#diplomas don't define you but ian did want one once

[gardenerian]

wonderful mel, if you’re still taking these amazing prompts: 5 times they cry in front of each other 💧

(yeah I know boo booo angst 😮‍💨)

paola, my love ❤️ i will never boo angst. some of these are angstier than others, but fret not! here at Mel's Blog, we believe in ✨ happy endings ✨ cw: #2 mentions terry, but nothing detailed. #3 is about thanksgiving, so there are mentions of monica's attempt. nothing explicit, but ian does think about it. also lots of food. #4 has fainting due to heat exhaustion, but it's very quick.

1.

when liam graduates high school, ian cries all day.

he's misty eyed from the moment they crawl out of bed, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes as they brush their teeth and dress for the day.

mickey doesn't saying anything, just pats ian on the shoulder as he sets a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. "eat up," he orders. "gonna need your strength if you wanna be the loudest motherfucker in the place when liam walks."

ian is, in fact, the loudest motherfucker in the place when liam walks.

as his name is called, liam crosses the stage with a resigned face, as if anticipating the embarrassing, thunderous cheers from his family. when ian's shouts echo across the auditorium, he cracks a little smile.

ian bites down on a grin as liam accepts his diploma, eyes shining with tears. mickey elbows him lightly, letting him know that it's okay to let them fall, but ian just blinks them away.

once the ceremony is over, and all the families reunite with their graduates, the gallaghers battle to get to liam first. lip elbows everybody out of the way, pushing through the hoard of siblings to lift liam into the air.

ian holds liam tight once he's safely on two feet, babbling on about how proud he is, how much he loves him. liam thumps him on the back, grinning and adjusting his cap as he extricates himself from ian's arms.

mickey offers liam a fistbump and head ruffle. "nice work, kid," he tells him. liam returns it, still watching ian. "he gonna do that all day?"

"oh absolutely," mickey answers. "hope you don't mind getting your shirt soggy today."

ian manages to pull it together for most of the party back at the house, his voice cracking just twice as they each toast liam. he's only outdone by fiona, though, who bursts into tears before she can get a single word out.

the party unfolds as most gallagher parties do. booze flows like water, music pulses and echoes through the neighborhood. they're all scattered across the backyard, drinking and smoking and laughing.

eventually, liam ditches them to celebrate with his friends, and mickey realizes that ian is no longer the yard. he'd last seen him sitting with lip on the steps - but now lip sits alone, sipping at a coke and watching his kids play.

mickey nods to carl and tami, then excuses himself to find ian. lip tells him he'd thought ian was just going to the bathroom, but it's been fifteen minutes now and ian still hasn't returned. he shoots mickey a knowing look - they both know where ian is.

and so mickey finds him, standing in front of the mantle and staring at liam's diploma, tears streaming down his face.

"all three of my brothers have diplomas now," ian murmurs when mickey comes to stand next to him. "liam's going to college, and i think he'll be the one to do it, y'know? then all the kids will follow."

"they will," mickey agrees. of course they will, if they want. those kids can do anything.

"fiona always told us to set examples for them," ian tells him, still staring at the diploma. "for debbie and carl and liam. i always wanted to."

his voice breaks again, but he pushes through: "and i really thought i would. but liam - he did it on his own, after everything."

ian reaches up and clutches his chest, right over his heart. "i'm so proud of him i think i might die," he chuckles. "and all i did was show him what not to do."

"hey now," mickey soothes, reaching up to wipe at ian's tears. "you taught him more than that."

"i'm doing okay," ian admits. "we're doing great. but - look what they've all accomplished on their own. without you, all i know how to do is ruin things. the only gallagher brother without a diploma."

and mickey's heard enough. "first of all," he says, "you gallaghers have been helping each other get shit done since the beginning of time. also, i don't have a diploma either, and i think i'm doin' fine without it. you're not less because you don't have one, ian."

ian looks down at him at last, and so he continues. "you showed liam how to get the fuck back up when life knocks him over. you showed him how to make the life he wants, man. you showed me that."

mickey pulls ian to him when his face crumples, hushing and rocking.

"there's just so much i didn't do," ian breathes. "all this shit i couldn't finish."

"you sell yourself so fuckin' short, ian. you've made our lives into something awesome," mickey tells him, rubbing at his back. "and there's so much shit you're gonna do. you and me."

ian pulls back then, peering down at mickey through red, watery eyes. he nods, sniffing and blinking away fresh tears. "you and me," he agrees.

there is a lot that ian never did. there's a lot they never got to do together. time they'll never get back. they made something worth having out of it all, but there will always be some loss. but ian doesn't need to hear that today.

