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beanfic · 4 years

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Sweet Sixteen

Pairing: IronDad! X Stark!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None (i’m pretty sure?) ((oh wait I think there is a singular swear word))

Summary: you’ve been begging your dad to make you a suit, and for your 16th birthday you finally receive one.

Author’s note: My first marvel fic!! I love reading stark!reader fics, so I decided to write one! I hope you guys enjoy it :)

You had been asking your Dad to design you a suit for the longest time, probably since you had turned 10. Obviously, a suit was too dangerous for a 10 year old and there was no reason for you to have one, but you envied the way your Mom and Dad were able to fly around the city.

Once you started training in self-defense, your wishes of receiving a suit grew exponentially. You wished for it every birthday, it was on every single Christmas list, and any time you would see Peter Parker in his suit you would rage with jealousy.

“He’s the same age as me!” you would whine to your Dad. He would always shush you, and remind you that Peter had powers and it was his job to protect the neighborhood. There was no reason for you to have a suit. You tried to argue that you also needed it for protection, and what if the aliens came back to earth and the Avengers needed a plus-one? Your Dad would not listen. He just argued that he would never put you in that situation, and that was the end of the story.

Most people wish for a car for their sixteenth birthday, but not you. When your Dad asks you what you wanted, you handed him a piece of paper that was titled ‘Birthday List’. There was only one thing written there. “suit”.

*********************************

“Goodmorning, Y/N,” your Mom greets you as you bound down the stairs and shuffle into the kitchen. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” you mumble, still half asleep. You rub your eyes as you feel a pair of arms wrap you up in a hug.

“There they are!” You were now being picked up and spun around, the room becoming swirls of color and your stomach was objecting. “You’re sixteen!”

“Dad! Put me down!” you squirm in his hands and he set you down gently. You almost topple over from the dizziness, but his hand catches you.

“Sorry, but I can’t believe you are sixteen! You know, when I was sixteen I was-”

“Do I smell bacon?” you interrupt your Dad, not wanting to hear one of his childhood stories.

“I made bacon quiches!” your mom opens the oven to check on them, and the smell makes your mouth water.

“My favorite!”

“Exactly! Do you want any coffee?” she asks and you nod.

“I can get it,” you walk over to the coffee pot and pour yourself a cup with just enough room for some hemp milk creamer.

“How does it feel to be sixteen?” your Dad asks, also grabbing a cup of coffee.

“It feels the same,” you shrug. You realize you were so distracted by your Mom and Dad that you didn’t even realize the decorations in the living room. There were clear balloons which were filled with confetti decorating the walls, along with gold streamers and two very large ones shaped like the numbers 1 and 6.

“Do you like the decorations? Sam helped me with them all night!” your Dad says after noticing your staring.

“The balloons could spell out 61,” you giggle. “Maybe they are for you, old man.”

“Excuse me? What? I am nowhere near that age!” He gets defensive.

“It’s a joke, Dad.” You laugh at how flustered he gets. You look back around at the room and notice a singular present on the coffee table. “Is that for me?”

“No, it’s for the other person in the house who is turning sixteen. Yes, it’s for you!” your Dad teases.

“Can I open it now?” you ask with wide eyes. You watch your Dad slowly look over at Pepper, asking for confirmation and she responds with a slight nod and smile.

“Go ahead!” he claps his hands together.

You walk over to the box, which was perfectly square and was a pretty average size. You shake it, and you hear something small rattle inside. Slowly, you unwrap the red and gold paper and open the lid of the box. Inside was another wrapped box, but smaller.

“You guys did not do that stupid joke,” you groan as you continue opening the gift, revealing yet another wrapped box, but even smaller. You glare over at your parents who were smirking as they watched you. Carefully, you peel off the paper and you honestly were expecting another box but instead, you are met with a small keychain.

“No way,” you gasp. You pick up the keychain and eye the silver key attached to it.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Maybe,” your Dad chuckles.

“You got me a car?” you shout. You stand up and run to the elevator.

“Hold up,” you Dad stops you. “Follow me.”

“Aren’t we going to the garage?” you ask, confused.

“Follow me I said!” he was already walking down the stairs to the floor below which was where his lab was located.

“To your lab?” you ask, catching up to your Dad who was practically speed walking. He couldn’t stop smiling.

“I think those keys might go to something in there,” he says softly, punching in his code. You peer around his shoulder into the huge lab and see a large silver safe, like the ones he keeps his special suits in.

“Dad,” you whisper. Your brain was running a hundred miles a minute, and your heart rate was through the roof.

“There’s a code on there, but I think using the key would be more special. Go ahead!” his hand squeezes your shoulder and you slowly walk towards the silver safe. You look at the touchpad where you enter your personal ID code, next to it, a small keyhole. Gently sliding the key in and turning it, the door to the safe opens with a whoosh.

“Holy shit,” you gawk at the platinum silver and red suit in front of you. It was smaller than your Dad’s and you knew instantly that your birthday wish had been granted.

“Do you like it?” he smirks, taking in your excitement. Your jaw was still wide open and you couldn’t stop hopping in place.

“This can’t be for real! Dad, are you serious? It’s mine!?”

“Yes! It’s all yours!”

“Oh my god!” you shriek. You feel like running around with all the excitement and energy that was bubbling inside you.

“I take it that they liked it?” Pepper’s voice rings from the doorway.

“Yes! A million times yes! Thank you so much guys!” you throw your arms around your Dad, wrapping him up in a hug.

“Anything for you,” he whispers. You release him and give Pepper a hug as well.

“Don’t thank me! This was all your Dad. He has been working on this suit for the past six months!”

“Six months?” your eyes widen.

“Why do you think you haven’t been allowed down in my lab?”

“I don’t know, top-secret Avenger stuff? I just can’t believe it! Can I try it on?”

Your Dad chuckles, “Yes, but first let me explain what it does, okay? It’s not a suit made for fighting, it’s a suit made for protection. So, while yes, you can go out flying and enjoy it, you need to be responsible. Okay?”

You nod, “Yes!” You walk over to the suit and take a better look at it. It was almost exactly like your Dad’s, but instead of red and gold, it was mostly silver with some red embellishments.

“FRIDAY is hooked up to it as well, and it can fly just like mine and Pep’s.”

“Does it have laser beams?” you ask.

“No, there’s no reason for it to have laser beams.”

“But what if-”

“No, Y/N, no what if’s. If you are not responsible for the suit, then it will be taken away from you. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you nod. You so badly want to try it on.

“We will have to teach you how to fly in it, it’s more difficult than you would think.”

“It looks easy when you do it,” you giggle.

“You should have seen me the first time I tried it, I literally flew all over my old garage.”

“I’ll be safe!” you plead. “I want to try it on and fly!” You grab your hands together and look up at your Dad with puppy-dog eyes.

“Okay, so here are these,” your Dad hands you two bracelets. They resemble the ones he used to wear. “I didn’t think you would want to insert machinery into your arms and these are much safer.”

“Can’t I just step into it?” you ask.

“You don’t want to feel what it’s like to have it form around you?”

“It seems nerve wracking,” you confess.

“I’ll be right here, I promise it will be okay.” Your Dad snaps the bracelets on your arms and presses a few buttons on them. “Okay, so tell FRIDAY to activate Sweet 16.”

“You named it Sweet 16?” you roll your eyes.

“It’s fitting!” he chuckles.

“FRIDAY?” you call out. “Activate Sweet 16.” A whirring sound forms behind you and you watch as the suit starts to move.

“Keep your arms out!” your Dad informs you and you do as he says. You brace yourself for impact as you see the pieces start to move, but they softly mold themselves to your body. First, the arm and leg pieces, making you shiver as the cold material touches your bare skin. You were still in your pajamas.

The chest piece was a little more rough, causing you to back up a bit. All that was left was the helmet. You look over at your Dad who had his arm wrapped around Pepper. He was smiling softly as he watched you transform right in front of him.

“Dad?” you mumble as you prepare for the helmet.

“It’s okay!” you hear but you close your eyes as you see the helmet coming towards you. It is slow and gentle, the opposite of what you were expecting, and when you open your eyes you are welcomed with FRIDAY”s voice.

“Welcome to your suit,” her voice chimes in your ears. You look over at your parents, and Pepper had tears in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” you ask your Mom, and she just shakes her head.

“You’re just all grown up!”

“You’re embarrassing,” you mumble underneath your breath. You glance over at your Dad, who was still smiling.

“Well, how does it feel?”

“It’s cold in here,” you laugh.

“Tell FRIDAY to turn on the heater.”

“There’s a heater?” you gasp. “FRIDAY, turn on the heater!” Instantly, a warmth surrounds your body.

“Nice, huh?”

“Mmm,” you hum in agreement. You turn your head and it isn’t as heavy as you were expecting. Every time you had seen your Dad walk in his suit, it seemed like it weighed at least 80 pounds on him, but in fact it wasn’t that much at all.

“Want to learn to fly?” your Dad questions and you nod.

“Here?”

“Ha, no, not unless you want a repeat of what happened to me. Let’s go to the gym.” Your Dad follows Pepper out of his Lab and towards the elevator, and you shuffle behind. The clank of the metal against the floor was loud, and you try to take quieter steps.

“At least there is no way of you sneaking out in this,” Pepper teases.

“Mom!”

“It’s a joke, Y/N.” She turns around and flashes you a smile. You were used to her looking down at you since she was a few inches taller, but now she was looking up at your suit. It was odd.

As you ride in the elevator, you keep glancing around and watching what FRIDAY had to tell you via the screen. You were able to check on your vitals, as well as other individuals’ vitals, and it was just fascinating. It was a lot like a pair of Stark Glasses that your Dad had given you for Christmas last year, but way more advanced.

Once you arrive in the gym, you begin to sweat from the nerves of learning how to finally fly, but also because the heater was almost too hot. You tell FRIDAY to turn the heater off as you watch your dad give a short tutorial of everything the suit can do. You wish yours had all the weapons his did, but you understand why yours wasn’t equipped with deadly rockets when you were only 16.

“The rockets come from the feet and hands, and they are much more powerful than you will first expect. To hover, you need barely any propulsion. Think as if you were going to touch something very fragile, you just need to be cautious and in control,” your Dad explains. You watch in awe as he hovers a few feet above the ground, the whirring of the rockets ringing in your ears. You have seen him fly many times before, but it always interested you.

“Ready to try?” Pepper asks. You could tell she was nervous, probably because she had to deal with your Dad learning all of this for the first time. She says that he is the reason why she started to go gray early.

“I guess.”

“Don’t be nervous.” Your Dad lands softly and opens his mask so his face is visible. He puts his hand on the shoulder of your suit. “You can do this.”

“I can do this,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You close your mask and get prepared to raise off the ground slightly, but your Dad was correct with how much more powerful it was because you shot you straight up into the air, making you yelp.

“See? Powerful! Now try to hover!” your dad shouts up at you. You focus on lowering the power of the rockets, and surprisingly it works. You start to descend a bit and hover above the ground like your Dad was.

“Whoah,” you sigh to yourself.

“Nice!” Your Dad gives you a thumbs up. “Now try using more power to move around!”

“Okay.” You put a little more force and you thrust forward a bit, but as you start to practice moving you quickly get the hang of it. In about ten minutes you were able to land, take off, and fly in a circle throughout the gym.

“You’re doing so much better than I was expecting!” your Dad gives you a high five as you land and reveal your face, which was dripping with sweat.

“It’s tiring trying to figure out exactly how much power to use.”

“You’ll get used to it, want to go fly outside now?” he raises his left eyebrow.

“Tony, is that a good idea? They just learned how to fly!” Pepper interrupts, she was always super protective of you.

