Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Halloween

Mickey wakes up well before his alarm, the warm embrace of the man holding him against his chest tightening around him as a set of lips caress the back of his neck, easing him into morning. The twilight blue of the early morning sky is in view as he slowly opens his eyes, feeling relaxed, feeling calm. And he recognizes that now familiar and pleasant feeling of satisfied warmth and comfort starting in his chest and radiating up to the crown of his head. 

Mickey is conscious of his breathing, low and calm, as it causes Ian’s arm to rise and fall with his own chest, steady and free of any stuttering, not ragged, not pressured. Relaxed. His breath flows out of his lungs and the only thing sitting in his stomach is the flutter of excitement he feels when he once again has the fully conscious realization that Ian is beside him in his bed, holding him, loving him, making him feel safe and wanted.

He smiles because this is how Mickey Milkovich starts his day. Most days. Definitely this day.

He slides his hand down Ian’s arm and runs his fingernails gently back up to Ian’s elbow, delighting in the coarseness of the ginger hair under his fingertips. Mickey then moves his hand down to Ian’s wrist in an attempt to remove his arm so he can slide out of bed. 

“Mmh uh.” Ian pulls Mickey tighter and nibbles right below his ear. 

Mickey chuckles, his voice still raspy from sleep. “You have to let me go to the bathroom.”

“I don’t.” 

“You do.” Mickey laughs some more and then rolls in Ian's arms until they are facing each other. “You asked for it. I got wicked morning breath.”

Ian opens one eye to look at Mickey, who is touching the tip of his nose to Ian’s. “Good.” Ian slides his nose alongside Mickey’s and plants a chaste kiss on Mickey’s lips, warm and affectionate.

“I’ll come right back.” Mickey pushes his soft lips against Ian’s nose, then to his lips again, then down to Ian’s chin. “I promise.”

“Fine.” Ian closes his eyes and releases Mickey from his tight embrace.

Mickey chuckles and kisses Ian’s forehead before he swings his feet off the bed and rubs the sleep out of his eyes, while Ian lazily reaches up and rubs circles across and up and down Mickey's back, making him think about how truly lucky he is, luckier even than he thought he was some six or seven months before. 

He wasn’t the Mickey that had left Statesville, he wasn’t even the Mickey that had woken up the morning that Ian Gallagher had sauntered back into his life. Intrusive as it had been at the time, he doesn’t think he would actually have gotten to this point that he is at now if Ian hadn’t shown up that day. 

All the feelings that used to force their way to the surface and threaten his well-being were at bay and he has more than he ever thought he could have. Yes, he has his job—one he's good at and truly loves—but he also has a craft and a plan for the future and none of it involves him doing something that will put his life or freedom at risk. He also has his own little place that he only sometimes has to share—or gets to share—with the sleepy, grabby redhead laying behind him. He has all of this without having to hustle, scheme or take unnecessary risks, and he’s filled with more than hope; he’s filled with what he's told is optimism.

It’s a weird fucking feeling, but it’s how Mickey Milkovich feels about his life, and that’s fucking fantastic.

Mickey still has his morning routine, but he often deviates because he can, and because he doesn’t need to have a strict regimen anymore to feel in control. Because he has other things in his life now and isn't afraid to try to let life happen. Because he no longer lives his life in a cage.

He deviates this morning for sure, and after doing some version of his bathroom ritual, he starts the coffee and crawls back into bed, a little more awake and with minty fresh breath. Ian rolls over on his back and opens up his arms for him, a self-satisfied crooked smile on his face and eyes that look like they're taking a bite out of Mickey. Cheeky fucking bastard.

Mickey half lays on Ian’s barely clothed body, burying his face in Ian’s neck and squeezing him tightly. He pushes his body into Ian’s, moving it in small rolls against him as Ian wraps his arms around Mickey and holds him so tight he can feel Ian’s heartbeat against his own chest. 

The undulation and what is almost rutting from Mickey feels like he’s trying to meld them together, trying to make Ian absorb him, absorb his flesh and muscle and bone. His blood. His soul. And it might be working because he feels like they are becoming one organism lying on his bed in his small “apartment,” breathing in time and feeling nothing but one another.

Ian reaches down and squeezes Mickey’s ass roughly, his strong fingers grabbing him so firmly that it lifts the whole bottom half of Mickey’s body upward, causing him to arch his back. Mickey releases a breathy sigh into Ian’s neck, and he never wants to start his day again without the possibility that this could be his reality. He always wants Ian in his bed, by his side, absorbing him, wanting him, loving him. This is what he wants for the rest of his life, and someday he’ll tell Ian that—tell him he wants to make it forever. But not yet.

“Mmm, Gallagher,” Mickey moans. “You’re makin’ my dick hard. You better stop unless you’re planning on doin' somethin’ about it.”

“I don’t have to tell you my plans,” Ian teases, trying to remove the humor in his voice, but not being successful at his endeavor.

Mickey responds by grabbing a handful of Ian’s hair and pulling his head to the side, sinking his teeth into his neck, biting him and sucking his skin into his mouth. Ian hisses, but also mewls, and it only makes him grip Mickey tighter, applying bruising pressure. Mickey moves up to suck on Ian’s square jaw and runs his lips to his chin and then shifts his whole body up to take Ian’s lips in his, parting them slightly with his tongue. Their kiss deepens, but doesn’t quicken, and Mickey thinks it might be the sexiest morning kiss to date.

When Mickey finally breaks away with a slow satisfied breath, he rests his chin on his hands that lay flat on Ian’s chest and looks up at him adoringly. Ian releases Mickey’s ass, smoothing his palms up his back and then running his fingers through Mickey’s soft, black locks, brushing them away from his forehead and resting a hand on the nape of Mickey’s neck.

The gaze they exchange is pure, sweet, and full of mutual attraction, affection, and just fucking love. They fucking love each other, and it might be the most amazing feeling that Mickey has ever had and truly believes that he ever will.

“You know you practically live here,” Mickey starts. “I know it's small, but you really should just move in.” He feels impulsive as he says it, but he's been thinking about it a lot lately.

“Yeah?” Ian raises his eyebrows. 

“Yeah.” Mickey nods and smiles.

“I want to, but I don’t want to leave Liam.” Ian says it so easily that Mickey thinks that Ian has probably been thinking about it too. “I already feel like I don’t spend enough time with him as it is.” 

Mickey can’t fault him for that. He honestly worries about the kid himself and he admires how much Ian and Liam love each other. For all of Ian's concern and affection for Liam, it has not gone unnoticed by Mickey that Liam also cares and shows great concern back for Ian. 

Liam will text Ian and ask if he has his meds with him, make sure he ate, and simply asks how he’s feeling. It was something that in the few short months Mickey had been interacting with the Gallaghers he hadn’t really seen anyone else do, and it had made Mickey really appreciate the kid.

“Speaking of...what time are we supposed to pick Liam up?” Mickey asks, starting to gently and absentmindedly run his fingers up and down the sides of Ian’s torso, and then placing a kiss in the middle of Ian's chest.

“Four-thirty.” Ian smiles, looking so pleased and appreciative, and he knows it's because Mickey had opened himself up to another person, namely Liam, but also because he understood that Liam was important to Ian so Mickey never complained about sharing his time. On the contrary, he had let the little Gallagher into his life easily.

They had spent a lot of time with Liam over the last few months, and had even brought him with them to Ana’s several times for family dinner and once for one of the teenager’s birthdays. He had made friends with a few of the grandkids that were around his age. And Jenny had become fascinated with him, mostly because he fit into some kindergarten version of a dissertation she seemed to be writing about how family can be different and still be family. Sometimes kids are just way fucking smarter than adults. 

She announced quite loudly at the dinner table one night that it was, “not just ‘cos your black. You talk better than Tío Canelo.” She also said it was because Liam seemed to be learning bits and pieces of Spanish way better than Ian was, which made everyone snicker because it was true. Ian had to ask what “canelo'' meant like three times, the last time being the first time that Liam had visited. Liam responded by rolling his eyes and saying, “Cinnamon, Ian,” which immediately endeared him to Jenny and several family members, including Ana. 

The Williams Clan had welcomed Ian with open arms, and even more easily welcomed Liam. "Your family can never be too big," Ana had told Mickey when he thanked her for letting them bring Liam, and he was starting to understand what she meant.

"What time are we supposed to be at Ana's?" Mickey asks.

"I feel like you should know this." Ian chuckles and reaches down to smack one of Mickey's buttcheeks. 

"It's gonna be fucking chaos. You know that right?" Mickey groans.

"It'll be fun!" Ian exclaims and Mickey knows that Ian really believes that.

"Ok, we'll see."

Mickey and Ian had been volun told , along with Jenny’s dad, Tre, to take a pack of the little ones, including Liam, trick or treating in the Shaggin' Wagon. They weren’t really given much of a choice, but for all his grousing, Mickey actually did think that it sounded fun. 

The van had taken a lot of work. The more they fixed, the more they found wrong with it, but it had been an amazing experience working on it, not only because he hadn't worked on anything quite like it before, but also because it was something he and Ian did together, and they were both very proud of the work they had done. 

They’ve been finished for about a month, but Mickey's being super picky about selling it. He refuses to sell it to just anyone because "she's special and deserves a special owner". Every time, Rita-Mae would shake her head, but smile wryly and walk away, letting him make his decision. He is definitely attached to the van, part of him doesn’t want  to let her go. 

The difficulty and attachment is not just because of the work he and Ian did together, but also because it was where he finally felt he had broken the last remaining shackle that Terry had bound him with, and he knows Ian feels the same. Nonetheless, keeping her isn't practical and they do need to sell her one day.

But that day isn't today. Today they are taking a van full of rowdy kids trick or treating in fancy neighborhoods or wherever Liam decides is best. He's the man with the plan, so he had explained it to them when they took him out to lunch the previous weekend.

“I downloaded this app—I told Jessie and Sandra about it—that shows on the map where all the best spots are and when houses are dry, and also when someone is handing out raisins and stuff that no kid wants to get on Halloween." Liam had been talking so fast that Mickey found it difficult to keep up, but he had tried. "And it gets updated in real time because everyone is putting in ratings and other information live. I found data from three different apps that showed distributions from last Halloween, and I made a map that we can compare to what shows on the app tonight. So, it'll be best if I navigate.”

“What?” Ian furrowed his brow, and Mickey was positive it was because he lost track of the conversation.

“That’s smart kid.” Mickey just laughed. “Wait. How did you tell them about the app, are you guys hanging out?”

“Yeah, sometimes because they live between school and my house, but we text and chat on my discord server more.”

“What’s discord?” Ian's brow had not unfurled.

“They have cell phones?” Mickey asked.

“I feel like I should tell you guys that you sound old when you say things like that.” With that, Liam ended the conversation and moved on to costumes, which he talked about in detail, including historical information and socio-economic implications or something or other—Mickey had lost track too—until lunch was over.

"Your brother is gonna run us ragged," Mickey tells Ian after reflecting on their weekend conversation.

"I know." Ian lets out a low laugh and caresses Mickey's shoulders. "Hey, so, just want you to know that I’m betting that Debbie is going to throw Franny in the van last minute and wish us luck."

"What?" Mickey raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah, Liam says she's been weird and vague about taking Franny out, and has some new chick she's dating. He thinks she's going to go party with her instead."

Mickey grunts because he thinks it's complete bullshit, but doesn't say anything because he may be irritated, but he isn't mad.

"Also, Debs bought her a princess costume and apparently Franny hates it and wanted to be a ninja or pirate or something—"

"There's a big difference between a ninja and a pirate."

"Whatever." Ian shakes his head. "Anyway, Liam said he got her another costume and has it ready for Franny when Debbie plops her in the van and says 'have fun.'"

"I'm sorry, Ian, but your sister sucks," Mickey says to break the silence.

"Yeah." Ian nods in agreement. "Are you upset?"

"What?" Mickey looks incredulous. "What's one more ankle-biter anyway? I just think it's bullshit she makes her kid wear some stupid girly costume she doesn't want to wear and then ditches her for some pussy."

"True." He sees Ian thinking about it and he almost regrets saying anything, but Ian doesn't look upset just contemplative.

"You still thinkin' you wanna go out afterward?" Mickey asks carefully.

"What? You don't want to?" 

"We're gonna be pretty worn out." Mickey doesn't sound convincing and he knows it. 

"Whatever." Ian rolls his eyes. "You're just afraid what happened last time will happen again."

"Am not. Fuck you," Mickey says with no venom and he lays his cheek on Ian's chest.

Ian laughs and it vibrates Mickey's face. It feels good. Ian feels good. 

Mickey knows he’s right, though. As far as he’s come and as many struggles as they have gone through, obstacles they have cleared, sometimes he still has a hard time with showing affection in public, and he definitely has a hard time when he has felt like they were “obvious” about the sexual part of their relationship.

“Mick.” Ian reaches down and tilts Mickey’s chin up. “Hey, if you don’t want to go out, that’s okay, but you can tell me the truth.”

Mickey sighs and kisses the fingers that hold his chin. “It’s a little bit about what happened last time.”

What happened last time? 

Last time Ian and Mickey went out, Mickey had gotten pretty drunk and had ended up on the dance floor with Ian, grinding his ass on him and making out with him. Despite the fact that they were in a club, and no one seemed to give two shits about what they were doing, Mickey was mortified and had a really hard time getting over it. Part of it was that he overtly displayed his sexuality, which he still wasn’t used to, and part of it was that he had lost all inhibitions and that really wasn’t something he was used to or liked.

“Look,” Ian says, “I know that you were embarrassed, but I promise you, Mickey, that no one cared, but you. Well—”

“What?” Mickey’s eyes are wide.

“That’s not entirely true.” Ian smirks. “There were a bunch of guys checking you out.”

Mickey groans. “Shut the fuck up, Gallagher.”

“It’s true!” Ian lets out a throaty laugh that shakes Mickey’s body. “They were so fucking jealous when I grabbed you and took you home. It was great.”

“You’re an asshole.” Mickey smiles and rolls to his side, resting his head on Ian’s shoulder.

“Why? Because I like the fact that the hottest guy in the club was making out with me and that I got to take him home?”

“And that you loved how jealous it made everyone else.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Ian laughs again, and brushes Mickey’s hair back from his forehead once more. “My point is that no one cared about how gay you were in public, but you.”

“I know, Ian.” Mickey forces air out between his lips. “I’m trying to get over it.”

