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“Have you been noticing any side effects?” The doctor asks, patiently.
Mickey can feel Ian fidget slightly next to him.
Hell yeah, there have been fucking side effects, Mickey wants to yell.
Ian’s been having nightmares. Sometimes they’re so bad that he jolts awake in the middle of the night, panting, with tears streaming down his cheeks and his entire torso damp with sweat, and Mickey has to hold him and repeatedly reassure him that it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.
He’s also been shaking a lot. He tried to hide it from Mickey and his family at first, but he’s broken three mugs already.
“Yeah,” Ian admits, and Fiona puts a comforting arm around him from where she’s sitting on his other side.
“Such as?” the doctor prods, holding her pen over her clipboard.
“Migraines.” Ian says, and then sighs, and begins to list. “Nausea. Bad dreams. I get irritated really easily. I shake for no reason. And…” he trails off, looking away.
“And?” the doctor persists, and Ian makes eye contact with Mickey before immediately casting his eyes to the floor.
Oh. Mickey realizes and looks down at the ground as well.
“I…uh…” Ian starts, “I’m not really able to…hold out as long as I used to.”
“Hold out?” Fiona asks, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Ian looks quite distressed, and Mickey knows this is torture for him, so he spares him the embarrassment of saying it aloud.
“When we’re fucking.” he says, bluntly, and Ian squeezes his eyes shut.
“Ah, yes, that can happen sometimes.” the doctor nods, showing no reaction to Mickey’s unfiltered honesty. “I think the best course of action here would be to reduce your dosage of Lithobid. It takes a while for the lithium to start working, so you will have to be patient, but most of the side effects will go away once it starts doing its job. I also want to put you on Depakote, which is an antiseizure medication. It also works as a mood stabilizer, and it will hopefully stop your migraines and your shaking. Does that sound good?”
Ian looks at Fiona for reassurance, and when she smiles comfortingly, he nods at the doctor, who also smiles.
“Great, I’ll get that prescription in for you.”
*
When the three of them arrive back at the Gallagher house, Lip and Debbie are waiting for them.
“How’d it go?” Lip asks as soon as they walk in.
“Good.” Fiona nods, shooting another smile Ian’s way.
“New meds?” Lip raises his eyebrows at the paper back in Fiona’s hand.
“Again?” Debbie looks unsure.
“I think this time around, we might have the right mix!” Fiona says, and Mickey wants to tell her how obvious her forced optimism is, but he’s preoccupied with looking at Ian, concernedly, trying to read his blank expression.
“You wanna get some lunch?” Fiona squeezes Ian’s arm, gently. “We could go by the diner?”
Ian shakes his head.
“I just want to lie down for a bit.” he says, his voice quiet, and he starts walking towards the stairs.
“Okay, just don’t stay inside all day.” Fiona says, defeatedly, as Ian slumps up the stairs.
“Is he okay?” Debbie asks, looking up at the staircase, worriedly.
“He will be.” Fiona sighs, starting to make a pot of coffee. “I think he’s just tired of trying.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” Mickey snaps, hearing the disappointment in her voice.
The three of them look at him in surprise.
“What the hell does that mean?” Lip says, standing up from his seat at the kitchen table.
“What it fucking sounded like.” Mickey retorts. “He’s sick of everyone handling him with kid gloves. He doesn’t need you feeding him that bullshit about how everything’s going to be alright, he needs you to help him figure out how to feel fucking normal again.”
“Well, if you’re such an expert, why aren’t you helping?” Lip shoots, and if he wasn’t Ian’s brother, Mickey would’ve punched him in the face.
“Fuck you, man, why the fuck do you think I’m here? Think I enjoy hearing your sister fuck her husband in the next room while Ian’s crying after another fucking nightmare?” He’s starting to get riled up, and he knows he has to get out of there soon, before he really explodes on them.
