ok thing is, today i wrote this and all my thoughts were about ian being an uncle to mandy’s baby. but then my mind wondered “what about mickey?” he will end up absolutely enchanted by that little girl.
and i don’t know, this came out. it’s a silly little thing but this was everything i could think about today.
Undone
The hallway outside the maternity ward felt too clean, too bright. Mickey stopped just short of the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was ready to bolt.
“I dunno about this, man,” he muttered.
Ian glanced back at him, brows raised. “She’s your sister. And that’s your niece. C’mon, Mick.”
Mickey scowled, chewing at his lip. But one look at Ian, steady, soft eyed, already holding it together better than Mickey felt, was enough to shove him forward. He huffed, dropped his shoulders, and followed Ian into the room.
The first thing they saw was the tiny bassinet parked next to Mandy’s bed, a pink blanket curled around the smallest person Mickey had ever seen. They both went straight to it, like magnets.
“Holy shit,” Mickey whispered, staring down at the baby. His chest tightened.
Ian leaned in, his face lit up like a sunrise, eyes glassy. “God, Mick, look at her. She’s… she’s beautiful.” His voice cracked, not even trying to hide it.
“Hey!” Mandy’s voice cut through, raspy but sharp. She shifted in bed, raising an eyebrow. “You assholes see me? I’m the one who just gave birth, how about a little credit over here?”
Ian snapped his head toward her, guilty, and then his whole face softened. He crossed the room in two strides, bent down, and hugged her carefully. “Mandy… you did it. You made her. I’m so proud of you.”
Mandy smirked, though her eyes glistened. “Don’t make me start leaking again, Gallagher. I’m hormonal enough.”
Mickey still hadn’t moved from the bassinet. He was staring at the baby like she’d stolen every smartass comeback right out of his mouth. She looked so much like Mandy’s as a kid that his throat went tight. He felt fourteen again, sneaking her food when their old man forgot to. Only now she’d made her own little person, with that same stubborn little chin.
“She looks just like you, Mands,” he muttered, voice rough. “Like a tiny fuckin’ you.”
Mandy caught it and smiled tiredly. “Yeah. Poor kid’s doomed.”
Mickey finally looked up, and for once his eyes weren’t guarded. “Nah. She’s lucky. She’s got you.” His throat worked as he swallowed.
“You wanna hold her?” Mandy asked, glancing between the two of them.
“Yes,” Ian said immediately, like he’d been waiting his whole life for the question.
Mickey shot him a look. “You serious? Like she’s a fuckin’ football or something?”
Ian rolled his eyes, scooping the baby up with a tenderness that made Mickey’s chest ache. The baby squirmed, let out a soft squeak, and Ian rocked her instinctively, grinning like an idiot. “Hi there,” he whispered, brushing a finger down her tiny cheek. His eyes filled again, tears he didn’t bother to hide. “Oh my god, hi cutie, i’m your uncle Ian.” Then he lifted his gaze toward the woman in front of him. “Mandy… she’s the most perfect little thing.”
Mandy rolled her eyes but her own cheeks flushed pink. “Told you. Took my whole damn body to build her.”
Ian couldn’t look away from the baby. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then glanced up at Mickey, eyes shining. “Your turn.”
“Nope.” Mickey crossed his arms, backing up. “Not happening. I’ll drop her or snap her in half or some shit.”
“You won’t,” Ian said calmly, moving closer. “Here. Sit down.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Ian’s voice was firm now, the voice he used when Mickey was being stubborn. He waited until Mickey dropped into the chair by Mandy’s bed, muttering curses under his breath. Then, slowly, Ian lowered the baby into Mickey’s arms.
Mickey froze. His whole body went rigid, like he was holding a live bomb. “Jesus Christ. She’s so fuckin’ small.”
“You’re doing fine,” Ian murmured, hand steady on his shoulder.
Mandy leaned forward, eyes soft in a way she rarely let show. “See, Mick? You’re good at this. She’s not made of glass. She’s tougher than she looks, she’s a real Milkovich.”
The baby squirmed a little, making a tiny noise, and Mickey’s heart nearly stopped. Then she blinked up at him, her eyes unfocused but somehow looking right at him.
Everything fell away. The walls, the noise, even Ian’s hand. For a moment, it was just Mickey and this tiny girl, staring at each other like the world had narrowed to two. His jaw clenched; his chest ached in a way he couldn’t name.
Ian and Mandy exchanged a glance over his bowed head: one part awe, one part disbelief. Mickey Milkovich, king of South Side’s thugs, undone by seven pounds of baby.
~
The car ride back home was quiet. Ian drove, Mickey stared out the window, jaw tight, hands twitching like he didn’t know what to do with them.
“You okay?” Ian asked softly.
Mickey let out a long breath, still staring straight ahead. “She looked at me, man.” He shook his head, voice hoarse. “Didn’t think I’d give a shit. But… she looked at me, man. Like she knew me.” He shook his head, voice low. “Fucked me up.”
Ian’s chest swelled, a smile tugging at his mouth. He reached across the console, lacing their fingers together. “You’re already in love with her.”
Mickey finally looked at him, eyes still wide, raw in a way he never let anyone see. “Yeah.” he admitted quietly. “Guess I am, kid’s gonna grow up with an army. No one’s messing with her.”
