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Ian’s long since fallen asleep to the sound of the rain when a loud bang erupts against his bedroom door.
He bolts up, nearly toppling out of bed as the incessant banging continues. He lets out a groan of frustration. He’s got a chemistry exam tomorrow and Mickey Milkovich banging on his bedroom door isn’t helping him get the sleep he needs. The banging doesn’t stop. Instead it only gets louder and more frantic until finally Ian gets up and makes the few strides over to the bedroom door to open it for his college roommate.
“What the hell, Mick-“
Before he can get another word in edgewise, Mickey’s darting into his room and grabbing him as if his life depends on it. Before Ian can try and figure out what’s actually going on, a clap of thunder sounds from outside, and with a yelp of what’s clearly fear, Mickey buries his face into Ian’s chest, trembling hard.
All of Ian’s anger for his roommate fades away as quickly as it appeared. His arms wrap tightly around Mickey, immediately shielding him away from the loud thunderstorm outside.
Mickey’s always been kind of an odd roommate to get along with. Ian hadn’t initially appreciated the messes Mickey would leave all over the dorm, or the attitude he put up for the first two weeks or so. But he discovered that there was more to Mickey than initially met the eye. When Ian had enough of the other boy turning their dorm into a pig sty, he’d confronted him. That hadn’t necessarily gone so well, but for different reasons than one might expect. Apparently yelling at Mickey scares the shit out of him. Ian had felt so bad after learning this fact that, after he’d spent some time calming Mickey down, he’d offered to order takeout. Overtime, they came to an agreement about house chores, with each of them taking on an equal share, and Mickey not once making a single complaint about it.
They’re something closer to friends nowadays. Ian’s learned lots of little things about Mickey. What he likes, what he doesn’t like, what makes him happy, and most importantly what scares him. A lot of things scare Mickey, but most importantly loud, unexpected noises. Why? Ian doesn’t know. And he isn’t going to ask. Mickey’s life before college is one he keeps to himself, and Ian knows better than to push before his roommate is ready to talk about it.
“Mick?” He murmurs, shaking himself out of his thoughts as he starts to rub slow circles into Mickey’s back. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s only a thunderstorm, Mickey. I promise you you’re safe.”
Mickey clings to him like he’s a lifeline. Ian’s used to this though. It happens anytime Mickey gets spooked, and Ian already knows just how to go about making him feel better.
“Want some hot chocolate?” He asks in a soothing tone as he rubs Mickey’s back. “We’ve still got some mixer left. I’ll put some of those big fluffy marshmallows that you like into it too.”
Mickey doesn’t really respond, but Ian gets that. It’s hard sometimes for Mickey to speak when he’s spooked.
“C’mon,” he murmurs, and tries to turn them both towards the doorway.
As another clap of thunder hits, however, his plans are foiled. Mickey’s dragging him rather painfully back to the bed almost as soon as he hears it. Ian tries to get him to slow down, tries to stop him, but soon enough he’s being yanked underneath his own bed with a trembling, terrified Mickey right there next to him.
“Okay, ow. I think you pulled my arm from its socket, Mick,” Ian mutters with a bit of sarcasm. He turns to look at Mickey, and immediately regrets the cross comment.
Mickey’s hunkered down as low as he can get, like a feral cat that doesn’t quite know how to interact with humans just yet. His hand is clenching Ian’s arm with a death grip, tears streaming down his face as he clenches his eyes shut as tight as he can.
“C’mere,” Ian murmurs soothingly. He maneuvers them so that Mickey is tucked safely under one arm, allowing the other man to bury his face against his shoulder and neck. “Tell you what, maybe we hold off on giving you hot liquids til the storm goes away, yeah? I don’t want you burning yourself, Mick.”
Mickey nods in agreement, making it clear that he plans to stay right here in this spot until all of the thunder stops. Ian can’t really fault him on that. The storm’s pretty loud after all, and for someone as jumpy about sounds as Mickey is, it’s sort of expected.
“You know what my sister Fi used to do with the younger kids whenever there was a storm?” Ian asks. He’s pleased when Mickey gives him a curious, albeit still frightened look. “We’d count the seconds it took for the thunder to clap after a lightning strike. The longer the seconds, the further away the storm was. You wanna try that? I’ve got a pretty good view of the window from here. I can count if you’re still feeling too scared to do it.”
Mickey gives a noncommittal shrug, but Ian takes it as a yes anyway. If it might help, then why not try at least?
When the lightning strikes, Ian begins to count the seconds out loud. It only takes three seconds before the thunder sounds again. Mickey tenses, gripping Ian more tightly as he chokes out a few quick words: “It’s so close.”
“It’s just passing through, Mick. It’ll start to get further and further away the more we count.” He doesn’t know why he says ‘we,’ because Mickey refuses to even open his eyes, let alone peek towards the window. But Ian wants him to feel included in some way.
He continues this for several rounds, until eventually, twenty minutes later, he doesn’t see lightning or hear thunder anymore. “See Mick? It’s gone. The storm’s gone just like I said it would be.”
“You…you made it go away,” Mickey replies in a soft tone.
Ian almost laughs until he catches a glimpse of the look on Mickey’s face. Mickey’s not fucking around. Not with the way he’s looking so innocently over at Ian. He really thinks Ian’s some magic weatherman who tells the weather what to do. Really though, why ruin it for him? He’s already Mickey’s hero anyway. This is only adding more fuel to the fire.
“Yeah Mick. I saved you, just like I always do,” he replies, gently rubbing Mickey’s back.
He thinks maybe he’s the only one who’s ever kept Mickey safe. Not just during storms, either. But tonight isn’t the night to discuss what the hell kind of background his roommate came from. Tonight is about making sure Mickey is okay.
“Want some hot chocolate now?” He asks.
Mickey nods, and crawls out from under the bed with Ian in tow. “I’m sorry I hurt your shoulder,” he murmurs softly as he allows Ian to lead them into the kitchen.
“Hey, if you don’t nearly break my arm at least once every couple of weeks, were we ever really friends?” Ian asks, a smile on his face as the joke gets a soft chuckle out of Mickey.
“No. No, I guess not,” he replies, and Ian knows everything is going to be okay now.