“Hey!” Fiona exclaims, angry now. She’s about to spit back what’s bound to be a punch, but that’s when Mickey turns away, heading up the stairs to Ian. He really doesn't want to deal with this right now, the constant accusations that he doesn't care about Ian, that he's not trying hard enough to help Ian get better. Fuck them.
He walks into the room quietly, because he expects Ian to be asleep, but when he walks in, Ian’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
“Hey,” he says, experimentally, “thought you’d be asleep.”
Ian shakes his head, not looking at Mickey. “Just wanted to think.”
“Whatcha thinking about?” Mickey says, getting on the bed to lie beside him.
“What was Lip yelling about?” Ian asks, ignoring Mickey’s question.
“Oh, you heard that?” Mickey chews on his bottom lip.
He was hoping the argument he just had in the kitchen with Ian’s siblings didn’t reach Ian's ears. He had enough to worry about.
“Some of it.” Ian says, vaguely.
There’s a moment of silence, and Mickey’s watching Ian’s hands carefully, because his fingers are trembling ever so slightly.
“Hey Mick?” Ian mumbles, his voice almost inaudible.
He still hasn’t turned his head to look at Mickey, even though Mickey’s eyes have not once left his face.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have to stay, you know.” Ian breathes, closing his eyes.
His fingers start to shake a little more and he clenches his fists, trying to make them stop.
“What?” Mickey doesn’t understand at first. Stay where?
“You didn’t sign up for this. All this crazy. I get it if you wanna leave.”
Mickey sits up and stares down at Ian, who finally meets his eyes.
“Where the fuck is this coming from?” Mickey demands.
Ian shifts so he’s somewhat sitting up as well. He’s back to avoiding looking at Mickey, because the way Mickey’s blue eyes are boring into him hurts too much.
“I can’t hold a fucking plate without breaking it, I’m waking you up with these fucked up dreams almost every night, I can’t even…” his voice breaks and he stops, blinking fiercely to try and hold back the tears that are threatening to break free.
“I can’t even fuck you anymore.” Ian whispers and closes his eyes when a tear finally falls and trickles down his face.
Mickey stares at him, trying to process what Ian’s just said. He’s completely thrown. Does Ian honestly think that he wants to leave? That he wouldn’t want to stick around just because Ian’s sick? He knows that Ian's been beating himself up enough about how much he can't do and how much this process of figuring out his meds is messing with his head, but did he really think that Mickey wasn't going to stick around?
“Ian.” he says, his voice surprisingly steady. “Ian, look at me.”
Ian reluctantly opens his eyes and looks into Mickey’s.
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to fucking leave, so if you want me out of the house, you’re going to have to fucking throw me out.”
A laugh unexpectedly bubbles from Ian’s throat, and Mickey leans closer to him, taking his face into his hands and looking directly into Ian’s eyes.
“It’s too late, kid.” he murmurs, quietly. “You’re stuck with me. And I don’t care how long it takes to get your fucking meds stabilized, or how many times you wake me up in the middle of the fucking night, I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
Ian nods, and a few more tears fall from his eyes as he blinks, but a little smile also tugs at the sides of his lips.
“Okay, now get some sleep.” Mickey says, and Ian pushes forward to press his lips against Mickey’s.
Mickey kisses him back—soft, short, simple.
Ian smiles when he pulls away, and then lies back down in the bed, and closes his eyes, already starting to fade off into sleep. Mickey looks down at him, and he wants to scream. How the fuck was he supposed to show Ian—really show him—that he wasn’t going to get scared off?
*
Mickey enters the Gallagher house quietly, because it’s late and he figures the younger ones will be asleep. He wonders when he started to give a shit, but he can’t for long because as soon as he walks in, he realizes he’s entered complete pandemonium.
Debbie’s in the corner, holding Liam close to her, and she’s staring forward and crying slightly. Carl is beside her, his eyes and mouth open in shock.
Mickey looks over to what they’re staring at, and feels his mouth go dry and his heart plummet down to his stomach.