"we have a good life," mickey tells him instead, even through ian already knows this. he'll remind him every day. "and i want you. not the ian you think you should've been."

he has him, too. and when ian tells him that, he smiles. kisses him softly. it's everything worth having, this man, this life.

2.

when mandy facetimes them from the hospital, baby laura in her arms, ian expects himself to cry.

and he does a little. his eyes sting as he gazes at his best friend - flushed and tired and glowing - as she looks down at her little girl.

"i can't wait to meet her," ian coos. "she's just perfect."

mandy hums, not taking her eyes her eyes off her daughter. "she is perfect," she agrees, "and i love her so fuckin' much."

ian had expected himself to cry. everyone knows ian is obsessed with babies. but what he wasn't expecting was for mickey to take a shuddering breath and put his head in his hands.

"is he crying? mickey, are you crying?"

mandy finally looks up when mickey mutters a tearful oh fuck. ian's heart drops into his stomach; mickey's shoulders are shaking as he turns away from the phone.

"mandy," he says distractedly, trying to get a better look at mickey. "we'll call you back later, okay? love you!"

ian hangs up before mandy can say anything back.

"hey, what's goin' on?" he asks softly. when mickey doesn't answer, and his shoulders just shake harder, ian whispers every comfort he can think of.

"everyone's okay, the baby is so healthy and mandy did so well. didn't you think she was beautiful? just like mandy, just like you. and she's gonna love her uncle mickey so much, you know, she's gonna love you - "

mickey sits up at that, whipping around to look at ian. his face is red and splotchy, marked where he pressed his fingertips into his forehead. ian wants to reach out and smooth it all away, but he waits for mickey to let him know he wants to be touched.

"she just said that," mickey croaks. "she just said that like it was nothing."

"what do you mean?"

mickey looks wildly around the room, as if the words he needs are written in the air.

"she just - the kid was born a couple of hours ago, and mandy's sayin' that?"

ian doesn't get it. "saying what, mick?"

"that she, y'know, that she loves her. how does she know? how does she know that she won't like, resent her or anything? how does she know it'll last?"

and ian wants to dig up terry milkovich and kill him all over again. he wants to go back in time and fucking end him on the alibi floor. he wants to find laura, before it all went wrong, and beg her to do better. he wants to beg her to take mickey away.

did anyone tell mickey he was perfect as they held him? did anyone call to tell their family how much they loved him?

"because mandy's not your dad," ian reminds him. "just like you. and she's not your mom, either. you both have so much love in you, mick, and you're both safer than she ever was."

"it's not just them," mickey sighs. "i couldn't do it. when yev - "

"it's not the same," ian insists. "it's not. mandy wanted her baby, she planned for her and loved her before she was even born. there's nothing wrong with whatever you felt about yev."

mickey deflates, and ian tentatively reaches for him. mickey comes easily, tucking himself into ian's side.

"it was fucked up," ian says quietly. "i'm sorry if i didn't support you enough back then." mickey starts to argue but ian barrels on: "yev is good, mickey. you don't have to torture yourself over it."

mickey nods against him. believes him, maybe.

"and when it's our turn," ian promises, "i know you'll be in love. i know you have that in you."

mickey doesn't nod this time. maybe he doesn't believe that yet. ian just holds him tighter. he believes it enough for the two of them.

3.

ian sneaks a bite of stuffing when fiona pulls it from the oven, but it doesn't taste like much. it sits heavy and flavorless on his tongue, and he chokes it down as fiona slaps his hand away.

"hey! we're eatin' in like, five minutes, ian. get outta here and corral the troops, please."

another year, another thanksgiving dinner.

ian hoists himself from his seat and rounds the counter, but stops as his feet hit that spot. that same spot.

they're alone in the kitchen, ian and fiona, and he wonders if she's thinking about it. as if she could possibly stand there in that place by the stove, checking on the turkey, and think about anything else.

as if she could forget clinging to ian in the place he stands now, watching their mother drift away on the floor.

but if they haven't forgotten, they're all trying to. no one has said a word about monica today, just like every year. she doesn't come up on thanksgiving.

she doesn't even come up at christmas, on the anniversary of her actual death.

