Work Text:
Ian groans as he stretches on the couch, legs slipping out from under the blanket he was cocooned in. He glances at his phone, checking the time. It’s almost 9 pm. Mickey should be home soon after a long day of making deliveries and meeting potential new clients.
The hundredth apology forms in his thoughts about his husband having to do their shifts on his own for the last couple of days. He started feeling off about 2 weeks ago, but refused to give in to the growing feeling of dread. Eventually he lost and found himself an empty mess stuck in bed. No matter how many times a depressive episode hits, he'll never get used to them.
He was bed bound for almost five days, only managing to get up to use the bathroom with Mickey’s help. On the third day, when speaking finally wasn’t consuming all his energy, he started apologizing. The I’m sorrys and the please forgive mes were always met with reassuring, kind words and soothing touches.
He was scared that the episode would result in an agonizing routine of med changes, but after a long talk with his psychiatrist and his therapist, they got to the conclusion that they would only up his antidepressants. He was even told that he might only need the higher dosage for a little time. Like last time.
He worked with his doctor for a long time to finally find a new cocktail that would keep him stable. That’s the problem with his illness. Finding the right dosage of medication doesn’t mean stability forever. His previous combo only worked for a couple of years before a slip up. He’s growing very tired of it all. The constant fear that anything could be the beginning of an episode, or a symptom. He feels happy. Is he getting hypomanic? Manic? Is it just normal happiness? He feels tired. Limbs heavy. Is he slipping into depression? Did he just overdo it the previous day? The constant questioning is exhausting.
He sighs again, throwing the blanket off. There are things that will never go away. He’s learned to accept that over the years. He’s still allowed to hate it all. He was lucky that this episode was light. No self harm, no suicidal thoughts. His therapist was happy too.
Suddenly his phone rings where it sits on the coffee table. It’s Lip. Probably checking in. Ian told his brother yesterday that he should go home. That Ian’s going to be fine on his own for the day. Lip did go home eventually when he made sure his brother was really feeling up to being on his own. He still checks in, obviously.
“Hey.”
“Hey man!” Lip greets him. “How you feelin’?”
“Much better. I managed to grab a shower this afternoon, so I know longer feel like I have an extra layer of skin. Just finished this god awful movie on Netflix too.”
“That’s great. So you’re up and at them again?” Lip asks.
“Soon. I’m hoping to get back to work in a couple of days too. I feel bad for Mickey having to do everything by himself.” Ian rubs his eyes as he gets up from the couch and heads to the kitchen.
“You know he understands.” Lip sounds reassuring and that’s exactly what Ian needs right now. There is a sudden crash coming from the background.
“I know the last week’s been stressful, but why are you breaking shit?” Ian asks while he reaches up to the cabinet for a glass.
Mickey stayed home to take care of Ian when the depression hit, but after a few days, he had to get back to work. They needed the money and couldn’t afford to potentially lose clients. That’s when Lip went to stay at their apartment for a few days to help Ian. It was hard on all of them. Mickey hated being away from his husband while he was sick, Lip had to get away from his family and work and Ian hated it all. He hated that he couldn’t be left alone.
Ian grabs a glass and opens the sink’s faucet.
“Yeah, no, it’s Fred. He just finished dinner and thinks that chucking his utensils all over the place is fun. To be honest, I’m seriously considering joining him instead of picking them up,” Lip answers. “The little shit is really starting to take after me. Or maybe he just missed messing with me.”
Ian’s smile falls a little. The feeling of being a burden hits him like a freight train again. His brother had to leave the kids and Tami, to run and take care of him. An apology forms on his tongue as he pulls the glass out from under the running water. “I- I’m sorry, man. I pulled you away from your family with my bullshit again and…”
“Ian. Stop. We talked about this. You didn’t do shit, you were sick and needed my help. Tami was fine taking care of the kids for a few days,” Lip interrupts him quickly. Ian can hear Fred babbling about in the background. “You really gotta stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault, man. It was fine.”
Ian sets his glass on the counter and leans back on the surface. He apologized to Lip as much as he did to Mickey. He feels it might have been annoying, but he couldn’t help it. They kept reassuring that everything was fine, even Debbie, who called him every second day. He finally starts to believe it.