“Mom,”you groan. “I can do it!”

She purses her lips as she gazes back and forth between you and Tony. “Alright, but please be safe. I don’t want to have to put on a suit and come find you two all jumbled together in the middle of nowhere.”

“You can trust me, love,” Tony walks over and places a kiss on her forehead. “I will never let anything bad happen to them, or you. I promise.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Ew,” you pretend to gag as you watch your parents kiss in front of you. “Can we go now?”

Your father laughs, “Yes, grab my hand and once you get used to the feeling of flying with a heavier amount of power, then you can let go and just follow me across the city, alright?”

“Yes, sir!” You grab a hold of his suit with yours, metal fingers intertwined. The skylight of the gym opens up to reveal an opening to the sky. You mentally and physically prepare yourself for the jolt, and before you know it you are flying up in the sky following your Dad.

It was mesmerizing. The blue sky and clouds are now underneath you as your Dad pulls you higher and higher until he looks back at you. He nods and lets go of your hand, and you start to fall a little, but quickly thrust your rockets and follow behind him.

He starts to go lower, back towards the city, and you notice how tiny the people look, just like ants. Your Dad is twisting and turning between the trees, and you follow him closely, making sure to avoid the obstacles. He even does a little spin to show off, and you just giggle in your suit.

“How are you doing?” his voice breaks through the intercom in the suit.

“This is so fun!”

“Exactly! We should head home now though, once you get about 20 feet above the ground, make sure to loosen up on the rockets or you will crash into the house.”

“Okay,” you answer shakily. You only had practiced landing from about 10 feet from the ground, definitely not from about 50 feet which was where you were about now. You follow your Dad’s instructions, and when you receive the signal to slow down, you do so and even though your landing could have definitely been softer, you still avoid a crash.

“I’m so proud of you!” your Dad calls out. His mask raises and you can see the look of pure excitement on his face.

“Thank you, Dad. For everything. This is the best birthday ever.” You wrap your metal arms around your Dad as you try to hug him.

“I never thought I would hug my own kid while we both wear suits,” he chuckles.

“Can I have a fancy name like ironman? Can I be like the majestic 26?”

“Majestic 26?”

“Yeah, because Iron has the atomic number 26!”

“I think we can come up with something, we can do some brainstorming later on! Let’s go have some lunch.”

“Sounds good, Dad. Thank you so much again.”

“Of course, I’m glad you had a good sixteenth birthday. I love you infinitely.”

“I love you too, Dad. Infinitely.”

#marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #avengers fanfic #avengers fanfiction #stark!reader #irondad #tony stark fanfic #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark imagine #avengers imagine #marvel imagine #tony stark x stark!reader #beanfic

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tinyshe · 4 years

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Garden Report: 20.10.02

Today in the garden was more about checking every body outside before heading in for an attempt to finish the apples. The comfrey is making a full on rush in greens. The chickens have decided they will eat nasturtiums as the fresh green dwindle. Worms are like, ‘get us taken care of or we’re out of here!’ (one more day, guys!). Covering holes of some fiend that is trying to burrow under the fence from the other side. Plus, sniffing around (breathing deeply) ... I think the last lobbing of ammonia balls did it last night; I don’t smell skunk. And another glorious day of caged vegetable growing! I love this cage! Got to go something about the lose wires that keep snagging my jumper.

This next is going to be a way different post that is more about my background in food security than gardening though gardening does play a big part of that.

So someone asked me about why I’m all about keeping a food pantry. Several reasons and they are my life experiences/ family background without food. My grandparents always kept food stores and I helped by doing the little kid things like washing apples or crawling under the beds to arrange put up goods in special crates or tending the garden and sleeping in orchards to keep out night marauding creatures near harvest time. My grands had grown up this way because of agrarian living and hard times -- you grew your own or did without (there was also fishing, hunting, trapping, trade/barter). There wasn’t the luxury of store bought foods. My first experience of lack of food was one cold snowy winter right before I turned 12 y.o. We were sitting at the table with a single candle as the dusk settled. We were waiting for my mother’s boyfriend to return from poaching ... I mean hunting because all we had was a brick of bread my mother tried to bake earlier. And I mean it was a brick. The yeast was dead, the house freezing and the whole wheat very dense. We were all very hungry only having some apple and processed cheese at breakfast with tea. We knew better than complain nor cry and trying very hard to hide the noise our rumbly bellies were making because it just made her angrier. The fire was burning low so it was getting hard to sit still at the table. It would soon be time to hustle off to colder beds upstairs with a crust of bread. Mum was getting pretty worked up trying to cut/chop the bread brick. I just couldn’t watch her anymore when I spied out the window a shadowy figure through the falling snow and impending gloom. I let out a cheer and ran out the door to meet him; I don’t think I have ever been happier to see a dead hare before. I was allowed to carry (more like prance) the body in while my sisters sat around sobbing. I know for a fact, one was not crying for joy and she was sent to bed without.

When I later struck out on my own due to bad home life, things weren’t always fun and games. I would go into a fast food restaurant to order the cheapest thing (usually tea or coffee) and then load up on the condiment packets: ketchup soup, mustard soup ... one packet per hot cup of water. A pocketful was a weeks worth of food. Loved having dates because that would mean a real nice meal with a take home box for left overs!

Then I married. I started keeping a pantry because the house we were in had pantry shelves in a laundry room/ hot water heater room. So I started replicating my happy childhood memories with my grandparents. It was part of what I remember fondly of ‘keeping house’. But my ‘keeping’ house became increasingly important until I could not deny any longer: I had made a bad choice in marriage. The day he told me he didn’t have any money to even buy milk for the children (he made very good monies working as a civie for the military), my eyes were opened to who this person really was. And it only became increasingly worse. So not only did I build up a pantry slowly that would have made my grands proud but I was also securing food for my children as the same issues were repeated, be it clothes, food, money for doctors. I learn to pull with other mums to make, trade, barter or lend. I garden, add to the pantry, trade or give away excess produce. I built a community of like minded women, some unbeknownst to me, were also in similar relationships with abusive partners (most women don’t talk about their abuse until they are able to escape/ be safe from their abusers). I learned to squirrel away cash to build an emergency nest egg. The mother-of-necessity partnered up with the knowledge of what I had learned growing up.

So the spouse has disappeared. Really no big surprise but a blessing in disguise. It has been rough at times. I continue on with my kids but at least much more happily and without fear of abuse. I still have my habits of making a garden and pantry. It gives me a sense of satisfaction. Part in returning to my ‘roots’/ upbringing and another part in knowing I have learned so much about being more resilient and reliant on myself in addition to helping others.I have also taught/am teaching my children these skills (foraging, gardening and preserving) that I hope someday will serve them if nothing else, the fun in returning to their childhood memories.

So that is it. This is part in why I post these entries in this blog. Why I share about gardening. Why I share about building a pantry. If it can serve to help someone then it has served its purpose. If anyone needs hugs and prayers, words of support or help in working through a garden or pantry plan, I’m here to listen and here to help. We are all in this together; no one has to walk alone. Be encouraged!

#catholic gardener #garden #gardening #food reliant #food sufficiency #pantry #food garden #urban homestead #permaculture #food security

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alexisrosemullens · 4 years

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you are the one (designed for me)

Summary: Everyone has a timer that countdowns until you meet your soulmate. When you meet them, it turns into an infinity sign. The Gallaghers have bad luck with their soulmates, especially Ian whose soulmate left when he needed him the most.

Chapter One: time is moving slow

Chapter Two: My mind runs away to you

The next few weeks, Ian isn’t sure what they are doing. Ian continues going to the Alibi and hanging out with Mickey during his shift but instead of going home, he goes home with Mickey. In the morning, he sneaks out and heads back to his place before Fiona or the kids notice he’s gone.

They become closer and Ian really thinks something could happen between them. He hasn’t had a connection like this in so long, everything just feels right. But he’s afraid. Mickey doesn’t like talking about his soulmate and is closed off when Ian tries to bring it up. He’s worried that he’s jumping into this too fast.

One morning while Ian is getting ready to leave and head back home, Mickey tries to pull him back.

“I have to leave,” Ian hums, leaning into him. “Fiona will be up soon and notice I’m gone.”

“Come on, man, just a little longer.”

Ian grins, kissing him. He slowly pulls away and climbs back out of bed. He hears Mickey make a small noise almost like a hum and a sigh. Ian grins, buttoning up his shirt. “Do you have to work this weekend?”

“Nah, V let me off so I can spend all of it with Yevgeny,” Mickey says.

“That’s good.”

Ian sits back down on the bed and grabs his shoes to pull them on. He feels Mickey’s eyes on him as he ties his shoes.

Mickey clears his throat. “You uh want to come over and hang out with me and the kid?”

Ian stops and turns around, looking at him. “Wait, really?”

Mickey nods. “Yeah, you were really good with him.”

Ian grins and nods. “Yeah, okay. I just have to figure out what to tell Fiona. I think she has to work most of the weekend.”

“Are you still pretending to go to that dumb single’s group?”

“Nah, Fiona knows I quit. Lip doesn’t know yet but I think he figured it out.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Doubtful.”

“Hey! He’s my brother.”

“Still a dick.”

Ian shrugs in agreement. Mickey’s not wrong. He looks down at his watch and jumps up. He kisses Mickey on the cheek. “I really have to go. Text you later!”

Ian easily sneaks into the Gallagher house. No one is awake yet so Ian starts breakfast. He hears movement upstairs when he's almost done so he starts another pot of coffee.

“Morning,” Fiona greets, stumbling into the kitchen.

“Morning,” Ian hands her a mug full of the new brewed pot.

Fiona mumbles a thank you and takes a large sip. “Hmm, that hits the spot.”

Ian chuckles, taking a small sip of his mug.

“You’re up early again,” Fiona says, looking around the kitchen. “And you made breakfast.” She stops and looks at him, narrowing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been waking up early. Thought you guys would like some breakfast”

Fiona shakes her head. “Who is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Fiona snorts. “Cut the bullshit, Ian. I’m your sister. I know you. I partially raised you. You’re seeing someone and I want to know who. Is it someone from single’s group? Is that why you stopped going?”

Ian shakes his head. He starts plating breakfast, trying to ignore Fiona’s stare and prying.

“Did you go back to support group and find someone there? Ooh, is it Mickey?”

Ian turns around to face her in shock, his eyes wide. “How? H-how did you?”

Fiona squeals. “It is Mickey! I was just taking a chance with that one!”

More movement starts upstairs. Ian looks up at the ceiling then back at Fiona. He lowers his voice in case one of the kids could hear them. “How did you figure it out?”

Fiona rolls her eyes. “Carl mentioned he came by a few weeks ago, after you helped him out with Yevgeny.” She grins, bouncing slightly on her toes. “I didn’t know Mickey was gay. But I thought he was married to that Russian whore?”

Ian shrugs. “We haven’t talked about that. This is new, Fiona, so stop freaking out. I don’t know what we are yet.”

“Ooh,” Fiona grins.

“Stop,” Ian glares at her and turns back to fixing breakfast.

Fiona giggles. “I’m just messing with you, monkey.”

Ian turns back around to glare at her use of his nickname. “Really? Monkey? Come on, Fi.”

Fiona just continues laughing, ignoring Ian’s glare. She starts getting lunches ready while Ian finishes plating breakfast and setting it on the table.

“So, um,” Ian says after a few minutes of silence. “Mickey invited me over this weekend to hang out with him and Yevgeny.”

Fiona stops what she’s doing and looks at him, her arms crossing. “That sounds serious.”

“I know and so I was wondering what your schedule was this weekend?” Ian asks, his eyes hopeful as he gives his sister a smile. “Do you need me or can you handle it?”