“I know you are. And like I said, we don’t have to go out tonight. Or we can just go get some food or somethin'.” Ian leans down and kisses his forehead. “Okay?”

“You won’t be disappointed?” Mickey asks. 

“How can I be disappointed? No matter where I go, I’ll be with the sexiest guy there.” Ian chuckles as Mickey swats at his chest and then tweaks a nipple, causing Ian to hiss a little but also chuckle.

“I want to get over it.” Mickey props himself up on his elbow and looks at Ian. “I want to be able to hold and kiss you in public and not care. And sometimes I can.”

“Yeah, sometimes you can.”

“But sometimes I just get so overwhelmed and I say fucked up shit to myself in my head.” Mickey feels like tears might be making an appearance, but he really doesn’t feel like he should be crying about this, so he tries to hold back.

“I know.” Ian grazes the back of his hand across Mickey’s cheek. “There’s no rush, Mickey. You’ll be okay. We’re okay.” There is an instance of silence where they just stare at each other, searching each other's eyes. Green on blue. Blue in green. And it feels sweet, but he sees something thoughtful in Ian's for a split second.

“I’ll fuckin’ talk to Maria about it,” Mickey huffs.

“I didn’t say anything.” Ian laughs.

“That’s what you were gonna say next.”

“Was it?” Ian asks.

“It was.” Mickey looks at Ian, who is giving his goofiest of smiles.

“It was.” Ian nods with a self-satisfied look.

“I only see her a few times a month now, if that, so I can’t be wastin' all my therapy time talking about how you're not getting kissed enough in public.” Mickey tries to sound serious, but he’s having trouble hiding his grin.

“Shut up. Come here.” Ian grabs Mickey around the neck and puts him in a headlock, rolling Mickey back over on top of him, and encompassing Mickey’s bottom lip between his, locking them into a kiss. 

"I love you." Mickey pulls away and looks down at Ian, rubbing his fingers gently over Ian's face, tracing his jawline and chin, taking in the features of the man he’s lucky enough to have in his life again. 

But really luck didn't have much to do with it—Ian had everything to do with it. He had worked his way back to Mickey; he’d been tenacious, fearless, and maybe a little manic at times, but he fought to be in Mickey's life and now Mickey would fight to keep him there. Forever.

***

It’s weird sometimes to think about how a place can hold so much significance for so long, your attachment to it can be very specific, with specific meaning, but then in time that all changes. You grow and evolve, so your perceptions and attachments change. That place no longer feels the same. Maybe it feels better, it definitely feels different, but it's not the same place it was before. Not to you, anyway. 

That’s how Mickey feels sitting in Maria’s office today. It might be the first day he really notices it, strolling in with no fear and not feeling heavy with burden, but still some concern. Unlike before, he isn’t anxious about talking about it, he is anxious to talk about it. But anxious isn’t even really the word. He’s just ready to talk about what he needs to talk about, so he easily slips into the chair across from Maria with a sideways smile on his face.

"You look happy today,” Maria says with her signature expression that radiates kindness. “Do you feel happy?”

“Do people look happy and not feel happy?” Mickey asks with a smirk.

“Yes,” Maria says. “All the time, as a matter of fact.”

Mickey sits and thinks for a second. “Yeah, I guess that’s true, huh?”

Maria nods and tilts her head to the side. “What is making you feel happy today, Mickey?”

“Well,” Mickey starts, then sits back in his chair, not sure of his answer. “Um, I had a good morning. Ian stayed over and we got up early and walked to a bakery and had breakfast...watched the sunrise.” Mickey feels shy all of a sudden because he thinks it sounds hokey, but at the same time it’s real and it’s why he is feeling so good—at least part of the reason why.

“That sounds really nice.” Maria sounds genuine and he knows she’s right— it does sound really nice. “Are there other things that are making you feel happy?” 

“Yeah.” Mickey sits back, his body opening up as he relaxes and his mind starts to pull apart his positive feelings. “There are. We had a really good Halloween.”

“You and Ian?”

“Yeah. We took his little brother and niece, and a bunch of Ana and Willie’s grandkids trick or treating.” Mickey can’t contain his smile and he knows that there are teeth showing, but he doesn’t care. Maria doesn’t say anything, which is usually a sign that he should keep talking. 

“It was way more fun than I thought it would be. We went to a bunch of fancy neighborhoods. Ian’s brother knew where all the spots were and we drove around." Mickey reflects for a second and uses his index finger to hide a small laugh. "The kids got more candy then we knew what to do with, so I started going through it as we were driving around and letting the kids eat it. They all got spun out on sugar and were totally crazy by the time we took them all home.” 

Mickey lets out an uncharacteristically throaty laugh and throws his head back almost maniacally. “Ian scolded me and shit, but I didn’t care. I wanted the kids to have fun. Wanted them to have something I…” Mickey trails off and starts scratching his eyebrow, his smile slipping.

“You wanted them to have something you…” Maria is trying to lead him along to the answer, but he averts his gaze and doesn’t seem willing to offer up what’s running through his head, so they stay silent for a few moments until Maria shows some mercy. “Do you think that you were indulging them because you wanted to see them have something you never had the opportunity to have?”

Mickey isn’t surprised that she figured him out. He expected her to. Wanted her to, so he looks up at her with a grimace and nods his head. 

“Yeah, it definitely was because I wanted to see them have fun and enjoy themselves like we never got to do. See them wear costumes that weren’t pieced together with garbage from around the house or that they didn’t have to steal." Mickey presses his back into the chair and sighs. "Wanted to see them actually get to eat their fuckin’ candy instead of some sadistic son of a bitch taking it from them to sell or eat or who fuckin’ knows what he did with it. I wanted to see them be happy.” 

Mickey’s voice cracks and he is surprised by how much the memories from past Halloweens are actually affecting him. But he shouldn’t be surprised; this happens all the time. This is how he’s worked through all of his shit. This is how he’s learned about himself and how he behaves and what he does. This is how he has healed and keeps healing. So, he sucks in a deep breath and slowly lets it out, then gives a sad smile.

“They were so happy.” Mickey feels a solitary tear roll down his cheek that he doesn’t bother to wipe away— that tear deserves its freedom. That tear holds all the sorrow of past Halloweens, and Christmases and birthdays as it releases from his body. And it deserves to make its way down his face, slide under his chin and drip down onto his chest. Its escape and the path it carves fills him with a sense of relief, so he closes his eyes and feels himself let go of any tension he was holding in because of what was kept from him so many years ago. 

No, it isn’t the first time this has happened. And it won’t be the last. But this happening in this moment is one step closer to living without the baggage that Terry had strapped to his body so many years ago. One step closer to freedom.

“Honestly, even Ian getting all bitchy about me ‘spoiling’ them was fun.” Mickey snorts a little laugh and swipes a finger across his nose. He looks up at Maria and starts to smile. “He said, ‘Is this what it’s gonna be like when we have kids? You gonna let ‘em do whatever they want?’”

“What did you say in return?” Maria asks, looking curious.

“I told him ‘fuck yeah.’” Mickey can’t contain his laughter thinking about their exchange. 

Ian had been trying to maintain some semblance of order while Mickey was encouraging chaos. Tre, who was with them, just sat back and watched, laughing and occasionally getting a kid back in line if they went too far, but not taking sides otherwise. Mickey thought about how cute it was that Ian was trying to be the “strict parent,” but it was something more. 

Mickey realizes as he’s thinking about it, that what is also making him smile—maybe more than anything else—is that Ian had said, “if we have kids,” and in retrospect, it gives him a feeling of elation he hadn’t quite experienced before.

Picking up on his feelings right away, Maria asks, “How did it feel to have Ian refer to you having children together?”

Mickey doesn’t hesitate because he already knows. “I don’t know if I realized it at the time, but now it feels really good.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because he’s thinking about the future. Our future.” Mickey gives a satisfied sigh. “Together. Our future together. And he’s thinking about us having a family. I don’t know if he’s thought about it before, but he thought about it then, and that feels really good.”

Maria smiles back at him gently, and he believes it’s because she’s happy for him. 

“Talk to me about having a family with Ian. What does that mean to you? What does that look like?”

“I’m not sure,” Mickey says honestly and has to think for a moment. “I guess it just means that we get a chance to have somethin' neither of us ever really had. Or at least a chance to make somethin' better than what we had.”

Maria nods for him to continue.

“And I think it means that we’ll be in each other’s lives…uh...” Mickey stops because the word he wants to say, and has said to himself on several occasions, including the day before, sounds like a jewelry commercial to him, but also because it's scary. 

“Forever. It’ll be forever.” He runs his thumb against his bottom lip and adjusts himself in his chair, letting the intense meaning of that word sink into him now that it's said out loud.

“You like that idea?”

“Yeah, I do," he nods.

“And have you thought about it before? You and Ian being together ‘forever’?”

“I don’t think I realized that’s what I was thinking for a while, but yeah. I actually think about it every morning.” Mickey gives a nervous chuckle. “Every morning that I wake up next to him anyway. I think about how I want that in my life, always. I don’t want to be without it. I don’t want to ever go without him again.”

“Does Ian know this?”

“I haven’t told him. Not really.” Mickey shrugs.

“What do you think would happen if you did?”

“I...I don’t know. I think he would be happy, but sometimes he’s unpredictable.” Mickey shifts a little. “I think he probably would be happy, but then might also get sad.” Mickey hesitates, and isn’t sure what more to say. Maria knows about Ian’s mood swings. They’ve talked about it before, but it can sometimes be tough to admit to someone else that there is anything wrong with Ian or talk about Ian’s pain.

“Why do you think he’ll get sad, Mickey?” Maria narrows her gaze.

“I think some part of it is because he’s bipolar and sometimes—not all the time, but sometimes—he gets depressed and it’s hard for him to deal with things that he has strong feelings about. And he thinks about our time apart, and that makes him sad too. Like we lost so much time. It upsets me too, but it just seems to make him so much sadder and he has a hard time shaking it. He tries. And I try to help him. It doesn't happen all the time, but it does happen.” 

Ian’s illness and how and when Mickey can help him manage it, as well as how Mickey needs to take care of himself and let Ian help him , has been a consistent conversation in therapy. Sometime at the end of summer, Ian had suffered an episode of depression, and it had frightened Mickey because he hadn’t seen Ian like that before, but he hadn't felt helpless, and did what he needed to do in the situation.

Ian hadn’t come to work that day and wasn’t answering Mickey’s calls or texts. He was immediately worried, so when Liam called, Mickey was already on alert.

“What’s wrong?” Mickey asked.

“Mickey, you have to come over.” Liam didn’t waste any time, and didn’t mince words. The kid was straightforward and directive, which in that situation was much appreciated. “Ian is depressed and won’t get out of bed. He won’t talk to anyone and he won’t eat. You need to come now.”

Mickey hadn’t wasted anytime. He was honest with Rita-Mae and told her what was going on.

“Go, Milkovich.” Rita-Mae said without hesitation and then threw Mickey her keys. “Take the rest of the day. Call me if you need to.”

"The car?" Mickey held out the keys.

"Audre can pick me up. Just go." And he did.

Mickey rushed to the Gallagher house and didn’t bother knocking. No one even batted an eye as he stormed in and ran right up the stairs and into Ian’s childhood bedroom. The room was dark and Ian was lying in his bed, curled up in a fetal position, and facing the wall. He appeared to be sleeping, but Mickey could feel that he was awake as he slowly approached Ian’s bed.

“Hey,” Mickey said softly. “Ian?”

Ian’s body twitched for a second, but he didn’t say anything or turn around. 

“Liam called,” Mickey started. “He said you won’t get out of bed. Said you won’t eat.” Mickey stepped closer until he was right next to the bed. 

Ian grunted, but didn’t speak and Mickey's heart clenched. 

“Ian, I don’t know what to do here, but I know that this is one of those times where I’m supposed to support you.”

“You don’t have to,” Ian croaked out, muffled by his arms wrapped around his head.

“Okay.” Mickey sighed a little frustrated. “I want to, Ian. I want to help you.”

Ian stirred under the sheet, but didn’t say a word. Mickey hadn’t been deterred, though. 

One of the things they had done months before was take time to thoughtfully go through their recovery plans together, and had even gone in with the other to their respective therapy appointments so that their therapists could go through their plans with them and offer any feedback they might have. 

They began setting up what they needed, so that if it did come down to one of them needing to take care of the other, they would know what to do and be able to do it. They signed releases of information for one another so that if there was an emergency, they could talk to healthcare professionals on the other’s behalf. They discussed what it would look like when the other was unwell and needed medical or mental health attention. They talked to their other support people in their lives so they understood. And they reassured one another that they did indeed want to take care of the other person.

On that day, when Mickey saw Ian lying in his bed unresponsive for the most part and hiding from the world, Mickey was unnerved, but not disheartened because Ian had told him what he would find, had told him the best way to handle it, and even what some of his responses might be so that Ian couldn't push Mickey away so easily—though Mickey didn't think it would be easy to push him away. No fucking way. So, Mickey was upset and scared, but not unprepared, and he was ready to take care of Ian, no matter what.

“Ian.” Mickey slipped off his shoes and ran his fingers through his own hair nervously, “I’m gonna help you. Now scoot over and let me lay down.” At first, Ian didn’t move, but Mickey waited patiently, and Ian eventually inched toward the wall. Mickey pulled the sheet back and got in right behind Ian, ignoring the sticky heat of midday Chicago in summer and making himself the big spoon for once. Mickey wrapped his arm around Ian’s waist and laid his head on the pillow, leaving some space so Ian didn’t feel too crowded, but not too much so he still felt safe and cared for.

They laid like that for what was probably at least an hour, but could have been longer. Ian had refused at first to leave his house, but Mickey was insistent that Ian get up and come back to his place where they had both agreed at one point was the better place for Mickey to care for him. He had stayed with Mickey for several days, and he was able to check on Ian while he was working. 

Mickey followed their plan even when it was hard, even when Ian tried to fight him and was being a bitch about everything, even when Ian would act like he was sleeping and ignore Mickey, but was obviously awake. Mickey stuck to the plan. 

Mickey encouraged Ian to get up and move around, made him go outside for walks, all but forced him into the shower, and wouldn’t let Ian refuse food. They worked through the plan and Mickey got Ian a phone appointment with his therapist, but at that point, Ian was already on his way back up to baseline and the conversation revolved around going through what they had done and what had worked and what hadn’t. There had been some suggestion of possible medication adjustment, but ultimately Ian decided he didn’t want to do that just yet. He promised to keep an eye on it and Mickey agreed he would be honest with Ian if he thought that he needed to see the psychiatrist.

