#ill mickey

(for @mhunter10 who kept giving me suggestions on this series ...though im not sure she remembers)

Lip helps Ian out with building some renovations to make life easier for Mickey as his illness progresses. Mickey isn't too happy about that.

“What happened to only needing my help for an hour or two?” Lip asks jokingly.

“Sorry,” Ian says as he lays another plaster of wood by his brother.  “Didn’t think it’d take so long to make a fuckin ramp.”

“I’m just surprised Mickey was fine with this. Seems a bit in denial…”

Ian gives a guilty expression.

“He knows you’re doing this right?”

Ian shrugs. “He’ll find out when he wakes up.”

“Jesus, Ian,” Lip laughs. “Make sure I’m not here when that happens huh?”

Ian rolls his eyes and hands Lip the hammer. He asked Lip for help accommodating the house to fit Mickey’s… needs. Though Mickey could get like fairly okay for the time being Ian didn’t see any harm in getting a head start. It’ll be easier to explain to Mickey when the house is finished.

“Looks like that’s not gonna happen though…” Lip mumbles.

Ian gives him a questioning look.

Lip gestures his head to behind Ian.

“Fuck is this?” Mickey groans, his voice groggy.

Ian closes his eyes. “Shit,” he says softly, only Lip being able to hear it and his brother looks away.

“Awkward…”

Ian turns and stands up. “Mickey! I uh… thought you were sleeping.”

“Yeah well clearly I’m not anymore.” Mickey says, grumpily, rubbing his eyes.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the couch,” Lip says.

Mickey looks at Lip with a hint of anger but also like he didn’t notice him until now. He looks at the work Ian and Lip are doing and his brows furrow.

“…What is this…?” He asks again, slowly, accusatory.

“It’s just…” Ian sighs, no way around it just tell him. “A ramp. For…well.”

“Ohh,” Mickey starts and Ian breathes a sigh of relief that he didn’t have to elaborate. Mickey got it.

“You and Philip here thinking of becoming professional skateboarders huh?” Mickey continued. Oh he got it alright and clearly he’s not happy.

Ian rubs his eye with his hand in frustration. “Mickey…”

He opens back his eyes to Mickey shaking his head. “You just can’t wait huh?”

“What?” Ian says, his face with slight disgust. He knows where this is going.

“Can’t wait for me to get sick enough so your fucking work can be put to use can you?”

Ian bites his lip and looks away from Mickey. “You know that’s not true.”

They hear someone clear their throat and look towards Lip.

“Look I don’t mean to interrupt-“

“Then don’t.” Mickey snaps back. “I’m gonna take a fucking shower.”

Ian shakes his head as Mickey walks back into the house.

“I mean he did sleep for like 4 hours I’m not saying that-“

“Oh shit!” Ian interrupts Lip and runs inside behind Mickey.

He makes it to the bathroom meeting an even less happy looking Mickey.

“And what exactly is this shit?” Mickey asks uncrossing his arms and pulling back the curtain forcefully.

He reveals the white shower grab bar he installed earlier in the day.

“Look, Mick. It’s not like you’re not gonna use it…” Ian starts.

Mickey nods, looks towards the object, and starts pushing on the buttons to release it.

“What’re you doing?”

“Getting rid of this shit.” Mickey gets the right amount of pressure and the bar comes off. Damn suction things. “There.”

Mickey walks out of the bathroom carrying it and throws it in the bedroom.

“Mickey! For fucks sake.”

Mickey gets back in the bathroom and slams the door shut.

Ian breathes in harshly, exhausted from this damn dance they do all the time since they got the diagnosis. Ian sits on the bed for a quick minute, running his hands through his hair and down his face. He gets up and heads back outside to finish up that project.

They’re out there for another half hour and head inside as soon as they’re done, both sweating from head to toe. Ian offers Lip a beer soon realizing Mickey wasn’t out. What is he sulking in the bedroom?

Ian rolls his eyes at the thought and finishes the water he had got himself. When Lip gets to the end of his beer Ian excuses himself.

“Well I’m gonna shower all this fuckin sweat off. Thanks for the help again.”

