Random OneShots

You are mine and I am yours

By: OnlyHereForGallavich on Ao3

Gallavich

~~~~~

  It had been a while since Ian and Mickey had had their names intertwined with each other in a way that seemed pretty permanent. It was like they were one; and it was something their families and friends all came to accept, some with more difficulty than others. It was always "Are Mickey and Ian coming over tonight?" or "Can Mickey and Ian babysit Liam tonight?" They gave joint gifts and signed them together, signed their house's lease together, and even opened a joint bank account. There was no doubt left, Ian and Mickey were one unit. They had slowly stitched their lives together in a pretty irrevocable way, slowly but steadily since they were kids. Now Ian and Mickey had seemed to develop a parallel universe of their own; a little world where it was just them both. They had their own little atmosphere, one no one else could penetrate.

     Whenever they were together, there would be moments when everything would pause and they would fade together into a place no one else could reach. They had formed their own little ecosystem, Ian and Mickey. And the delicate balance was one which they protected fiercely. It wasn't something everyone around them understood, but the boys rarely felt the need to defend it to anyone. But there were times when someone crossed a line, and neither boy was known for keeping his calm in that situation.

    Their respective families were the top candidates for such unwelcome interventions. Their friends had always known them as Ian and Mickey; and they understood that indisputable law. Their families; however, had a harder time accepting that shift from either boy being theirs, to belonging completely to another.

      The Gallaghers were extremely open when it came to their disdain of Ian and Mickey's relationship, especially the older ones, and even more so in the early stages of their relationship. Back then, Fiona and Lip had tried their hardest to crush what they thought was a little crush in its early stages. They couldn't quite fathom, especially with their poor relationship histories, the depth of what ran between the two boys. Even if Ian was a little kid and couldn't really know what he wanted, Mickey was and would always be his choice.

    Ian had tried being patient, telling himself that his siblings meant well in the end. But it hurt him, chipping away at his patience, every time they would make a jab at Mickey. They had no qualms about the other boy's feelings, and saying things in front of him. And even though Mickey would always brush it off with a raised middle finger or a muttered fuck off, Ian could see occasional hurt seep into those blue eyes. Those eyes should never look hurt.

    It was never some big showdown or listing of all of Mickey's flaws at once. It was a billion little paper cuts every day and Ian could see it ripping up Mickey's self esteem piece by piece, and still the blue eyed boy would decline his saying anything. But it killed Ian. Every do you have to drown your pancakes in syrup, Mickey? or Why d'you need the shower gel? You actually shower every now and then? made him want to punch in his siblings' smug faces.

   One day, it got too much. When Lip was laying out the table, he coolly left out Mickey's cutlery. When that error was pointed out to him, he feigned shock and asked, "You really need cutlery, Mickey? Thought all you Milkovich's eat like animals?" Silence pulsed in the room, just for a moment. Mickey seemed to shrink a little in his seat and it was just too much. There was a limit, and it had been crossed. It had been crossed a long fucking time ago, but this was the last straw. Ian exploded.

    He pushed back his chair so harshly it fell down, grabbed Lip by his collar and slammed him against the pillar of the kitchen. Loud cries followed behind him. "Ian, chill!" Mickey said, while Fiona cried, "Ian, it was just a joke." Ian was so beyond being reined in by their words. "A joke?! Well it's not fucking funny. It's not fucking funny that my white trash, alcoholic brother keeps shitting on my boyfriend, who happens to be perfect and had my back when I needed it more than he ever did!" He pulled Lip away from the wall slightly, just to slam him back again. "If you ever say anything to Mickey again, I'll walk out of this house, Lip, and I won't come back."

    He let his brother go suddenly, dropping him to the ground. "You too, Fiona," he snapped when he turned around, before grabbing Mickey by the wrist and walking out, leaving silent chaos behind them. "Hey," Mickey said when they were a little distance away, "Hey, calm down." Ian's chest was moving up and down harshly, breath catching. Mickey's hand resting on his chest helped calm him slightly. "It's okay, firecrotch, we're good."

    The backlash from the Milkovich side was less expected, but rougher and more raw. After years of Ian leaving him and running, they finally got back together, for good this time. It was hard, but Mickey was ready to let it all go, especially since there was so much promise in Ian's every touch and word. Their being together always felt inevitable anyway, so what was the point of fighting it? They eased back into their relationship with the same intensity as always, picking up right where they had left off. And while Mickey didn't seem to mind the real estate Ian took up in his life, Iggy surprisingly did.

    The Milkovich's didn't have fluffy conversations about their relationships and emotions. The most they knew about each other's love lives was when they let their significant other crash over for a while, or fucked loud enough for the others to hear. But Iggy had always had Mickey's back, ever since they were kids. He was the one who tried to drive Terry's attention off Mickey when they were kids, or offered him a joint when he needed one. He was also the one who had found Mickey lying in a pool of his own vomit the day Ian had left, having gone out and gotten blackout drunk right before puking and passing out.

    Needless to say, his opinion of Ian wasn't the best. And Mickey tried to stand for it. He knew his brother was trying to have his back. But Ian had always been the easiest person to read, for him, and he knew Ian was flooded with equal measures of hurt and guilt every time Iggy commented on their break up. You sure you want to let this asshole back into your life, Mick? You gonna run if I leave the front door open, Red? Ian's face would harden, and close off, and Mickey hated it. He hated it. But Ian never let him speak up, for fear it would just make everything worse. I'm a big boy, Mick, I can take care of myself.

   But again, there were limits. And Iggy crossed one when he said, "Don't drink too much, Red. You might go batshit and kick my brother to the curb again." Ian winced. It was early enough in his diagnosis that it was still an extremely sore wound. Everything in Mickey clenched and punched his brother hard across the face. "Why don't you shut the fuck up, Ignatius," Mickey snapped, wrapping his fingers around his brother's throat. Not enough to really harm him, but hard enough that Ian let out a little scandalised Mick, stop you'll hurt him.

    "You don't know shit about him, Iggy," Mickey said, loosening his fingers, but only slightly. "You don't know shit about him, and you don't know shit about us. He and me, it's our business. You don't get to say shit about us. And I fucking dare you to say something about his disease. My gunwork is getting rusty and your fucking fatass head makes a good target." He let his brother go after glaring at him one more time. Iggy walked away, rubbing his neck sharply and muttering under his breath. "Hey, Iggy?" Mickey called after him. His elder brother turned to face him with a scowl. "Didn't you wanna say something to my boyfriend?" Iggy rolled his eyes, before saying, "Sorry, Red" and disappearing into his room.

    Ian pressed Mickey into the couch and kissed him, slow and deep. "That was a little excessive, baby," he said into Mickey's neck. "Nah," Mickey grinned, "I got your back, man." Ian latched onto Mickey's neck with his teeth, so his mouth sounded full when he said, "You know I'm not leaving again, right?" Mickey just nodded.

    Moral of the story? Ian and Mickey had each other's backs. They bitched and fought and insulted each other, but they were the only ones allowed to do that. You fucked with one, you had beef with the other. If that wasn't love, what was?