Who do you thinks gonna die first Ian or Mickey?And how do you think they'll die?
I honestly forgot about this ask.
Me personally think they shall never die, i like that idea best.
I think they die within a few days of each other, at most a couple weeks. I had a couple at work, the wife went first, but the husband knew she was going and he stopped eating and drinking and three weeks later he died too. It was sweet and romantic, they had been together for decades and were very devoted to one another.
I think Ian would go first, and Mickey would know he was going and he'd be by his side the entire way.
Is this because I love Mickey more that I want him to die last?
I can see Ian dying from a combination of old age and an infection of some kind, like a septic bladder infection or dementia. Dementia is terrible and I wouldn't wish that on Ian. Maybe he develops Parkinsons and it gets severe enough to instead of dementia?
Ian is still active in his eighties, but is determined that he doesn't need to use a walker yet or a wheelchair, yes he'll use it when he needs to.
He goes on walks and such, and Mickey goes with him to keep his health good.
Ian starts getting wobblier with every step but argues about needing a mobility aide.
He falls at home, breaking his hip. Which wipes him the fuck out. He can't move on his own and the break slowly gets him, eventually he goes on hospice, Mickey joining by his side, heartbreak killing him more than anything knowing that Ian was dying.
He does more cares for Ian than the hospice nurse, giving him bed baths, feeding him, rotating him gently so he doesn't get bed sores. Ian is still alert enough to talk and laugh with Mickey, but that starts to dwindle slowly over the course of a few weeks Ian isn't really talking anymore, he smiles and such at Mickey but that's about it. Their kids try to convince Mickey to take Ian to a hospital or a nursing home so the nurses can be there 24/7 but Mickey refuses, "Let me take care of him until he's better."
"Dad, the doctor's say he won't get better, that this is the end, that we need to prepare ourselves..."
Mickey ignores their oldest, and turns back to Ian, who is sleeping.
"I told him I loved him, I love him, and that means good times, bad times, sickness health, all that shit, and that's what I'm doing. He's staying home, he's staying with me, but a home nurse is as far as we're going."
It's a peaceful death for Ian, he's been on routine morphine and ativan with the hospice nurse and it's peaceful, painfree, Mickey is gingerly holding him in his arms, unable to make himself eat or drink, only getting out of bed to use the bathroom and even that is quick because he doesn't want to be away from Ian.
Mickey holds him, looks at him, takes in the silver curls, the deep laugh lines, the wrinkles, the faded freckles, remembering the young goofball he fell in love with, the flaming curls, the alabaster freckly skin, and he murmurs to Ian how much he loves him, how much he's always loved him, always will. Presses a kiss to Ian's cheeks, his forehead, his shoulder.
Ian smiles gently, "Mickey," he sighs in his last breath and passes.
Mickey is inconsolable, doesn't eat, doesn't drink.
He doesn't want to leave Ian's side even though he's gone, but he finally does.
He passes a week later, the heartbreak cracking his soul.
He passes in the night, the kids are supposed to come in the morning, finish Ian's cremation and celebration of life, he hadn't been able to bear making the plans alone.
He fell asleep looking through albums, shoeboxes, piles of pictures of the two of them throughout their lives, remembering all the moments with his husband, his partner, his boyfriend, his lover, his friend.
He sees Ian in his dreams, like he has been since he passed, honestly since they met.
Ian's holding out his hand, it's every version of Ian he's ever known, flickering into one another until it's just Ian.
His freckly hand reaching for Mickey, Mickey grins reaching out his own hand, and grasps Ian's again, the warmth filling his soul.
When their kids come in the morning he's gone too.
They have a rager celebration of life for both of their dads, a true Gallagher-Milkovich party.
Relatives from all over Chicago come, aunts, uncles, cousins, their own kids.
They spread their ashes in the dugouts, at night, by starlight. The stars above them twinkling like the light that was always in their dads eyes. Especially when they looked at one another.
