Work Text:
The first thing Mickey noticed when he got home from work was how unusually dark the house was.
Mickey sighed and set his leftover food on the counter and made his way up the stairs to where Ian was laying in their shared bed, looking the exact same as he did that morning when Mickey left for work.
"Hey, man," Mickey whispered, coming closer to the bed and sitting down in the spot next to his boyfriend's curled up body. "How you feeling?"
Ian's eyes, glassy with crust forming in the corners, peeled open as he squinted up at Mickey, as if they hadn't been opened all day. He rolled onto his back and sighed. "Not that great, to be honest."
The answer shouldn't have made Mickey so relieved. Ian missed work and probably hadn't been up all day, but he at least talked to Mickey, instead of shutting him out and ignoring everyone completely.
"Just hang in there, the doctor's did say that you need to adjust to the new prescription," Mickey tried, reaching over to brush away a strand of greasy, red hair out of Ian's eye, but the redhead just sighed and turned back over to face the wall, back turned to Mickey.
"This is the third "new prescription", Mick." he said sadly. "This is it. This is what you have to deal with for the rest of your life, a fucking pill-popping vegetable."
"Shut up," Mickey ordered, gently pushing Ian's shoulder so that he'd turn back over. "Remember what we talked about? I don't give a shit what the med's do to you and I don't give a shit what the disease does to you. I'm stayin'."
The day Ian called Mickey over when he got back from being with Monica with the intent to break up with him, Mickey had scoffed and took a seat next to the redhead instead of following his request to leave. Together they talked and talked and talked, until the sun went down and the temperature dropped a few degrees. They talked about how Ian felt, they talked about how Mickey felt, and at the end of the healthy, much needed conversation, Ian agreed to take his pills and Mickey reassured him that he would be there through it all.
So far, a month later, Mickey's been keeping his promise. Ian needed stability, so Mickey ditched the illegal scamming business and convinced Kevin to hire him at The Alibi as a legit bartender. Fiona, impressed with his efforts, had stopped making snide comments about harboring another Milkovich and let him stay without protest. Of course there were side effects that came with the medication but Ian's been a tough cookie and pulled through every time, and Mickey was so proud.
Ian recounted the words Mickey had said that day, "I love you", "it means we take care of each other," "sickness, health, all that shit". He let out a shaky breath and nodded, still staring up into Mickey's face. "Okay."
Mickey leaned over to place a small kiss on Ian's forehead before wiggling down to settle in next to him, arm thrown over his stomach.
"How was your day at work?" Ian asked, turning his face so that it was facing Mickey's. His voice was scratchy and rough, but it was music to Mickey's ears.
"Alright, I guess. It was somebody's birthday, one of the regulars. I brought some leftover cake, if you wanted?" Mickey replied, shrugging. Ian attempted a grin, so small you could barely see it, but it made Mickey lean over to press a chaste kiss to Ian's chapped lips.
"Thanks, Mick," Ian said. Mickey raised an eyebrow.
"The cake would have just gone bad if no one took it, so..." Mickey started, but Ian shook his head.
"Not just for the cake," He said, rolling over and clasping one of Mickey's hands. Mickey just brought the hands up to his mouth and kissed Ian's knuckle, causing the redhead to sigh in contentment and close his eyes. Mickey has been upping the physical affection lately, and Ian wasn't sure if it was his last ditch attempt at getting Ian not to break up with him, which in turn filled Ian with regret and guilt. But Ian wasn't gonna make any more complaints. This side of Mickey was nice, this softer side, and Ian was so glad he was the only one who got to see it.
They lay there for a while holding each other, with Ian's eyes closed and Mickey vacantly staring at the ceiling as he thought about random shit and enjoyed Ian's company, hands still clasped together. Mickey was sure Ian had fallen back asleep, before Ian's eyes suddenly opened and he'd muttered, "I wanna talk to you about something."
The anxiety quickly bubbled up in Mickey's chest, as those were the exact words Ian used the day he was gonna break up with him. He tried to play it cool and asked, "About what?"
"Remember the night I was in the hospital after helping that lady in the car wreck?"
