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Mickey had never run unless he was being chased before all this. Not once in his nineteen years had he ran anywhere just because, but when Ian called, Mickey ran. He was worried and he spent all night worried about Ian, hoping he was safe. When he reached the Gallagher house and saw Ian sitting on the porch steps, it was like he could breathe again.
“The fuck you been?” Mickey demanded, assessing Ian with his eyes.
He was curled up in a ball on the steps and he looked distraught.
“With my mom.” Ian answered, as if that explained anything.
“You okay?” Mickey fired off.
“I hate the meds. You gonna make me take ‘em?” Ian asked.
“You’re fucking nuts when you don’t.” Mickey told him, his voice softer, gentler now.
“You gonna wanna be with me even if I don’t?” Ian asked.
Mickey didn’t reply with words, just a huff. Ian sighed and began to stand up.
“You used to love me and now you don’t even know who I am.” Ian breathed. “Shit, I don’t even know who I am half the time. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I love you.” Mickey replied, because that was enough, it should be fucking enough.
“The hell does that even mean?” Ian huffed.
“It means we take care of each other.”
“I don’t want you sitting around, worrying, watching me, waiting for me to do my next crazy shit.” Ian said, taking a step forward.
“It means thick and thin. Good times, bad, sickness, health. All that shit.” Mickey pushed.
“You gonna marry me? We gonna go down to the Court House in some tuxes like a couple of old queens?”
“Fuck you.” Mickey muttered.
“No thanks, I’ve already done that.” Ian grumbled.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Mickey quipped on reflex mostly.
“Too much! Too much is wrong with me. That’s the problem isn’t it?” Ian raised his eyebrows. “Too much is wrong with me and you can’t do anything about that. You can’t change it, you can’t fix me because I’m not broken. I don’t need to be fixed okay, I’m me!”
Mickey blinked as Ian turned. He licked his lips, wetting them as he thought of what to say next.
“No, you don’t get to fucking break up with me.” Mickey said, causing Ian to turn back with a scoff.
“Oh yeah?” Ian asked dryly. “And why’s that?”
“Because we’ve been through too fucking much together. Me getting shot, twice, the fag bashing, the rape, my fucking wedding, you running off. We’ve been through too damn much for you to decide now that I don’t get to take care of you.” Mickey found himself ranting, his voice going raspy as he remembered Terry beating them, his own rape and then his sham of a wedding. “I love you, even when you do things that hurt me, but I won’t let you hurt yourself Ian. I won’t, because I love you, and even if being soft and cuddly aint usually my fucking thing, I’ll do it if it’ll help.”
“I’m not broken.” Ian repeated.
“I never said you were! Stop putting fucking words in my mouth, Gallagher!” Mickey exclaimed. “I never said you were fucking broken Ian, because you aint broken! I’m sorry that the fucking meds suck ass, but don’t you remember what it’s like when you don’t take them? You could have hurt yourself with all those drugs, Ian. Fuck, you could have seriously hurt Debbie with that baseball bat! I don’t think you’re broken, but I don’t want you hurting, and if that means being the bad guy, I’ll fucking do it! We’re not Monica and Frank, because I won’t let you hurt yourself. I fucking love you.”
Tears were prickling in Mickey’s eyes and his voice was strained as he finished his rant. His bottom lip was wobbly, but he hid it the best he could. He looked into Ian’s eyes, and watched Ian crumble. The tall ginger began to cry and shake softly. Mickey took a step forward and opened his arms as Ian followed his lead, letting Mickey hold him tight. Even though Mickey was shorter, he supported Ian’s weight and squeezed tight, inhaling his boyfriend’s scent and letting out a relieved breath.
“I’m sorry Mickey.” Ian whimpered. “I’m just so confused and scared. I hate these meds but I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Mickey assured him. “You and me, together. We’ll get through this shit, just like we always fucking do.”
Ian nodded softly as he took in Mickey’s comforting scent. Mickey smelt like BBQ chips, sweat and home. It felt so good to be in his arms and Ian was glad Mickey didn’t let him ruin everything they had built together. It was the most beautiful and peaceful moment of Ian’s life, just standing in Mickey’s arms, but then a voice shouted out.
“Hey Mickey!” Sammi shouted, a gun in hand.
Mickey’s eyes widened and he let go of Ian. “Oh shit!”
Mickey tore off down the block, Sammy chasing behind, shooting the gun screaming that he tried to kill her. The cops showed up in seconds and Ian ran to Mickey as handcuffs were put on him.
“Stop! He didn’t do anything! My sister took off on a bender last weekend and just came out of nowhere accusing my boyfriends of trying to kill her but neither of us have seen her in a week.” Ian lied. “Look, she has a history of mental illness and drug use.”
“Fuck you! You’re crazy! You’re the one that’s fucking crazy!” Sammi spat, jerking wildly in an officer’s grasp.
Two cops shared a look before taking the hand cuffs off Mickey and letting him go.
“Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked.” Ian muttered.
“Well I’m fucking glad it did.” Mickey huffed. “C’mon Gallagher, let’s go home.”
And together they walked back to the Gallagher house, side by side, brushing against each other occasionally. As they climbed into the house, Mickey knew that the road wouldn’t be easy, but he wasn’t going to let go of Ian. Not now, not ever.