Chapter Text
Ian's meds had gotten unbalanced about a week prior to now, causing him to go into a high/manic state. Ian tends to get pretty stressed when his meds are unbalanced, so he involuntarily regressed yesterday. Honestly, manic AND little Ian was easier to manage than big manic Ian in Mickey's opinion. At least little manic Ian doesn't have the brain capacity to plan something too crazy. Such as, um, stealing a baby and trying to drive to Florida.. There were downsides though. A lot of them actually. The thing is, the mania makes Ian unable to sleep, and since he has the mindset of a child, he can't be left alone unsupervised, which means that Mickey has to pull multiple all-nighters to stay up with him. Another issue, the mania gave Ian boundless energy coupled with a brain full of thoughts running hundreds of miles an hour. Regular little Ian was a handful, but manic little Ian was like a toddler on crack, that was just released into a toy store and told he could get anything he wanted. So, safe to say Mickey was a tad bit overwhelmed.
Ian wasn't little and manic often, but it had happened before so Mickey was as prepared as he could be. He had a few red bulls stocked up in the back of their fridge, but he was going to run out sooner or later. Mickey was just trying his best to ride this crazy wave out until it inevitably ended. At the onset of the episode, Ian was big, and still lucid enough to go see his psychiatrist to get his meds adjusted, so now it was just a matter of when they would go into effect.
So in the meantime, Mickey was just trying to hang on and take care of his lover.
The two men are lounging in their apartment. Mickey is laid out on the couch, head on one end, feet on the other. His back is facing the couch as he looks up at the ceiling. His hands are folded on top of his lower stomach, holding a can of red bull upright.
Ian sits on the floor haphazardly sprawled out. His knees are bent as he hunches over some toys on the floor. He pushes his trucks along the wooden floor.
"Look papa, s' an am-ulance" Ian says, smiling as he holds up the toy truck so Mickey can see. Ian loved his toy ambulance as it reminded him of his days as an EMT.
"Very cool buddy" the shorter man replies, turning his head slightly to look sideways at Ian instead of up at the ceiling. Mickey hopes he sounds at least somewhat interested in what Ian is saying. He hadn't slept at all the past night and he was reaching his breaking point. It was difficult work keeping up with the little Energizer bunny of a thing his husband is.
Ian resumes making tuck noises as he rolls the cars back and forth.
Mickey turns his head a little further, settling it into the pillow. He watches his boy enthusiastically playing on the floor. Mickey's eyelids start to flutter.
I'll just rest my eyes for a second. Like a power nap. He thinks to himself.
Just seconds later, the dark-haired man is fast asleep. His arms fall to his sides, red bull can slipping out of his grip and spilling onto the floor.
"Papa?" the giant ginger questions.
"You wake?"
No response.
Ian notices the energy drink spilling onto the floor. He slaps his hand into the puddle and giggles. He slaps his other hand into it now, giggling and rocking back at the splash of the liquid. The redhead wipes his sticky hands on the front of his shirt as he looks around.
Papa said I 'spose to stay here so he n' see me but I bored wif no Papa.
He gets up quickly and scampers across the room. He stops after a second, then runs back to grab his trucks and his favorite stuffie, a stuffed raccoon named Bandit. He resumes his playful running as he zooms down the hallway and into his playroom.
Chaos ensues.
---
Mickey groggily comes back to life. He rubs his eyes with his fists, then runs his hands over his hair and face. The man was in such a deep sleep that it takes a couple moments for him to remember what was going on.
Shit. Ian. Mickey gets up frantically, stepping in the half-dried red bull on his way. He searches the room for Ian, no sign. Fuckkk I was just going to close my eyes for a second. "Power nap" my ass.
"Ian baby? Where are you?" he called out.
"In da play-oom Papa" Ian yelled back.
Thank God, he doesn't sound hurt or anything.
Mickey jogs into the room, skidding to a halt as he reaches the doorway.
Oh fuck.
"Papa!" the giant redhead greets him eagerly, jumping up to give him a tight hug.
Mickey scans the room with wide eyes. He had no idea what Ian was capable of in the span of only one night.
Ian lets go of Mickey and steps back, placing his hands on his hips and proudly looking at his accomplishments.
"Look what I made Papa! Look look!" the redhead says as he grabs Mickey's hand, pulling him forward.
"See's I made a city for you n me n bandit n all my toys n everyone. Cuz in my city Jesus can't get us." the words falling out of his mouth as he smiles intensely.
Mickey is shocked. He stands wide-eyed as he looks around. Fuck this is going to take a while to clean up...
"See's Papa right here I made m plan" he gestures to an array of crayon scribbles on the wall.
"I's smart an I got's the crayons all by myself!" Really, Ian wasn't allowed to have crayons without supervision, but it was pretty damn difficult to hide things from the guy considering he was 6 feet tall. No top shelf easy solution for Mickey.
"Wow.." Mickey says, still shocked but trying not to make himself seem angry or disappointed with his boy.
"N right here I's used the blocks to make the buildings!" he points to some small squares build with a combination of small wooden blocks as well as large cardboard ones.
"See right here's the library, and the grocery store, n the fire station!" "Mr. Kitty works at da li-rary cuz he likes books, n Bandit works at the grocery store cuz he like food. And my am-ulance is in the fire station! See! See!"
"Yes baby I see, I see"
Mickey grabs his phone to check the time quickly, "Shi- I mean shoot."
"What papa?"
"It's already past noon" Mickey goes to grab Ian's hand "We gotta go get your meds kiddo" he says to the giant ginger.
"Nooo" Ian whines. He pulls Mickey's hand back in an effort to make him stay.
"I'm sorry hun but we need to go get your meds and some breakfast."
Ian whines and pouts.
"What if I give you a cookie after?"
"Fine."
Ian hops up from the floor and skips to the kitchen, holding Mickey's hand.
They eat a quick breakfast of granola with yogurt, plus an extra strong coffee for Mickey and juice for Ian.
Then, it's clean up time.
Two packs of Mr.Clean magic erasers, one bottle of Windex, and a fuck ton of elbow grease later, Mickey finally got all that crayon off the wall. Ian "helped" too, well, he scrubbed a bit before getting distracted and wandering off to play on his own.
Mickey walks over to the taller man, and bends down to kiss the top of his head and ruffle his hair.
"Love ya, kiddo" he smiles as he looks down at the ginger.
Ian looks up and behind him, bending his neck backwards, "Love you too Papa" he continues playing whatever he was playing. Wait- is that marker? ... on the floor? Mickey internally face palms. He can't leave this kid alone for a second.
Time to start the cleaning all over again.
I'm gonna need more red bull...