The whole experience had been really rough and Mickey felt emotionally exhausted after, but in the end, he felt a sense of pride that he had been able to see Ian through his episode and it gave him the confidence that he could do it again—that he could help Ian—and he knew that he could handle it in the future.

Ian was genuinely grateful, and they seemed even more in love after, knowing each other better, feeling each other, being there when the other was in need. It didn’t break either of them. They got over that hurdle together, were stronger for it, and trusted each other like never before.

Now Mickey's sitting here thinking about Ian's sadness when they had just been talking about him telling Ian he wants their relationship to be "forever", and he wonders if he's being dramatic. 

"How has that been? Helping each other with your mental health?" Maria breaks him from his thoughts.

"It's been good," Mickey says honestly because it has been. "We've both been pretty good for the most part, and I haven't had an anxiety attack in months. A few nightmares, but Ian's always right there or close by, and he's real good to me. 

"Ian struggles off and on, has breakdowns. He'll suddenly remember something he had forgotten about and it's like it just happened and he'll get sad or scared, but he usually understands what's happening and can tell me. It’s been happening more the last few months. He gets afraid that it'll be too much for me."

"Will it?"

"Fuck no," Mickey says incredulously, and he means it too because he just doesn't believe there is anything that could make Mickey turn away from Ian. Not anymore. "And maybe it’s Ian's turn to be sick."

"His turn? Is that a healthy way to look at it?"

Mickey stops and thinks about it. "Maybe not, but it feels that way. Like I was the one that was havin' a hard time at first, but now it's… His turn...I don't know how else to say it." Mickey expresses some frustration because he knows how he feels, but his words aren't quite right. 

"Maybe a healthy way to think about it is that he finally has space in his life and feels safe enough to start processing what he has gone through and is finally able to let some of it out."

"Like with me." Mickey points at himself. "When I was living a stable life, or whatever, I started having anxiety and freaking out because my mind felt like I was solid enough to finally feel the danger I had lived in. Not all of it, but a lot of it."

"Exactly. Your body stopped reacting to fight or flight. You didn't have to be constantly searching for what you needed to survive, so your brain was able to start processing what you had to do to survive and the trauma you experienced." Maria confirms, and Mickey feels proud of himself for articulating so much of what he had been through. 

"Instead of it being Ian’s turn to be sick, maybe it's that Ian is secure enough that he is starting to feel some of his feelings he hadn't had access to and is figuring out a new way to manage his illness with a partner," Maria offers.

Partner. Ian had once told him that his "partner"—or the rich old prick that had taken advantage of Ian, as Mickey liked to call him—who had put him up in a condo, had done everything he could for his mental health that money could buy. But it didn't sound like Ian's illness was managed with a partner; it sounded like his “partner” was managing him . So this was new for Ian just like it was new for Mickey. 

Ian had also confided in him that most of the time, his stability had been tenuous at best. This has been the longest stretch of controlling his illness and also feeling some sense of happiness since he had his first manic episode. 

They have times when they need to deal with Ian's depression. And the mania has been mostly controlled, but at the first sign of manic symptoms like excessive energy, they try to talk about it and use the techniques that Ian has learned and taught Mickey. 

It's all part of each other’s plans, which has been a beautiful process that has strengthened their bond and also made managing symptoms easier. Mickey accepts that sometimes Ian has to deal with things by himself and sometimes Mickey has to recognize when he needs to do the same and express how he is feeling. It’s all a lot, but it’s something they both want to do and are better off doing it together than alone. So Ian has the safety now he didn't have before and an understanding of what he needs to do.

"I get it." Mickey nods. "He knows, deep down that I've got him. That I'm gonna be there, so his brain is telling him it's okay to let go."

"Sounds like that may be the case," Maria says. "Maybe you can explore that with him."

"I just want him to know that I'm good with it. I'm happy to be that for him."

"What would be the advantage of you telling him that or having this discussion with him?"

"That he would know it's okay and he's safe with me. That I'm his family, and I'm not going anywhere." Mickey says passionately, wishing Ian was in front of him right now. "And I want him to know that he doesn't just have me. He's got Rita and Audre too. And Ana and Willie and their family. He has all of us. We're all family."

"What do you think that means for you , Mickey?" Maria is leaning forward, looking at him, and he can tell she wants him to say something he hasn't gotten to. 

Mickey isn’t sure, so he thinks, and Maria does like she always does and lets him sit with his thoughts, not pressuring him with words, only silence.

"Well, I think it means that he would know all that and trust me and trust that I won't go anywhere because he thinks I can't handle it. And…" Mickey pauses, almost afraid to say what he thinks. Like this is a test or a quiz and he might get the answer wrong or fail. "And, I think that me saying that to him means that the same goes for me. This is my family. Our family."

"How does that make you feel?"

"That's such fucking therapist question." Mickey can't help but laugh and he sees Maria's face crack into a wide smile.

"Does it make the question invalid?" He feels like she's teasing him, but it's a real question.

"No." He laughs.

"So?"

"It makes me feel… Lots of things. It makes me feel happy. It makes me feel...a little bit afraid because it's different to have so much—to have so many people that I know care about me, and that I care about. And afraid that I'll lose it. But mostly it makes me feel...I guess…safe." Mickey shrugs, but he does think that's it indeed.

"Do you think that maybe you want Ian to feel that too?"

"I know I do," Mickey says sincerely.

"Sounds like a good conversation to have." Maria sits back and smiles.

Mickey just nods, but knows she's right.  He will talk to Ian and make sure he knows he has a family, that he is cared for, and that he is safe. And Mickey had a conversation for Maria that he had told Ian he would have as well.

“So, I’m still having some problems with showing affection and being...I don’t know...obviously gay...in public.” Mickey tells her rubbing the back of his neck and feeling ridiculous when he hears the words coming from his mouth, and he shakes his head.

“Give me an example,” Maria tells him.

“Well, when we are places that aren’t familiar to me or I think that there might be people around that might be homophobic…” Mickey slaps his knees and sits back. “You know what, it’s not just then because I got fucked up at a gay bar with ian a bit ago and started dancing and kissing and shit, and, uh, I was humiliated the next day. I just got so upset.” Mickey looks at the ground and shakes his head. “It was gay bar…”

“You have made a lot of progress faster than I expected, Mickey, but it is still going to take time.” Maria’s voice is soothing and Mickey starts to loosen up and looks up at her. “It was only six or seven months ago that you said out loud that you were gay to another human for the first time. You will get there eventually, but there will be these times when you still have those old feelings.”

“Like what?”

“I think you know what those feelings are, but I’ll start with fear because that’s always been one of your biggest hurdles.”

“Yeah, true.”

“What else?”

“Sh--shame.”

“Yeah, that’s an old feeling. One I know you want to get rid of. What else?”

“Um,” Mickey scratches his head, “weakness.” He says it almost like a question mark because it’s a word he really hates.

Maria only nods and smiles. “What does Ian think of all of this?”

“He gives me some shit. Tries to push me along. Reminds me that no one actually cares--well come people care, but not usually any of the places where we hang out. But I know it bothers him because he wants to be able to hold my hand and be affectionate and shit.”

“Why do you think it bothers him so much?”

“I think because we spent so much time apart he wants us to be able to be whoever we want to be around each other without worrying about other people. Finally. And…” Mickey takes a deep breath. “And I’m worried that maybe he thinks I’m ashamed of us, which I’m not. Not really anyway. But he knows I’m tryin’.”

“Are you able to be affectionate with him in public at all?”

“Yeah, and he notices. I think he knows it’s when I’m comfortable. I know he wishes I could do more, but like on Halloween when I didn’t want to go out afterward because I was stressed about what happened last time we went out, he was cool. He gave me a little shit, but at the end he understood.”

“I think the best you can do is keep trying those things that make you uncomfortable. Push your boundaries here and there. And keep communicating with Ian when and why you are having difficulty. We can monitor your improvement. I would only worry if you regress.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Sometimes things make us uncomfortable and nervous and that is an indication that we are not safe or that what is in front of us isn’t good for us. But sometimes things make us uncomfortable because they are unfamiliar or we don’t understand them. You just need to try to be aware of why something is making you uncomfortable, anxious, afraid...even ashamed.” Maria smiles at him and it makes him feel stronger, makes him feel like he can do this. “You have gotten really good at analyzing your feelings and trying to determine where they are originating from. You know what’s going on here. You just need to take each situation separately and decide what it means and how to handle it.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I know how to do that.” And he really does, which feels fucking good.

“Also, to be fair, there are plenty of people of all sexual orientations that don’t really like showing affection in public, so you have to separate that out from what is originating from your fear and shame.” Maria stops, mouth still open like she wants to say something, but is hesitating.

“What?” Mickey’s brow is furrowed.

“I’m not one to self-disclose often, but I think it’s clinically appropriate in this case, Mickey.” Maria tells him, her eyes scrunched together, which is not her usual expression. “I don’t hold hands with my partner in public. He’s comfortable with it, but I’m not. It’s not out of fear or shame, it's just something I don’t enjoy, so we have worked it out together. Relationships are a negotiation. You may not be the hand-holding in public type of person. And that’s okay. But you just have to figure out where different feelings are coming from and then work that out with Ian. It sounds like when you explain things to each other the other person tends to listen. Am I correct?”

“Yeah, for the most part.” Mickey nods, feeling a swell of affection for Maria. She just talked about herself and her life to him in order to get him to understand that some of his behavior would be normal, that it’s okay. He feels so grateful in that moment he feels a little choked up.

“You and Ian just have to keep communicating openly about these different situations and how they make you feel. You have to negotiate what is normal for your partnership? Make sense?”

“It really does.” Mickey nods at her and smiles. “Thank you, Maria.” To that she smiles warmly and it makes him feel so good, and it makes him believe he can do this.

After a short pause, Maria adjusts herself in her seat and crosses her ankles, which Mickey knows means she's formulating a question. Just as she's gotten to know him, he's gotten to know her, so he braces himself. 

"Mickey, you said last time we met that you thought that you may have reached that feeling of contentment that you momentarily felt before Ian arrived. Where are you with that?"

"Um…" He isn't totally caught off guard, but it feels like they're switching gears. "Afraid. I'm afraid it's gonna slip away again. But I'm not always afraid. Just sometimes."

"How does it feel when you aren't afraid?"

"It feels really good. Not like intense good. More just… Warm and secure. Like I don't need anything. I'm satisfied. I'm… Content. Finally content. A lot of the time."

"Where do you think that is coming from?"

"The good things in my life." Mickey doesn't hesitate. He knows. "Work, Ian, my artwork. I'm not struggling for everything I need. And…my family. The one I have now, but also Iggy, even though he's locked up. And Jamie and his lady and baby… It's been nice seeing them once in a while. And it feels good that Ian is part of all that with me. It feels really good."

"Are you becoming less and less afraid every time that feeling is interrupted now, or more?"

"Less, but still afraid." Mickey takes a few beats to consider how he feels. "I think I understand I can't feel good like that all the time, but I feel it more now and more often than before. And I'm more able to believe that it is something I can hold onto. I'm ready to stop being afraid. I'm just not sure I know how yet. It doesn't mean I can't.

"I mean, so much of all of this has been about being afraid and facing fears and finding ways to overcome those fears, or at least being okay with them, and movin' forward. Not lettin' fear dictate my life, but using it to understand more about what I'm feeling and why.

"So, if I've gotten this far, I know I'll figure it out," Mickey says resolutely and realizes he feels pride bubbling up inside of him, and it feels good.

"That's very insightful, Mickey." Maria's eyes are kind and she seems to have a sparkle in them. "You know you've come a long way in a short time. It's been almost a year and a half since we've been doing therapy. You've been very successful. It shows how strong you are, Mickey."

Maria's words take his breath away because he feels it deep inside him. He is strong. And someone who deals with assholes like him for a living sees that and acknowledges it and speaks it into truth.

"Mickey, you have made incredible progress because you are intelligent and tenacious and strong. And I am proud of you," Maria says with sincerity and conviction. "You have faced challenges that have broken other people, and you have grown and worked hard to not let it destroy you—to be better. Not everyone can do that, Mickey. You should be proud of yourself."

I am strong. He lets out a long ragged breath and nods his head.

Mickey feels a prickle of tears, and he is grateful for the woman in front of him and all she has done to help him figure his shit out. He isn't sure he could have done it with a different therapist. Maybe, but he isn't sure. He doesn't know how to tell her all that, but he wishes he could. Instead he keeps it simple and just says, "Thank you, Maria. You helped me do all that."

She nods and sets her pen and pad down. "I helped. But you did the work. You should own that."

And that makes him feel really good.

"I have to give my progress report to Larry at the end of the week. I'm going to recommend reducing sessions with the understanding that if you are struggling, we can request authorizations to increase them again. And you know you can call me if you have an emergency."

Mickey knew sessions would be reduced; they had talked about it the last times. And while it feels pretty fucking satisfying, he can't help but feel a little sad about it. 

"Yeah, I understand." Mickey nods. 

He feels good about what they've done. Through all the cursing and crying, resisting and yelling. All the fists pounded, lips bitten, and fingernails picked. Through the battlefield of memories shoved down so far they made him blackout as they pushed their way up, he had traveled with Maria as his guide, and made it out the other side.

They say their goodbyes and as he walks out to the street he exhales and lets out a long breath because she was right, he has done the work. He's worked hard, and he can own it. Most importantly, he thinks as he heads down the sidewalk, is that he got through all of this and he finally knows he'll be okay. 

Thanksgiving

Mickey and Ian are sitting at the bar at Audre’s dive waiting for Audre and Rita-Mae, Mickey already three beers deep from Thanksgiving dinner and a whiskey deep from being at the bar. Ian lifts his hand up and squeezes the back of Mickey's neck, garnering a sweet, lazy grin from Mickey, who leans over and plants a soft, smiling kiss on Ian’s mouth.

"Oh my God!" Audre exclaims from behind him. "Are you being gay in public? Today really is a beautiful day."

Ian chuckles into Mickey’s mouth as Mickey pulls away and just shakes his head. "Jesus Christ, Audre."

“Hey, come here.” Audre pulls Mickey into a hug and he accepts it readily, genuinely happy to see her and Rita-Mae, who is close behind.

“He feels comfortable here,” Ian offers, and it’s true. He wouldn’t be this open if he didn’t, and Ian gets that.