ian usually sits alone and remembers her, once the turkey's eaten or the christmas presents are unwrapped. he'll probably do it today. he'll sneak up to his old room and stretch out on that little bed, freddie's bed now, and think about his mom.

he blinks and fiona's looking at him with wide eyes. "ian," she says gently, "go get the others please?"

so she hasn't forgotten. but she won't say anything.

they all sit down to eat, and it's like ian's transported back to that day. carl's wearing a ridiculous thanksgiving hat. kev carves the bird and everyone shouts in delight, tossing bread and passing sides. eventually the family starts sharing what they're grateful for.

it's the same. it's always the same. frank's not here, but they carry on without him, like they always have. it's the same, except -

"i'm thankful for my husband," ian says when it's his turn. he puts a shaking hand on mickey's leg.

"and i'm thankful for my husband," mickey returns, laughing off the groans and gags of everyone at the table.

it's the same, with one massive exception. he's not alone today.

they eat and enjoy each other, grateful to have the family all together. ian laughs along with his siblings, listens to their stories, fills up on mac and cheese.

but then mickey gets up for a glass of water.

"i'll be right back," he mutters to ian, and then he's gone.

he's knows mickey's just going for water. but this day, these memories - they're stronger than he is. and ian is scrambling after him before he can stop himself.

"what're you doin'?" mickey asks when ian skids to a stop behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle where he stands at the sink.

ian can't speak. his throat is clogged with fear, with memories of blood and those ragged, gasping breaths.

mickey turns in his arms, looking up at ian in alarm. ian doesn't know how to tell him, how to explain the ice that flooded his veins when mickey stood.

but he doesn't have to. mickey reaches up and touches his hairline, then brings his hand down to his face. he wipes at ian's cheek; ian hadn't realized he'd started crying.

"i'm sorry," he groans. "i just - it's like i'm the only one that remembers what happened to her. or doesn't pretend i don't, anyways."

mickey grabs the cup of water and pulls ian to the back steps. when they're seated, he hands ian the water and gestures for him to drink. after a moment, he speaks.

"i never met her, really," mickey says quietly, looking out over the yard. "and i kinda hated her for a while. hated the shit she told you."

ian wants to defend her, even if mickey's right. he'll always want to defend her. he'll always want to speak up for her, because no one else could ever hear her. but then mickey just sighs and -

"but i know you love her," he says, reaching for ian's hand. "and i know what that means. you can tell me, if you want."

ian could tell him about that thanksgiving. about the year mickey was gone. about how they'd danced together just days before she crashed again. about the hospital and the stitches, about how monica disappeared again just a day later. and ian never got to see her, even though he asked.

but he doesn't really want to. he's tired now, and he sighs as he leans against mickey's shoulder. "she had a beautiful smile," he says instead.

ian sits and remembers her quietly, like he'd always planned to. but he's not alone with his memories. he won't be ever again.

4.

it's too fucking hot for a gallagher blowout, but since nothing on earth could stop them from a good time, it's happening anyways.

mickey lounges in the pool, drifting on the water in a float, while everyone else talks and laughs and dances around him. ian is taking uncle duty to the absolute extreme, throwing franny and fred over his shoulders as they romp about in the lawn by the pool.

mickey could go relieve him, but carl tosses him a beer and the idea is forgotten. uncle ian has it covered. he closes his eyes and leans back, running his other hand through the cool water.

after a few minutes, he hears lip call out.

"shit, ian, you good?"

mickey sits up so quickly that he tumbles out of the float. when he breaks the surface, his eyes scan the lawn for ian.

franny and freddie are running circles around him, oblivious to the rapid shift in their uncle's demeanor. ian's skin is wan and shining with sweat; he's not looking at anything, and he sways a little on his feet.

mickey's about to shout at him to sit the fuck down when ian drops like a stone.

and then: chaos.

the kids are screaming, horrified by ian hitting the ground at their feet, and their parents rush forward to scoop them up and hurry them away.

mickey's at ian's side before he even tells himself to move, hands roaming over his cold, clammy skin.

"shit, shit," he hisses, even as ian opens his eyes to peer up at him.

"the fuck?" he mutters, and mickey shushes him harshly.

