Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ian had seen a change in his husband over the first year they had been out of prison.

Sure, Mickey had always been volatile as a person, but his husband had been having more outbursts than normal.

And Mickey got clingy.

Ian had assumed that Mickey had just been happy to be back from Mexico with Ian, out of prison, and finally married, but Mickey was still on Mickey after months of marriage.

Not that Ian was complaining about the second part. That is, until Mickey changed.

Mickey was sleeping more and Ian found Mickey wanting to work less.

Then Mickey started snapping at Ian one minute and then being clung to Ian like a koala the next minute.

Ian was worried and wanted to get to the bottom of the issue.

One night, Ian chose to finally bring it up.

He waited until he and Mickey were alone in the Gallagher house.
-
"Hey Mick."

Mickey looked away from the TV as Ian cautiously sat next to him on the couch.

"What?"

"Nothing, Mick, I just want to talk."

"Why you bringing it up like that? We talk all the fucking time."

Ian signed, "I'm worried about you Mick."

"Why the fuck are you worrying about me. Worry about yourself."

"I am Mick. I'm taking my meds. I'm doing just fine, but you're my husband and I'm worried about you too."

"The fuck you think is wrong with me then?"

"I don't know, Mick but you're tired all the time and you're more pissed at everything than normal-"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean!" Mickey shot up off the couch.

"Nothing Mick. I'm not trying to start a fight."

"Then why the fuck would you bring it up! I get it Ian! You know that you're fucked up and want me to be too! Is this just you trying to find another way that you can leave me without just running off again? Huh?! Your mom’s gone and you can’t run off again so you need to find another reason?! I’m fucking fine!”

Ian stood to try and calm Mickey, but it just pissed him off and Mickey stormed out of the house.

Ian knew better than to follow Mickey in his state and he flopped back onto the couch with a sigh.

“Fuck,” Ian muttered to himself, “Sure did fucked that up Gallagher.”

Ian had just slammed his head back against the couch cushion with a groan when Tami walked in through the front door with Fred asleep in his carrier.

“Woah, what’s going on here?”

“Nothing, I’m fucking fine.”

“I just saw your husband storming off looking like he’s going to go kill something and then you’re in here looking like your puppy was just kicked.”

“I’m fine. Mick and I just got into a fight.”

“About what?”

“Nothing, it’s not important.”

“I’d say it’s probably important if he’s acting like that and you’re acting like this.”

“You wouldn’t get it Tami. Why do you even care anyways? You hate Mickey.”

“I don’t hate your husband. Listen, I would be lying if I said that it was a shock when you two came back from prison, but you’re not all that bad.”

“We’re fine. It’s just, I brought up something about Mickey and he blew up on me.”

“You’re going to keep being this vague, aren’t you?”

“I’m in this position because I tried to get my husband to talk about his feelings, so whatever.”

“Do we need to worry about you?” Tami asked cautiously, “Lip’s kind of told me that… strong emotions can trigger you.”

“Only if I don’t stay on top of it, and I am right now. I’m doing the work I’m supposed to. One fight with my husband is not going to make me start another cult and blow up another van or run off to Indiana again.”

Ian got up with a sigh and grabbed his jacket, walking out of the Gallagher house.

Mickey wasn’t in any of his normal hiding spots and he still wasn’t home at dinner time when Ian came back to take his night meds.

The redhead went to bed still not knowing where his husband had run off to.

Mickey snuck back in at some point in the middle of the night; he fell asleep next to Ian.

Ian had pulled Mickey close without wanting to disturb him.

Mickey was gone again by morning.

Ian had no idea what to do other than going off on their routes on his own that day.

He was especially glad that that day’s routes only took until lunch.

The Gallagher house was empty when Ian got home, or so he though, but Mickey came downstairs and laid across Ian’s lap not unlike a cat.

Ian made a choice to just run his hands through Mickey’s hair, not wanting to say anything stupid again.

“I’m sorry,” Mickey finally whispered.

“It’s alright Mick.”

“No it’s not. Shouldn’t have fucking put all that past shit against you. It's not fair that I fucking made you feel bad because I felt defensive. You're not that anymore."

“Mick, you didn't make me feel bad. I could see that you were deflecting, not actually trying to hurt me. And I'm not that person right now. That doesn't mean I couldn't ever be that again Mick.”

“But you’re not. You’re actually taking care of your mental shit now and you care about staying right.”

“Because of you and my family, Mick. The Gallaghers are stabilizing now that we’re growing up, and I thought you and I were stabilizing.”

“Which is exactly why I didn’t want my shit to blow us up again.”

“What’s going on with you Mick?”

Mickey sighed and got up from Ian’s lap, pulling his husband upstairs.

Ian followed without a fight, confused over what was happening.

Mickey pulled open his drawer in their dresser and pulled out a bag that he tossed to Ian.

“Sertraline, Alprazolam, Aripiprazole… Lithium? Mick, what is all of this?”

“My fucking meds.”

