Gallavich Oneshots

Too Quiet

Plot- Mickey has never been this comfortable. It's too quiet. It should be calming, but it only allows the images to resurface. Mickey wouldnt have cried if he could help it.

Note- I'm never gonna get over the way Mickey says I love you. It's so sincere and gorgeous and uplifting... this mannnnnn

"You ready for bed, Mick?"

"You sound like a housewife when you ask that shit." Mickey laughed from the kitchen.

Ian rolled his eyes. "Yeah?" He was close behind the younger boy. "Was that your confession to another kink you wanna try?"

"Oh, blow me, Gallagher." The Milkovich rolled his eyes. "Meet you upstairs?"

Ian nodded. "I will do both of those things!"

Mickey was never one to keep things clean or tidy. It was only when Ian insisted he help pick up their newly vacant house that he even considered it. He knew it was supposed to be a given.

So he went up to make the bed. After doing so, and paying no mind to the wrinkles in the sheets, he grew stiff. It was quiet, clean, and calm at the Gallagher house for once.

Mickey wasn't used to calm.

Luckily for him, Ian made his way up the steps to ruin the bed again. He pinned Mickey against the pillow, kissing him roughly and then sighing.

"Okay, yep, tired." He stood to flick the light, but Mickey stopped him.

"Uh, wait!" And Ian did, looking back at his boyfriend with question on his face. "You're really gonna leave me like that?"

It did take a little effort to get himself hard enough to convince Ian he wanted to fuck. He really just didn't want to sleep.

"You needy bitch." The ginger had replied.

He got his wish, but the release only made him more tired. Now Ian was really ready for bed. He turned off the light, cuddling closer to Mickey and kissing his cheek.

Usually, the dark haired boy would've made some sort of joke at how girly he was. Unfortunately, he didn't have it in him. He was starting to feel weak, actually.

Ian didn't seem to notice before laying on his lovers chest. He drifted peacefully while Mickey stayed awake in the darkness. The first hour was fine.

He was uncomfortable, but he was breathing okay. It was when he finally closed his eyes that he feared. He kept waiting for the jump scare, and the fact that it never came made it worse.

He was on edge, and drifting to sleep made it harder to relax. His breathing increased before images of Terry flooded his mind. Then his eyes shot open and he was frozen staring at the ceiling.

His breathing hadn't gone down, he was actually breathing faster. Ian stirred at one point, his makeshift pillow wasn't doing his job. He finally lifted his head to look at a terrified Mickey Milkovich.

"Mick?"

"Yeah?" He grounded out. His eyes were still wide. He didn't want Ian to look at him. Not like that.

"Deep breaths, alright?"

That part kind of shocked him. His initial response still came out, biting back with venom.

"I got enough fucking air, Gallagher." But his voice breaks, and it makes him sit up, unintentionally shoving his boyfriend off.

"Mick-"

"I'm good. I just need a minute."

"You don't have to do that." Ian sighs. "It's okay."

"No, it's not fucking okay!" He's hyperventilating by this point, tugging at his shirt for some kind of release. Then he's torn it off, chucking it to the floor.

Ian watches him. "Mickey, please."

It's a split second, Mickey nearly cried, but he stops himself. He backs away a little.

"Please, what?" He exhales a shaking breath.

"Let me help you. You wanna get out of it right? I'm not judging you. I'd never do that."

He still won't look at the Gallagher. Ian does notice a small nod, though. He takes his chance. He's pulling the Milcovich closer, closing his arms around the man with firm pressure.

Mickey sighs as his touch. Ian is warm. He knows this is what he needs. As soon as the shock is over, a few tears fall down his cheeks. If Ian notices, he doesn't say it. Mickey is grateful.

He snivels, tapping on Ian's arm rhythmically. It's a distraction, helps his eyes loosen. After a little while, he attempts to leave his lover's warmth.

"Don't wanna talk about it?"

Mickey hugs a pillow to his chest, sniveling again. "It's just too fuckin quiet here."

He still appears angry, which Ian thinks is a good sign. If Mickey cared enough to be embarrassed, he wasn't too far gone this time. Still, Ian sighs, kissing his cheek and rubbing circles on his back. It did appear that Mickey wasn't in the mood for a conversation this time. Ian wouldn't make him.

Instead, he suggests they watch a movie until he can go back to sleep. To his surprise, Mickey obliged.

"Don't put on something corny. I need something violent... like breaking bad."

Ian looks at him and smiles. Mickey can feel his gaze, which makes his cheeks heat up as he fights his own grin from surfacing.

"And...thank you. I love you." He says after a minute.

The tv is on, and Ian settled them both back into the covers, intertwining his hand with his lover's.

"I love you too." Ian looks at his demeanor and then the rest of the room. "We can talk about loving arrangements tomorrow. If this is too much, that's fine. We aren't used to homes like this, and we don't have to be."

He loves how Ian says we. We have the same problem. Mickey isn't alone in feeling this way. He's not the burden. Ian gets it. Ian gets it.

Just as his eyes are closing, his brain reminds him for the millionth time why he fell in love with a ginger.