“And they love you here—both of you—so I’m glad you do,” Audre tells them as she pulls back.

“I’m getting better,” Mickey says shyly, looking down, trying to hide the smile on his face.

“You are. I’m really proud of you.” She pats both of his shoulders. “Now get me a shot.”

“Alright, alright.” Mickey pushes her away playfully, and she gives Ian a quick side hug as they all go to the bar and settle into their seats and ordering.

“How was Thanksgiving dinner?” Rita-Mae, who had already patted both boys on the back, settles down next to Audre, the four of them dominating that corner of the bar.

Ian doesn’t say anything, only smiles, looking into his pop like he wants to laugh.

Mickey lets out a big sigh and scratches his eyebrow with his thumb. “That’s a whole story. I’ll tell you about it another day, but…” Mickey shrugs and looks at Ian, who he feels reassured by because he is smiling at Mickey now and there is mirth in his eyes. Mirth and affection and it feels really amazing. “It wasn’t awful, the food was good.”

Mickey, having only ever really had two other Thanksgivings that he can remember—one being years ago with his ex-girlfriend’s family (which still makes him wince thinking about because it was so fucking awkward) and the other being the year before with Ana and Willie’s family—so he didn’t have a huge frame of reference on what Thanksgiving was, but the fact that it was Thanksgiving didn’t make it good or bad. It was really that it was with the Gallaghers, which was a trip no matter what and he found the family to be...well...a lot. 

Mickey had helped Ian prep the turkey, and everyone pitched in with cooking except for Carl, who no one seemed to trust in the kitchen. There was a ridiculous amount of food and someone referenced one Thanksgiving when they almost ate an eagle that Carl had shot. Mickey hoped he’d heard that wrong and luckily the conversation moved on. Kevin and Veronica from the Alibi were there, and Vee brought over the sweetest, most incredible candied yams he had ever had. Actually, he didn't think he had ever had anything like it. He wants a dish of those right now. 

Yeah, the food was good, and he liked Kev and Vee well enough, but the dinner had given him a little more insight into Ian and it had also reaffirmed what he already knew—which was that he couldn’t fucking stand the Gallaghers.

That might be over-stating it a little and there was some shit that was funny. He also really enjoys being around Liam, who is fucking whip smart and has a good perspective on how fucked up everyone is. And, of course, he loves Ian. Really, if it had just been him and Ian and Liam, it would have been perfect. Maybe Franny, too. 

Franny is a little badass and pretty much doesn’t take any of Debbie’s bullshit. The kid is five and already has a good read on her mom. Hopefully she’ll get out when she can and not stick around that mess. 

Okay, so maybe he also doesn’t hate Frank either. Which is weird because really, he feels like he should. The guy was an abusive, neglectful asshole that only ever loved getting loaded and maybe their mom, who is nowhere to be found—like the women in his family... fuck . 

But Frank is also funny and Mickey kind of enjoys how much he rattles everyone. Mickey thinks that maybe part of why Frank gets to everyone so easily is because looking at him reminds everyone of that part of themselves they hate that is just like Frank while also holding onto resentments that may never die. They all are a little like him. Even Ian, though he would be loath to admit it, and Mickey will never tell him that.

Debbie’s pretty much a street level genius and ripping, running, and scheming is second nature. She has great survival skills. But she also puts her base desires and what she wants above the needs of her kid, and then blames everyone else when she fucks up. Very Frank. But she’s also funny sometimes and calls people on their shit, especially Lip, which Mickey loves . She just has no ability to see her own shit, and it really is at the expense of others. He thinks that she actually is probably a bad person, but he can’t reconcile this thought, feeling like someone that can't really judge anyone on that.

Mickey feels that the way Debbie treats Franny is probably one of the things he dislikes the most, and has been vocal about it to Ian, who agrees, but there isn't much they feel they can do about it other than take Franny with them when they can and try to be good to her.

It also seems that Franny is close to Frank. And everyone hates it, but Franny and Frank. Mickey isn’t sure how he feels about it or if he thinks it’s better or worse than her hanging out with her mom. Ian thinks it's worse, but Mickey’s not so sure. 

Franny is feisty like Frank and Liam is smart and distrustful. But he thinks and hopes that is where the similarity ends. He really has high hopes for those kids, and is finding himself feeling great affection for them which is foreign, but not uncomfortable, and similar to how he feels about Jenny. It’s probably only different because they're related to Ian, and that automatically makes him feel a connection he can’t explain, but is there nonetheless.

Then there's fucking Lip, who is book smart, probably has a genius IQ, but he's also a bad drunk and an arrogant prick. So, fuck him. But Lip does love his brother, he just can be selfish and gives really bad advice. He knows Ian wants him to get over his distrust and general distaste for Lip, but he isn't sure he can, and Lip doesn't seem in a hurry to love Mickey anytime soon either. They're currently at a comfortable stalemate and he thinks them staying there is the best possible outcome. 

Mickey does like Lip’s lady, Tami, which surprises him. She’s direct and bitchy and she can go toe to toe with Lip’s smart ass mouth. Their kid is cute too.

Still... fuck Lip.

Carl...not sure who Carl is like. That kid was a little thug that then became a...cop? And he isn’t very bright. Kid’s always looking for a girlfriend too and according to Ian, his taste in women is fucking awful. Like psychos. He thinks maybe he doesn’t hate Carl, but he doesn’t get him, and despite all of his reform and rehabilitation, it pisses him off that he ate Thanksgiving dinner with a cop.

And Ian...Mickey had just found out a month before that he Ian isn’t really Frank’s son, and it sounds like Ian is a lot like his mom and not just because of the bipolar, but also because they are both romantics—at least according to Frank with nods of agreement from the Gallagher children. Romantics with the burden of their illnesses and the utter dysfunction that comes with living in poverty and in the Gallagher family, so the romanticism just ends up looking like chaos. Although, Ian’s chaos is definitely more controlled these days. Frank also added at dinner that “Ian has always been a drama queen”, and Mickey almost spit his food out, holding back a laugh.

Ian is also like Frank and Mickey thought it was hilarious when he realized it. They have the same “fuck you for trying to tell me who I am” attitude. The same temper and tendency to get irritated by...lots of shit actually, as Mickey was discovering. They both get shrill and in people’s faces, though Ian doesn’t do it much anymore (according to Ian). Mickey did see it a few times over the last six months. Mostly when they were out and about, and at least one of the instances was out of jealousy, which got Mickey’s dick hard when it happened, so he had Ian fuck him in the bathroom stall at the bar they were at. It was fuckin’ hot.

They talked about Fiona at dinner, and he really has to give her credit for how much she had done from the time she was a little girl until she left when Ian was still in prison. Ian is happy for her that she got out, and Mickey thinks, “Yeah, she did a lot. Live your life.” But Mickey is also upset that she left Liam behind with all these fuckheads. At least Ian is out now and can watch over the kid, part-time anyway. He can’t help it though, he still wants to tell her to go fuck herself  and everyone else when he thinks that none of them really cared about Ian. They’d let him just take off and not really cared about where he was. Except Debbie. So there was maybe one more thing he liked about her. 

But, again, who is he to judge? He hadn’t exactly stepped up either. At least that is still how he feels, despite Ian’s constant insistence that he understands and that just wasn’t how their lives were meant to unfold. 

Not in this universe.

So, Frank was a fucking asshole, and most of his kids pretty much were too, having some piece of him no matter how big or small, and Mickey hated how he heard Frank had treated Ian over the years, but he couldn’t help but have some affinity for him and upon reflection, he thinks it’s probably because when Ian first introduced Mickey to Frank as his boyfriend, Frank didn’t even bat an eye. The only thing he did was get too close to Mickey’s face, being rip shit drunk, exhaling stale beer breath, and narrowed his eyes and said suspiciously: “You’re a Milkovich.” Then he stepped back and looked at Mickey again and then to Ian, and gave a full belly laugh. “Oh, man. Fuck Terry. May he rest in peace.” 

Frank had started to walk away and then slurred out over his shoulder, “You guys are a beautiful couple. Congratulations, Ian, on finding someone that can stand you.” He tipped up his beer bottle and left.

Ian had huffed, “What a prick.” But Mickey laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was funny.

And maybe he likes Frank a little because he didn’t care that they were two men in a relationship. Also, he found out later, Frank was an opportunist and had sex with pretty much whoever, and that included men. Sometimes for money or to get something, but he also seemed to get off with whoever would get off with him. That was courtesy of Liam, who told them that Frank gave a whole group of moms and dads from his school chlamydia. 

Lastly, when he found out the Ian was gay, Ian said that Frank told him, “What’s the big deal? Men have always had men.” And how fucking cool would that have been if that had been Terry’s response? Weird and out of character, but cool and life changing. No wonder Ian had not really tried to hide it after a while. He felt safe at home, could fight, and had inherited a tenacious will and a romantic sensibility. 

God , Mickey loved him. 

So he had to like Frank at least a little. If not for being kinda funny and definitely smarter than most people in a room, he had given him Ian the way he was and that, he couldn’t repay.

In the end, maybe he doesn’t hate the family—except Lip, he still fucking hates Lip—but he hates that Ian ever was hurt by any of them and that they made him feel abandoned and less than important. But Ian wouldn’t be who he is without them and he loves Ian, exactly how he is, even when he wants him to shut the fuck up or is mad at him. He still loves this version of Ian. 

And maybe he doesn’t hate having another place where they can go to have dinner with a group of people that may suck, but probably love each other and have actually done a lot just to help each other survive. He can’t be mad at that. It’s fucked up, but it feels like a home, and that is something he can’t turn his nose up at or feel derisive toward.

He doesn’t need to say all that right now. And probably never will say it out loud to anyone, which is okay. No one else really needs to hear all that, except maybe Ian, and only if it seemed like that right time. Now is not that time.

“Yeah, the food was good.” Mickey takes a swig of beer and shrugs.

Ian nods enthusiastically and tells a few anecdotes about the food that Mickey can’t recall because he is spaced out on the big dopey smile Ian is making with his pink lips and the way he is using his hands to talk, especially when he is emphatic about something, and how his cheeks scrunch up into his eyes, pushing freckle clusters together to make a few bigger freckles. And the way he puts his palm on his chest when he laughs and throws his whole upper body back, not just his head. Mickey’s watching all that but he has no fucking clue what Ian is talking about because he's mesmerized by the man he loves. 

Mickey smiles up at him and he’s sure Ian thinks it’s because of what he’s saying, but he doesn’t need to know it’s because Mickey thinks the redhead is the most beautiful, ridiculously sexy person on the planet, and he’s all his.

Someone jars him out of his head with a slight elbow jab—someone being Audre. 

“Right, Mick?” Ian says. 

“Uh, yeah,” Mickey agrees to god knows what, and then looks over at Audre who gives him a mirthful grimace, and turns her head to laugh. Mickey narrows his eyes at her slyly. This bitch always knows what I’m thinking. And he’s equal parts annoyed and grateful.

“Oh, dude, that sounds so good.” Audre rubs her tummy. “I fuckin’ love Thanksgiving.”

“Aren’t you social justice types supposed to hate Thanksgiving because of it representin’ the beginning of oppression for Indians or some shit?” Mickey is in the mood to fuck with her and this seems like the perfect opportunity.

“Native Americans, Mick,” Ian corrects.

“Yeah, alright, PC Principal.” Mickey frowns at Ian, who only smiles back.

“You know, all of this is true, but my people have really co-opted it and transformed it into a different holiday that is more about the eating,” Audre tells him with a straight face.

“Your people?” Mickey raises his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah, fat people. It’s our time to shine.” Audre raises her arms victoriously, which makes Ian giggle and Mickey’s frown deepen.

“Stop it,” Rita-Mae chastises her, but it doesn’t stop Audre.

“What?” Audre looks at Rita-Mae making goo-goo eyes. “I have a fat ass and belly and I’m proud of it. And I fucking love stuffing. Oh, my goddess. Drool face.” Audre tilts her head back.

Mickey can see that Rita-Mae can’t help herself and she rubs her hand across Audre’s ass and it makes him want to pour bleach in his eyes, but it also makes him smirk a little and think how cool it is that Rita-Mae loves Audre so much that she can’t keep her fucking hands off her.

The four of them hanging out has become somewhat of a regular thing, but Mickey is still getting used to hanging out with Ian, his best friend, and her girlfriend, who is also his boss. And it's taken even more getting used to the realization that Audre wears the pants in the relationship, something Mickey never expected. Rita-Mae isn't really submissive, and she has no problems telling Audre ‘no’, but Audre is definitely the one in charge, which Rita-Mae seems to like, and relaxes into. Everything about Rita-Mae is just a little bit lighter when she’s with Audre, which makes Mickey think that maybe Audre is the first person she’s felt safe with who she can let herself just be with. Like him and Ian. And that gives him comfort. 

But, the two women are really touchy-feely in front of Mickey and Ian, so he's also still getting used to that . He's not sure he ever will. He still just can’t seem to get used to them making intimate gestures with each other, but he tries to act unfazed because he’s glad they have each other and wants them to be happy. They really do seem to make each other happy.

"You're right though, Mick." Mickey sees Audre has become earnest, her tone serious, and he thinks he probably shouldn't have teased her. 

"Thanksgiving can be a very bitter time of year for people. And understandably so. I try to do what I can year round for people in all communities, but I step it up around the end of fall and through the winter. Especially in the homeless community.” Audre nods soberly. “You should join me, Mick. I’m going out next week after work to deliver supplies to some of the homeless encampments and then doing some work with the AIC the weekend after.”

“What’s that?” Ian looks around Mickey at Audre and asks eagerly.

“American Indians Collaborative. One of my friends is on the board and he got me involved several years ago. I can’t be a member for obvious reasons, but they always need help. I just follow their lead.”

“She gets to say Indian?” Mickey looks at Ian, who ignores him completely because he’s obviously focused on Audre.

“I wanna help,” Ian offers, lifting up in his seat with excitement.

“That’d be cool, kid.” Audre smiles. “What about you?” She nudges Mickey.

“I’m good.” Mickey clears his throat and straightens out his jean jacket. “Ian can represent both of us. He seems real excited.”

Audre just shakes her head and smiles. “Yeah, alright, I can’t see you having the patience to deal with that many people in one day anyway.”

“Yeah, no fuckin’ way,” Mickey says, “It’s great and all and I’ll donate like money for blankets or somethin’ for the encampments, but I just really don’t think that’s for me.”