“Your meds? What?”

“Been off ‘em since I bolted to Mexico and… thought I was managing it alright, but guess not if you noticed.”

“Mick, what haven’t you been telling me?”

“Shrinks told me when I was fourteen that I’ve got borderline personality, anxiety, and depression or some shit like that.”

“Fourteen?”

“Mandy found me. Tried to kill myself. Got locked up for a while. Had to tell my dad I was in juvie.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Not like we were open and honest when we were teenagers and then everything was going on with you and I didn’t think it would be good for you if I was sharing all of my problems with you. Then I thought I’d gotten better and was fine. Went to the clinic this morning after I thought about it all fucking day yesterday. I’m still fucked up.”

Ian pulled Mickey into a hug, “Always thought it was weird that you seemed to know so much about the meds I was on.”

Mickey nodded.

“You taken the pills yet?”

“Yeah. Haven’t knocked me on my ass yet though.”

“They will.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“About what?”

“Not telling you or whatever. And I’m sorry about how fucked up I’m going to be for the next few weeks.”

“I’m not mad about that. I’m not mad about any of that."

"Fuck," Mickey sighed, "You're too good for me Gallagher."

"No I'm not. We're the perfect amount of fucked up for each other."

Mickey nodded with a defeated laugh, "We are ain't we?"

"Mick, I don't- I don't know much about borderline personality. I-is there anything I can do to help you?"

"I don't fucking know how to explain it. It makes my moods fucking unpredictable, especially my anger, and I guess I kinda latch onto one person that makes me feel safe, you, and it always draws me back to them, but at the same time, at the first sign of a threat, I fucking explode and want to bolt. Usually it makes me real defensive and... sometimes violent. Sometimes I fucking hate myself and it makes me do shit that I hate. Sometimes makes me fall down this hole where I just drink into a coma. There's the fucking paranoia, and I'm not explaining it well."

"That's alright Mick, I can read about that. I meant is there anything I can do to help you?"

"I don't know. It makes me feel better when you hug me, makes everything feel real again. Lying fucks with me. I hate it when I never hear from you, like I like it when you check in with me with texts and shit so I know you're not running off again."

Ian looked really guilty, "Fuck, I had no idea that me running you off was making you worse-"

"Gallagher, it's alright. It's just only you or any of that shit. My fucked brain tells me that everybody hates me and wants to fucking leave me. You running off didn't help, but it's not the reason I fucking think the way I do. I used to hide it a lot more, but before you I clung to Mandy, and it used to fuck me up so much when she didn't come home at night, always thought it was 'cause of me when I knew that it was fucking Terry."

Ian looked slightly reassured, "I'm going to work on doing whatever I can to help you, just like you did to help me, and we're going to talk about this more when your meds are right, but right now, I can see the exhaustion creeping up on you. What do you want to do right now?"

"Sleep."

"Okay, do you want me to stay or go? I know the meds make my skin feel like it's crawling sometimes."

"Stay with me."

Ian nodded, pulling Mickey down to lay on their bed.

Only a few hours later, Ian went downstairs when he heard his family call for dinner.

He made two plates, grabbed his pill case, and went upstairs.

Ian gently woke Mickey and slowly coaxed him into eating enough so he could take his pills while Ian ate his own dinner and took his pills.

“Forgot how fucking hard this is,” Mickey admitted before he swallowed back his pills without the fight he was already tempted to put up.

Later that night, Ian again went downstairs to get himself a beer while Mickey was asleep but he was cornered by his family.

“Are you taking your pills?” Lip asked immediately.

“What the fuck?”

“Are you?” Debbie asked again.

“Yes,” Ian muttered, “Fuck.”

“You’ve been hiding all day and refusing to have a conversation with anyone. Are you sure you’re alright?” Lip looked at him, “I know something’s going on with you and Mickey and I know he’s missing, but-”

“Mickey and I are fine.”

“Ian…” Lip sighed.

“I’m fine,” Ian snapped, “Mickey’s fine. We got into a fight yesterday and he stormed off, but he came home to me. He’s just fucking sick right now and it makes him get pissed off at the world so I’m taking care of my husband, fuck.”

Ian opened his beer and took a swig of it.

“Just ‘cause I’m acting different for one day doesn’t mean I’m fucking having an episode. I’m doing fine. I’m taking the precautions I need to and I know to recognize when I’m not going alright now. Fuck.”

Ian was about to storm up the stairs when Lip grabbed his arm.

“Ian, I’m sorry. We’ve just done a really shitty job at helping you before and we’re trying to do better.”

“Yeah, you did a shitty job before when I didn’t have anyone that cares, but I have Mickey back now and he recognizes my bullshit before I can even really do anything. Stop treating me like I’m always going to be volatile and start acting like I’m your fucking brother.”

This time, Ian was able to go up the stairs without any further protest and he curled up with Mickey again.

“You’re gonna be alright Mick,” Ian whispered to his falling asleep husband.