kids, strollers, play days at the beach. those weren’t supposed to be in his future.
1.2k // @gallavichthings (i usually post over on @oforamuse – but i’m thinking of shaking things up and bringing it all over here).
Things are so good right now that Mickey has to remind himself sometimes that this is really his life and shit isn’t changing any time soon.
Franny hangs off his wrist as they stumble back to the car, sun drunk and skin warm. Ian follows behind, babbling nonsense to Freddie as the kid falls asleep in his stroller.
When Lip had called them up that morning, desperately seeking someone to take Fred for the day and Ian agreed, Mickey was one step away from googling the nearest divorce lawyer – especially as they’d already said yes to watching Franny.
“You’re killin’ me.” He’d moaned into the pillow once Ian had hung up and turned towards him sheepishly. “Fuckin’ killin’ me.”
But, much to his surprise and well, enjoyment, he’s had a pretty solid day.
They piled the kids into Tami’s car and headed off towards the beach after Ian had vetoed Mickey’s suggestion of sticking them in front of the Netflix for the day back in their apartment.
“Fine. But if you get sunburned, I’m not dealing with your ass complaining.” He grumbled, watching the road in front and all Ian did was grin and turn the music up on the car’s stereo as he drove.
Mickey knew dragging him along for a day at the beach with the kids was his idea of heaven.
And it was. A hot, sweaty sand filled heaven with vanilla ice cream that dripped down Mickey’s fingers and sea foam that got between his toes on the shoreline. Ian’s freckles became more prominent as the day went on, littering his nose, cheek and eyelids, and Mickey fought the urge to place his lips on each of them.
A good day – hell, even a great day in fact.
Now as they walk, Franny is rattling off a story about another kid at school and in her young, girlish way, he knows it’s the most important thing she’s ever told someone.
“Someone pickin’ on you kid?” Mickey asks, only vaguely listening but catching up somewhere around hair pulling and tattle-taling.
“Elizabeth tries.”
“Well, if she tries again. You tell me, okay?”
Franny beams, her wide eyes meeting a toothy grin and in that moment, Mickey swears to himself he’s going to do everything in his power to protect this kid from harm.
In all the ways no one protected him.
He didn’t have days under the afternoon sun, beach hut vanilla ice cream and seafoam between his toes aged five, but this kid will – she always will.
Ian catches up with them, pushing Freddie on Mickey’s right side and smirks.
“Good day then, Mick? Better than Netflix?”
Mickey rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it. Only joy.
“Never said we were gonna be the ones watching it.”
They get to where they left their car, parked in a lonely corner of the lot underneath a tree to avoid the sun’s heat and once he’s got Freddie safely settled, Mickey gets to loading up the trunk with their belongings, miraculously finding a way to fit the stroller in so it’ll remain in one piece by the time they get back home.
“Those things are way too fuckin’ complicated.”
Ian doesn’t look up from where he’s strapping Franny into her car seat, but gives him a head nod of acknowledgment.
“Tami said those go for a couple hundred.”
And way too fuckin’ expensive.
“Well, we ain’t gettin’ one of them.”
It falls out before Mickey can stop it and by the time he’s caught up, Ian’s already met his eye, his mouth parted in what could only be read as surprise. He doesn’t know what it is – maybe he’s delirious from a day by the sea and all the sun, but Mickey finds himself hesitating on the urge to back track.
Ian holds his stare and clearly there’s something there he wants to press further, but he doesn’t.
“Or whatever.” Mickey says with a swallow, dropping his gaze down to the keys in his hands as he hastily gets them prepped for ignition. It’s his turn to drive, but now it feels his gut might fall out into the pedals below.
“You’ve got sand in your hair, Fran.” Ian says, ducking down to run a hand through her blonde curls, a move that makes her giggle. His voice is cheery, purposefully so and Mickey can tell he’s trying to move the moment along. “Gonna have to give you a bath before we hand you over to your mom, otherwise I’ll be on her shit list.”
His forehead instinctively hits the wheel and a headache blooms between his eyebrows.
Kids, strollers, play days at the beach.
Those weren’t supposed to be in his future. Not when he was seventeen and fucked for life, not when he was behind bars with a heavy prison sentence on his head.
Not even when Ian held him in his arms and whispered, you’re gonna be a great dad.
But now?
The thought makes his stomach churn and he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing.
Or a bad one.
Ian’s not pressed the issue, there’s been no pillow talk about their future of two point five kids, a dog and white picket fence, but Mickey knows the look his husband gets when he watches him play liquor store robbery with Franny or bounce Fred on his knee.
He knows what Ian wants for them both, but Mickey doesn’t know if he can give it to him.
The car dips when Ian slides into the passenger side and Mickey keeps his head down, listening to Ian close the door and buckle himself in.
“Hey.”
Ian’s voice is soft. A delicate contrast to the childish garble he’d been playing with earlier around the kids. There’s a hand on his thigh, a comfort through the fabric of his knee length shorts and Mickey takes a moment to breathe, before he twists his head to meet his husband's eye. A soft voice, coupled with a soft gaze. His hand finds Ian’s and it’s the most natural thing in the world, to be held and intertwined by this man.
Ian squeezes his hand, a gentle pulse of it’s okay, take your time. I’ll meet you when you’re ready.
They’ll talk about it one day. They’ll sit down at their kitchen table after work one evening and over a bowl of tomato spaghetti, it’ll spill out between them. They’ll breathe together, meet with a kiss and plan their future.
Kids, strollers, play days at the beach.
But today, Mickey’s husband is giving him an out. He’s giving him it's okay, take your time. I’ll meet you when you’re ready.