“Fair enough.” Audre shrugs and smiles. “But I’m gonna actually hold you to the monetary donations.”

“Yeah, fine,” Mickey grouses, but isn’t really annoyed. And he does actually wish he wanted to go out with Audre and Ian to help people, but the idea of being around so many desperate, hungry, and cold fuckers fills him with a type of anxiety that he imagines comes from not really enjoying being around a lot of people at once, but also the sadness he knows he’ll feel from being around people that are destitute and suffering. 

Mickey knows a lot of it is because he spent too many years around people like that. He knows it’ll remind him of sitting in his cold house, trying not to freeze to death because no one had enough money to turn the heat on, or all the nights he went to bed with his stomach rumbling because there was no food in the house. 

He wants to help. With every bone in his body, he wants to be able to help other people now that he's no longer that cold and hungry kid, but he doesn’t think he has the wherewithal, so he’ll give Audre money and rub Ian’s back when he gets home, listen to his stories, and praise him for his hard work, but he can’t go himself, and he decides that that's okay. Know your limitations, Maria's voice sings out in his head.

He’s thankful that Audre doesn’t push or try to make him feel guilty, but he realizes she knows him well enough to know that his trepidations are valid, so she lets it go.

“What did you guys do?” Ian asks.

“We cooked. Had a few people over.” Rita-Mae takes a swig of her beer, avoiding eye contact.

“A few people? What, like your lesbian book club?” Both boys and Audre titter at Mickey’s remark, but Rita-Mae looks uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

“You’re an asshole,” Audre breathes out, laughing still.

“No,” Rita-Mae says soberly. “One of Audre’s old friends.”

“The one that teaches that I know from California,” Audre offers.

“And… my daughter…” Rita-Mae takes another big swig of beer and leans over the bar. “Bob, can I get a shot of whiskey? Well is fine.”

“What, what the fuck?” “Your what?” Mickey and Ian say simultaneously, respectively.

All eyes are on Rita-Mae, two sets of them shocked and huge and one set gentle and caring. Bob sits down Rita-Mae’s shot and automatically fills Ian’s pop, looks at everyone’s beers, deciding that no one needs a refill yet and waddles away.

“Thanks, Bob,” Rita-Mae says and she throws the shot back as everyone waits for her response.

She clears her throat and looks down blinking for a few exhales then turns her head to look at them. “I have a daughter. I had her when I was 15. I was in juvie. She got taken away. Put in foster care and then adopted.” Rita-Mae glances over to Audre, who gives her an encouraging smile and a look that clearly says, “I’m proud of you.” Rita-Mae takes a deep breath and keeps going. “I didn’t know where she was until Audre helped me find her a few years ago.” 

A few years ago? Mickey always forgets that Rita-Mae and Audre have known each other for years. That they didn’t just come into each other's lives when Mickey appeared. But it still sounds weird and it makes him wonder how long the two had been pining over each other. 

Mickey refocuses on Rita-Mae, but he’s feeling less confused and shocked and more just amazed at a new twist to this person that he realizes he really doesn’t know that much about. 

“She’s 20. In college,” she continues. “We’ve been getting to know each other. She’s good.” Rita-Mae stops and sits back a little and looks at Ian and Mickey. “Actually, she’s amazing. We’re becoming friends.”

“Wow!” Ian exclaims and it would almost sound too enthusiastic, but it’s Ian. “That’s really, great Rita-Mae.” 

“Her family is great too,” Audre finally chimes in.

“Yeah. She was lucky.” Rita-Mae nods. “Could have ended up in foster care until she aged out or adopted by some shit bags, but that’s not what happened. I’m really grateful she didn't get stuck in the system.”

They are all silent for a moment, reflecting on what that statement means to each of them individually—all a little different, but with the understanding of the reality that a child in the system brings. Mickey knows all of them, even Audre, had been removed from their homes at one point. All of them had their own experiences, unique in a way, but also not at all. The conversation has a quiet pause as they all stare in different directions only interrupted by the slapping sound on the bar that makes all of them jump except Rita-Mae.

“Another round?” The bartender asks, wiping the bar down.

“Yeah, thanks, Bob,” Mickey answers for all of them then turns to Rita-Mae. “I’m really glad you found her.” He says it without thinking about it, but he realizes he means it. He is happy for her, and thinks about what it must be like for her daughter. Mickey wonders if she always knew that she was adopted or if she found out later. What her parents were like. Did they look different? What did she look like? And he thinks about how hard that must have been for Rita-Mae. 

He has an overwhelming urge to hug her, but he doesn’t dare. That type of affection was nowhere near their present relationship and he doesn't think for a second he would get away with it or that he would even be comfortable with it after. At the same time, he feels some type of affection for her that is new, but he does what he thinks she’d appreciate more and smiles and nods at her, acknowledging her and what she has been through that he knows of and all that he doesn’t. Rita-Mae simply grins and nods her head and it feels like she's thanking him.

"So, Milkovich—" Rita-Mae starts and her tone implies that she is changing the subject.

Audre grabs her by the waist and pulls Rita-Mae a little closer. "You're not at work, baby. I thought you were gonna call him by his first name when you weren't at work."

"It's about work." Rita-Mae says gently, leaning into Audre, who gives her a look, that's pouty, but also kind of stern, and he sees Rita-Mae melt. It is simultaneously cute and gross, but he can't look away.

“I thought we weren’t gonna talk about work,” Audre says.

“When do we ever not talk about work?” Mickey asks incredulously, gesturing with his hands. “Half the time you bring it up.”

Rita-Mae stifles a laugh and Audre lets a long breath out through her nose.

"It's about vacation," she tells Audre.

Audre's expression softens and she gives her a flirty smile with her eyes closed. "Okay, fine, but you can call him Mickey."

Rita-Mae lets out a deep sigh, but it doesn’t actually seem like she’s exasperated, it appears to be more for show. "Mickey, I'm gonna need you to cover some of my job duties for like a week and a half next month."

"For what?" Mickey cocks his eyebrow.

"We're going on… Vacation." Rita-Mae says it then looks around as if to see if anyone else has heard her. Mickey chuckles because it’s obvious how difficult it was for her to get the words out of her mouth.

"See, was that so hard?" Audre squeezes her, puts her chin on Rita-Mae’s shoulder and then kisses her cheek, softly and slowly.

Jesus Christ. 

"It was, " she says, and Mickey smiles at her apologetically because he sees she means it.

"Vacation?" Ian smiles. "Cool, where?"

"Wait, wait.” Mickey snaps forward like he’s just realizing something. “You two going on vacation together?”

"Yep. Her first vacation." Audre leans forward a little and whispers, "Ever."

Rita-Mae looks at the ceiling and puffs out air, releasing some tension. “Rich people go on vacations.”

“Sometimes hard working people get to go on vacations too. And you work harder than anyone I know and haven’t had more than two days off in a row since you were what… twenty?”

“Yeah, alright,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And it’s not like you won’t be working, you’re gonna hafta drive and deal with my annoying ass.” Audre bumps Rita-Mae with her shoulder, who bumps her back, her lips curving up, seemingly against her will.

"What are you guys gonna do for ten days?" Mickey sounds perplexed and maybe a little surprised.

"We're takin' the Charger on a road trip to California," Audre tells them while she twists her dark brown hair into a messy bun on top of her head.

“Oh, wow, that's cool.” Ian smiles from ear to ear, excited for them.

“Alright, I'm a little jealous. You're taking that car on the road. And the weather is gonna be a helluva lot nicer in Cali, that's for sure," Mickey says.

"Amen," Rita-Mae says and Mickey thinks, Well at least she can be happy about that.

"Are you going to see your family?" Ian asks, draining his Coca-Cola.

"We are." Audre nods.

"She thought her mom should meet her big black dyke ex-con girlfriend." Rita-Mae makes herself laugh and Mickey almost chokes on his beer.

"And she's gonna love you," Audre coos at Rita-Mae and then pinches her sides as a punishment or affection or something Mickey doesn’t want to think about.

"Stop!" Rita-Mae laughs then looks over at the boys and immediately looks shy. 

God, I'm never gonna get used to that.

"My brother is getting out of prison," Audre announces.

“Congratulations, Audre,” Ian says, “that’s great.” 

“How long's he been in?” Mickey asks.

“Eight years.” Audre nods, looking serious, but not sad.

“He's gonna love that Charger.” Mickey nods and has a dreamy look on his face.

“That's why I'm giving it to him.”

“What!” Mickey gets really shrill, a vein of jealousy ripping through him. He tries really hard to keep it together, but finds it extremely difficult. “What if he just like sells it or—"

"Mickey.” Audre puts a hand lightly on his shoulder. “He's my brother. And he might very well get it impounded, lose it in a drag race, or sell it for drugs. I don't know, but he has nothing and has been locked up for almost a decade. I want him to get out and have something besides his busted up childhood bedroom and a few dusty boxes of shit my mom pulled down from the rafters."

Mickey is quiet, realizing he was out of line and feeling shitty about it. “Yeah, sorry,” he says quietly.

Audre shrugs, letting it go because she gets it. She gets Mickey. 

"It’s okay. And honestly, I'm hoping he'll see what an incredible job you did and be inspired. I think one of my old buddies might try him out at his shop, and maybe the care and work you put in to the Charger will spur him on to want to dedicate himself to something I know he loves."

“Really?” Mickey looks up at her.

“Why would I say that if I didn’t mean it?” She tilts her head to the side.

“So she's dragging me to California for Christmas—"

"Hey, you don't have to come." Audre interrupts with a smirk.

"Like Hell I'm letting you out of my sights that long." Rita-Mae looks serious, but Audre just looks...in love? And she captures Rita-Mae's lips in hers for a gentle kiss that blows Mickey away, not because of all his weird feelings about the two of them together, but because of how soft and delicate it makes them both look. How precious this little moment is for them in a dingy dive bar in Chicago, sitting next to their friends and co-workers, uninhibited and soft. They look like love itself and Mickey feels emotional. Indescribably emotional. Like what the fuck is this? emotional. 

He looks over at Ian, who is blushing with a smile on his face, locking eyes with Mickey. They beam at one another, acknowledging the feelings that have been evoked, they both see it and feel it and it's making Mickey grateful once again that he and Ian were reunited and also grateful Audre and Rita-Mae could finally be together.

The trance-like moment is broken with a clearing of Rita-Mae's throat. "So, Mickey, can you cover some duties around the shop, or not?” Rita-Mae aks.

“Yeah, of course,” Mickey says sincerely, finding himself actually looking forward to taking on more responsibility, and feeling really good that she asked him.

The four of them sit around, drinking and laughing for a while, telling stupid stories that sometimes embarrass Mickey and sometimes embarrass Rita-Mae, and at least once embarrassed both of them at the same time, but never seem to embarrass Audre or Ian. They talk about the route out to California and what that will look like especially if it snows, and they discuss the merits of a four cylinder engine. They talk about Mickey’s dream that he’s cooked up with Ian’s wild imagination where one day he’ll own his own full restoration business, and he talks about how he still thinks he wants a cat, which Rita-Mae makes the softest face at and Mickey truly loves it. 

Somehow the topic of conversation steers back toward Thanksgiving food again and a diatribe about what is perfect stuffing, which then rolls back around to their earlier topic of conversation.

“So, kid, it’s you and me next week.” Audre looks over at Ian and lifts her chin up. “I’ll pick you up at five-thirty from the shop.”

“It’s gonna be dark,” Mickey says.

“So?” Audre furrows her brow.

“Is it gonna be safe?” Mickey asks.

“We’re gonna be out there with a group of folks, and they know us. They’re used to us.” Audre tries to reassure him. “Mickey, Ian will be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

Mickey tries to shuff it off, but it isn’t convincing, he was in fact worried.

“Hey, I can take care of myself.” Ian sounds confused and defensive, but not really tough.

“I’m sure you can, but Mickey’s right, you should stick close with me until you get a lay of the land.” Audre smiles at him brightly. “You’ll be fine. I have a sneaking suspicion you might like it.”

“Ian likes to help people.” Mickey almost says it like it’s an insult. “I mean, he was an EMT, you know?”

“Oh, that’s right.” Rita-Mae acknowledges the pieces of information they had been made aware of months before. “So, what do you wanna do, Ian?” she asks.

“Yeah, we’ve talked about what Mickey wants to do, but what about you?” Audre asks. Both women are sincere and they are looking at him, giving Ian their full attention, and something about it makes Mickey feel very warm towards both of them.

Ian shrugs. “I like working at the shop. Like working on the cars.” Ian has a sad smile on his face, but then looks at Mickey and his smile meets his eyes. “Like working with Mickey.” Ian nudges him and Mickey pushes back.

“Shut up.” Mickey looks down, smiling and feeling his cheeks redden.

“And I think I'm pretty good at what I’m doing.”

“You are.” Rita-Mae nods. “You have a steady hand and good precision.”

“Thanks,” Ian responds shyly.

“But you're not meant to be a grease monkey,” Audre says matter of factly. “Whaddya wanna do , kid? 

“I don't know. I was the happiest at my job when I was an EMT. When I was helping people. But that got all fucked up. I'll never be able to do that again.”

“First of all, that’s not necessarily true,” Audre tells him. “There is nothing in the law that states that a felon cannot be an EMT. Rules are dictated by the Sheriff’s department in every county, and even then, exceptions can be made. But, that doesn’t mean that should be what you do. If you couldn't, what else would you do?”

“I don't know.” Ian gets a far away look and it makes Mickey reach down and lace his fingers with Ian’s. “It would be great to help other people with mental illness. Especially people from fucked up backgrounds. But how would I do that now?” He looks really sad and it’s tearing Mickey’s heart out.

“You could. Again, the rules aren’t what you think they are,” Audre says. “You can go to school, start off as a peer counselor. Usually doesn't pay a lot, but it's a start and you can always start taking classes to work towards a degree.” 

“That would be amazing,” Ian says, his wistful look transforming to hopeful. “You really think I could?”

“Fuck yeah,” Audre tells him.

“Hold on,” Mickey interjects “Are you trying to convert him to be a social worker?” 

“You act like I’m trying to convert him into a cult.”

“I mean…” Mickey lifts his shoulders, but Audre backhands him and he starts to laugh. 

“I think that would be incredible.” Ian looks like he has a tear in his eye and a broad smile stretches across his face. 

“I could sit down with you and make a plan. Make a few phone calls to at least get you volunteering with the right organizations that could eventually pay you. But I’m not gonna hold your hand the whole way. I’ll give you guidance, but you gotta put in the work.”