Fiona grins, slapping his arm. “Go! Have fun! Don’t worry about me.”

“But, Fi,”

“Ian, go. Go try and live your life without your soulmate. I’m okay, really,” Fiona promises.

“Are you though?” Ian asks, moving to sit down on the barstool. “You went to support group and went out with that one guy. I never saw you go out anymore. You’ve barely gone out in seven years, Fi. I thought we were going to move on.”

Fiona sighs, leaning against the counter. “Look, you weren’t with your soulmate long. I mean, yeah, three years is a lot but that was when you were getting sick and I know you don’t remember much. I was with Jimmy/Steve for eight years. He helped me raise you kiddos. We lived together for almost five years, here in this house. Him leaving almost broke me. It’s going to take me a lot longer than a few dates to get over him.”

Ian reaches over and grabs his sister’s hands, rubbing her palms. “I know, Fi, but throwing yourself into work and this house isn’t going to help. We said we would try to be happy for Liam. Remember?”

Fiona nods, her eyes shining.

“Ow! Carl!”

Debbie’s loud scream ruins the moment and Fiona pulls her hands away, wiping the tears from her eyes. She gives Ian a look but Ian shakes his head. Fiona grins wickedly and holds her hand out for a game of rock, paper, scissors. Two games later, Ian is upstairs, breaking up a fight between Debbie and Carl.

After Ian’s shift, he heads over to Mickey’s. His hands are sweating and he doesn’t know whether to go in or knock on the door. He decides to knock, figuring that is the safest option. Mickey opens the door and grins.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Ian grins back, nodding at the towel thrown over Mickey’s shoulder.

“Kid wanted some Russian dish Svetlana makes. I have no idea what I’m doing. I ordered pizza as a backup,” Mickey says. He looks over his shoulder then kisses Ian quickly on the cheek before letting him in.

Yevgeny is sitting on the living room surrounded by Legos with the TV on. He looks up when Ian walks in and gives him a funny look.

“Yev, you remember Ian, right?” Mickey asks. “He watched you while I was working and helped you when you were sick.”

Yevgeny’s face lights up. “Yeah! Do you want to play Legos with me? I’m building a castle.”

Ian shrugs off his coat, placing it on the hook by the door. “As long as there are dragons.”

“Duh,” Yevgeny answers in a serious matter. He pats the floor with the least amount of Legos and Ian takes a seat next to him.

The rest of the night goes great. Yevgeny talks Ian’s ears off and forces him to watch a kid show after dinner. Ian doesn’t mind and sits through the weird show quietly. Yevgeny falls asleep during the next episode of the show and Mickey carries him to bed. When he gets back, Ian is putting on his jacket and hat.

“Where are you going?” Mickey asks.

“Home. You have Yevgeny tonight. Didn’t think you would want me to stay the night,” Ian says, zipping his jacket up.

“That’s stupid. He’s four. He doesn’t really understand what’s going on.”

“What about your ex?”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Really? You’re bringing up my ex?”

Ian shuffles his feet, looking down.

“Take your jacket off, man. Stay awhile.”

“Your family’s fucking ridiculous,” Mickey laughs, handing Ian the cigarette they’re sharing. Mickey decided not to chance Yevgeny hearing anything so they ended up watching a movie and talking in Mickey’s bed. “How can you put up with two teenagers and an eight year old under one roof.”

Ian chuckles, leaning his head against the wall. “The bad thing is, that wasn’t the most Debbie thing she’s ever done.”

“She’s done something worse than faking a pregnancy to get a guy to date her?”

“Yep, she stole a baby once.”

Mickey stops laughing and turns to Ian, his eyes wide. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Nope. She was 10 and bored so she lured a toddler out of a birthday party with a candy bar,” Ian told him, handing the cigarette back over to Mickey. “Lip came up with this grand plan and we were able to return the kid, making it look like Debbie found him. Debs got enough money from it that she bought a water heater for the house.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Ian laughs at Mickey’s reaction, bumping his shoulder against his. “Hey, Mandy told me stories about you and your brothers so I know you have crazier ones.”

Mickey groans. “I do not want to talk about those days or my idiot brothers.”

“Come on, Mick,” Ian whines. “I told you several stories from my childhood. You haven’t told me anything.”

“That’s bullshit. You refuse to talk about your teenage and recent years.”

Ian glares at him. “So do you.”

They both stare at each other for a long time before Ian averts his eyes. His mind is racing and wants to ask Mickey what they are but he’s afraid that he’s going to scare Mickey off. Fuck it, he thinks. It’s time to bite the bullet.

“Okay, how about we talk about what we are instead? Cause I for one want to know if we’re dating,” Ian finally says.

“Wow, you don’t hold anything back, do you?”

“Come on, Mick.”

Mickey takes a long drag of his cigarette before answering. “Fuck, I don’t know. I’ve only been with one other guy before my father ruined my life. Then after he died, Yevgeny was here and I didn’t have time to sleep much less go out.”

Ian reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezing it. “Okay, so let’s go out and figure this out.”

“Yeah?” Mickey looks over, trying to hide the smile that forming on his face.

“Yeah.”

They figure out pretty quickly they both enjoy going out. By the third date, Ian asks the question again and Mickey agrees that they are dating. They don’t tell anyone at first. It’s Fiona that figures out they’re dating first. Ian waits for her to say something but she just smiles and pats him on the cheek. Debbie figures it out next and she doesn’t stop squealing and hugging them. Ian has to physically pull her off Mickey. Carl and Liam just kind of accept it when Mickey starts coming around more and more, neither one of them caring too much. Lip surprises Ian the most when he finds out. He just crosses his arms and nods at Mickey, not saying anything about it.

Mickey slowly becomes a constant presence in the Gallagher house. The only time he isn’t over is when he has Yevgeny for the weekend but even then he sometimes shows up. A few months into their relationship, Fiona decides she wants to have a big family dinner and invites Mickey and Ella. When Ian tells Mickey, he laughs and refuses but after some convincing from Ian, he reluctantly agrees.

The night of the dinner, Ian picks Mickey up. He grumbles the whole way to the Gallagher house. Ian just laughs at him and squeezes his hand when they make their way up to the house.

“Hey, hey!” Ian says when they walk in the door.

Liam looks up from the TV and smiles. “Hey, Ian! Hey, Mickey! Fiona said dinner will be ready soon.”

Ian leans on the couch, looking at the TV. “What are you even watching?”

Liam shrugs. “I was just flipping through. It’s about a dead guy.”

Ian hums. “Fiona in the kitchen?”

Liam nods, focusing back on the TV. Ian ruffles his hair then motions Mickey to follow him in the kitchen. Fiona turns around when she hears them, her face lighting up with a smile.

“Hey, Mickey! You made it!” she grins, tossing her towel over her shoulder then walking over to them, pulling Mickey in for a hug.

Mickey tenses and slowly pats her back until she lets go. Ian chuckles, bumping his shoulder against Mickey’s.

“Need any help, Fi?” Ian asks.

“Nope, everything’s ready. We’re just waiting for Lip and Ella to get here,” Fiona answers. “But thanks, sweetface.”

Ian groans at the nickname. Mickey smirks at him, mouthing the nickname with raised eyebrows. “Really, Fi? Can’t you drop the nicknames?”

Fiona furrows her eyebrows then her eyes widen when she realizes her slip. “Shit, I’m sorry sweet-, I mean, fuck. I can’t help it.”

Ian just rolls his eyes. “I know.” He walks out the kitchen with Mickey following. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Mickey smirks, making sure to pop the p. “Sweetface.”

Lip and Ella arrive shortly after and the house gets loud. Fiona has Lip and Ian move the dining room table to the living room and finds two extra seats for Ella and Mickey. As soon as the food is on the table, the Gallaghers dig in, leaving Ella and Mickey in the dust. Ella doesn’t seem to mind and just takes whatever is passed to her. Mickey on the other hand just watches until Ian notices. Ian grabs the mashed potato bowl out of Carl’s hand with a loud “Hey!” in protest and hands it to Mickey.

“If you don’t fight, you won’t get anything,” Ian whispers.

Once food is on their plates, everyone starts talking over each other, trying to catch each other up. Ian places his hand on Mickey’s thigh and squeezes it in reassurance.

“So, Mickey, how’s Yevgeny? Did I say that right?” Fiona finally turns to him after Lip’s finishes his boring story about college.

Mickey nods. “Yeah, that’s right. You can call him Yev. Everyone does.”

“That’s so much easier to say,” Fiona says. “He’s four, right?”

“Yeah,” Mickey answers, scratching his eyebrow. “He turns five in May. Starts kindergarten in the fall.”

“It’s so much easier when they start school. You don’t have to find someone to watch them for eight hours a day and by the time they get home, they are tired and ready for bed,” Fiona says in a dream like state as she imagines the first day of school. “I was there when all these kiddos started kindergarten. Remember just like it was yesterday.”

Debbie and Carl groan as Lip rolls his eyes.

“Great, here she goes,” Debbie cringes. “Now she’s going to cry. I recommend you run now, Mickey.”

“Well, I’m sorry for getting emotional!” Fiona says. “Liam was the easiest and the hardest. Ran straight to the teacher and didn’t look back. I cried all the way to work then got sent home because I cried when a customer ordered a burger.” She grins at Liam. “Debbie cried everyday for a week until she finally found a friend. That was a nightmare.”

“Fiona,” Debbie whines. “Do you have tell Ella and Mickey all of our stories? Just tell them what Lip and Ian did.”

Fiona sucks in air between her teeth and closes one eye as she tries to remember. “Let’s see. I was about 11 when Lip went to kindergarten. No, 10. I was 11 when Ian started school. Monica was still pregnant with Debs and I think she was actually at home for once. I remember because I had to drop Ian off at daycare then Lip, so I woke up extra early. Both of them were so cranky.” She winks at Lip and Ian and both of them groan. “After I dropped Ian off, I walked Lip to the elementary school. The teacher was so confused when I showed up until another teacher whispered in her ear. So she motioned Lip in. Lip just walked in but a week later refused to go back. I had to bribe him with pancakes until he caved. I found out later it’s because he was bored and his teacher recommended he skip a grade but I never got the letter.”

“I could have been done with college by now,” Lip teases her with a glare. Fiona flips him off causing Lip to laugh and throw his hands up. “Okay, okay, I blame Frank.”

Fiona grins. “With Ian, Debbie was maybe six months old? Monica was pregnant with Carl and would come and go.” She turns to Lip and furrows her eyebrows.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Lip agrees.

“So the morning Ian started school, Debbie kept me up all night screaming. I remember Frank was passed out on the couch and didn’t move the whole night. I was exhausted and didn’t want to drop him off. I asked Lip if he could watch Ian and make sure he got into his classroom safely.” She stops her story and nods at Ian. “But you cried when I said that. You wrapped your little arms around me and refused to let go until I said I would go. So I strapped Debbie in a stroller and we took off. As soon as the teacher smiled at you, you ran into the classroom.”

Ian groans, burying his head in hands. “Jesus, Fiona.”

“Carl just shrugged and walked in. Then he got sent home a few hours later for stealing a kid’s lunch,” Fiona finishes her story. She just had to include them all.

“Nice,” Carl says, throwing his hand up for either Debbie or Liam to high five him. Debbie slaps the back of his head instead.

“Debbie!” Fiona, Lip, and Ian all scold at the same time. Debbie just rolls her eyes.

“Let’s hope Yev has an easy transition like Liam,” Fiona turns back to Mickey.

“Uh, yeah. I hope so,” Mickey answers, shifting in his seat.

