Chapter Text
Bzzzzzz, Bzzzzzzz…
Ian groaned, untangling himself from his husband to reach for his cell phone. Blinking away the sleep from his eyes, he blindly threw his arm over to their new side table on his right. His hand chaotically thrashed for his phone, which was loudly buzzing for the third time now. Mickey woke up and gave a low grunt. He flipped over to face Ian, and sighed, his eyes still closed.
Once Ian got a look at the phone, he blinked slowly at the screen.
Fiona
He flipped on the lamp and answered the call.
“Fiona?”
“Ian? Oh thank god someone picked up.”
“What’s goin’ on? It’s 4 am.”
“I got a call from St. Bernard Hospital, I’m still listed as everyone’s emergency contact.”
At that, Ian sat up. The word “hospital” sent a chill down his spine. A million scenarios flew through his head. Lip, Tammy, and Fred were in a car accident. Debbie left and got hurt. Carl got shot on duty. Liam was attacked. He shifted the phone to his other hand.
“Hospital? What happened? Is someone hurt?”
Ian now spoke with anxiety in his voice. Mickey sat up on his arm, his eyebrows raised. He stayed still, looking at his husband’s face for any sign of bad news.
“Uhh, yeah, kinda. It’s Frank. He’s dead.”
Ian brought his free hand up to his forehead and rubbed above his eyebrow – a nervous tick he picked up from his husband. He waited a beat, listening for more information. Nothing came.
Ian sighed deeply, “Did you already call Lip?”
“Yeah, I tried his phone five times before I called you. I got nothing. I didn’t wanna leave a message or text him the news either, so I figured I'd call you next."
Ian sighed again. “Where did they find his body?” he asked, a trace of annoyance laced in his voice.
At that, Mickey sat up fully. He locked eyes with his husband and mouthed the word, “body?” Ian tiredly nodded back.
Fiona answered her brother, “Well apparently he was already in their care and died in the hospital. The woman on the phone told me it was from Covid.”
“Wait, what? He died from Covid?”
“I guess. They also said there was heroin in his system and that his dementia weakened him a lot. When did that happen?”
The dementia, Ian thought, we never got around to telling Fiona.
“Recently. Alcoholic dementia, I guess. He was forgetting a ton and doing some real crazy shit lately.” Mickey put two and two together. Hospital, a body, alcoholic dementia… Frank was dead.
“Can’t survive being a drunk twice, I guess.”
“Yeah, guess not.”
There was a long pause between the siblings. Mickey was watching Ian’s facial expressions while Ian gazed down towards his lap, his eyes locked on a run in their comforter.
“Listen, Ian, I’m an hour ahead and I still have to get ready for work. Can you tell the rest of the family for me?”
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Thanks. Sorry for the news, and sorry for waking you up.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you later when we figure this shit out.”
“Ok, talk to you later. Love you, bye.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
Silence filled their bedroom. Ian sat still with his phone still in his hand and kept his eyes on the bedspread. Mickey didn’t move or say anything; he just continued to stare at his husband. Then, Ian flopped back onto his pillow. He looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and turned to face Mickey.
“Frank’s dead.”
“Yeah”
Ian looked back up towards to ceiling, letting more silence fill the space. It wasn't awkward, just tired.
Then Mickey broke the silence, asking, “What’re you going to do?” He looked at Ian calmly but intently. Ian returned his gaze, a tired weakness entering his eyes. To Mickey, it told him, for a split second, that Ian had no idea what he needed to do next. That, or, he was overwhelmed and had no desire to make those necessary calls he promised Fiona he’d make.
“I… I think I’ll call the hospital and figure out what to do with Frank’s body. We have to claim the body quickly, or else he’ll end up next to Terry,” Ian said with a grimace on his face. Mickey nodded. They both recently learned the hard way what could happen if they left a body for too long at the hospital.
“What about your siblings?”
“I’ll let them sleep for another couple of hours. Lord knows one of them has to be hungover.” Ian cracked a slight smirk at the thought of their anniversary party last night, vividly remembering holding up Carl and force-feeding the rest of his whiskey to him. Mickey gave a small smile back. They locked eyes again and Mickey brought his hand over Ian’s, setting the phone on the bed and taking his hand into his. He squeezed it as a sign of reassurance and let go, moving to get out of bed.
“Hey, you can stay in bed and go back to sleep.”
“Not a chance, man. I’m already up.”
Mickey walked across the room, still naked from last night’s celebrations. He bent over and picked up a pair of pajama pants, a pair that had been yanked off by Ian only a few hours prior. He pulled them up and looked at the redhead.
“I’ll make some coffee,” Mickey mumbled quietly. Ian gazed at his husband in adoration, watching him move to the door and slip a robe over his bare chest.
Once he was alone, Ian sat back up in bed. He took a deep breath and hung his head in his hands, taking a minute to calm himself and try to quell the bubbling anxiety forming in his chest. He was going to have a long, exhausting week – he just knew it.