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“I get why you’re here, but why the fuck am I here?” Mickey asked Fiona as he sat in the chair across from her. He hated waiting, and hated waiting rooms even more. He was bouncing his leg nervously while impatiently waiting for the secretary to call them in.
“Last week, the doctor asked Ian to include his family in his sessions, and Ian said he wanted you to come first. It’s his choice, Mickey, not mine...” Fiona explained. Mickey knew he was taking his stress out on her, but he just couldn’t help himself. Doctors in general stressed him out, even fake ones that just tried to get you to talk about your feelings so they could justify giving you drugs.
“Yeah but I’m not his family…” Mickey argued, despite knowing it was complete bullshit. He would have said anything if it got him out of therapy.
Fiona only gave him a knowing smile in response to his words, because she knew the truth as much as he did: Mickey had taken care of Ian through his first major depression, and the subsequent highs and lows that followed, but more importantly, he had been there for his boyfriend while Ian adjusted to his meds and figured out how to deal with the side effects. That was more than any of the other Gallaghers had done, and Mickey hadn’t complained about it once. He knew he would do it again a hundred times if it meant getting Ian balanced and feeling more like himself again.
He chewed at his thumb while watching Fiona. Ian’s older sister looked composed, but every once in a while, Mickey saw her anxiously rub her hands together or glance at the clock above the door. When the phone on the desk beeped, the secretary picked it up to listen for a beat and then motioned that it was time for Fiona and Mickey to join Ian.
The psychiatrist’s office was a lot more modern and upscale than Mickey expected it to be. They had been referred there by the clinic, so Mickey hadn’t expected much… but it was actually really nice. Ian was sitting on a white, leather sofa and playing with one of the bright green throw pillows. He shifted to the edge once he saw Mickey and Fiona walk in, making sure they had enough space to all sit on the long, cushioned seat.
Mickey hesitated before stepping forward and taking the spot next to Ian, but felt his nerves ease as Ian gently slipped his fingers through the slots of Mickey’s, squeezing his hand reassuringly and flashing him a hopeful smile.
Mickey reminded himself that he was there for his boyfriend, not for himself, and that this was just another thing they could get through, together. He put his free hand on top of where Ian already held his other one and squeezed back. Nothing to it.