“Right. Not meaning to sound like a broken record. I just feel shitty about the whole thing. I know it’s not my fault though.” He’s still having a hard time truly believing that. He tries. He turns to pick his glass up from the counter and takes a sip of the water.
“I’ll stop apologizing.”
“Good.” Ian can hear the smile on Lip’s voice. “Anyway. I’m gonna go, put Fred to sleep and clean up the mess he made. I’m glad you’re doing better.”
Ian’s smile returns. Lip cares a lot. His whole family has gotten better at managing Ian’s bipolar. The main step was to stop comparing him to their mother, even unconsciously. They all have come a long way.
“You go, man. Thanks for checking in.” He used to get irritated when people would check in on him. Not anymore. He’s come a long way too. “I think Mickey’s gonna be home soon too anyway.” He sets his empty glass back on the counter and heads back to the couch.
On the other end of the line, there is a crashing sound and the indistinctive sound of a child’s bubbly laugh. Lip curses. “Alright man, I’ll talk to you. I’m gonna go chase the demon spawn through our yard so I can put him to bed. Or maybe I’ll just tie him down. Even if that’s considered bad parenting.”
Ian huffs out a laugh and settles back on the couch. “Just don’t try anything Frank did and you're good.”
“That doesn’t really set the bar high, but don’t worry. I’m really starting to get better at the whole dad thing. But man, I now understand why people call this age the terrible twos. Maybe I was just too young myself, but I swear it wasn’t this bad with Debbie or Carl. Or Liam,” Lip says as something crashes again.
“Good luck, man.” Ian laughs again.
“Thanks, little brother.” Lip’s cheerful voice doesn’t waver. “Night.”
“Night, Lip.”
They hang up. Ian puts his phone back on the coffee table again and picks up the remote. The screen is still on the Netflix main page. He stares at it for a few seconds, little spaced out, then puts the remote back on the table and runs a hand down his face.
He takes a deep breath, holds it in for a few seconds and exhales. He’s feeling a little anxious. His therapist has taught him a few breathing exercises so he can handle his anxiety better. It usually acts up after episodes, but he’s not too worried about it. He closes his eyes and starts taking even, deep breaths.
There is a scraping noise at the front door then it opens. Ian exhales long and opens his eyes to Mickey tossing his keys towards the little bowl they keep next to the door on the shoe rack. He misses.
“Hey, man,” Mickey greets him with a tired smile and shrugs his camo coat off.
“Hey.” Ian smiles back at him and runs a hand down his face again.
“How you feelin’?” Mickey kicks his boots off and walks to the kitchen to wash his hands.
“Better. Managed to take a shower around noon, even worked out a little. I’m feeling but more like myself again, finally.”
“Good,” Mickey responds with a smile, but eyes him warily. He must have noticed Ian doing the breathing exercise when he stepped in.
“How was work?” Ian quickly asks. He knows that he can’t fool Mickey. He doesn’t really want to. He still tries to divert Mickey’s attention. He also genuinely wants to know how his husband’s day was.
“T’was fine. Nothing new really, just the usual. The new clients are circumstantial as fuck, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” Mickey finishes washing and drying his hands and heads over to the couch. “You feelin’ anxious? Saw you doing one of those breathing exercises or what when I walked in.” He settles down on the couch next to Ian.
Ian takes a deep breath again and leans back a little further on the couch. “Yeah, a little bit, I guess. Talked to Lip, he checked in. I tried to apologize again, but he stopped me pretty quickly,” he says and looks at his lap.
Mickey slowly reaches out and puts a gentle hand on Ian’s cheek. “He stopped you, ‘cause there’s no need to apologize. What matters is that you’re feeling better.” He smiles warmly.
Ian looks back up into Mickey’s loving blue eyes. He leans into Mickey’s soft touch and closes his eyes. His husband knows exactly how to ground him.
“Thanks,” Ian says softly after a few moments and opens his eyes. Mickey’s eyes are so blue.
Mickey smiles wider and pulls his arm back after giving Ian a reassuring squeeze. He turns his head towards the TV. “Whatcha watching?”
Ian looks at the screen too and leans forward to pick up the remote to scroll down to the ‘Keep Watching for Ian’ list. The movie’s credits haven’t rolled yet, so it’s still there.
