GW 2020: Soulmates
”Is uncle Ian your soulmate?”
”What's that, kid?” Mickey looks up from his cereal to find Franny staring at him with those large and insanely innocent eyes. (How a child with Debbie Gallagher for a mother ended up so sweet is absolutely beyond Mickey. He sure as hell never had eyes that innocent, not even at six, and he's pretty sure none of the other Gallaghers did either.)
”Is uncle Ian your soulmate?” Franny repeats, patient but slightly exasperated, the way only a six-year-old weary of grown-up cluelessness can be.
”Uh.” Mickey glances around the table for rescue or at least a bit of help but – unsurprisingly – none is forthcoming: Debbie is busy with her phone and Liam with double-checking his homework, like the little nerd he is. Ian was here a moment ago, but has apparently disappared. Mickey is on his own.
And really, he should be used to these questions by now, because they just keep coming. Somehow Franny never got the memo about him not being a people person, which may or may not have something to do with the way Ian keeps volunteering them for babysitting duty. Mickey can't decide if it's great that his husband's found an outlet for his inexplicable desire to care for tiny humans that doesn't involve them getting their own kids, or if it's fucking annoying that Ian insists on wasting their precious free time on people other than Mickey. Admittely, Ian mostly volunteers himself to look after Franny, but in practise that means Mickey too, because he has a thing for hanging out with his husband, fuck you very much. And maybe it's just an evening a week or so, but.
Mickey has a sneaking suspicion that the whole thing is a not-nearly-as-subtle-as-you-think-Gallagher way of warming him up to the idea of maybe one day having a little brat or two of their own. Maybe it's kind of working. Franny ain't too bad, and there's something about seeing Ian interact with her, or Freddie, that does things to Mickey. He's not telling Ian that, though, even if he suspects that the bastard already knows.
Anyway. The point is, Franny's insistence on asking him weird ass questions at all hours is absolutely Ian's fault and so Ian should have the fucking deceny to not just disappear when she starts chirping about goddamned soulmates.
”You gonna finish your toast?” he asks, in an attempt at deflection. He can't very well tell the kid that the notion of soulmates sounds like a stinking pile of sappy fucking bullshit, not with Debbie sitting right there, and he has no idea of what else to say.
”Yes,” Franny says, without making any move to pick up her toast and without looking away from him. ”Is he, uncle Mickey?”
”Is who what?” Ian says, finally reappearing from wherever to sit down next to them, thank God.
Franny's face lights up. She likes Mickey all right, far more than she reasonably should really, but she fucking adores Ian. (Mickey sympathizes.)
”Jennie said her mommy and daddy are soulmates and they always have to be together and they just like each other so much they can't like anyone else so much and they can't be with anyone else, they can only be with each other,” Franny explains eagerly, pleased to have a captive audience at last. ”Jennie said if you have a soulmate you have to be with them or you won't be happy, you won't be happy ever, you will be heartbroken.” She stumbles a little over the last word, but looks at Ian expectantly. ”Is uncle Mickey your soulmate?”
”Uncle Mickey?” Ian grins. ”Nah. But he'll do 'til someone better-looking comes along.”
Not missing a beat, Mickey kicks him under the table. Does it pretty hard too, because sure it's a joke, but given how many times Ian's walked out on him, it's not a very funny one.
Ian seems to realize as much. Though his face twists briefly with pain, he doesn't say anything and doesn't move to retaliate. He gives Mickey a quick glance, and there might be a hint of apology there, but it's Franny he turns to when he continues talking. Which is just as well, really, because she's watching him with a confused and distincly worried look, and if she actually starts crying Mickey might have to kick Ian's ass for real.
”I'm just kidding, Franny,” Ian says now, gently. ”I'm not sure if there's really such a thing as soulmates, if you mean that there's a person that you're meant to be with and that you can't ever be happy without, but I don't want to be with anyone but uncle Mickey, okay? I love him and it makes me really sad when we're not together.”
And fuck it, but Mickey has to work very hard to keep a big stupid grin from growing on his face. Since they're not fucking pussies neither him nor Ian make a habit of going around and blabbing about their feelings for each other the whole damned time, especially not in front of other people, but he still doesn't hate hearing it out loud like this. Doesn't hate others hearing it too.
Franny's been listening to Ian with a frown, as if considering each word very carefully, but once he falls silent her face clears. ”Then you and uncle Mickey are soulmates,” she declares with pleased finality. ”Like Jennie's mommy and daddy.”
”Okay,” Ian agrees easily. His hand reaches for and finds Mickey's under the table, squeezing it. Mickey squeezes back.
Soulmates, huh. He guesses he can live with that, sappy bullshit or not.
