Chapter Text
Mickey has his own age regression room in the apartment he shares with Ian. He sleeps in this room most times when he is regressed. His room is complete with a comfy bed (add description here), and all the toys he could ever want.
Mickey is restlessly sleeping curled up around his favorite stuffed animal, a red fox called Rowan. The boy's face is scrunched up, almost as if in pain. He appears pale and clammy. Sweat collects on his forehead.
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Mickey (dreaming): "NO!! STOP" He screamed as he saw that horrible discussing monster clamoring towards him in a drunken haze.
"You shut the fuck up now boy before I give you something to fucking cry about!" Terry screamed, his voice echoing off the walls of that horrid house.
"Daddy?? Daddy where are you?! Help me please" Mickey screamed as loud as he could. He was regressed and stuck deep in the nightmare. He had no idea none of this was real. Every sensation felt just as real to him as it did all those years ago.
"That's it you fucking pussy! That goddamn faggot isn't coming to save you. How the fuck did I end up with such a disappointing pathetic bitch of a son!?" Terry bellowed as he launched the beer bottle he was holding right at Mickey's face.
Mickey threw his hands in front of his face in an effort to protect himself. He heard a loud crash as the beer bottle made contact with the space of the wall next to him and shattered. Mickey could smell the beer as a few stray pieces of glass flew onto his arm. He could feel the residual beer dripping down his arm as he woke.
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Mickey's eyes fly open as he struggles to catch his breathe. Hyperventilating, he looks around at the room around him. Wide eyes search left to right. He sees a black wooden dresser with decorative wooden blocks on top. The blocks spell out his name "M-I-C-K-E-Y". He looks up and sees the glow in the dark stars his Daddy put up for him. His Daddy knows how much he loves space.
Wait, his Daddy?
That's right. Mickey remembers now. He remembers where he is. He feels a sense of comfort wash over him. He's not in that scary scary house anymore. The relief is short lived though. Mickey doesn't know if Terry is still out there.
He could be hiding, waiting to come out and hurt me, Mickey thinks to himself. Mickey feels tears start to fill his eyes as he thinks more about the things that scary man could do to him. The dark haired boy clutches his stuffed fox closer to his chest.
"Daddy?", questions a meek voice, barely a whisper.
Mickey thinks very hard. He knows his Daddy's room is only down the hallway. But that is still such a long way. There are lots of places for Terry to hide in-between his room and his Daddy's. Mickey thinks he must be quiet so he can get to daddy's room safely without Terry even noticing.
The trembling boy prepares himself for the journey. He lets his tears fall silently. He does not sniffle one bit. He grabs his special baby blanket and wraps it around Rowan, covering the stuffed fox's eyes, as he doesn't want his friend to be scared. Mickey grips his loveies tightly and carefully gets out of his bed. He places his feet down slowly so no noise is made when his feet touch the floor. He then stealthfully tip-toes through his room and to the doorway.
Is dark, very dark, Mickey thinks to himself. A whimper escapes the small boy's throat.
Mickey freezes. He feels his heart pound as he glances around rapidly. No Terry. He pauses, still no Terry. Mickey feels his breathing go back to normal. He now resumes his stealthful tip-toeing.
Mickey counts his paces. One, two, three, four... wait, what comes after four? Um... He decides to start over. One, two... (counting continues).
Before Mickey knew it he was finally at his daddy's room. Finally relief fully spread throughout his body.
"Daddy..." Mickey said as his voice cracked. As he was finally safe, he let himself cry, and loudly.
"Mickey baby..? What's wrong, what happened? Ian said as he sat up sleepily, eyes half open.
The poor boy was so scared he couldn't talk. He just cried harder in response to the question.
"Oh Mickey baby.. Come here, Daddy's got you", Ian said in a soft, comforting voice.
Mickey climbed onto the bed and fell into Ian's warm embrace. Ian began to rub firm, reassuring circles on his back.
"Oh my brave brave boy, Daddy is so proud of you for walking all the way over here, that must have been so scary" Ian said, cupping Mickey's face and wiping his tears away gently with his thumb.
"mhmm Daddy, was reawy scary"
The small boy began to sob into Ian's shoulder. He is sitting in Ian's lap, arms around his neck, face buried into Ian, stuffie poking out from under his arm.
Mickey was feeling a little better now that he was safe and secure in his Daddy's arms, so he began to speak.
"I hada bad dream" Mickey choked out. Another round of sobs started. "It was s-scary" Mickey said, drawing out the last word.
"Oh baby. My baby, my Mickey." Ian said softly as he held onto Mickey tighter. He guessed the dream was about Terry, but he knows now not to mention the man's name unless Mickey says it first.
The ginger sits the two of them up and begins to rock Mickey gently.
"was 'bout Terry." the small boy whimpered.
"Oh honey.."
"he threw a bottle at me's n it hurted" he looks up at Ian with wide, pleading eyes.
"Oh my baby, I'm so sorry my love" Ian sways them both gently, running his hand over Mickey's hair.
"Daddy will always protect you, my love"
Mickey feels content now, in his Daddy's loving arms. He drifts off to sleep while Ian continues rocking him.