Keeping their hands together, he moves his forehead away from the wheel and looks at the road ahead of him. They’ll go home, drop the kids off and have an evening to themselves. They’ll drink beer, fuck and sleep until their alarm the following morning. They’ll go to family dinners at Lip’s, share a beer at The Alibi and a cigarette on their balcony. Days, weeks and months will go by.
Ian will meet him when he’s ready.
Mickey twists the key in the ignition, presses a firm foot down on the pedal and they take off, moving forward.
I’ve looked at the tags and can’t find, do you know the fic where Mickey runs into Ian in New York and they reunite, but fight when Mickey finds out he’s been in New York for a while. Fiona lives in NY in this and Ian is staying in her couch I think. Thanks in advance!
You’re looking for i had a dream (i got everything I wanted), a fantastic fic 💜
i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) chapter 11/12
mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.
the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.
mickey suddenly finds himself being thrown head first back into a world of people and places he’s spent so many years trying to leave behind.
au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.
Mickey relies purely on adrenaline and anxiety to get him through the airport’s security line and out the other side in one piece. It’s late - or really early, depending how he thinks of it - by the time he’s sitting on the El and the carriages are relatively deserted but he can’t help the urge to sit up straight every single time the doors open and someone new enters. There’s a tightness in his chest where he knows he’s being paranoid, but his dad has eyes everywhere, and Mickey’s got no doubt word will get back to him, wherever he is, by tomorrow.
Mickey needs to prepare himself for whatever fall out he’s going to have to deal with. Being back in Chicago means looking over his shoulder every time he turns a corner, it means stiff spines and clenched fists. That freedom he was granted by New York no longer applies, and he needs to be ready.
But…it also means Ian.
Ian. He’s doing this for Ian.
IanIanIanIanIanIan-
Mickey repeats his name like a mantra in his head.
He’s doing it for himself.
He’s doing this because he’s spent too fucking long being apart from the man he loves and he can’t do it anymore.
He also, however, doesn’t want to end up back in prison, so that’s a whole other thing to consider.
Mickey’s exhausted - turns out air travel is draining - and he would’ve probably fallen asleep on the El, lulled into slumber by the familiarity of the tracks, had he not been so fucking anxious.
i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) chapter 8/?
mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.
the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.
mickey suddenly finds himself being thrown head first back into a world of people and places he’s spent so many years trying to leave behind.
au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.
Mickey wakes up slowly, his body clicking and popping as he stretches out on the mattress and chesty yawn falling out of his throat. He smiles into his pillow - he feels so fucking good, and for once in his life, well rested. There’s the familiar ache of a good night before in his bones and he reaches out a hand to pull Ian in closer, he needs him closer-
Except Ian isn’t there.
His hand reaches nothing except an empty, flat mattress.
Ian isn’t there, Ian isn’t there, Ian isn’t there-
He sits up quickly, his blood running cold followed by a sharp pain in his gut - fuck, Ian still left after all of that?
The bed is empty.
They’d fallen asleep in the same position the way they’d used to, back in those few months of living together, Ian’s arms wrapped around his chest, pressed up close against his back. Mickey hadn’t realised how much he missed it, being held, a safety net he never knew he needed. A childhood of being touch deprived meant that falling asleep in Ian’s arms came easier than ever.
♡ CONTINUE READING ON AO3 ♡
i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) chapter 10/?
mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.
the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.
mickey suddenly finds himself being thrown head first back into a world of people and places he’s spent so many years trying to leave behind.
au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.
Mandy leaves and Mickey lets himself lie there for a few minutes longer before he sighs and swings his legs over the side of the bed to pull himself up. He stretches his arms above his head, groaning. His muscles ache, his joints click and pop - last night’s violence echoes in every movement. The sinking feeling of regret hangs heavy. He checks his phone - 3:45pm, okay, he can work with that…he can work with that.. except-
He doesn’t know when Ian’s flight is.
He pulls up Ian’s last message and quickly hits reply.
3:47pm: to Ian
‘U should’ve woken me up.’
3:48pm to Ian
‘Be over soon.’
He sends them with a shaking thumb and turns his screen off, but makes sure the sound is uncharacteristically on.
Something daunting sinks into his gut and he already feels like shit that he wasted so much time sleeping. Ian’s hours are now on a clock and there’s a countdown ticking down slowly, he can feel it suspended heavily above him. He rubs his eyes tiredly and suppresses the need to blame Ian for slipping out without waking him. He doesn’t blame him - he was a wreck last night and Mickey can be a grumpy dick when running on little sleep, even without the early morning stitched up skin.
i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) chapter 9/?
mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.
the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.
mickey suddenly finds himself being thrown head first back into a world of people and places he’s spent so many years trying to leave behind.
au from 5x12/6x01 onwards.
‘What?’
Mickey hears the word fall out, but he doesn’t feel himself say it.
There’s nothing in his ears except the rushing of blood.
Ian looks at him, there's wet lines down his cheeks that glint from the street lights and Mickey wants to wipe them away but he can’t, he can’t do fucking anything. He can’t move, he can’t think. ‘Chicago… I have to be there in two days I-’
Chicago. Chicago. Chicago.
Something snaps inside him and floods his chest, his heart, his gut. He tenses. ‘Fuckin’ heard that bit- two days?’
Ian runs his hands down his face, ‘They need emergency cover, there was no one else they could call-’
‘But you’re here.’ He says through clenched teeth, and he knows he’s grasping at straws but it falls out of him before he can stop it.
‘I know.’
‘You’re here.’ He says again, and Mickey hates how fucking weak his voice sounds, his throat burns with it.