Ian gives Fiona a pleading look. She gets his sign and turns to Ella, asking about school.

After dinner, the boys move the table back and everyone starts cleaning up. Fiona refuses to let Ella and Mickey help and sends them into the living room. Mickey just sends Ian a “help me” look but Ian quickly kisses his cheek and pushes him into the living room.

A few minutes later, Ian appears with a piece of pie. He sits in between Ella and Mickey and pops a bite into his mouth. Mickey eyes the pie.

“Yes, Ian, I would love some pie. Thanks for the offer,” Mickey says sarcastically, trying to reach of Ian’s pie.

Ian moves it out of his reach, hitting Ella. “Oops, Sorry, El.”

“Not the worst thing that’s happened to me in this house,” Ella responds, rubbing her head. “Carl gave me lice, remember?”

“Right.”

“You seriously aren’t going to offer pie?” Mickey asks, watching Ian take another bite.

“Fiona likes to cut it and bring it,” Ella tells him, nodding at the doorway.

And she’s right, Fiona is standing in the doorway with two plates. “Ian, I told you that we were eating dessert in the kitchen. Debbie wants to tell us something.”

“Sorry, Fi,” Ian answers, his mouth full of pie.

Fiona rolls her eyes and motions for Ella and Mickey. Mickey stands up and gladly takes a plate of pie out of her hand. He stands awkwardly in the kitchen next to Ella and watches Fiona, Lip, and Ian move seamlessly around each other and everyone else in the kitchen.

“This is weird,” he mumbles.

Ella shrugs. “You get use it. The three are a unit.”

“I think I might have met my soulmate,” Debbie announces to the room. She’s standing in the middle of kitchen, her eyes falling to her older siblings.

Fiona, Lip, and Ian stop what they’re doing and turn to look at her. Mickey puts his bite of pie down and turns to Ella, both their eyes wide.

“What?” Fiona asks. “You met your soulmate?”

Debbie shrugs. “I mean, I’m not sure because I haven’t taken off the cover but I can feel it, you know?”

“I didn’t think you felt anything when you met your soulmate,” Carl mumbles, his mouth full of pie. “Of course most people don’t cover up their countdowns.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Fiona, Lip, and Ian tell Carl at the same time. Carl rolls his eyes at them.

Ella raises her eyebrows at Mickey as if to say “I told you so.”

Debbie glares at Carl and turns back to her older siblings. “Do you feel anything? When you meet them?”

Fiona leans against the sink, running her hands through her hair. She looks at the tattoo on her wrist and sighs. “Like a spark or anything? No. More like butterflies in your stomach. I was so nervous over Jimmy/Steve.”

“Really?” Debbie perks up at the mention of butterflies. “You never told me that.”

Fiona shrugs. “You were young when I met him. You probably don’t remember. I didn’t want him over here for the longest. I was ashamed back then.”

“But you did bring him over and he lived here for a while,” Debbie says. “He was fun.”

“Yeah, he gave me an X-Box,” Carl adds.

Fiona nods. “He was but he was also dangerous and not good for me. For us.”

“Did you feel something when he left?” Debbie asks.

“Debs,” Lip interrupts. He’s leaning against the counter by the fridge, a towel in his hands, watching his sister with worried eyes. He crosses his arms and turns to give Debbie a look.

“No, Lip,” Fiona stops him. “They’re old enough now. They’ve seen it all. They should know. God knows I wish I knew. And Ian knew.” She takes a deep breath and continues. “I felt a deep ache when he left. The pain was almost too much to bare but I did. I got up every day because of you and Carl and Liam. And Lip and Ian.” She nods at them. “I loved Jimmy/Steve but my love for you guys overcame the pain. And it took me a long time to realize I didn’t need him. I just needed my family.”

“Wow,” Debbie whispers. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to,” Fiona mumbles, looking down. “I’m always going to protect you.”

Debbie turns to Lip and Ian. “What about you two? Did you feel anything?”

“I uh-don’t really remember a lot. Those weren’t really good years for me, Debs,” Ian says, looking down at his feet. He shifts his weight from one foot to the next. He can feel Mickey get closer to him.

“Oh, Ian, I didn’t.”

“No, Debs, I know,” Ian looks back up and smiles at her. “The past is in the past. I’m good now.” He looks over at Mickey and smiles at him. Mickey smiles back, nodding at him.

“I was scared,” Lip speaks up, steering the conversation to him. Ian gives him a grateful smile. “I didn’t know how it was going to work with Ella. I watched Monica leave Frank at such a young age and I saw what it did to him. I watched Jimmy/Steve leave Fiona and how it almost destroyed her. I had just watched Ian lose his soulmate and I was scared. I didn’t think I could handle it happen to myself but then Ella talked and all my fears just vanished.” He walks over to Ella and she grins, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Aww,” Debbie grins. “Now that’s like the stories Fiona use to tell us when we were little.”

“Debs, I’m the rare one in the family that is still with their soulmate,” Lip continues. “Gallaghers don’t have good luck so you need to be careful.”

“You know, you could take off your covering and see if they are your soulmate,” Carl speaks up.

“Yeah but then that just the whole universe thing and my destiny. I want to take control of my destiny,” Debbie says. “I don’t need some dumb tattoo telling me that someone is my soulmate. What about what my heart says?”

Carl raises his eyebrows. “I think you've been reading too many feminist articles and books.”

Ian snorts, covering it up by burrowing his head in Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey tries to hide his smile. Debbie turns to Mickey, raising her eyebrows.

“What about you, Mickey? You found your soulmate, right? Did you feel anything?”

Ian feels Mickey stiffen and he lifts his head, looking at him. Mickey pulls away from Ian, biting his thumb nervously. “Uh, no. I didn’t feel anything.”

“What happened to your soulmate?” Debbie asks, leaning against the counter and placing her chin in her hands.

Mickey’s eyes widen. He glances at Ian before heading out the back door. Ian sighs, debating whether he should follow him. He gives Debbie a stern look as he walks to the back door.

“Don’t push him, Debs. If he wants to talk about it, he will,” he says before going outside.

He finds Mickey sitting on the steps, smoking a cigarette. Ian sits by him, grabbing the cigarette from him and takes a hit. Mickey glares at him and takes the cigarette back.

“Your sister is fucking nosy,” he mumbles, taking another hit.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Debbie doesn’t think before she speaks,” Ian says.

Mickey shrugs. “Your fucking family, man. They’re intense.”

“Yeah, they can be,” Ian agrees, throwing his arm around Mickey and rubbing his shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about your soulmate until you’re ready. Okay?”

Mickey sighs. “There’s not much to talk about. I don’t even know the guy’s name. Took off before I found out.”

Ian hisses. “Fucker.”

Mickey bows his head, twisting the cigarette between his hands. “What about you? You don’t like to talk about yours and sounds like your whole fucking family knows everything about you two, including his name..”

“Trevor,” Ian says. “His name was Trevor and I was with him for three years before he left me. That’s all you need to know.”

Mickey nods. “Okay.”

They sit in silence, sharing another cigarette. Mickey finally looks up.

“Are we good to put this soulmate shit behind us?”

“Yeah, Mick, I think that’s a great idea.”

Mickey grabs Ian’s hand and squeezes it. “Your fucking family, man,” he repeats. “Fiona is a badass though. Raising all you.”

Ian laughs then nods. “She’s the strongest person I know.”

“They’re going to take some time to get used to. I guess I need to get used to them, huh?” Mickey asks, turning to look at Ian.

Ian processes his words then his face breaks into a grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mickey grins, leaning into Ian.

The guy Debbie meets end up not being her soulmate. The guy shows her his countdown about an hour into their first date. She’s disappointed but they end up going out for a few dates. When he dumps her, Fiona and Ian are there with pizza and ice cream.

Ian starts spending more weekends at Mickey’s. Yevgeny loves Ian and is so happy whenever he comes over. He still has no idea that Ian and Mickey are together. He tells Svetlana one day that Ian is always over but neither Ian and Mickey know until one morning Ian walks in Mickey’s kitchen to find Svetlana holding a knife.

“Uh, hi?” Ian greets, confused.

“You Ian?” Svetlana asks, twirling the knife in between her fingers.

“Yes.”

“Mikhailo and Evgeni asleep?”

“Yeah?” Ian raises his eyebrows and move past her to grab a piece of bread. He pops it in the toaster and turns back to her. “I have an early shift and I thought you were picking Yev up later?”

“We need to talk,” Svetlana says, sitting down and sitting the knife in the table.

Ian takes the bread out of the toaster and puts it on a plate. He sits down across from her with his toast and a jar of peanut butter. “Sorry, I have to eat something.”

“I do not care,” she glares at him. “Milkhailo has been through a lot. I will not have you break his heart.”

“I wasn’t planning on it?”

Svetlana nods to his right wrist. “And your soulmate?”

Ian moves his hand to hide it under the table. “You don’t have to worry about him.”

Svetlana narrows her eyes. “My Evgeni is involved now. If he comes back and you leave, I kill you.”

Ian is speechless, staring at her. She gives him a small evil like grin and is gone as quickly as she left. Ian stays at the table confused until Mickey walks in.

“Morning. I thought you had an early shift,” Mickey says, kissing his cheek before starting on breakfast.

“Yeah. Um, your ex was just here?”

Mickey turns around, raising his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Svetlana was here in the kitchen when I woke up and I think she threatened me?”

Mickey scoffs and turns back around. “Yeah, that’s normal. She’s always doing that.”

“She stuck the knife in the table.”

“Fuck! Again? Damn it, Svet!” Mickey looks at the table, running his hand over it, looking for the mark.

“I’m so confused right now.”

Mickey rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry about her, man. She’s like that. She doesn’t mean anything.”

Ian gulps. “She sounded pretty serious, Mick.”

“I’ll deal with her. You better start getting ready or you’ll be late.”

Ian barely makes it into work on time. Sue raises her eyebrows at him when he rushes by to his locker but doesn’t say anything until he is changed and sitting on the bed of the ambulance.

“Cutting it close, Gallagher,” Sue says, handing him a coffee.

“Yeah, sorry. Mickey’s ex appeared this morning and threatened me.”

Sue whistles. “Jesus.”

“Yeah, it was weird. Mick said not to worry about her but she sounded pretty serious.”

Sue slaps his shoulder. “Living without your soulmate is super dramatic.”

“Nah, being a Gallagher dating a Milkovich is,” Ian says, taking a sip of his coffee. His eyes widen at a thought. “Fuck! Mandy! We haven’t told Mandy.”

“Jesus, Gallagher, take you dramatics elsewhere.” Sue pushes him off the bed of the ambulance, rolling her eyes.

When Ian gets off, he calls Mandy and she screams in his ear for five minutes. She tells him that she is coming home as soon as she can. She arrives at Mickey’s apartment one week later. Yevgeny squeals when he sees her and jumps into her arms.

The first night, Ian and Mandy stay up most of the night. Mandy tells Ian all about her adventures around the United States and trying to find her soulmate. She shows Ian her countdown and how little time she has left. Mandy left almost four years ago to try to find her soulmate faster. She has yet to find him any faster but has enjoyed exploring the country.

Mandy stays for the rest of the summer. She watches Yevgeny on the weekends so Ian and Mickey can go out. She joins them for family dinners at the Gallaghers. Fiona welcomes her back with open arms and Debbie drags her away for boy advice. She connects with Ella almost immediately and the two tease Lip constantly. She catches up with Mickey and they talk for hours. When it’s time for her to live, Yevgeny sobs, Ian hugs her tight, and even Mickey hugs her. She cries and promises to come back as soon as she has found her soulmate.