Mickey nodded, of course he remembered. He remembered being asleep that night and waking up to his cellphone blaring his ringtone obnoxiously. On the phone were doctors, telling him Ian was staying overnight at the hospital, but the assholes wouldn't tell him why over the phone because of protocol or some shit. It nearly sent Mickey into cardiac arrest, causing his heart to pound the whole 45 minute ride to the hospital. When he got there, they explained Ian had to stay overnight for observation because of smoke inhalation. He remembered the stiffness in his spine the next morning, as hospital chairs weren't exactly comfortable to sleep on, despite Ian's protests and efforts to get him to go home and sleep.
"Well did I ever tell you why I was on that bridge?" Ian asked, and now that Mickey thought about it, he'd never thought about why Ian was standing on a bridge nearing 2 AM.
"I...was in a really dark place. The pills, they made it seem like life just...wasn't worth it, I guess? I was job hunting that day, and no one even took me into consideration. It made me feel so shitty, yet at the same time I didn't feel anything. It was like I had no reason to be here. I saw the stress the cost of my meds were causing to you and Fi, and everyone was looking at me like I was about to blow at any minute. I figured I had no purpose." Ian trailed off, shutting his eyes and frowning, as if speaking caused him physical pain. "Mick, I was honestly planning to jump."
Mickey was pretty sure if he had a mirror at the time, he would resemble a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as he gaped at Ian. Any response he tried to muster just wasn't coming out, and for the first time in a while, Mickey was rendered speechless.
Ian must of seen the devastation on Mickey's face, the sadness that was felt for him because he brought a hand up to cup Mickey's cheek and stroked his cheekbone. "Hey, just hear me out. I promise I'm okay now, I didn't mean to scare you."
Mickey gulped, leaning into Ian's palm and nodded vigorously, trying to gain his bearings. "Go on," he encouraged, voice rough with emotion.
"Then that crash came out of nowhere, it happened right in front of my eyes. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. I noticed the woman and immediately ran to save her, and once I did...I felt great. I felt...amazing. Knowing that another human being is still alive because of me, it's indescribable. When I woke up the next day and saw you sitting in the chair beside my bed holding my hand, for the first time in a long time, I didn't wanna go back to sleep and not wake up again. I had a purpose."
Mickey smiled, relief washing over him like a warm bucket of water as he listened to how passionate Ian was about the topic. He couldn't believe not one person noticed Ian was that low. Mickey couldn't believe he didn't notice.
"So I've been thinking," Ian continued, ducking his head shyly, pointedly not meeting Mickey's eyes anymore. "I've been thinking about getting my diploma, become an EMT, or something."
Mickey grinned. An EMT. That made a lot of sense. Ian's heart was bigger than most, better than anybody in that neighborhood. A job like that was so right up Ian's ally.
"Ian, that's great," Mickey told him sincerely. Ian timidly looked back up to meet Mickey's eyes.
"You think so? You don't think it's dumb or, or too far fetched?"
Mickey chuckled, flicking the gingers shoulder. "With that fuckin' hero complex you got? Nah, man. You'd be a great EMT."
Ian's grin seemingly expanded to his ears as he gazed at Mickey like he was sixteen again, all doe-eyed and in awe. "Thank you, Mickey."
Mickey returned the grin, unable to resist leaning in and kissing him one last time before pulling back. "Did you eat today?"
Ian paused to think about it. "Actually, no. I think I could go for that birthday cake right now though..."
Mickey grinned before sitting up and getting out of bed, watching as Ian slowly did the same, trying to adjust to being vertical again.
"Hey, hold up," Mickey called after Ian as he made his way to the door. Ian turned around, eyes questioning.
Mickey took a breath. While he has admittedly gotten a lot better with the whole "sharing is caring" thing, he was still uncomfortable...talking. He understood now, though, that it was necessary to talk.
"Listen, if you ever feel the same way you did that night on the bridge..." he paused, meeting Ian's eyes. When he spoke next his voice held a high level of intensity that shocked Ian in place. "You come to me. Right away. No more of this 'I'm such a burden' shit. You feel that low again, you get me, no matter what time it is, or where I'm at. Got it?"
Gulping, Ian nodded. "Okay, Mickey. I will, I promise."
Mickey cleared his throat, intensity leaving his gaze as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Good."
That's when Mickey noticed how dark the bedroom was, and he stalked over to the window, grumbling about how "this house is full of vampires..."
He tugged the curtains open, and the room was filled with warm, orange light from the sunset outside, engulfing the previous darkness.