“I can do that. I can work. I’ve always worked,” Ian says earnestly and Mickey realizes that’s true. Ian was the only kid in his household to have a regular steady job and he had only been fourteen at the time. Even their oldest sister, who cared for them, did gig work and picked up extra shifts in different places. She’d rarely kept a steady job until Ian was already out of the house. No matter what it was, Ian had always worked to survive. Maybe it wasn’t always stuff that Mickey wanted him to be doing, but it was what Ian needed to do to live another day, and Mickey admired that.

Now they had each other, and neither of them would ever have to do again what they had to do to survive. The world was wide open to them and they were moving ahead together. 

Ian wasn’t a mechanic. He did a decent job and was great with customers, but it wasn’t what he wanted for himself. Mickey knew Ian wanted to help people and help others heal, and the idea that Ian could be given the opportunity to do that filled his heart with joy and appreciation. 

They could actually have hopes and dreams, and those things could be fulfilled with the gifts that are being given to them. He knew they were fortunate, and that not everyone got the opportunities afforded to them, but he felt especially lucky that he and Ian had one another and, as Maria would say, were on this journey together. Survival looked a lot different now than it did ten years ago, or even a year ago, and that felt like victory.

Christmas

“You two are finally here!” Tre pulls Mickey and Ian both into the Williams’ house. “My grandma is driving me fucking crazy. I need some back up,” he says between gritted teeth.

Ian and Mickey both allow themselves to be dragged forward with wide eyes. It’s their first Christmas together and the two men had been running around for the last few days trying to meet obligations neither of them realized they had until the week before—obligations that would have never been present previously for two love-starved and neglected boys, but now, not only do they have each other, but they have each other's families and the family at the shop—even Enzo and Damon—Audre and Rita-Mae, and Mickey’s new family, the Williams, who is now Ian’s new family too.

They both know now—after a few tear-filled conversations about what family used to mean to both of them and what it can and could mean now—that they have a huge family surrounding them that they can depend on, and that they can depend on each other. They hadn’t quite gotten as in depth as maybe Maria had intended for Mickey to get with his conversation about them having their own family one day, but it was a start, and Mickey was happy and relieved that Ian knew that he had more than just the Gallaghers supporting him. The last two days had really put that to the test.

They had gone over to Mickey’s brother’s the day before Christmas. They had lunch and exchanged presents with Jamie, his new wife, Julia, and their baby, Amanda, who was getting to be ridiculously cute and looked a lot like Mickey. Ian had gotten stupid gaga about her and spent a lot of the time holding her and talking to Julia. Mickey bristled a little each time they said the baby’s name because he knew they had purposely named her after their sister Mandy, but at the same time he felt it was a beautiful gesture and knew he would adjust to it. And one day, when they find Mandy, he knows she’ll be honored.

It had been a little awkward only because they hadn’t hung out with them much, and he still wasn’t used to Jamie seeing Mickey in a relationship with another man, but Jamie genuinely didn’t seem to give two fucks about it and got along well with Ian. The two of them talked a lot about school because Ian was starting back in January, and Jamie was thinking about getting his diploma. They were able to talk about how they were excited, but also how they were afraid. It made Mickey truly happy to see that interaction and he felt proud that Ian was his partner.

Partner .

The big event of that visit was a planned call with Iggy, who was now at Statesville. They put him on speaker and he got to hear the baby babbling. He thanked them for the presents he had gotten in his commissary and the money they had all deposited. Jamie had only been able to get out there once, so he dominated Iggy’s time, but Mickey was okay with that because he and Ian had managed to visit at least once a month and were planning to go there for the new year. 

It was the first Milkovich Christmas Mickey could remember where someone wasn’t drunk, crying, beaten up, or all three. Shit, they hadn’t even had a Christmas for years before he had beaten the shit out of their dad and he got locked up. When Mickey thinks about it, he realizes that after Mandy ran away, they never had Christmas again. Not that their Christmases were much to speak of before, but it's still sad to think about. 

Mickey believes that she will be back in their lives one day, and Iggy will be out of prison, and when all those stars align they’ll all have a real Christmas together. Mickey thinks, What strange fuckin’ feelings hope and faith are , but they don’t feel bad at all.

After they were done at Jamie and Julia’s house, they had a short window where they went home and got ready for their Christmas Eve plans. Getting ready really meant fucking and then showering and getting dressed again, but it felt like a good interlude to both of them. 

Mickey and Ian had agreed to spend Christmas Eve with the Gallaghers, and as much as he complained about it, he had actually been excited because not only would the food be good, but every time they hung out with Ian’s family he got more insight into Ian, and he found that invaluable. 

Also, the chaos there was funny as shit, and he found he could get them all going really easily and still somehow look innocent in the fray. Tami had caught on to him though and they had an unspoken game of who could get the Gallaghers riled up the most and not get caught. It was great entertainment, and they were secretly becoming friends, which he hoped Lip would realize and hate. Mickey had to admit, besides it being funny as shit, there was great warmth in the chaos and that was nice.

Ian and Mickey had exchanged presents at every destination. Little things like a new drawing pad for Mickey and notebooks for school for Ian. They had opened gifts with each other Christmas morning, but kept it modest, both of them agreeing that they should save their money and use it for maybe a vacation, as weird as that sounded, or an investment in another car they could fix up and sell. Plus, Ian had to start school soon and that was going to cost some money because financial aid was hard to come by for a felon. 

There was a set of inexpensive headphones and charcoal pencils for Mickey and a new backpack for Ian. Mickey also got Ian a cock ring, which earned him a squinty look from Ian, but then a hug-tackle that quickly turned into a product demonstration and test run.

All of the Christmas morning shenanigans, however, had made them at least an hour late to the Williams’ family gathering, and they knew before they got to the door they were going to be in trouble.

“What the fuck took you guys so long?” Tre whispers loudly, which really isn’t a whisper at all. He takes a step back and looks at both of them and shakes his head. “Never mind. I already know.” Tre smirks. “You better get in the kitchen before she comes out here looking for you or me or any of us.” With that, Tre takes off the frilly apron that Mickey guesses his grandmother made him wear, shoves it at Ian, and darts up the stairs.

With it being the middle of Winter, there is no chance of using the backyard for overflow, so the house is filled to the brim and spilling over. It is complete pandemonium and Ian clings close to Mickey, almost like he might get lost in the crowd. There are multiple generations of rowdy Williams’ offspring running around, yelling, laughing, crying, arguing, and eating—because there is already food on the table and probably has been since seven in the morning.

Mickey had been at their house the Christmas before, so he had some idea of what the day would be like. One of the most impressive things about Christmas at their house was that food was being generated out of the kitchen all day long until they sat down to eat dinner. Mickey loved it, but it also made Ana act like the Spanglish speaking lovechild of Martha Stewart and Gordon Ramsey.

“Tio Mickey! Tio Ian!” Jenny blocks their path and jumps into Mickey’s arms. As usual, when she greets him, he is flooded with emotion and a feelings that he has never felt toward another human. He thinks it's paternal and it makes him feel soft inside. He's overcome by how excited she is to see him and how much she loves him. And unlike many months before he can fully absorb it and not feel unworthy. She loves her Tío Mickey and he loves her.

“Hey, Munchkin,” Mickey says, giving her a big hug. “What, no more Uncle Cinnamon?” Mickey looks over at Ian, who elbows him in the ribs lightly while Mickey chuckles.

“No, I don’t like that anymore,” Jenny announces.

“But what about that hair? I thought you loved it,” Mickey teases as Ian rolls his eyes.

“I do!” Jenny says and then looks at Ian. “I love it. Your hair is like Ariel hair.” She reaches for Ian and Mickey transfers her over with a smile.

“Maybe he should be Tio Ariel.” Mickey tries to suppress a laugh as he gets a glaring look from Ian and a scrunched up face of disgust from the now six year old in Ian’s arms.

“That’s silly,” Jenny tells him as Ian lets her down to the floor. She looks up at both of them and says, “By the way, Grandma Ana’s mad at you. ‘You two are late!'" She says in her best Grandma Ana voice, giggles, and then gets swept away in a passing kid tornado full of her cousins.

“Fuck,” Ian and Mickey say in unison then look at each other, both letting out deep sighs.

They are quickly able to distinguish Ana’s voice from everyone else as they get closer to the kitchen, and despite knowing full well this was coming, Mickey finds himself nervous to walk through the entrance way. Ian, who had been warned, but couldn’t possibly fully understand what he was getting himself into, is wide eyed and obviously freaked out.

As soon as they open the door they are hit with the sound of knives chopping, oil sizzling, water boiling and, loudest of all, Ana barking orders, providing critiques and giving instruction with a whole lot of cussing.

“What the fuck?” Ana turns around and sees the two of them standing there frozen. “Where the fuck have you two pendejos been?”

“Uhh, we—” Ian stutters.

“I—you see—” Mickey tries to get words out.

“I don’t care. You’re late! Put that apron on.” Ana points to the apron in Ian’s hand and then throws another to Mickey that looks like someone handmade it in the 80s, and, well, they probably did. “And you put that one on,” she tells him.

Ana points over to the empty counter space to her right. “Guapo, take the potatoes that are cleaned in the sink and start chopping them. I want one inch squares. Then go into the fridge and put a dozen eggs on to boil!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Ian springs into action without another word.

Ana then looks at Mickey and points to the counter to her left. “Mijo, I need you to chop those cans of olives—small, but not minced—clean and then cut six stalks of celery down the middle and then slice ‘em thin. Don't forget to cut off the chingadera on the ends, and then you are going to scrub those yams until the water runs clear off of them.”

“Peel them?” Mickey says with a furrowed brow.

“No, scrub them. Peels stay on. That’s where the pinché vitamins are. Escúchame!” With that, Ana turns on her heel and goes back to whatever mixing, peeling, stirring, and preparing she was doing.

The boys stay in the kitchen, following orders and working vigorously for at least an hour and a half. Mickey enjoys the work and he looks over and sees Ian working hard, asking for instruction, and smiling with pride when he receives praise from Ana, causing him to believe that Ian is enjoying the work as well. Mickey stops for a moment to admire him—his lips as they curl up into a smile, his hands as they move precisely and with purpose, his body as it moves in rhythm with the task at hand. 

Or maybe he’s moving to the music in the background. Ana always has oldies playing while she works, usually 1950s pop and R&B. She must also notice Ian moving in time because she stops what she’s doing, wipes her hands, and grabs his wrist, swinging him towards her. 

“Come on, Guapo, make an old lady happy and dance with me.” Ana starts swinging her hips and shuffling her feet. Mickey thinks it's cute, but also that she must have been a really great dancer when she was younger, and wonders if she and Willie used to go dancing together.

Ian beams brightly, breaks free long enough to wipe his hands, and then he grabs Ana around the waist and envelopes her tiny hand in his. Mickey looks on in amazement as Ian starts leading Ana in a cha-cha or samba or who knows what it is, but Ian is swinging her around and they are both laughing as they dance around the kitchen.

Their performance starts quite a titter, some people laughing and smiling and some looking confused—the later being mostly the younger people in the room.

"Grandma what are you doing?" One of the teen grandsons asks, laughing and continuing to stir whatever is on the stove.

"What? You know I love to dance," Ana says unlabored, seemingly unfazed by the vigorous pace they are moving at.

"That's Mickey's boyfriend, grandma," one of the adult granddaughters teases.

Ian swings her under the arch of his arm easily and then back again. It's all very graceful and it makes Mickey kind of tingly.

"So?" Ana challenges. "This isn't my first time dancing with a gay guy."

"Mom." "Grandma." "Mama." A collective groan goes out across the kitchen at what might have been a joke, but was also reality.

Mickey knows that those members of the family not already privy to Willie's sexuality had been made aware. And Ana and Willie had been very open with everyone as their plans for their marriage and living situation evolved, which Mickey still isn’t clear on and thought hadn't actually evolved at all other than Willie's semi-retirement that made him home more, which Mickey thought was ironic somehow.

It seemed everyone was mostly handling it really well, and it had actually allowed other family secrets to be revealed, as several of the members of the clan confessed to hiding their sexuality as well. It even brought their daughter, Connie, who Mickey now knows is gay, back to them after many years of being separated form them, not being able to deal with the lies and secrets around her. Ana and Willie blamed themselves for people hiding so much and creating division because they had treated all of it as something shameful and had let that affect their children and their children's children. They were trying to fix it. Mickey knew it would take some time, but it seemed to be getting better and better.

Still, the bad jokes garnered jeers and there were still some adjustments that had to be made with the family. They were all still getting used to it and figuring out ways to understand their new reality, as well as figuring out how to explain sex and sexuality to all the younger children.

"What the Hell is happening in here?" Willie's voice booms from the doorway, and he looks upon the scene with a glowing crooked smile. Several family members greet him as he hands Ana a bag of groceries he had been tasked with getting from the store, and he greets them back collectively.

"Did you get everything?" Ana asks and busies herself inspecting the contents of the bag.

"You mean everything you forgot to get the first time around?" Willie chuckles, teasing her.

"Callate la boca, pinché cabrón," Ana says, but her eyes don't match her harsh words, a slight smirk forming on her lips.

"Mama, please!" their daughter, Amalia, exclaims, no doubt referring to her use of vulgarities in Spanish.

"What?" she says with angry wrinkles on her forehead.

"Your filthy mouth, that's what," Willie taunts.

Mickey tries to suppress a laugh, and doesn't dare join in because he would prefer to stay alive, but he can’t help but love the ribbing the family is constantly giving each other. It was something that had taken him months to get used to, always expecting that the teasing, bickering, and loud arguing would turn into a fist fight, but it never did, and eventually Mickey not only got used to it, but he grew to enjoy it. Ian seemed to adjust to it better, but his family’s arguments usually didn’t result in fist fights either—well, most of the time anyway.

"Whatever," Ana waves and dismisses all of it, moving on to her task.

"Ana, I'm gonna borrow Ian and Mickey; they’ve been in here almost two hours," Willie announces and both boys look at Ana with huge eyes waiting to see how this goes.

"What?!" Ana starts to protest, but then her facial expression softens. "Have you eaten?” She points a carton of butter at Ian and then Mickey.

“Uh, not...really,” Mickey says, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Not really?” Ana looks over to Ian. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“We had coffee…” Ian looks up at Mickey for help that he isn’t getting. “And...pop tarts?”