Summer turns into fall. Ian spends more time at Mickey’s than his house. The only time he goes to the Gallaghers is when he has a night shift. When Mickey is at the Gallaghers, he forms this weird bond with Fiona. The two seem to get each other. Ian has caught Mickey texting with her on several occasions.

Yevgeny starts school and Mickey hates that the kid walks straight into the classroom and doesn’t look back. Svetlana refuses to let Ian join them on his first day so Mickey shows him all the pictures on his phone later. Svetlana still hates Ian no matter what he does. Mickey tries to have a dinner in hopes they will get along but Svetlana ends up slamming a knife into the table and Mickey yells at her for ruining the table. Ian and Svetlana come to a mutual hatred after that.

Ian has been managing his bipolar disorder for almost six years. Mickey has yet to see Ian in a depressive or manic state since they started dating almost eight months ago. Ian knows it won’t last and only time will tell but he’s enjoying it will he can.

The depressive episode creeps on him as it turns colder. He can feel himself getting more tired and cranky. When Fiona asks him about it, he snaps then storms out of the house. At Mickey’s, he tries to hide it. He can sense that Mickey doubts him but he doesn’t say anything about it. He has heard Ian snap at Fiona and Lip too many times to even try to ask.

One afternoon during his shift, Sue sends him home. When he protests angrily, she calls Fiona. Fiona huffs when she picks him up. She tries to convince him to go to the clinic but he refuses. He storms up the stairs as soon as they get home and refuses to come down for dinner.

The next morning, he doesn’t get up. He doesn’t feel anything except anger. Anger at himself. He should have seen this coming. He should know the signs now after six years.

“Ian?” He hears Debbie’s voice but he can’t speak. He feels his bed sink and a hand on his shoulder. “Fiona said to check on you. Do you need anything?”

He can’t respond. He hates that he’s doing this to his family. That he can’t force himself up. He hears Debbie sigh and feels his shoulder being squeezed.

“I’ll call Sue.” The bed creaks and the extra weight is gone. He hears Debbie quietly close the door.

Ian doesn’t know how much time passes. Debbie, Carl, and Liam come and go. They talk to him, squeeze his shoulder then leave. When Fiona appears next, Ian figures it’s the end of the day.

“Hey, sweetface,” she whispers. “I called Lip. He’s on his way. Do you want me to call Mickey?”

Ian hates himself even more. He’s not just hurting his family anymore. He’s hurting his boyfriend. He wants to tell her yes but he can’t. Instead, he sinks deeper into his pillow. He feels the bed sink again and hair tickle his neck.

Fiona doesn’t say anything. She just lays there beside him. Time passes again and the door creaks open.

“Hey,” Ian hears Lip whisper.

Ian feels Fiona shift and the hair is gone. “Hey.”

“I got supper for the kids. Liam’s scared. He keeps asking what’s going on. Debbie isn’t helping with her statistics.”

Ian’s anger at himself grows. His little brother is scared of him. He needs to get up. He needs show Liam that he’s okay.

“I shouldn’t have left him here with Debbie.”

“I can take him to my place tonight. Unless you need me here.”

“No, I think it’s better if Liam goes with you. You can talk to him and try to explain it.”

“What about tomorrow? Debbie and Carl have school.”

“I’m taking off. I’m the manager now so they can go fuck themselves if they say anything.”

Ian hears Lip chuckle. There’s silence for a long time and Ian figures Lip left but then Lip speaks back up. “Did you call Mickey?”

“No. I don’t know how he’s going to react to this. What if he runs off like Trevor?”

“Mandy stayed. It can’t hurt to call.”

“Okay. Do you want to call him or me?”

Ian hears Lip snort. “You two have this weird friendship. I think you should.”

The extra weight leaves the bed. “Stay in here until I get back?”

“Fiona, Debbie said he didn’t move all day. He’s not going to try anything.” There’s silence again and weight back on the bed. “Go call Mickey. I’ll be right here.”

The door slowly closes. Ian feels his legs being pushed and he wants to kick Lip but he can’t. He hears Lip sigh and feels weight on his legs.

“You’re a stubborn fuck, you know that,” he hears Lip say. “I don’t want to make you feel worse but I told you so. Fiona did too. You have to start listening to us. If not us, you need to talk to Mickey and he can tell you when something is up.”

Ian still doesn’t say anything. Lip is right. He usually is. He hears the door slowly up and the weight is off his legs.

“Mickey’s on his way. He has to drop Yev off with Svetlana. He wanted to bring him but I didn’t think that was a good idea.” He hear Fiona say.

“Probably for the best. Don’t want to scare the kid.” There’s a pause. “I’ll stay here until he gets here.”

“Can you go downstairs and stop Debbie and Carl? Liam’s freaking out again and those two are not helping.”

“Yeah, I’ll bring Mickey up when he gets here.”

The door closes again and the bed sinks again. He feels Fiona’s hand on his shoulder and she starts rubbing. “Hey, sweetface, you can get past this. You always do.” He feels something on his shoulder. “We love you.” The extra weight is gone and she continues rubbing his shoulder.

Ian doesn’t know how much time passes when the door opens back up. The bed shifts and he feels Fiona get up.

“What’s going on?” Mickey. He’s here. He showed up. He didn’t leave him.

“He’s having a depressive episode,” he hears Fiona explain. “Did Ian tell you about it?”

“Yeah, he explained it and Mandy told me how he was when he was diagnosed. Does he need to go to the doctor?”

He hears Lip snort. “Good luck getting him to leave the bed.”

“Lip!” Ian hears a slap and a ‘Fuck’ from Lip. “It’s not that easy, Mickey. He can still have an episode when his meds are working but we don’t know until we can get him to his doctor. And even if he has to get new meds, it could take a while.”

“How long are we talking?”

“Few weeks. A month or two,” Ian hears Lip add.

He hears Mickey cuss and the bed sinks. “What can I do?”

“Talk to him. Help him stay hydrated and go to the bathroom.”

There is silence and Ian wishes he could speak and tell Mickey that he’s okay. He feels a cold hand on his face.

“I’m going to head out, Fi. Call me if anything happens.”

“I’ll walk you out. I need to tell Liam goodbye.”

The door closes again and the hand starts stroking his face . “I’m here, Ian. I’m not going anywhere.”

Ian squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block the tears.

Weeks pass or at least Ian assumes it’s been weeks and Mickey stays with him as much as he can. He only leaves when he has to work or go get Yevgeny. Ian feels awful for making him do this but can’t bring himself to get up. One afternoon, Fiona is with sitting him while Mickey goes to get Yevgeny. Ian is facing her today and listening to her read a ridiculous romance novel out loud.

Fiona scoffs when she gets to the love scene and slams the book shut. “I don’t know why I still read these things. It’s the same story line with different character names.”

“Because you need to get laid,” he mumbles.

Fiona gasps, poking him with her foot. “I liked it when you didn’t talk.”

Ian gives her a small grin.

Fiona frowns, looking sorry immediately. “I know you hate when I ask but how are you feeling, sweetface?”

Ian tucks the blanket closer. “Okay. When’s Mickey coming back?”

“He should be back now.”

They sit in silence and Ian must have fallen asleep again because the next thing he knows, the bed is sinking and there is a body on top of his.

“Yev! I told you not to do that.”

The weight is gone and Ian shifts, opening his eyes. Yevgeny is right in front of his face, his eyes wide.

“Daddy says you’re sick,” he says.

Ian groans and looks up at Mickey. Mickey pulls Yevgeny back. “Sorry, he wanted to see you. Fiona and I didn’t think it was a good idea but he cried.”

“It’s okay. Yeah, Yev, I’m sick.”

“Why don’t you take some medicine?” Yevgeny asks, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s not that simple, Yev,” Ian sighs. “But I’m getting better.”

“Do you need a hug? Hugs always make me feel better.”

“A hug sounds great, Yevy.”

Yevgeny grins and climbs up into the bed, snuggling closer to Ian. Ian hears Mickey make a small noise in protest but Ian just smiles at him, letting him know it’s okay. He closes his eyes and quickly falls back to sleep. When he wakes back up, Yevgeny is gone and Mickey is in his place. Ian sighs in contentment and snuggles closer to Mickey, burying his face in Mickey’s neck.

It takes Ian another week before he starts feeling better. He gets up one morning and Mickey and Fiona take him to his doctor. After a long talk and few adjustments, Ian feels a little better. It takes him another week to get back on his feet. Mickey is there with him the whole time. He finally goes back to work and slowly starts feeling like himself.

"I'm sorry."

Mickey puts his phone down and looks down at Ian. It's been almost a month since Ian has gotten over his depressive episode. Fiona continues to keep a close eye on him and because of it, Mickey starts staying with him at the Gallagher house more and more. He only goes to his place when he has Yevgeny. Even though Mickey hates Ian's mattress, he doesn't complain. They are currently squished in Ian's awful, too small mattress. "For what?"

"That was my first episode since we started seeing each other," Ian continues. "I'm sorry I did that to you. I'm sorry you had to see me like that. And I know it's a lot to handle so I get it if you don't want to do this anymore."

Mickey rubs his eyes, silent for a moment. Ian watches him, his eyes wide. Mickey sighs and picks his phone back up, turning it to show Ian what's on the screen. Ian grabs the phone, sitting up to read. "'Soulmates and Bipolar Disorder'? Mick, why are you reading this?"

"Most articles about helping someone with bipolar has to do with soulmates," Mickey grumbles. "Figured it couldn't hurt."

"No, I-" Ian stops and looks at him. "I don't understand."

Mickey rolls his eyes and sits up to look in the eye. He grabs his face and kisses him. "Ian, I'm here in your loud childhood house with your nosy older sister, annoying teenage siblings, and your younger brother. I'm laying on your stupid, lumpy mattress that barely fits your tall ass. Your episode hit during the worst possible time with my son starting school yet I still fucking showed up. I'm not going anywhere. And don't fucking apologize for who you are."

Ian grins, pushing him down on the mattress that he hates so much and kisses him slowly.

Christmas and the New Year comes and goes. Ian changes shifts and starts studying for his paramedic exam. Mickey picks up more shifts at the bar to help with Yevgeny getting into private school. After a long, heated discussion with Svetlana, they realized public wasn't working for the kid. Ian and Mickey barely get to see other lately and when they did, they enjoyed the time together.

One cold morning, Ian and Mickey are in the kitchen eating breakfast. The house is empty and they are enjoying not only the rare silence but the rare time they have together now with their busy schedules. Mickey is teasing Ian over his small breakfast when the front door opens.

“Where’s my loving family?” Frank’s voice carries into the kitchen.

Ian rolls his eyes, mumbling under his breath about money and stupid Frank.

“Kids?”

Ian pales when he hears the other voice. He stands up slowly, watching Frank and Monica come into view.

“Ian!” Monica squeals, running into the kitchen and pulling him into her arms.

Ian slowly wraps his arms around her and whispers. “Hi, Mom.”

Frank ignores them, and pushes past them to start looking in the kitchen cabinets and draws. “Can you spare some cash?”

“Fuck off, Frank,” Mickey pipes up. No one has seen him in weeks and they really thought he might have died this time. Unfortunately, they weren’t that lucky.

Monica pulls away from Ian and looks at Mickey. She glances down at Ian’s right wrist and her mouth widens. “Oh.”

“Just a five would work. But $150 would be better,” Frank continues, opening up the fridge.

Ian rolls his eyes. “We don’t have any money, Frank.”

“That’s bullshit,” Frank turns to him, getting in his face.

“Frank!” Monica cries.

“Hey!” Mickey yells, standing up and yanking Frank back. “Get the fuck away from him.”

