What He Needs
On Saturday, Ian wakes up naturally for the first time all week. He smiles into the sunlight on his face, breathes in the scent of the pillow, and stretches out an arm to curl around his husband's waist.
It lands heavy on the mattress, nothing there to hold.
"Mickey?" he mumbles, eyes still closed, hand patting at the space where a body should be.
The only response is the coolness of the sheets.
Ian blinks his eyes open, confirms what he already knows. Rolls over with a groan to glance at the clock.
9:54, it reads in red, and no wonder he's alone in bed. They'd promised Debbie that they'd meet her by eight to drive Franny to swim lessons, and it's late enough now that they could have been there and back.
Ian sits up, rubbing his eyes. He'd been so out of last night after a long week that he'd passed out by ten, and Mickey must have let him sleep in. Taken care of things on his own--because of course he wouldn't leave his niece hanging--and made himself scarce so Ian could rest.
And honestly, he can't decide how to feel about it. Annoyed that he missed out on seeing his family. Sad that he needed to, and Mickey knew it. Disappointed that he isn't even here now to talk to, probably still out like the early birds Ian can hear through the--
"God-fucking-dammit!"
The shout cuts over the birdsong, a rough dichotomy that has Ian halfway to his feet and grinning before he even realizes.
Found him. And by the time Ian gets pants on, makes his way to the back door to see Mickey standing out in the garden struggling to tip a twenty pound bag of seed into the bird feeder, all he can feel is love.
"You know the squirrels eat most if that," Ian says, closing the door behind him. He huffs when Mickey startles, reaches out to steady the bag he holds.
"Thought you weren't a fan of them," he adds as they pour the seed together.
Mickey looks at him without turning, easing the bag back upright.
"I'm not."
Ian takes his hands away, watches Mickey set the bag down to seal it shut.
"Yet you won't let me get a squirrel-proof feeder."
Mickey's fingers still on plastic, then continue.
"They need to eat," he says with a shrug, a kind of carelessness Ian knows well. "Can't be mad at that."
You need to sleep, Ian, he'd said the night before when Ian asked if he'd mind if he went to bed early. Can't be mad at that.
"Besides," Mickey goes on, standing up to face Ian with a squirmed brow, "the birds like the feeder we got. There's this one red one--"
Ian groans.
"Not the cardinal again."
"Yeah," Mickey says, pointing at him. "That one. Looks just like you."
"Does not," Ian argues, but Mickey just snickers.
They're quiet for a moment while Mickey cleans up, hoisting the bag of seed and carrying it back to the patio. Ian watches him stash it, watches him rub the back of his neck after, sore from the work he's done. Wishes he had been more help.
"Sorry I slept so long," he offers softly.
Mickey glances back, startled, but his face smooths out fast.
"You need to sleep, man," he says plainly. Comes closer, takes Ian's hand. "Can't be mad at that."
So many people could, Ian thinks. So many people have.
He doesn't say it. Just squeezes Mickey's hand instead, and opens the door for them both.
"Right now, I need something else."
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A lil comic based on an ask from @flamingbluepanda! I know this isn’t 100% what you asked for, but it’s immediately where my brain went, so I hope you like it!
This takes place directly after 11x09- Ian figured they could use some food. Ian uses humor to deflect the uncomfortable situation, but ultimately, he knows what Mickey’s going through. No doubt, many comforting hugs ensued ✨
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GALLACRAFTS THEME 9: DELETED SCENES @gallacrafts
you did a number on me, but honestly baby, who’s counting?
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