“Jesus Christ.” Ana looks at both of them. “You didn’t have time for breakfast, but I bet you had time to fuck each other.”

“Oh, my God!” their grandson yells, while Willie laughs and Ian and Mickey look on, stunned into silence, and more than a little embarrassed.

“Mama!” Amalia yells again.

Ana ignores all of them. It’s her fucking kitchen afterall. “Fine, you two dumbasses go eat.” She waves towards the door. “But tell Tony to grab one of his kids or sisters or somebody and get in here. It's their shift." Ana turns to Ian and pulls him into a quick hug and pat on the shoulder. "Thank you for the dance, mijo. Mickey is a lucky man."

Ana turns to look at Mickey who feels all eyes on him. Without hesitation he says, "I am," and he means it. Completely.

"Oh, my God, you too are so flippin' cute," Amalia tells them, elbows deep in dishwater. It makes both Mickey and Ian blush, and Ian looks over at him with a playful smile.

"Ugh, your fake cussing is giving me a headache. Just say 'fuck'. You used to tell me to fuck off when you were a teenager all the time, so I know you know how." Ana starts back to work, and without turning around says, "Go on, get out of my kitchen if you aren't going to work and send over your replacements."

Having been dismissed, all three men leave the kitchen quickly before she changes her mind. They do as they are told and then settle in to eat at the table with a never ending rotation of food. 

"I—" Ian starts to talk, obviously stunned by the scene in front of him. Mickey watches him with some amusement as he looks at all the food and watches people graze, some sitting with others and talking, others grabbing food and heading off to some other parts of the house to socialize, watch football, bicker playfully with a family member over a long standing disagreement, or maybe even hide. Ian’s eyes only grow wider and he makes his "oh, wow" face—as Mickey likes to call it—as Willie's grandson brings out a platter of fresh baked empanadas, steam rising slowly off of the pastry dough and the smell working its way into their noses.

"I didn't expect all this," Ian finally says. "I mean…" He doesn't actually finish his sentence, but he doesn't need to. He had been there for family dinners, a few birthdays, and a confirmation. Definitely a rise in action, but nothing compared to Christmas in sheer volume of humans and level of intensity of the celebration.

"Yeeeeah." Willie leans forward to grab an empanada and put it on his plate. "Christmas makes Ana fuckin' crazy. She'll calm down when everyone sits down to eat dinner."

"When's that?" Ian asks.

"No clue, but it'll happen. I'm just gonna keep eating. Try an empanada; they're delicious."

The three men eat and talk about how things are going at the shop for a while, discussing the volume of customers and what work has been coming through lately. They also discuss the Shaggin’ Wagon and Mickey talks almost teary-eyed about her departure and the buyer that he vetted and scrutinized an embarrassing amount. Mickey tells Willie about their plans to take the money and probably invest in their next project since they had actually made a good profit. Willie seems proud of this and compliments them on their good work, and hopefully investing towards their future. Right when Mickey is about to ask what he means they are interrupted by yet another member of the Williams clan.

“Hi Grandpa!” A raven haired girl, who looks about thirteen, but is probably older swoops in and gives Willie a hug from behind and kisses his cheek. Mickey has only seen her a few times at big family events and actually had no idea who she is, but assumes she’s a granddaughter.

“Hey, Buttercup!” Willie greets his granddaughter, grabbing onto the arms around his neck. “Sit with us. I haven’t seen you in months.” The girl obliges and wastes no time grabbing whatever food is in front of her and starting to eat, stopping only to smile and lean into her grandpa affectionately.

“Christina, have you met Mickey?” Willie points over at him. “I feel like you should’ve.”

“Nope,” she mumbles around the food in her mouth shaking her head.

“We’ve seen each other, but never been introduced,” Mickey offers and Christina nods in agreement. 

“Well, shit,” Willie says. “This is my granddaughter, Christina.” He turns and looks at her and says, “Mickey here works at the shop—lives there. Your grandma and I adopted him.”

Mickey almost chokes when he says this and he feels like Willie is joking, but it doesn’t sound like he is.

“Like you need more kids.” Christina laughs and looks over at Mickey. “It’s good to meet you, Mickey.” She reaches her hand over and shakes Mickey’s with a smile, then looks at Ian and does the same with him. ”Christina,” she says. 

“I’m Ian.” Ian shakes her hand back, giving his winning Gallagher grin.

“You work at the shop too?” she asks.

“Yeah, and…” Ian trails off and looks a little perplexed.

“We’re partners,” Mickey offers, thinking that must be what Ian was trying to figure out how to say.

“Like in business?” Christina asks, shoving a deviled egg in her mouth, and after a few chews she asks, “Or like lovers?” 

“Who the hell says lovers?” Willie looks at her. “What have you been watching?” Christina just shrugs and gets up to pour some pop.

“Yeah, like that,” Mickey says with a little blush on his face. 

“Cool. You guys are a cute couple,” she says nonchalantly, and Ian and Mickey exchange looks that push up against the border of suggestiveness, but are mostly shy. They quickly look away, not wanting anyone else to see their exchange or for it to actually become heated. They are a cute couple. It’s hard to deny, but it’s always a little awkward when someone else says it. Nonetheless, this new person on the scene is correct and they know it.

“Your mom here?” Willie asks.

“Yeah,” Christina nods. “She’s in the kitchen with grandma.” 

“Did you get out to see my son?” Willie asks.

“We went out yesterday,” she tells him. “He looks better. Glad they transferred him to minimum.”

Mickey looks over at Willie, trying to gauge by the look on his face where his son might be as he has a sneaking suspicion that he knows, but has never been told directly where their youngest son was.

“Christina’s my youngest son’s daughter,” Willie tells Mickey. “Peter.”

“He’s in prison,” Christina says in an even tone, seemingly unashamed and unmoved.

“Oh,” Ian says, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He’s been in since I was eleven,” Christina tells them. “So, I’ve had ten years to get used to it.”

Mickey hears her words and sees her expression remain stoic, but he has a hard time believing what she’s saying. He looks over to Willie and it looks like he’s not buying it either.

“Well, I’m glad he’s doing better.” Willie smiles up at Christina and places his hand over hers. “Maybe he’ll get an early release,” he tells her.

“Maybe.” She smiles weakly. “That would be nice.” And that Mickey believes she means.

“Buttercup, Ian here is starting community college next semester.” Willie is obviously trying to change the subject and it seems to be welcome as Christina’s expression brightens.

“Cool, what are you gonna be doing?” she asks.

“I’m starting with general ed, but I’ll probably do the human sciences program and hopefully transfer to a four year at some point. It’s gonna take me a while though,” Ian tells her sheepishly, and Mickey can’t help but think about how cute he looks, and he really wants to tell him and maybe kiss his face.

“That’s awesome! It's taking me some time too, but grandpa"—she gives Willie a little bump with her shoulder—"always tells me it's not a race and not to get discouraged.” Christina smiles and her excitement is genuine, which is surprising because she doesn’t know Ian that well. “Do you want to be a social worker?” She asks.

“Maybe,” Ian says. “I definitely want to work in mental health—with people who are mentally ill, maybe people that have been incarcerated…” Ian trails off a little, seeming to get shy. Maybe because of the information that Christina’s father is in prison. “People like me,” Ian offers, and Mickey is sure it is designed to make her feel more comfortable, but it’s also the truth.

“And me,” Mickey says, smiling over at his boyfriend, partner, lover.

Christina smiles at both of them brightly. “That’s really amazing,” she says. “I just finished most of my gen ed. I’m starting higher division classes. Doing something similar—social justice.”

“Buttercup here is gonna fight the man,” Willie says proudly. It sounds teasing, but Mickey doesn’t think it is and Christina leans into him again and smiles. 

“What classes are you taking?” Christina asks Ian, and Mickey can see she is honestly interested and that makes him feel warm inside. He can also see that the conversation is easing a little of Ian’s anxiety and that makes Mickey feel good.

“Well…” Ian shifts down so he is right across from Christina and they start excitedly talking about Ian’s upcoming semester and what classes he’s taking. She has some inside information on a few of the teachers and they quickly forget that either Willie or Mickey are there. Mickey thinks it’s endearing how excited Ian is about starting community college, and he feels an overwhelming sense of pride as he watches him talk to Willie’s granddaughter about it. He’s really happy that Ian seems actually excited about his future and the possibilities that lie ahead and it makes him excited too for what might lie ahead for both of them together.

Willie turns to Mickey and gives him a knowing grin, which Mickey returns sheepishly before he looks down at his plate of half-eaten food.

“How’s things been going at the shop?”

“Good.” Mickey is a little perplexed because he feels they just had this conversation.

“No, I mean with you handling duties for Rita-Mae while she’s gone?” Willie asks.

“Oh.” Mickey sits back in realization. “Good. Things are good. Jobs are taking a little longer, but Ian and I have been putting in a little extra time to get stuff done, and the new girl has been busting ass. It helps that she already knows what she’s doing.”

“You gettin’ along better with Enzo?” Willie looks at him with mirth in his eyes.

“Yeah.” Mickey nods with a grimace. “We’re getting along better. And he seems to like Ian a lot so that helps.”

Willie lets out a boisterous laugh and pats Mickey on the back.

“Sounds like Ian is getting his future mapped out.”

“Yeah, Audre's helped him a lot. Set up a whole plan for him. He’s really excited.”

“And you?” 

Mickey starts to ask what about him, but he knows that would be ridiculous because Willie knows him better than that and knows that Mickey has dreams and aspirations beyond the shop.

"I don't know." Mickey shrugs, stalling a little while he's thinking. "I have an idea of something I want to do, but I'm not anywhere near being able to do it."

"So, what is it? Willie crosses his arms waiting for Mickey to talk to him. 

"I want my own shop," Mickey says sheepishly. When Willie doesn't say anything, Mickey feels encouraged to keep talking. "Not just an auto shop. I wanna specialize in classic cars—‘50s, ‘60s, ‘70s. And have an auto body guy that works there."

"Full restoration," Willie says with an appreciative grin.

"Yeah, full restoration." Mickey nods.

"That would be amazing, kid." Willie pats Mickey firmly in the back.

"Yeah?"

"If you did everything in house, and really focused on specialization, you could really make bank." Willie tells him and it fills Mickey with a pleasant glow. "But I bet that it's more important to you that you enjoy the work you're doing. And you'll love that."

"Yeah, I really will."

"So is that what you're working towards? You thinkin' that you can keep turning out projects and maybe start saving that way?"

"Well, or maybe also…" Mickey trails off and looks over at Ian, smiling and feeling his face heat up.

"You saving to get you and Ian a place?" he offers and it makes Mickey blush.

"I hope so. If he wants to."

"Why wouldn't he?" Willie furrows his brow. "The kid is head over heels for you, Mick. I'm pretty sure at this point you would both follow each other anywhere."

"Maybe. He’s worried about Liam, but I think he's gonna be livin' with their oldest brother soon." Mickey shrugs again. 

"You just need to ask him," Willie says. "He'll say yes." Willie nods, completely sure of his words and takes a gulp of whatever he's drinking.

Mickey looks over at Ian, admiring his profile and how he is leaning into his conversation that has possessed him so thoroughly. At that moment, Ian sits back, laughing and looks over at Mickey, locking eyes with him. Ian covers his bottom lip with his teeth and upper lip and gives Mickey a blushing smile, eyes sparkling and beautiful. Mickey feels the heat creep up his neck and he tries not to smile as he looks away, embarrassed and feeling caught.

Willie smacks Mickey's back and leans in with a growling whisper and says, "You're gonna be just fine. That boy right there loves you." He gets up from the table and pushes in his chair. "I gotta check on the kitchen to see if anyone needs rescuing." Before he walks away he leans down to Mickey and says, "I'm real happy for you. And I'm proud of you, son," Willie says sincerely, gives Mickey's back a few more pats, and then walks away.

Mickey is experiencing a mixture of emotions that range from pride to joy to sadness, and it's mixing together in a way that his body isn't sure how to react to. 

Some part of him can't help but be sad and probably more than a little angry that those words, so meaningful and so true, didn't come from his own father. And it makes him feel sick that after all these years that he is still lamenting over not getting the approval from the monster who at one point had taken everything away from him, almost for good. 

Why couldn't he have accepted him? Even fucking Frank was able to accept his gay son— and Mickey. Why couldn't he have been happy for him, been proud of him? But he never was. And he never could have been. 

This surrogate father, who he had been down a rocky road with, could be proud of him, happy for him, and accept him. And that needed to mean more to him right now than what Terry was never capable of doing. The joy in having someone who cares about you and genuinely wants the best for you no matter what, far outweighs any bullshit resentments and residual hurt from the past. From his father. From the man who never did anything but hurt him. 

Unlike this time last year, Mickey believes and knows, and is resolute, that the pride from receiving praise, and love, and acceptance from the family he has chosen and who chose him, far outweighs anything Terry can attack him with from the grave, so that's where he wants his feelings to dwell, not in that piece of shit. One more power he no longer holds over Mickey. 

This family, not just Willie, but a big chunk of this family, knows who he is, they believe in him, they think he and his boyfriend are cute together, and are happy for them. Mickey knows now that this family loves him, and that he deserves their love. 

***

"Ian where are you?" Mickey hollers up the stairs. 

Dinner has been over for at least an hour and the last he saw of Ian he was holding Jenny's baby brother, Owen, who was tugging on Ian's hair while Ian talked to their mother, Mary. 

Dinner had been amazing, but also chaotic and loud, and Mickey felt like he hadn't seen Ian for hours. Right after dinner, Ana had snagged Mickey and they had coffee and shared a smoke on the back porch in the freezing winter air. She was calm and seemed really happy, and they didn't say much, just enjoyed each other's company. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her since either. 

Mickey ascends the stairs and finds Ian in the room where a bunch of the adults, including Tre and his wife, with babies and small children have gathered, many of the kids already passed out and a few fighting sleep. And there is Ian. Making goo-goo and gaga noises, bouncing a baby on his knee and grabbing to hold another as soon as he hands the one back he was holding. What the fuck is this?

"Tio Mickey." Jenny pulls him into the room and orders him to sit down next to her mom. He does as he's told, seeing an incredibly grumpy look on her face and deciding not to fight with a cranky six year old. She crawls up on his lap and looks at him with a tempestuous pout. "They're making me stay in here with the babies," she whispers angrily.

"That's because you can't behave yourself," Mary tells her.

"You gettin' in trouble, Squirt?" Mickey asks, putting his hand on her head gently.