Frank immediately reacts, trying to punch Mickey. Mickey ducks and grabs Frank by the arms, pulling them behind his back. Monica screams, trying to pull Mickey off. Mickey gives Ian a look and Ian gives him a short nod. Mickey drags Frank out, ignoring Frank’s constant screaming.

“What the hell? Frank!” Monica cries. She turns to Ian and starts hitting his chest, yelling at him. Ian grabs her hands, forcing her to stop.

“We don’t have any money, Mom. You and Frank can’t have our money,” Ian yells, forcing her to look in his eyes. “You aren’t using it on drugs.”

“Ian, no.”

“Why are you here, Mom? Why are you here?”

“Can’t a mother just come see here children?”

Ian raises his eyebrows. “Really, Mom? You’ve been gone for five years this time.”

Monica sighs, sitting down at the table. She pats the seat next to her and Ian hesitantly sits down. Monica grabs his right hand and turns it around, looking at the zero tattoo. “That man, he isn’t your soulmate.”

Ian shakes his hand, pulling his wrist back. “You’ve met my soulmate, Mom. You know that time you tried to kill yourself in front of the sink? He was here.”

“What happened?”

Ian sighs, running his hand through his hair. “You really don’t remember?” Monica shakes her head. “He left because of my bipolar disorder. He didn’t like how it affected our relationship so he left.”

“Oh, baby,” Monica grabs Ian’s hand and squeezes it. “He’ll come back though. He’s your soulmate.”

Ian pulls his hand away. “I don’t want him back. I have Mickey.”

Monica sighs. “I’ve had other men and women besides Frank but they aren’t the same. They don’t give you the same feeling as your soulmate.”

Ian stands up, pushing his chair out from under him, causing it to fall. He clenches his fists, his face twisting in anger. “Then why the fuck do you leave him? If Frank is your soulmate, why do you keep leaving?”

“Cause Frank drives me crazy!”

Ian scoffs. “That doesn’t mean anything, Mom. If you love Frank like you say, you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t leave us .”

“Ian,” Monica reaches out, grabbing his hands. “You need to listen to me. Mickey will not give you the same joy as your soulmate. He will never make you feel whole. That’s why I keep coming back. I always think I can find someone that won’t drive me crazy like Frank but none of them make me feel the same.”

“Jesus Christ, Frank’s like a fucking cockroach,” Mickey mumbles, coming back inside. He looks around the kitchen, raising his eyebrows at Ian when he sees the chair knocked over and Ian standing over his mother.

Ian pulls away from Monica. “I have to get work. You should probably leave before Fiona or the kids get back,” he tells Monica. He turns away before Monica can say anything else. He can hear Mickey follow him and he turns around when he gets to the front door. “I have to go. Can you make sure she leaves?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mickey answers, crossing his arms. “You coming over tonight?”

Ian shrugs. “I’ll let you know before I get off, okay.”

Mickey nods, watching him leave.

After work, Ian heads straight home, calling Mickey and telling him that he’s tired. Mickey accepts it and lets it go. He lays in bed that night and thinks about everything Monica says. He knows he shouldn’t but his brain doesn’t listen and continues to play Monica’s words over and over.

Ian starts picking up even more shifts after that. He tells himself he isn’t avoiding Mickey but he knows he is. Mickey hunts him down and corners him one afternoon in the station, demanding to know what’s going on.

“We need the money so I picked up some extra shifts. It’s nothing,” Ian assures him, quickly pecking him on the cheek.

“Fine,” Mickey huffs. “Come over tonight?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

When Mickey leaves, Sue lets out a low whistles. Ian glares at her but she doesn’t say anything.

Ian has every intention of talking to Mickey that night but as soon as Ian opens Mickey’s door, Mickey is on him. After two rounds of sex and two plates of pizza bagels each, they sit up in Mickey’s bed, sharing a cigarette.

“Fuck, man, maybe you should work more often. Makes the reunions pretty fucking awesome,” Mickey grins, handing him the cigarette.

Ian hums, not saying anything. His mind his racing, going back to Monica’s words.

“Kid’s been wondering where you’ve been. He misses you,” Mickey says, taking the cigarette back. “Won’t stop bugging me about you.”

Ian laughs at the image of Yevgeny bugging Mickey about him. The five year old was known for his constant questions, driving Mickey insane. “Driving you insane?”

“The kid won’t shut up. He kept following me around.”

Ian laughs, leaning against Mickey. Mickey places his hand on Ian’s thigh, squeezing it. They sit in silence for a while. Ian stretches after a while and sits up. Mickey groans at the loss of contact, sitting up and watching Ian get dressed.

“Why don’t you stay?” he asks.

Ian shakes his head. “Can’t. I have a double tomorrow.”

“I have the kid this weekend.”

“Mick, you have Yev every weekend,” Ian turns to him, grinning.

“Are you going to come over? Or am I stuck with him following me around all weekend?”

Ian hesitates, pulling on his shirt. Monica’s words start running through his head but then he sees Mickey’s face and can’t help but tell him that he’ll be there. He kisses Mickey quickly and heads out the door.

That weekend, Ian heads to Mickey’s apartment. He is greeted by Yevgeny jumping into his arms.

“Ian!” the boy squeals, hugging him around the neck. “We’re making pancakes!”

“Breakfast for supper?” Ian asks, setting him down. “That sounds like an amazing idea.”

“Come on!” Yevgeny takes Ian’s hand and tries to drag him into the kitchen.

Ian chuckles at the boy and lets him lead him into the kitchen. Mickey’s standing in front of the stove with a kitchen towel over his shoulder, flipping pancakes. He turns around and grins when he sees Ian.

“Hey, hope you like breakfast for supper. Kid here was begging for pancakes,” Mickey says.

Ian smiles, looking over. “Looks good.”

“Ian! Look what I drew!” Yevgeny tugs on Ian’s hand, trying to lead him to the table.

Mickey gives him a quick kiss and watches him go over to the kitchen table.

Later that night, after eating, Mickey goes to put Yevgeny to bed and Ian stands at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes. Mickey comes in a few minutes later and leans against the counter, watching him. Ian turns, giving him a weird look.

“What?” he asks.

Mickey shrugs, crossing his arms. “Nothing. Just like watching you.”

Ian rolls his eyes but grins. “Weirdo.”

Mickey chuckles, pushing off the counter. He goes up to stand by Ian, pushing him to the side so he can take over rinsing the dishes. They wash the dishes in silence and then dry and put the dishes away. After Ian puts the last dish away, he leans against the counter and places the towel over his shoulder. Mickey washes down the countertops, feeling Ian watching him.

“Now who’s the weirdo,” Mickey mumbles. He finishes his chore, throwing the washcloth in the sink. He walks over and stands in front of Ian. “Thanks for coming over. Meant a lot to the kid.”

Ian tilts his head, giving him a look. “Just Yev?”

“Come on, man,” Mickey bows his head, hitting his shoe against Ian’s. “I- uh like this thing between us. I like you being here and I- uh like going over to your place. I really like you, Gallagher.”

Ian bows his head. This is Mickey’s way of telling him how much he likes him, possibly love, and Ian’s terrified. Monica’s voice grows louder and louder in his head. He can’t breathe. “Yeah, well I hope so. This thing has been going on for what? Nine months?”

Mickey chuckles. “A long fucking time, man. Almost a year. Should we celebrate or something?”

Ian doesn’t look up. His mind is racing. Celebrate. He wants to celebrate their anniversary. Monica’s voice continues to get louder. He grips the countertop and looks at his shoes. He sees Mickey’s right hand move towards him. He notices the tattoo. He pushes past Mickey, trying to put some distance between them. “What about your soulmate?”

“What’s going on? I thought we put this soulmate shit behind us,” Mickey asks, reaching to grab Ian’s hand but Ian flinches. Mickey sighs. “There’s nothing to talk about. He left. Just like yours.”

“Don’t you want him to come back?” Ian asks.

“Why are you bringing this up? We talked about it."

"No, we didn't," Ian says. "We pushed it away, buried it."

Mickey groans. "Seriously, Gallagher? What the fuck is this? You really want a fucking answer? No, I don't want him back. Why would I? Just so he can leave again?” Ian hears Mickey move towards him so he moves further away. “What’s this about?” Ian doesn’t say anything. “Ian? Look at me, man.”

Ian slowly turns around to face him. Mickey’s eyes are wide and he looks panic. “I-uh need to think about us.”

“Ian-”

“I just need to think about this,” Ian grabs his jacket off the chair and puts it on. He gives Mickey one last look before grabbing his keys. Mickey is looking down at the kitchen floor when Ian closes the door.

He doesn’t get out of bed the next day. Fiona tries to talk to him but he ignores her and rolls over. Lip comes by late afternoon and drags him out of bed. Ian tries to fight him but Lip overpowers him. He forces him into his fancy car and drives him to Patsy’s. Ian glares at him but follows him inside, letting Lip order for him.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on with you?” Lip demands after the waitress takes their orders. “You just recovered from a depressive episode a few months ago so I know it’s not that.”

Ian shrugs, looking down.

Lip sighs at his lack of answer. “Fiona tells me that Mickey has stopped coming over. And you’ve only been over to his place twice in the last few weeks. Something’s going on with you and you need to tell me what.”

The waitress comes back with their drink order. Ian thanks her and takes his tea. He absentmindedly stirs it, avoiding Lip.

“Ian, come on,” Lip tries again.

“Monica came back a few weeks ago,” Ian starts.

“Yeah, I remember Debbie said something about it. She stayed maybe a week this time,” Lip says bitterly.

“Mickey and I were home alone when she walked in. Frank was with her and was being Frank. Mickey got him out of the house,” Ian tells him, still stirring his tea. “Monica sat down with me and told me that Mickey wouldn’t give me the same feeling as Trevor. She told me that Trevor would be back. I know she’s wrong. She fucking left us so much that her words mean nothing but my mind just kept playing her words back.”

Lip sighs, running his hand through his hair. He is silent for a long time, thinking. Ian knows he is trying to think of something to say that won’t make him mad. Lip finally sighs, gripping his mug. “Look, you know I’m not a fan of Mickey but he is a whole lot better than fucking Trevor. He cares for you and is there for you more in this last year than Trevor ever was those three years. Monica is a fucking idiot for saying that.”

“I know. And I know I shouldn’t have listened to her but I did,” Ian bows his head, looking into his coffee. “I told Mickey I needed to think about our relationship.”

Lip hisses. “Those words really fucking got to you.”

“I just kept thinking about Mickey’s soulmate and if he comes back.”

“Fuck Monica, okay? Fuck those words. Fuck your soulmate and fuck Mickey’s soulmate.” Ian looks up at his brother, shocked at his words. Lip holds eye contact him. “You love Mickey. You are good for Mickey and he’s good for you.”

“I do love him,” Ian nods.

“Then go tell him that.”

“But what if he leaves?”

Lip sighs. “I know you don’t want to be hurt again and I can’t tell you that you never will again. And if it does happen, you move on and you beat it.”

Ian stares at him, his mind racing. He stands up, almost knocking over his mug. “I have to go.” He runs out of the diner, almost hitting the waitress bringing their food but he keeps running. He doesn’t stop until he’s in front of Mickey’s door and almost beats it down when he knocks on it.

“Holy fucking. Calm your fucking tits. I’m coming!” Mickey yells inside. Ian hears him stomping to the door and he can’t stand still. “What?” The door yanks open and Mickey stands there fuming. When he sees it’s Ian, his face falls but only slightly. He opens his mouth to speak but Ian doesn’t give him time. He grabs Mickey’s shirts and kisses him. Mickey reacts immediately, pulling him inside. Mickey kicks the door closes with his foot and they stumble into the apartment, falling onto the couch. The sex is quick and over before it even really started. Ian leads him into the bedroom and this time they take their time.