Lip takes the swig. “No problem, man. Need anything else just let me know.”

Ian smiles back at his brother as Lip disposes of the bottle and heads out the door.

He starts taking off his shirt as he heads to the bathroom. He stops when he realizes the water is still running. He furrows his brow. “Mick?” He knocks on the door. “Mickey, come on. I get you’re pissed but you really don’t need to waste the hot water.” Ian gets no answer causing him to roll his eyes. “Come on, man. Jesus.”

Ian waits and still hears silence besides the shower running. “Mickey?” He asks again, his gut now giving him a feeling. He jiggles the handle and upon discovering it’s not locked starts to open it. “Mickey? You in here?” he calls out again. He notices it’s empty though Mickey’s clothes are on the floor and the towel is still on the rack.

“Ian?” He hears, so softly and against the water hitting the tile he can barely make it out.

“Mickey?” Ian calls out again and pulls the shower curtain back. He finds the dark haired man sitting on the floor of the shower, his legs to his chest, and his head in his hands.

He looks up to Ian, water dripping from his hair. Ian’s heart is in his throat and he almost wants to cry but he doesn’t let Mickey see it.

“What happened?” Ian asks softly.

“I,” Mickey shakes his head slowly. “I just got so tired.”

“Did you fall?”

“No.” Mickey breathes in harshly and Ian notices he’s shivering slightly. Mickey buries his head in his arms again.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Ian assures him and rubs Mickey’s leg. “It’s okay.”

Mickey nods, still not showing his face again.

“Let’s turn this water off, huh?” Ian speaks softly again. Almost like talking to a child. He didn’t like this. He moves his arm over to the faucet and turns it off. He rubs Mickey’s bare back. “Mickey…”

Mickey looks back at him. His face showing shame.

“It’s alright.”

Mickey nods, accepting Ian’s words. Ian grabs the towel and drapes it over Mickey’s shoulders. He rubs him with it trying to dry him off a little. “I’m gonna get you some clean clothes, okay?”

“Okay,” Mickey says quietly, his body still shaking from the cold.

Ian comes back in a few minutes later with clean clothes and he helps Mickey out of the shower. “I got you,” he repeats over and over.

Mickey sighs and wipes his eyes. “I’m... I’m sorry.”

Ian brushes his apology away. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you warm and dry okay?”

Mickey nods again, putting on his dry sweat pants as Ian takes the towel away and gives Mickey a t shirt and an old, but comfortable, sweat shirt.

Mickey, now fully dressed, stays seating on the closed toilet seat. He can’t look at Ian just rubs his eyes. “So fuckin embarrassing.” He mumbles but Ian hears him.

He says nothing just rubs Mickey’s upper arm until he swallows his embarrassment and is able to look up at his boyfriend.

Ian just offers a sad smile. “You want to go back to bed? You know it’s okay to-“

Mickey swallows and nods.

Part of Here in My Arms series

Mickey finds a permit in the mail and isn't too happy about Ian thinking he's sick. 

It’s been almost a month since the doctor’s diagnosis and Mickey was still in fresh denial about his illness.

“I ain’t fucking sick.” Is a constant thing being said when Ian just asks Mickey to “take it easy” or “relax” the dark haired man insisting on going on with his life as he had been. Though he’s getting weaker quicker as days go the older man still denies it.

It’s a Tuesday, Ian comes inside after getting the mail, finding Mickey asleep on the couch. He throws the mail on the table and scoots the chair out to sit. He starts open the mail stack when he hears the couch squeak.

“Have a good nap?”

“I wasn’t napping I was just…”

“Resting your eyes.”

Mickey groans in confirmation.

Ian continues to flip through the mail until he comes across something he was waiting for. Thinking it’d take longer to get he wasn’t expecting it. He puts it in the “important” stack as he goes through the rest of the mail.

Mickey appears by the chair next to Ian and Ian tries not to notice how long it took him to get there.

Mickey lowers himself into the chair slowly and sits, his body hunched over slightly.

Ian gives him a small smile before he goes back to opening envelopes.

“Bills and shit?” Mickey asks.

“Yup.”