Ian’s curled up into a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth and crying and shaking. His eyes are squeezed shut, he’s breathing heavily and his hands are scratching at his knees, and Mickey’s horrified to see he’s already broken the skin.
Fiona’s knelt down beside him, trying to comfort him, fear in her eyes.
“Ian, hey, it’s okay. You’re fine, you’ll be fine. There’s nothing to worry about, there’s nothing to worry about.” she’s saying, repeating the words over again.
“No, stop!” Mickey hears himself saying, surging forwards.
Fiona and Lip, who’s standing behind her, both turn to look at him.
Mickey drops to his knees next to Ian, and Fiona backs away.
“Ian?” Mickey murmurs, softly. “Ian, was it another dream?”
Ian shakes his head, and his breathing becomes even shallower.
Mickey gets closer. If it’s not a nightmare, it’s a panic attack.
“Okay, here’s what I want you to do.” Mickey says, softly but clearly. “Can you open your eyes for me?”
Ian slowly blinks his eyes open, and looks at Mickey.
“Good. That’s good.” Mickey smiles, reassuringly. “Now how about you start counting your breaths with me? Okay?”
Ian nods again, and Mickey begins to count, “One…two…three…see, there you go…four…five…six…”
Ian’s breaths begin to slow, and Mickey turns to Lip, who’s staring down at him.
“Grab a wet cloth.” he says, before turning his attention back to Ian. “Can you raise your hands over your head, Ian?”
Ian slowly puts his shaking hands upwards over his head and then back down again.
“That’s great, Ian, keep doing that for me.”
Ian continues to slowly raise his arms upwards, over and over again, and Mickey watches as he eventually stops shaking.
Lip hands him a cool, wet towel, and Mickey leans forward to gently press it to Ian’s neck.
“Thanks.” Ian breathes, once the attack has subsided.
Mickey nods and shrugs, like it’s no big deal, but Ian scoots forward and lays his head on Mickey’s chest, obviously exhausted after the ordeal.
Out of habit, Mickey wraps an arm around him and presses a kiss on top of Ian’s head, but when he feels dampness on his shirt, he looks down and sees that Ian’s crying.
“Hey, come on.” he says, softly. “Don’t fucking cry, man. It's okay.”
"I'm sorry." Ian mumbles, and Mickey can barely hear him.
"Don't fucking apologize, Ian." Mickey says, sharply, but then adds, softly, "You have nothing to be fucking sorry about."
Ian sniffs quietly, trying to stop the tears from flowing, and Mickey sighs.
This isn’t exactly how he expected this to go, but he thinks, why the hell not.
“Hey, I got you something.”
Ian looks up at him, looking so much like his fifteen-year-old self that it makes Mickey’s chest hurt.
He awkwardly fishes in his pocket and pulls out the Snickers bar. It was supposed to be funny, but Mickey figures this is good enough.
Ian stares at it and then lets out a laugh, burying his face into Mickey’s neck.
Mickey smiles a little and pulls Ian closer to him.
Then he remembers that they’re not alone, and he looks up to see Fiona and Lip staring down at him, their eyes wide open in surprise.
*
Mickey shuffles back down the stairs, after Ian finally falls asleep. He doesn’t expect anyone to be downstairs—he just wants to grab a glass of water in case Ian wakes up in the middle of the night—but he finds the two oldest Gallaghers waiting for him at the table.
“What?” he asks, sighing, hoping to get this conversation over with quickly.
“Um…thanks.” Fiona says, quietly, which completely throws Mickey for a loop.
“For what?” he asks, staring at her.
“For what you did…with Ian…earlier.” Fiona seems to be on the verge of tears, so Lip takes over.
“How’d you know exactly what to say?” he asks.
Mickey shrugs. “Not the first time it’s happened.”
“Well…” Lip seems to be struggling with what to say next. “I’m glad you were here.”
Mickey nods at him appreciatively, though he’s still in complete shock. Not knowing if he should respond, he fills up a cup of water and retreats back to the only place he really feels comfortable—next to Ian.