“Holy fuck,” Mickey groans as they lay next to each after the second round.

“Yeah,” Ian says. He rolls over, facing Mickey. He runs his hand through Mickey’s hair, reeling in the softness of it. “I’m sorry I ran out the other day. My mom said these things about soulmates and I couldn’t stop thinking about it even though it was bullshit. I mean, she has left Frank so fucking much yet she claims no one else makes her feel like Frank. But she’s wrong. Mick,” Ian stops talking and looks at him, his fingers twisting around Mickey’s hair. “Mick, I love you. I don’t need time to think about us.”

Mickey looks down, not saying anything for a long time. Ian moves his hand and runs his finger across Mickey’s cheek, nervously, waiting for a response. Mickey looks up after what feels like a lifetime and pulls Ian in for a kiss that takes Ian’s breath away. He pulls away and stares into Ian’s eyes. “What you and I have- makes me feel free.”

Ian’s face hurts he’s grinning so much. He goes to pull Mickey in for another kiss but Mickey stops him.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I'm in. I'm all in.”

#shameless #shameless fanfiction #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #my stories #my fics

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dag-dog-cas-blog · 6 years

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Service

In Slovakia, we recently bought our neighbors land and house, because they died, and their kids didn’t want it, so, my dad bought it, thinking that if we tear that house down, and build a new one, my brother and I can be neighbors. But the problem is that that house has been unoccupied for years, and even when the couple did live there, they were so old that and the land so big that they didn’t have enough strength to pull out all the weeds and take care of the land, so when my parents bought it, my mom decided that she was going to clean the place up, and that is what we did. During Easter Vacation, we helped my mom organize the bricks, because for some reason the family had enough bricks to build a small house. The problem is that most of them were broken, so my brother and I had to go through the pile, looking for whole ones that we then made stacks of the whole ones and the broken ones. We also pulled out a lot of weeds and trash that was in the land, and my mom planted a plant that stops weeds from growing, the only problem was that it didn’t work.

So this year, we went back and pulled out all the weeds again. Then a tractor came and tilled the soil, and then my brother and I went and picked up all the trash again, there were rocks, plastic, metal and a lot of bones, like enough bones for a small graveyard, and they were big bones too, so either the family buried their farm animals and dogs there, or it was the hunting ground for some small predator like a cat or dog. This time, the plant works and the weeds have no chance of making a return, probably.

Another thing that my parents bought is this huge field, on which my mom used to go play when she was little, it used to be her grandmother’s but she sold it to some random guy that took no care of it, and the forest started creeping back in. There were trees everywhere, no grass just mud, and the fence that surrounded the property was really messed up. Also, there used to be a farm there, but it was in ruins. So the guy decided to sell it and when my mom found out she had to buy it, because that’s where her childhood happened, only problem was that there was a lot of work to be done, in an effort to make it look good, the guy cut all the trees, leaving stumps that had to be removed, a lot of rocks (big and small) that had to be moved and lumps of concrete that had to be thrown out. A lot of this was done during Easter Vacation and last Summer Vacation, but it’s a big place and we had to work on it this Summer Vacation and we will continue to work on it in the near and far future.

So this Summer Vacation, a lot was done, while we were gone there were several strong storms that made trees from the forest around Walden (that is what I shall be calling the field from now on), and since they were on our property and they were taking up space, the gardeners that take care of the occasional thing there cut them up and let them dry. Now we have like 4-5 big piles of wood, and my mom’s parents use a heater powered by wood, which it burns. Then we also had to burn a large pile of branches that we have gathered over the years and were just taking up space. So they needed to be burned but we couldn’t burn them outright due to the fear of causing a forest fire, so we had to slowly take them to the ruined farm (which was demolished completely because it the whole place was caved and it looked like the roof would fall and crush anybody that was underneath so a tractor took down everything but one wall in which there was a hive of wild bees so the tractor dude had to run away to avoid getting stung). We had to water the fruit trees that my mom planted, we had to move boulders.

If you had seen it when we bought it, and now, you wouldn’t recognize it.

#caslife #summervacation

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zhangspatialmusing · 3 years

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WHAT IS THE FIRST PLACE YOU REMEMBER?

messy stream of consciousness, unedited, raw

Although I try to take my time, to truly deeply think about the very first place I remember, there is only so much I can recall relating to the matters of my childhood home. Glossy dented wooden floorboards worn over years but still somehow sturdy and unyielding – a comforting cool in summer and an unforgiving film of ice if we had forgotten to turn on the heater during the season of rain. I remember that there was a fireplace, how we used to light it up every now and then to roast kumara in tinfoil – the decadent smell of sweetness and that smoky burning wood wafting throughout the living room. It’s strange, I didn’t think I’d remember so much about my childhood home – it's all a haze yet there are fragments that remain. Like, the pale, chalky, blue hexagonal swimming pool that my family never used – the neglect of this body of water clearly seen through the growth of moss and algae, and the favorite dwelling of a pair of ducks that would visit the pool every night as a place of roosting – an unwanted pool ironically the place of rest and comfort by another family. Thinking of this particular pool, I remember the changes of our backyard; the strange array of plants speckled around the small plain of our house – I'm sure if I ever got the chance to revisit my childhood home, the backyard would no longer house the roses my mum had planted along with the pumpkin vines that fought with the prickly bushes in a never-ending war (I wouldn’t have a way of knowing who would win), and the backyard would no longer house the grapevines and feijoas. When I think of the grapes, I think of the punishing bitter sour that filled my younger tongue in my misjudgment between green grapes and the raw common grape vine. The backyard was truly a place of wonder for me back then; although, the swimming pool was replaced by a burnt red ochre deck that was erected in my family’s attempt of forgetting its existence – I would still remember it now and wish that my family had kept it. I remember the stiff carpet of the room next to the garage down the hovering spiral of metal suspended wood stairs – the place where we had to strategically place a bucket whenever it rained because it leaked – the room where I spent most of my childhood reimagining fairytales through that seemingly eternalized energy of building fortresses and fighting dragons that never stopped even now. Lastly when I think of my childhood, I can faintly remember the then new dark leather sofa that occupied our living room – the smooth stiffness of its embrace and its fabric “sliminess” to touch at the height of its age; the timeless piece that followed us through three moves and still resides in one of our living rooms still. My childhood home is something that does not make me feel anything other than the strangeness that envelopes every fiber of my being at the lack of nostalgia I feel towards that quiet brooding brick house with peeling wallpapers that younger 5-year-old me had terrorized with crayons (even now I still seem to recall more details as I continue to write) - it was a simpler time with family, I suppose, but there is an estrangement because it was so long ago.

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nalufever · 6 years

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Fairy Tail December Drabbles

I’ve compiled all my December Drabbles, most of which are ‘5-sentencers,’ all featuring my OTP of Nalu, some with a few additional Fairy Tail Characters to round out some of the drabbles. They’re a mix of mostly-canon and mildly ModernAU.

Ice Skating

“You know, I never figured you for the ice skating type,” Lucy shrugged and reached out to boop Natsu on the nose. “You’ve got hidden skills.”

He laughed and grabbed Lucy by the hips, pushing her ahead of himself. She shrieked with mock fear, threatening to pull Natsu’s hair out if he made her fall.

Natsu ignored that, holding his partner closer, whispering into her ear. “Not just at skating, Luce!”

“Yeah?”

Natsu slowed their pace, gliding to a stop at the far end of the rink - away from all the other skaters.

Lucy turned and grinned, mischief and desire an equal mix on her face. “What else are you good at?”

Natsu blinked owlishly - astonished by Lucy’s tone and hands that were busy stroking his shoulders. “Lots of things?”

Lucy played with Natsu’s scarf, tugging his face closer. “Like what?” She laughed and apologized, “Sorry, you’re so cute when you’re flustered!”

Her eyes widened as Natsu smirked. The fire kindling in his eyes made her stomach twist and flip in the most delightful way. Natsu’s feet slipped and he grabbed at Lucy, who reflexively hugged him close.

Feet now steady and voice smug, Natsu bragged, “I’m good at pretending. Didja forget how well I skate, weirdo? We’ll see who gets flustered more.” He bridged the gap between them, connecting his lips to hers. Long minutes passed as they kissed, lost in their own personal wonderland.

Scarf

Natsu thrust a gilt-wrapped box at Lucy, “This is for you, I’m sorry I destroyed your other one - I couldn’t find one that was close, so I hadda make it myself.”

Lucy pulled back several layers of tissue to reveal a scarf, knitted from glittering white yarn.

She wound it around her neck and smiled. Lucy ignored the uneven stitches and lop-sided fringe, and the fact that it was wider on one end than the other. Natsu had made this for her and she’d treasure it always.

Frost

“For the last time Natsu, the line isn’t ‘Frosty the idiot’!” Lucy elbowed her partner, stabbing her finger on the printed lyrics. “It’s Frosty the Snowman!”

Natsu grinned and shook his head. “This song is obviously about Gray - it’s got a few details wrong, but 'made of snow’ and all the dancin’ around, pfft, that’s a dead giveaway!”

Family

A gasp and crash from the bathroom had Natsu racing over and forcing the door open. “Are you okay, Lucy?”

“I will be,” came her shaky reply, “in around nine months - no, make that eight months.”

“Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?” Lucy yelped as Natsu gathered her in his arms, kissed her cheek and swung her around, “We’re gonna be a family!”

Blizzard

“Stay right where you are,” Lucy whined, clutching Natsu tighter and snuggled her face on his chest.

“I was just gonna get up to pee, I’ll be right back.”

Lucy nodded reluctantly, allowing Natsu to climb out of bed. “Fine, but you’re gonna have to warm me up again.”

“You’re insatiable, but I like it.”

Candy Cane

Natsu dropped the new pair of panties into Lucy’s underwear collection, leaving a corner sticking out. Grinning, he shut the drawer and hollered, “Lucy, I can’t find it!”

“Seriously -” Lucy marched into their bedroom and nudged her boyfriend aside, yanking the drawer open. She stared slack-jawed as she picked up the frilly undies decorated with tiny candy canes.

Natsu blushed, “I wanted you to know I love eating candy canes.”

Cold

Lucy rolled over in bed, flopping into the spot where her personal heater should be - ah, make that Natsu, love of her life. “What’re you doing so early, out of bed?”

“Nothin’, totally not wrapping your Christmas gift,” insisted Natsu, “gimme another minute and I’ll warm you up.”

“But I’m not cold,” Lucy purred, “I’m feeling hot - so get over here and let’s blow off some steam.”

“Hells yeah.”

Hot Chocolate

Lucy sat and waited on the couch, Natsu had promised to make dinner - including dessert. Who could pass up something like that? The smells coming from the kitchen were amazing. The sizzling meat, roasted garlic and chocolate scents mingled in a mouth-watering way.

><><><><

“That was heavenly, Natsu.”

“Just wait ‘til you taste the cake - you wanna guess what the secret ingredient is?”

Lucy took a bite of the rich chocolate cake, closing her eyes, savoring the flavour. After a long minute she asked, “Chocolate?”

“Pfft, I said 'secret ingredient’ - of course there’s chocolate in there - but what kind?” Natsu could barely restrain himself from wriggling about like a puppy. “Guess again!”

“Coffee?”

“Not a big surprise either, you were the one to tell me about that trick.” Natsu rolled his eyes in an exaggerated display, “Guess again!”

Lucy giggled, “You should just tell me, I’m out of ideas.” She took a sip of her beverage and sighed with pleasure. “You made the most incredible meal though, Natsu.”