“Hmmm,” Mickey’s hands move through the “important” stack. “The fuck’s this?” He says when he comes across one of the opened mail.

Ian turns to look to find Mickey holding up the blue permit.

“I ain’t fuckin handicapped.”

Ian sighs and puts his hands on his face. “Mickey…we talked about this…”

“I know and I said I didn’t fucking need it.”

“You’re gonna need it.”

“No I’m not!”

“The doctor said-“ Ian starts but is cut off.

“That doctor’s a fuckin idiot. He doesn’t know shit.”

“Mickey! You can barely get across the room as is.” Ian tries to hold in his frustration.

“I’m doing fuckin fine.”

“It’s only going to get worse.” Ian says shaking his head.

“It’s not going to get worse cause I ain’t fuckin sick!”

“You are!” Ian says, louder than he intended, getting up from his chair. “You are fucking sick, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Mickey is left staring at Ian, a mix between hurt and angry.

“And I need this,” Ian continues, grabbing the place card from Mickey’s hands. “I need this so I don’t have to worry about you. I need this in case something happens to you and I gotta carry your ass to the car. I fucking need this. All your stubbornness about ‘not being sick’ is gonna fuck you over so I’d like it to be convenient if I have to drag your ass to the fucking hospital.” Ian lets out before he disappears to their bedroom, slamming the door shut.

Mickey sits back in his chair, swallowing Ian’s words down harshly.

Mickey stays by the table for a while looking through whatever laid out. Finally he decides to get up. He makes his way over to their bedroom door and knocks lightly.

“It’s open.” He hears from the other side.

Mickey opens the door slowly and steps in. He finds Ian sitting on the edge of the bed, staring towards the window.

“Hey,” Mickey says, voice a little horse.  He watches the back of Ian as Ian looks down.

Mickey sits on the other side, a small grunt escaping his lips. He scoots his body over closer towards Ian. “Hey, Ian,” Mickey nudges Ian, who turns around. He looks at Mickey then down to the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Mickey says. “You can have…I’m sorry I went off on you.”

Ian nods and looks back up to Mickey.

“Yeah…” Ian breathes in. “I’m not though…” He looks at Mickey, almost guilty. “How I said it…yeah I’m sorry about that but it’s true, Mickey.” Ian looks at his boyfriend sadly. “You can’t keep…” Ian stops himself and sighs, rubbing his fingers between the bridge of his nose. He looks back at Mickey desperately. “I need you here. With me. Okay?”

Mickey bites his lip and looks down. He nods softly. Still not confirming what Ian (and the doctor) were claiming.

“I’m not…” Mickey starts.

“I know,” Ian gets up. “You’re not sick.” He walks over to Mickey and palms his hair, kissing the top of his head. He walks out of the room.

“Hey, where you goin’?”

“To make dinner.” Ian calls back to him.

Mickey sighs heavily knowing he’d have to make his way back to the kitchen. He steadies his breathing like he has been the past few weeks and gets back up, even though the bed was calling for him to continue to rest his tired body.

That Saturday comes and Ian’s made breakfast. He’s sitting out still enjoying the last of his coffee, reading whatever book he had with him, when he hears Mickey open their bedroom door.

“Morning,” Ian says when he can feel Mickey’s presence in the room.

There’s silence for a moment.

“Ian?” Mickey calls out softly.

It’s so soft it causes slight panic in Ian and he puts his book down.

“What is it?” He looks at Mickey worried.

“I think…I think I’m sick.” He looks up at Ian, eyes sad and tired.

It breaks Ian’s heart to hear as much as he was pressuring Mickey to accept it.

He gets up quickly and walks over to Mickey, who looks scared at his admittance. Because admitting it now made it real.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He wraps his arms around Mickey to hold him. Mickey clings on to Ian.

“You wanna lay down?”

Mickey nods against Ian.

“Back to bed or here?”

Mickey points to the couch and Ian leads him to it. He rubs his back as he helps him get comfortable.

When Mickey lays down Ian spends a little while soothing Mickey by pushing his hair back and running his thumb across his face. Mickey’s eyes close and Ian gets up to get a blanket to drape on him before calling the doctor.