"shut the fuck up," he orders, then shouts at carl to help him. together they haul ian under a pool umbrella, while ian snaps weakly for them to leave him alone.

tami tosses mickey a bottle of water, which he guides to ian's lips with shaking hands. "sip this," he instructs, then grabs at ian's hand when he starts chugging. "i said sip it, dumbass."

once ian's steadier, lip helps mickey get him back up to the apartment. after demanding that mickey text them with updates, the entire family clears out.

it's quiet. the adrenaline wears off, and mickey is suddenly exhausted.

ian's resting on the couch, stripped down to his boxers with his feet propped up. mickey wets a washcloth and moves to kneel beside him.

"you heard what the doc said when you started that pill," mickey says lowly as he dabs at ian's skin. "you gotta be careful in the heat."

ian's eyes flutter open, and he looks up at mickey blearily. "i know," he whispers. "was just playin' with them."

"fuck, ian, i mean it," mickey tells him thickly. "you were a fucking EMT, you know this shit. you gotta take care of yourself. take breaks and cool off so you don't - so you don't fucking - "

ian runs a hand through mickey's hair when he presses his face into ian's shoulder. "hey," he soothes, "i'm okay. was just a little thing."

"not a little thing," mickey snaps through his tears. "fuckin' scared me. don't fucking scare me like that."

"okay," ian agrees simply, leaning back against the couch. "you're right." they're quiet for a moment, ian still scratching at mickey's scalp.

mickey scoffs when ian speaks again.

"help me to the tub?"

"you're not getting me into the tub right now, asshole."

"it's for me, dickhead," ian laughs. "i missed the pool party and i gotta cool off somehow."

mickey fills the tub with cool water, then helps ian lowers himself into it. he cups the water in his hands, lets it run down ian's skin. the color returns to his face as he relaxes, splashing about lightly.

"you look better," mickey murmurs softly, running a hand over ian's wet skin. "but if you scare me like that again i will drown you in this tub."

ian laughs and flicks water at him. "that's fair. i'll do my best."

5.

it's been a long day.

ian spent his entire afternoon off helping lip do work on his new house, all the while listening to both carl and lip drone on about their latest relationship dramas.

they're both idiots, and their partners were both right, but ian kept his mouth shut all fucking day and held his focus on the nail gun in his hands.

he picked up a pizza on his way home, absolutely refusing to even entertain the idea of cooking. he knows mickey won't mind; he got his favorite.

the door is unlocked when ian gets back, and his heart warms at the idea of sinking into mickey's arms after a ridiculous day.

"i brought dinner!"

he calls out to mickey a couple of times, setting the pizza down on their dining table. but mickey isn't stretched out on the couch where ian left him this morning. he's not in the yard with a beer, and a quick peek at his phone confirms that he hadn't called to let ian know he was leaving.

there's no sound coming from the bathroom. ian knocks on their bedroom door - "mick? you in there?"

"yeah," comes a muffled reply. "get in here."

ian is suddenly filled with dread as he opens the bedroom door. mickey sounds wrecked. is something wrong? something has to be wrong. ian is mentally preparing to dash off to the hospital or call a lawyer, anything to make this sickening panic settle.

mickey is sitting on the bed, staring at down at his lap when ian steps into the room. his phone rests in his hands, and he fidgets with it as ian looks at him.

he's been crying.

he's still crying.

mickey's face is flushed and shiny with tears, bottom lip chapped where he's bitten it to soothe himself.

"oh god," ian croaks, "what is it? are you alright?"

"i'm good," mickey breathes. "we're good."

he looks up at ian then, fresh tears spilling over. "we're so fuckin' good."

ian can't breathe. what's happening? is it happening?

"would you just tell me what's going on?"

"i got the call a little while ago," he says, a grin now stretching across his quivering lips. "didn't want to tell you over the phone. they picked us. we're, uh, we're getting a kid."

ian's crying before mickey finishes speaking. he drops to his knees in front of him, grabs mickey's hands in his own, kisses them over and over.

"they really picked us?"

it's been years of rejection. years of fixing things up and trying again. years of proving themselves over and over - just for it all to fall apart.

mickey's own tears drop into ian's hair as he leans down to grab his face. he tilts ian's head upward, kisses his tearstained cheeks.

"yeah," he laughs, "they picked you. fuck, they picked me."

and now it's time, finally. the little bedroom next to theirs will spring to life. mickey will read bedtime stories in there; ian will hum lullabies and rock their little one to sleep.

they'll learn to crawl out in the living room. they'll fling puréed pears all over the kitchen. they're going to be so fucking loved here. ian is sure of it. he always was. but there's one thing he needs to be sure mickey knows -

"i'd always pick you, mick."