Gallavich Oneshots

Coming Out

Plot- When Mickey comes out and his father is dragged off to jail, Mickey has an emotional breakdown. Ian is there to pick up the pieces.

"I just want everyone here to know, I'm fucking gay!"

At first, everything went quiet. Then someone turned the music back on, and people began to lose interest. There was a second, maybe four, that made Mickey feel accepted. It was as if things were normal again, and he had nothing to worry about to begin with. If that had been the case, he probably would've thrown a fit because all that hiding would've been for nothing.

But he didn't exactly love it when Terry began to rage.

He practically pounced on his son, ignoring both Mandy and Ian's immediate screams to get off. Mickey's mind was too quiet for the events unfolding in front of him. There were a good two minutes of just taking it. Like he was a kid again; like he was helpless, alone, and afraid. He did nothing to stop the beating.

When yelling didn't work, Ian joined the fight. After successfully tearing the man off of him, he noticed Mickey's blank stare. He would've gone to check on him, but a chair suddenly hit his back, and Mickey was on his own. Terry didn't take long to get back up, and his son's instincts had finally kicked back in.

He had to admit that a part of it felt really fucking good. He knew this was exactly what would happen if he came out. He'd been scared of it, terrified even. But now, hitting back with everything in him, he wasn't sure what he feared in the first place.

He'd dealt with worse as an unsuspecting child. Still, his mind was numbed as he continued kicking and punching. His father's screams had been drowned out until he saw a flash of blue and red.

Cops.

He wanted to run then, but his legs stopped fucking working, and he collapsed as soon he dropped his fists. Even as he dragged himself over to the wall to sit up, he couldn't help but laugh at the front row seat he'd gotten. Terry Milkovich getting arrested, after his son came out, after getting married to woman who was also a Russian whore.

The only thing on his mind was how south side this whole situation was. Sometimes he thought the Gallagher's had it bad with Frank, but laughing at something so vulgar made him realized he might've been more damaged than he thought.

That's why Ian found him there ten minutes later with that same horrified, blank stare occupying his face.

"Mick?"

And suddenly everything was too loud. His bloodied hands made their way to his ears, shielding them from the painful noises. He swore he heard Svetlana and Yev laughing like some kind of fucked up fever dream.

Ian wasn't sure what to make of it. Most days, Mickey was tough as nails. Pissed, sour, angry, or just plain sarcastic. He'd only seen the sadness in small glances, when the boy thought no one else was looking.

"C'mon, Mickey."

Said boy didn't actually hear his boyfriend's reassurances, not yet. But he felt hands on his shoulders, pulling them up, and he gave in. His legs were still sore, his stomach was absolutely destroying itself, and he couldn't feel half his face, but at least his freckled boyfriend was there.

The fact that he'd really just done all that for a stupid, fucking adorable, but stupid ginger!? He mentally face palmed. He was pretty sure that's when he realized he cared too much to keep it a secret anyway. Ian was his, and that meant he gave fuck all about what others thought.

Sappy ass shit.

"Mick?" Ian tried again when they made it to the Gallagher's front porch steps.

The pained returned, causing the Milkovich to wince, tensing next to him. Ian lowered them both until Mickey's ragged breathing got the slightest bit slower.

"Oh, fuck." A particularly sharp pain took him by surprise. "I think I chipped a tooth."

Well at least he said something.

"We have ice inside. That's gonna have to do until things blow over." His hands reached the older boys hair, fisting the black locks for a moment before running his fingers through the rest. "Are you alright otherwise?"

Mickey actually laughed for a second, before his ribs reminded him that was a terrible idea. "I feel f-fucking fantastic, Gallagher."

He was shivering, choosing not to voice his thanks when an extra jacket covered his shoulders seconds later. He wasn't sure he could speak properly without at least a voice crack.

"Let's go inside before we freeze to death." Ian whispered, and Mickey wasn't going to object.

The smile was leaving his lips rapidly, making him feel empty. As Ian led him to their bathroom to get cleaned up, his thoughts got darker. It was strange, but the only way he could describe it was that he felt like the inside of a Christmas ornament. He remembered when his family actually cared about decorations and presents.

Back when his mother was in the picture, they'd decorate the whole house together. Mickey remembered picking up an ornament and noticing the hook was gone, so he couldn't hang it up. As a six year old boy, he peeked inside, at the pure blackness inside the plastic sphere.

He remembered how it made him feel lonely for some reason. To think the inside of that fucking ornament was a representation of his life to come... The outside of it had been so red and glittery, he felt as though the inside had been left out. But he eventually forgot about it.

Ian seemed to be the glitter in this metaphor. Mickey was the blackness on the inside. Ian's family might've been fucked up, but at least he still had fucking Christmas. At least they cared about him. At least they didn't try to fuck the gay out of him!

In their small bathroom, Ian was quietly cleaning Mickey's cuts and bruises. He would twitch every so often, and Ian would kiss his cheek, not quite long enough for Mickey to get angry at the affection.

He didn't know Mickey dreaded any space between them, especially in these moments. But when he went in for another, something changed, and he stopped abruptly. His skin was shiny, as liquid pooled in his eyes, and ran all the way down his face.

"Mick..."

"Fucking what!?" The boy snapped back at his lover, but it came out as more of a strangled sob.

He was clawing for some sort of control, but tears were cascading down his pale cheeks, and he knew it was hopeless to try and stop it. He still dug the heels of his hands into his eyes as sort of an instinctive precaution.

If there was one thing Mickey hated, it was crying. It got worse, because Ian had seen it. He'd seen Mickey crack, break, and fall into pieces. And he tried to hug him, which made Mickey shove him backward. He tried again, and Mickey was shouting this time.

"Don't fucking hug me!" Ian ignored him. "Don't-! Fuck- I'm good, you fucking-"

But Ian was warm, and his body eventually gave up, letting Ian take him in his arms. His head dropped onto the ginger's shoulder in a choked exhale. He barely registered Ian rubbing circles on his back, and it only made the sobs bubble up faster.

What was weird was the fact that Ian didn't even grunt protest at his lovers pathetic whining. In fact, Mickey thought he heard Ian say-

"I'm so proud of you, Mick."

The Milkovich let his face crumble at that realization. He wanted to believe Ian more than anything, but a part of him was still protesting. It was weak, but Mickey hugged him back as a small thank you anyway.

"I love you."

Mickey squeezed him even tighter, as tightly as he could. Ian didn't tell him his ribs were broken enough without the hug crushing them. Then, a barely audible reply made Ian smile.

"Love you too, Gallagher."

They didn't go to bed until way past 3am. Mickey didn't fall asleep until long after.

Author- first gallavich story. Yay or nay?