringing home strays you find on the street before you catch something.  At least Dan looks clean.”

Mickey glared at him before he looked at Svetlana for support.

“It’s true,” she confirmed traitorously.  “Sometimes I want to give you chemical shower before I let you in the apartment.”

“Besides, if you start liking Dan maybe you won’t be sad about that Gallagher kid no more,”  Colin said.  

Mickey flinched as if he’d been scalded.  Svetlana sent a caustic look Colin’s way, and Iggy smacked him on the back of the head.

“What?”  Colin demanded.  “Everyone knows you’re still all hung up on him.  

“Jesus fucking Christ, Colin, shut the fuck up!”  Iggy snapped.

“Fine!”  Colin threw himself against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “ I don't know why we always gotta pretend we're not sad when we are,” he grumbled, more to himself.

---

Ian steps outside into the night when he hears Fiona calling for him.

There's a detective in their front yard, and he tells Ian, "According to corrections records, you visited Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich in prison on multiple occasions."

Ian's heart is immediately in his throat. "Mickey?!"

The detective doesn't say anything for a beat. Just stands there with his head tilted to one side as he considers Ian with a scrutinising gaze.

This is for @nicosgelos 🌟

300 words - microfic - religious ian gallagher - ian gallagher love mickey milkovich - gentleness - implied/referenced homophobia - pov ian gallagher - here on ao3

Inspired by Ziggy and I reading @thisdivorce's Change Like Shifting Shadows, us talking about Ian and religion, the prompt 'sinner' and the song by Greg Freeman that inspired the title for this story.

࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪ ⊹ ۫ .࣪

God said let there be light.

God said man shall not lay with man as he does a woman.

Here, in the soft morning light of their bedroom, Ian basks in the simpleness.

There is life here.

Simple breath, simple touch.

Love and light.

Mickey.

Green eyes gaze upon the silky white skin of his husband’s body; tracing tracks over his lightly freckled shoulders, over the sharp protruding collarbones jutting from him, travels down the path of his sternum, looms over his chest and down to his toned stomach, down, down, the hair beneath his belly button and leading under the sheets.

Tracks every inch, commits it to memory.

This body is already etched into his soul, burned into his heart so severe he could recite the small bumps and scars with his eyes closed and the body far.

In moments like this, when Mickey is asleep bathed in early morning light and looking so peaceful and gentle against the sheets - Ian licks up the sight. Every last drop.

Only closing his eyes to steady his own breath, feel the air expanding his lungs and the love pouring out in his exhale.

Ian’s gaze fixes upon Mickey’s hand, sitting relaxed against the left side of his ribs.

Steady rise, steady fall.

Slow.

Gentle.

Steady.

The rhythm matches the soft air through his parted lips, hair messy and contrast against their cream sheets in the sunlight.

Ian finds himself matching it; breathes in, breathes out, his lungs following Mickey’s lead.

Ian also finds a lump in his throat.

Tries not to think about the black eye on Mickey’s face, or the scuffs and scratches on his own back, or the words of God screamed at them.

God said let there be light; and Ian’s looking at it in the face.

God said man shall not lay with man as he does a woman; and Ian can’t think of anything more holy than the love he feels for Mickey.

The sun climbs higher, Ian breathes deeper.

Mickey rouses, lips smacking and body reaching for Ian with eyes closed.

They may be sinners, destined to be thieves and criminals from birth.

But Ian’s God is kind, Ian’s God forgives, Ian’s god is love.

Rest in peace to the incredible Anthony Stewart Head (20th February 1954 - 1st June 2026)