“This god awful comedy. I wasn’t really in a mood for anything so I just picked a random movie. It was horrible, but I committed myself to watching it.” He finds the movie in the list. It’s called The package.
“Why would you watch an awful movie on purpose?” Mickey asks with a frown. “What’s it about anyway?”
“Oh, see for yourself,” Ian says with a smirk and clicks on the movie’s info box. He really doesn't know why he insisted on watching it as it is quite horrible. “I can’t really explain it. Maybe it’s that it’s so bad it makes it good, you know?” He says as Mickey reads the description.
After a little pause Mickey looks up. “Did you really spend one and a half hours watching a movie about a guy chopping his own dick off in the woods?” Mickey asks with a confused expression.
Ian laughs wholeheartedly. “Well, if you say it like that it does sound bad.”
Mickey shakes his head and laughs too. “It sounds bad, no matter how you say it.”
Ian reaches over and grabs the big blanket he dropped earlier and drapes it over them.
“So, I think I’ll be up to get back to work in a day or two,” Ian says.
“Yeah?” Mickey's voice is kind and soft. There are dark circles under his eyes and his skin looks paler than usual. The past days have taken their toll on him. Finally his and Lip’s words reach Ian. It’s not his fault. Getting sick, missing work, needing help. It’s not his fault at all. He’s doing everything he can to avoid episodes, but it’s impossible to stop them all together. He realized it was coming in time and let his family help him. He’s not a burden. He just needs a little extra support sometimes. It’s stupid how your brain can sometimes trick you and make you believe all that. He smiles.
“Yeah. Had a good day today. I’ll be up to work in no time, I think.” He means it.
“Just make sure you don’t overdo it.” Mickey scoots closer to him under the blanket and puts an arm around his shoulders. He’s so patient.
“Don’t worry about that.”
Mickey smiles again softly. “I gotta worry. You're my husband.”
Ian looks up at him. Into beautiful blue eyes. He hums and leans forward. They press their lips together slowly. A soft and comforting kiss. Nothing more.
When they break apart, Ian pulls his legs up and under the blanket and settles into Mickey. It’s usually Ian who does the holding, but today they both need the switch. They get comfortable and Mickey picks up the remote Ian dropped between them earlier.
“You wanna watch the dickless dude again or should we find something more pleasant?” Mickey asks in a serious tone, but Ian can tell he’s smiling.
Ian snorts. “Let’s just find something else, that thing really isn't worth watching twice. You hungry?” They don’t have anything prepared but there is some bread and ham in the fridge for a sandwich.
“Nah, I picked some food up from one of the clients. The ones with the bakery?”
“Ah, right.” The Aldens. Small family business. They are one of their oldest clients and they bake delicious stuff. “Alright then. You picking that?” Ian asks, nodding towards the screen. Mickey clicked on a David Attenborough documentary’s info box. They both took a liking to those kinds of movies lately. Especially now, the idea of listening to the natural historian’s voice with some stunning imagery, sounds amazing.
“What do you think?” Mickey’s chest vibrates with the question as Ian rests his head on his torso.
“Certainly better than a guy chasing his own dick.” Ian can’t help but bring up The package again. He knows Mickey won’t stop teasing him about it, so why not be faster?
Mickey snorts. “I’m sure.” He presses play and sets the remote down. He leans forward a little bit and lifts the blanket off of himself. “Hold on, let me get my pants off.”
Ian moves too, realizing that his husband is still in his work uniform. Mickey kicks his pants off and gets back under the blanket.
They settle into each other again and Ian can feel Mickey holding him just a little tighter than usual. He breathes deeply and closes his eyes. They both need the extra comfort and security tonight, it seems.
The documentary starts and they quietly watch the screen, breaths evening out. Heartbeats slowing down. Calm, warm and comforting. Their own home. With no fear. No Terry, no closet, no untreated mental illness or forced marriages. Just them. Loving and caring. Ian takes another deep breath and slowly lets it out. His anxiety is completely gone.
He’s happy. Calm. No doubt this time in his head that these feelings are real. Not made up by his brain. Real, genuine feelings he gets to feel in the loving arms of his husband.
He sighs contentedly and closes his eyes again.
Happy.