"No." She crosses her arms defiantly. "Maybe," she says with her bottom lip stuck all the way out.

"She can't keep her hands off of other people's stuff," Tre says.

"Don't tell him!" Jenny yells.

"Hey, don't yell at your mom," Mickey says firmly, but gently. "That's not cool."

"Sorry," she says with little tears in her eyes.

"She's cranky," Mary says.

"No, I'm not!" Jenny starts to cry a little and is obviously fighting sleep as her eyes droop.

"Hey, it's okay," Mickey tells her. "I get cranky all the time. It usually just means I'm hungry or tired. And I saw you eat a whole pie so I know you ain't hungry." He pokes her tummy and she can't help but giggle.

"Did not," she says, yawning, laying her head on his chest. "Pie's good," she quietly declares as she falls asleep in Mickey's arms.

Mickey looks over at Ian, who is as far away as he can be from Mickey and is now bottle-feeding someone's tiny baby. Ian looks up and sees him and gives Mickey a full toothy smile. Mickey can't help the corner of his lips curling up and he feels his chest swelling with the love and affection he is feeling for Ian in that moment.

"You guys are so beautiful together," Willie and Ana's daughter Amanda tells him. "It's really sweet." She is sincere and almost looks like she's going to cry.

"Look at him with the babies,” another adult granddaughter, who he thinks is named Renee, but it might not be anything like that at all, says. He still struggles with that.

Mickey shakes his head, letting out a little chuckle, but then turns to look at Ian again, admiring him as he cares for the little one in his arms.

"You guys gonna have kids?" Tre asks.

"What?!" Mickey almost chokes and jostles Jenny a little who moans in protest.

"Look at him," Tony's oldest son—maybe Robert—says. "He looks like he wants a baby." 

"No." Mickey shakes his head. "We haven't been back together long enough to even be thinking about that."

"Back together?" Mary asks.

"Yeah, uh, we were together…" Mickey stutters. "When we were kids."

A collective "Ah" goes out across the room and Mickey's cheeks bloom red with embarrassment. Ian looks up from his baby shushing and feeding for a split second, but doesn't care enough to engage, much more focused on the life in his arms.

"Oh my god you were childhood sweethearts and now you're back together." Maybe Renee clutches her heart and looks emotional.

"I like Ian a lot, but before you got together I was hoping you'd go out with my nephew, Felipe." Amalia tells him.

"What?" Mickey's eyes grow wide.

"She's thought you were gay since last Christmas," Amalia's teenage daughter announces rolling her eyes.

"I did," she says defiantly. "And I thought you'd be perfect for him. Plus, he has terrible taste in men."

"We wouldn't let her try to set you up," Amanda says, giving her sister side eye.

"Mom, you're so embarrassing."

"I know, mija," Amalia tells her daughter and kisses the top of her head, earning her a scowl. "You embarrass me too."

Mickey can't help but laugh. "That's one way to do it."

"Hey," Amalia says, "I'm happy you guys found each other again. I mean it."

"Yeah, we like him," Maybe Robert tells him.

"So cute too." Mary nudges him, making a few of the women giggle and one of them says, "Mmhmm."

Mickey turns again, admiring Ian with a full blush.

"Oh, look at you! My mijo's in love." Ana bounds into the room, grabbing one of his cheeks and sitting on the arm of the couch next to him.

"No, stop." Mickey chuckles despite being embarrassed, and some part of him loves it because it's warm and affectionate.

"Mama, stop," Amanda scolds.

"You guys will have beautiful babies," Ana tells him.

"I don't think that's how it works, Mama," Amanda tells her, suppressing a laugh.

"Shut your mouth. It'll work however it works." Ana snaps her fingers. "Look at him," she says to Mickey. "You better give that boy a baby."

Mickey lets out a deep sigh. "I don't know if we'll be very good parents. Neither of us had very good role models." He shakes his head and he can't quite get the sadness out of his voice. 

"Neither did I," Ana tells him. "Neither did my kids for that matter."

"Mama—" Amanda and Amalia say almost in unison, attempting to protest.

"Hush, we've been through this, you know it's true. We were a fucking mess. We're lucky you all ended being as amazing as you are."

Her daughters look at her and smile, but there is sadness in their eyes, and Mickey wonders what the evolution of this topic of conversation has been and if they are thinking about their brother who is locked up.

Ana looks again at Mickey. "You can't stop your life because you're afraid, mijo. Right?"

"But I don't know how to be a dad, Ana." Mickey's voice is a little wobbly and he can feel pressure behind his eyes.

"Really?" Ana says and points down at Jenny sleeping gently on his chest, as his hand gently rubs her back. "Not what it looks like to me."

"And that one." Ana then points to Ian. "That man wants a baby. Maybe not yet, but you two are in love and you found each other and you need to share that love. He wants to share." 

"And you have all of us to make you feel better when you fuck up," Tre tells him.

" When? " Mickey asks, sounding shocked.

"Always when," Maybe Robert says.

"You'll fuck up." Mary nods her head and smiles.

"What?" Mickey sounds confused, but laughs.

"Every parent does," Amanda chimes in.

"Just try not to fuck up as bad the next time." Ana pats his head.

Mickey looks up and he sees Ian looking at him and smiling. Mickey's heart swells so big he feels overwhelmed for a moment and realizes he isn't breathing. Ana's hand rubbing his back gets his lungs working again and he looks up to see her smiling at him warmly with so much love and affection in her eyes he feels like he might burst. 

"You're going to be great," she tells him, and he believes her.

Mickey is grateful when the conversation switches to Christmas presents and then food and then who knows what else. Eventually Mary takes Jenny from his arms, and Mickey stands up to stretch. He and Ian lock eyes and Mickey finds his way over, a wide mischievous grin on the redhead's face.

"You heard all that?"

Ian just smiles, looking down at the sleeping infant he's holding and then back to Mickey.

"Don't get any bright ideas." Mickey goes around to the back of Ian's chair and wraps his arms around him, leans down and he says in Ian’s ear, "Not yet. But you know…"

Ian leans back so he can look back at Mickey and kisses his cheek. "You are going to be great."

Mickey hugs him as tight as he can from the angle he's at and kisses his cheek back. How’s that for gay in public?

***

The last two days had been fucking exhausting, but also fulfilling in a way Mickey didn't know was possible. Mary and Tre had given them a ride back to Mickey's with a promise of having Ian and Mickey to dinner sometime after the new year.

When they get in Mickey's room finally, Ian manhandles Mickey playfully and sits him on the bed, kneeling in front of him, between his knees, and reaching up to frame his face. "I fucking love you, Mickey Milkovich," Ian says, looking at Mickey with intensity and heat, but also a tenderness that makes Mickey feel soft to his core.

Mickey touches his forehead to Ian's. "I fucking love you too, Ian fucking Gallagher." Their lips touch and it turns into the most delicate of kisses, sweet and lazy, but deep and sexy. 

Ian pulls back with a big dopey grin and that's when Mickey sees it. 

"Why is there a fuckin' bow on the bathroom door?" Mickey asks with arched eyebrows.

"Well, that's your Christmas present," Ian tells him, rubbing his hands up Mickey's thighs.

"My bathroom?"

"No." Ian chuckles. "What's in it."

"What—" And just then Mickey is interrupted by a diminutive meow and his eyes grow wide. 

Mickey jumps up and opens the door and a tiny fluff ball of black and white comes walking out, looking up at him, immediately yowling accusations and demands.

"Holy shit, Ian!" Mickey exclaims.

"Mrs. Sullivan up the street found a mama cat who had kittens in her cellar. She let me pick out which one I wanted." Ian points at the tuxedo kitten on the floor. "He walked right up to me and started talking. Pick him up."

"Holy shit." Mickey scoops him up and the little fuzzy ball starts meowing in his face and runs his rough tongue on Mickey's chin. "You find some leftover gravy?" he says, smoothing his fingertips over his soft fur. Mickey hears himself giggle, but he just doesn't care right now.

He looks up at Ian. "How did you do this, you've been with me all day?"

"Liam." Ian nods. "I gave him my key and texted him when we were finishing dinner. Lip drove him over. It was a team effort." Ian beams at him and Mickey is too enamored with the little tuxie to even grumble Lip's name as he likes to do.

"He's so fucking small, Ian." Mickey is breathy and is amazed that he is so full of love so fast for the creature.

"He was actually the biggest one," Ian tells him. "And the loudest. Sounded like he was yelling at me." Ian laughs.

The kitten seems to get tired of meowing his head off and lays his head against Mickey's chest and starts to purr loudly. Mickey feels hot tears forming in his eyes and he doesn't understand the emotions he's feeling at this moment, but he knows they aren't bad. 

Ian walks up and cups Mickey's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Mick."

Mickey leans into the touch as he looks down at the second small animal to fall asleep against his chest tonight.

"Wow, he really likes you. I kinda knew you'd be perfect together." There's that big dopey Ian Gallagher smile again that Mickey knows well and loves and can't get enough of.

"So you like?" Ian asks.

"He's perfect, Ian. Thank you." Mickey leans in and presses his lips to Ian's, locking their lips and rolling their tongues together.

"What are you gonna name him?" Ian asks when they part.

"I don't know." Mickey looks down touching the furry little ears and the top of his kitten's head. 

The two men sit close on Mickey’s bed, cuddling the warm furry ball until all of a sudden, he jumps up and does that thing that kittens do where they look possessed, and he starts tearing around the small space. Ian seems prepared, and he pulls out a little plastic fishing pole with a fabric mouse on the end and they “go fishing for kitty” as the game would come to be known.

They spend the rest of the night laughing and snuggling together and stealing kisses while the kitten rotates between walking over them and talking, zooming around the room and getting stuck on things, and sleeping soundly. Mickey and Ian also spend a great deal of the time debating about what to name the little black and white kitty that has already got Mickey wrapped around his little paw, and who he knows is the perfect addition to the family.

***

Eventually Ian and Mickey would settle on a name sometime that night, and name him Chevelle, but like most cats who live with humans that are at their beck and call, he would have a hundred different nicknames—Mister, Tuxie, Fluff Butt, and Mister Sausage one winter when he gets really fat. Mickey would call him "my little muscle car" and Lil’ Chevy, and also Chevrolet that will evolve into Rolet, and then eventually Rollie. And that's the name he will answer to—when he feels like it.

Mickey's tuxedo cat, Rollie, would grow into an impressive specimen, pretty much running the shop, and leaving presents for everyone the only way a cat truly knows how—in the form of dead mice, rats and birds. 

Eventually, when Mickey and Ian save up enough and decide to move out of the shop and into an apartment of their own, Rollie will be displeased and will start to follow Mickey to work, which will be fine with him especially when Ian becomes deep in school and working as a peer support counselor at a local drop in center. Audre would show him what he needed to do and provide some guidance, but also tough love. She would put in a good word, but wouldn’t pull any favors, telling him his accomplishments wouldn't be as sweet if he didn't earn them himself. And he would. He would get in on his own merit, endearing himself to staff and clients, and actually help people who need his help.

Rollie will be confused at first when the two men start to part ways in the morning, and for months he won't be totally sure which way he should go. 

"Go with your Papa, Roll. It's okay," Ian will tell him.

"Ian, don't talk like that out here,” Mickey will likely grouse.

Ian will let out his boisterous and somewhat obnoxious, but always endearing laugh. “Shut up. You think you're the only person that considers their cat or dog their child.”

“It's embarrassing,” Mickey will complain, but secretly love it and actively try not to smile.

“Whatever.” Ian will shrug and bend over to look Rollie in the eye. “You can't get on the L with me, Rollie; go with Mickey.” Ian will pet him and then look up at Mickey who will undoubtedly be frowning with eyebrows at attention.

“Now you're trying to reason with him. This is the gayest shit we've ever done.” Mickey will shake his head and cross his arms in front of him with faux exasperation.

“You sure about that?” Ian will give a flirty smile that will be guaranteed to melt Mickey's heart.

“No amount of your dick in my ass could be any gayer than this fucking moment. Come on, Roll.” Mickey will gesture away, pointing down the road, and Rollie will look up and then back to Ian, who he will give a big rowing meow to, and then he'll turn to follow Mickey.

“Hey, you forgot something,” Ian will say to Mickey.

Mickey will shake his head and feign annoyance. “So fucking gay,” he'll tell Ian, but then turn around and give him a big, closed mouth kiss, grumbling “So fucking gay” and “Jesus Christ” and “I love you”, but not really upset and loving every minute of it.

After their kiss, Mickey will finally look up into Ian’s bright green eyes that will be highlighted with blue from the morning sky and he'll give him a flirty smile. “Fuck, I love you.” 

To that, Ian will dip back in for one more goodbye kiss. 

“Be careful,” Mickey will tell him quietly because no matter how much time passes, Mickey will always worry about Ian, will always want to know where he is and that he's safe. 

“Love you too, Mick.” Ian will cup Mickey’s cheek and give him a smitten look that Ian will never lose. Ian will look toward Rollie, who would already be sauntering toward the shop, and say, “Rollie, take care of my man.”

But Rollie won't turn around; he would need to get to work, need to protect the shop and all the silly humans inside.

Mickey will shake his head. “He doesn't understand you.”

“He does.” Ian will nod. “He just doesn't care what I'm saying.”

And Mickey will know that what Ian says is true.

Mickey will smile and mouth, “I love you” one last time before parting ways, believing he will never be able to say it enough no matter how much time passes—never be able to make up for all the years he should have been saying those words to Ian. But he sure as shit is determined to try. 

The two will gaze at each other, knowing that it's true. Knowing it's always been true. They will know that it has always been Mickey and Ian, and always will be. The road was rough and windy but they found the way back to each other. And they will take care of each other and keep each other safe, and probably fight over stupid shit, but stop and listen to each other and work it out. 

They'll keep using their toolboxes, and watch out for when the other one isn't doing so well. One of them will take control if the other loses theirs, and the person in crisis will let go because they trust and love one another. 

And one day, they'll get married and maybe have a kid or two. Or maybe five because there had been and probably always will be a lot of strays in the old neighborhood, or at least one just like it. There sadly always will be too many parentless children that Ian and Mickey will be able to keep safe and love and cherish, and with that, they'll break cycles that others wouldn't believe could be broken. Cycles of poverty, addiction, abuse, and neglect. Cycles of incarceration, violence, and fear of one's true self that will never lead to anything positive. And they'll do this together and with the family they’ll create and finally bring to fruition all of the good things that they have always deserved.