Gallavitch Oneshots

love you like i'm gonna lose you

Original Author: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tooomuchcoffee/pseuds/tooomuchcoffee
Summary: mickey realizes that the honeymoon phase is over for him and his husband... maybe it's too late to fix them.
Text:      
They'd only been married for a month and Mickey was sure the honeymoon phase was over. He was convinced Ian didn't give a shit about him anymore. Once Ian's leg healed up and he got a real job at a real hospital, he quickly became very busy. He'd leave early in the morning, and get home late in the evening and go right to sleep, claiming he'd already eaten when Mickey offered him dinner. Nothing Mickey did seemed like it was enough to get his attention. He felt invisible, but he would never admit that. There's no way he's going to go to Ian and start begging him to spend more time with him, like some bitch. He didn't know what to do though, and maybe talking would actually achieve something.

Late Friday night, he was sitting at the dining table, waiting for Ian to get home early, like he said he would. Mickey did the most romantic thing he could think of – ordered Chinese food – and was losing hope fast that Ian was going to show up.

At half-past eleven, Ian came home. Mickey jogged down the stairs to see his husband, drunk and struggling to untie his shoes. He glared at him, wanting to smack him on his ginger head.

"Mick!" Ian shouts once he notices him, looking up at him with a gummy grin. Mickey just glares at him and that grin slowly slides off his face.

"You said you were coming home early," Mickey grunted. Ian just let out a sigh and a nervous laugh. He was clearly too drunk for this conversation.

"Well, everyone wanted to go out for a drink, it was fun, you coulda come," Ian says, starting to walk up the stairs.

"You didn't fucking invite me, you dick. I got us dinner. I thought we could actually spend some fucking time together," Mickey huffed, pushing past Ian to start storming to the kitchen. He needed a beer now.

"I didn't fucking know you were gonna do that," Ian slurred, sounding pissed off which only pissed Mickey off more. He has no right to be pissed. Mickey grumbled angrily before swinging the fridge door open.

"By the way, you shouldn't be drunk on your meds, asshole. What the fuck were you thinking?" Mickey snapped. He realized there was no beer in the fridge and he was staring at countless leftovers, but he didn't care at this point. He slammed the door shut and turned to glare at Ian. He had started this fight, he was going to end it. He didn't necessarily know what that meant, but fuck it. Before he could continue, Ian scoffed at him.

"Jesus Christ, you gonna play nurse with me again," Ian snarls, making Mickey take a step back like he had punched him. He stared at Ian, hurt plain on his face. Ian's eyebrows creased together angrily and his chin jutted out, like it did when he was being stubborn.

"Fuck you," Mickey hit back. "Fuck me for giving a shit, right? I don't even know why I try, it's not like you care. Not like you give a shit about me," Mickey didn't mean to say exactly what he was thinking but whatever. He looked down at his feet so he didn't have to look at Ian's face anymore.

"Come on, Mick," Ian's voice croaked, like tears were welling up in his throat. Fucking good, Mickey thought, vindictively, as tears filled his own eyes. "You know that's not true," He sounded a whole lot more sober now.

"No, I fucking don't," Mickey growled. He wanted so badly to get out, leave and slam the door and get blackout drunk at some bar, but they were married now. No matter how mad he was he didn't want to do that to Ian. He regrets even bringing this shit up.

"Mickey – "

"There's food in the fridge for you," Mickey finally said, before practically running upstairs and locking himself in the bathroom. He knew this was a lot less dramatic than fights they'd had in the past but it still hurt. It hurt knowing Ian had no idea he was doing this to him. Ian didn't miss him like he did. Ian didn't need him anymore.