Gallavitch Oneshots

Gallaghers aren't cut out for marriage.

Original Author: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mftrashmouth/pseuds/mftrashmouth

Summary: The 10x8 scene but Mickey uses words instead of violence

Text:   Mickey come on, hold up." Ian stuck his hand between the elevator doors to stop them from closing, shuffling in through the gap.

"Leave me alone Gallagher." Repeatedly pressed the 'close' button, hoping it would stop the redhead from entering, praying he wouldn't have to have this conversation today. He internally cursed as he felt his eyes tear up, shame and humiliation burning inside of him.

"It's just that I hadn't really thought this marriage shit through." Ian stumbled over his words as Mickey angrily blinked his tears away.

"I don't know, I didn't think we were gonna be having this fucking conversation today."

"Then why the fuck did you bring it up?" Mickey hated to admit it, but he couldn't help but to feel a little bit hurt and rejected. It was painstakingly clear that Ian had only proposed so they wouldn't have had to testify against each other, because he really thought Mickey had killed Paula.

"The whole thing was your fuckin' idea, you talked me into this shit!" Mickey's voice cracked as more tears flooded his eyes.

"I know! I know." Ian rebutted, guilt rising at the sight of hurt on Mickey's face. Mickey had never looked so defeated.

"Frank and Monica aren't exactly the fucking picture of marital bliss, okay? I don't really have a frame of reference to connect this shit to!" Ian tried to argue, but Mickey interjected.

"Oh poor fucking you!" Mickey shot back. He knew Ian's parents weren't perfect, hell they were far from it, but having a dead mom and a homophobic and violent father weren't exactly a step up.

"It's not personal!" Ian snapped and Mickey had had enough.

"It's fine! It's fine." The elevator doors opened and Mickey all but ran through them, desperate to get away from Ian, and for a cigarette.

"Mickey, I love you!" Ian followed Mickey out of the courthouse as he fled down the steps.

"I-I-it's marriage that I don't know if I love, y'know?" Ian admitted and Mickey stopped in his tracks.

"Maybe, I-I, I don't know but you're right, it is, it is really fucking important, so can we just talk about it for one second, please?" Ian pleaded, his guilt bubbling higher as Mickey lit a cigarette with his back turned in an attempt to hide his hurt.

"I wanna know how you feel, y'know?"

Mickey couldn't help but laugh. Ian wanted to know how he felt?

"Fine, you wanna know how I feel?" Mickey spun around, his red-rimmed eyes darkening with anger as he stormed up the steps.

"I fuckin' hate you sometimes Gallagher," he reached the top of the stairs, now standing before Ian, his pointer finger jabbing his chest. "You're so fuckin' clueless. I came out for you, went to prison for you, stuck by you through your fuckin' manic and depressive episodes and held your goddamn hand through all of it. I waited around, sick to my fuckin' stomach with worry when you ran off with Monica and yet I still fuckin'g stuck around after that. I fuckin' stuck through all of that shit, told you I loved you and fuckin' fought for you, for us! And you're not sure if you want to marry me? Well fuck you Ian."

Mickey's words were dripping with venom, saliva trickled from the side of his lips as a result of the anger in his annunciation. But his eyes were akin to a kicked puppy, betraying the hurt and humiliation he felt.

"Mick.." Ian reached out to touch Mickey's cheek but he jerked away, scoffing under his breath.

"Don't fuckin' touch me Gallagher, I want nothin' to do with you. You fucked up my life. I put everythin' on the line for you, and yet you still don't know if you want me? This just shows that you don't love me, nearly as fuckin' much as I love you." Mickey knew he was overthinking this, drawing conclusions that weren't there but in this moment he didn't care. Ian had rejected him.

Ian had proposed an idea Mickey would never even dare to entertain, because what Milkovich got married and stayed married, huh? He wasn't some 15 year old girl dreaming of walking down the aisle on her wedding day, so why even think about it?

But now that he had, now that he had accepted it as a possibility and maybe, even become a little bit of excited about it, he had the rug completely ripped out from under his feet.

"Fuck you Gallagher, we're done."