“One last guess, and I’ll give you a hint.” Natsu grinned. “Wanna make a bet?”

“Now I’m intrigued,” Lucy sat on the edge of her seat and considered her chances. “Winner takes control?”

“Is there any other bet worth making?”

“Do I still get a hint?” Lucy fluttered her eyelashes and pouted.

Natsu nodded, “Even if I lose I still win - yeah, you can have the hint. The secret ingredient is something we drank with dessert.”

“Wow, way to give it away, Natsu,” Lucy crowed, “Not so much a hint as it was the answer. The secret ingredient was hot chocolate!” In the thrill of winning the bet, she jumped to her feet in celebration. “You’re under my control tonight.”

“Ain’t I always?” Natsu laughed as Lucy dragged him to the bedroom, telling him the dishes could wait - but she couldn’t.

Snow Day

“Take that!” Lucy threw a snow ball straight and true - tagging Natsu full in the face because he’d whirled around at her gleeful shout. She gasped in horror, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

He spat snow and laughed, scooping up a new round of ammunition, “You’re gonna get it!”

“Yeah -” Lucy giggled, “but right now, it’s a snow day and getting’ it can wait until tonight!”

Lights

“What’s so important we need to go to your house this late at night?”

Natsu slung an arm around Lucy’s shoulders, “Don’t be so impatient - you’ll see - keep walking.”

“Fine, but…” Lucy gulped - the largest evergreen nearest to Natsu’s house blazed with light, glittering with ornaments and garlands.

“You said one of the things you missed from your childhood was the giant tree your parents decorated,” Natsu scuffed his boot in the snow, “ - this isn’t prolly as nice, but me an’ Happy made all the decorations ourselves, an -”

Lucy launched herself at her boyfriend, peppering his face with kisses, “It’s beautiful, I love it, and I love you.”

Fireplace

Happy dragged a stocking so big it could be considered a sack, offering it to Lucy with a mischievous grin, “Hang it on the fireplace for me?”

Lucy shook her head but accepted the item, “Don’t expect me to fill this to the top with fish.”

Affronted, Happy slapped his paw on his chest, “Of course not,” his voice lost the shocked tone and became overtly derisive, “Santa fills the Christmas stockings!”

Natsu laughed, “He’s got you there.”

Lucy let a little smile play about her lips, “And if you’re naughty, he fills them with coal.”

Slippers

Lucy tilted her head and begged for a kiss; Natsu brushed his lips over hers, coaxing a moan from his lover. He cupped her chin and tasted her mouth, tongue gliding - the languorous heat in his blood starting to blaze.

Natsu hoisted Lucy high on his waist - her legs wrapping around him - never stopping kissing. Shuffling backwards, he moved to their bedroom, kicking his slippers into opposite corners. “Time for that ‘quality alone time’ you wanted,” Natsu panted as Lucy nipped at his neck, “-so don’t hold back.”

“Can we make a double batch of cookies?”

“Mmm, sure - or we can make two different kinds,” Lucy offered, “How about some shortbread and sugar cookies?”

Natsu charged into the kitchen and threw on an apron, gathering tools and ingredients. He shouted over his shoulder towards the living room, “Hurry up Lucy - I wanna do it with you!”

Lucy sneaked behind Natsu and pinched his butt, “Cookies first, doin’ it later!”

Snowflake

“Don’t move,” Natsu clutched Lucy’s arms and looked over her head, eyes tracking the meandering snowflakes drifting gently down.

“W-what?”

“I’ve never seen one so large or beautiful,” Natsu leaned closer, his eyes suddenly switching to stare into Lucy’s, “But not as beautiful as you.” His cheeks flamed and he continued, “Will you marry me?”

Lucy nodded and then a wide smile bloomed, “Yes.”

Decorate

“Hand me the silver and blue one next,” Lucy instructed Natsu, “It’s got polka-dots.”

Natsu grabbed the ornament and gave it to Lucy, “When do we put the tree topper on?”

“Soon,” said Lucy, “I have a silly request for when I do, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” came Natsu’s reply, “This is our first time to decorate a tree as a couple - so I’m invested in doing this right.”

Lucy turned away from the tree, smiling at Natsu, “I want to turn on the tree lights, hold hands share a kiss - like my parents used to do.”

Winter

“Lucy, you never look like you’re cold,” said Levy, “here we are in the dead of winter, half a foot of snow on the ground and you’re still wearing crop tops and miniskirts- not to mention that jacket is more decorative than functional.”

A charming blush on her cheeks, Lucy giggled. “Fashion is enough to keep me warm.”

With a sly smile Levy asked, “Is that what you’re calling Natsu these days?”

"Natsu keeps me all fired-up, if you know what I mean."

Stars

Natsu wrapped his arms around Lucy, pulling her into his warmth, nestling his head on her shoulder, “How’d you know there’d be so many stars out tonight?”

“Am I or am I not, the greatest celestial mage you know?” Lucy topped off her words with a giggle, “You don’t know very many celestial mages, but -”

Natsu cut off Lucy with a long, lingering kiss. Pulling away he caressed her cheek, “The biggest, brightest star is always you.”

Candles

“Lucy, don’t you already own more candles than clothes at this point?” Levy picked up a package of emergency candles and dropped it back into Lucy’s groceries, “Did your landlady turn off the electricity or something?”

“Nothing like that,” Lucy blushed, “Natsu keeps complaining about how strong the scented ones are - and this is going to be his stocking stuffer.”

“Why the red cheeks and sparkle in your eyes?”

“Natsu does some of his best ‘work’ by candlelight.”

Christmas tree

“Now why do you suppose I had you carry an axe, Natsu?” Lucy pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, “You said you wanted an authentic experience - using an axe is part of the tradition.”

Natsu looked down at the still smoldering tree and back at Lucy, poorly hiding her smile. “You don’t care about that,” Natsu grinned, “you know what I’m like.”

“Still,” Lucy giggled, “I suppose a burned Christmas tree is exactly your style - let’s get it home and decorate!”

Gingerbread

"Lucy, did you make extras?” Natsu chewed and swallowed the rest of the gingerbread man he’d stuffed in his mouth.

“What kind of question is that?”

“An important one, ‘cause these are delicious and I want more!”

Lucy dropped a kiss on the side of Natsu’s head, “Yeah, I made extras.”

Mistletoe

Cana let out a long, low whistle, “Wow, you guys have gotten pretty bold in a short amount of time.” She walked around the still kissing couple under the mistletoe and poked Natsu on his back. “Times up, there’s other folks who wanna make out in public!”

Lucy pulled away with a pout, “If I know Mira - and I do, there’s more than a dozen balls of mistletoe decorating the guild.”

Cana nodded slowly, “Yeah, but you guys are blocking me from getting inside!”

White

Lucy accepted the white dove and placed the ornament high on the tree. “This one reminds me of my mom,” Lucy said to Natsu, “always a peace-maker - but if you pissed her off, watch out!”

Natsu dug into Lucy’s collection of second-hand and home-made decorations, selecting a nut-cracker soldier, “Who does this remind you of?”

Lucy grinned and brushed off some the flaking paint, “"Who else but my dad? Rigid and seeking order, but in his heart looking for his balancing better half - my mom.”

Ribbons

"Oi, ashes-for-brains, you have something in your hair-,” Gajeel snickered, “-tryin’ to look pretty?”

Natsu ignored Gajeel, giving Lucy a wide fang-tipped grin, “We can go eat breakfast somewhere else if you want - it’s kinda noisy and stupid over there.”

Lucy shrugged and made a show of considering her reply. “If Gajeel can’t get over his jealousy that you rock ribbons in your hair better than he ever could - that’s his problem. I did a great job on your braids and we’re not going anywhere.”

Presents

Natsu grinned, Lucy had fallen asleep on the couch reading. Removing the book from Lucy’s lax hands, Natsu tucked the blanket tighter and kissed her forehead. Now was the best time to wrap and stack her Christmas presents he’d hidden in the back of the closet. He hummed, happier than he could ever remember being - this year was special. This was their first Christmas as a couple and he wanted to treasure every memory.

Holiday

Natsu tossed a crumpled piece of paper at Lucy, “So, which present did you like the most? Was this the best holiday ever, or what?”

“I’m kinda partial to the one I’m giving you later,” Lucy picked up the missile and fired it back at her boyfriend, giggling as she scored a direct hit. “It’s the gift that keeps on giving, all night, if you know what I mean.”

Icicles

Natsu broke the icicle overhanging Lucy’s bedroom window, letting it drop once he determined it safe, “Lucy, what sort of reward will you give me?”

“Reward? I could have done that for myself,” Lucy crossed her arms and mock frowned at Natsu. “Actually, I liked how the light made the icicles shine.”

“Heh, I can make you forget all about that,” Natsu advanced on Lucy and kissed her deeply - instantly following through on his promise.

Snow globe

Natsu took the largest snow globe in Lucy’s collection and polished it before placing it on the end of the display. He shook each one in order, smiling as the fake snow inside swirled and calmed, “One more time?”

Lucy sat up on the couch and coughed, rasping weakly, ‘yes.’

“All right! One more time and then I make you some soup and more tea with honey.”

Shiver

Lucy hugged Natsu tighter in her sleep. A shiver wracked her body and she mumbled nonsensical words into his chest.

Natsu petted Lucy’s hair and stroked her back, surrounding Lucy with comforting heat. Pressing a kiss to Lucy’s temple, he began to hum a song. The early morning light was still hours away and Natsu would do his best to soothe Lucy deeper into slumber.

Evergreen

“Move over a few steps, get right under the evergreen tree.”

Natsu looked at the snow laden branches and then at Lucy, “Did you booby trap this tree or something?”

“As if - what kind of person do you think I am?”

“The kind that vowed vengeance on my sorry ass last night after I won the snowball fight,” Natsu played with the ends of his scarf, “Did I mention how pretty you look today?”

“You worked hard to earn mercy last night in bed, so just smile and let me take a nice picture.”

Memories

Natsu held Lucy's hands, squeezing gently, thumbs rubbing over her soft skin. He looked at their friends packed into the church and then back into his bride's eyes. "I remember the first time we met as if it were yesterday. I vow to cherish you even more than all our shared memories, in sickness and in health, until death us do part."

New Year’s Day

"Make the light go away," Lucy rolled and tugged her blanket over her head - or rather, tried to - the heavy weight of Natsu making it impossible. "I'm never drinking so much ever again. Why'd you let me keep drinking?"

"Luce, I don't 'let' or 'not let' you to do anything," Natsu said, shifting so his girlfriend could pull the comforter. "New Year's Eve only comes once a year, and from the amount of screaming you did, we both had fun."

#December drabbles #veraspromptchallenge #ftfanfics #fairy tail #nalu #fluff #drabbles #natsu #lucy #Natsu x Lucy #levy #brief appearances by other guild members #mild shenanigans

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papierstau · 7 years

Text

Tododekuweek 2017 - Day 4

loyalty | Quote

“I tried my hardest. I don’t know what else to do.” - The Darjeeling Limited (2007), Dir. Wes Anderson

Izuku didn’t know what else to do. There was nothing he could do anymore. Only pain and regret were left. If he had been only a little faster. Would have been a little more alert, the child wouldn't have been bruised. But he was dismissed for this day. Other heroes and heroines would take on the rest, as well as the nurses and doctors did everything they were able to keep that child alive.

He thought it was his and his fault only that the kid might not make it.

And somehow he knew it wasn't but he couldn't really help but thinking it was his fault. An outright gray day ending with a downpour in the late afternoon. Matching his mood. A distant roll of thunder made his way into town.

Fortunately he was almost home. He stopped for half an hour to shower at home at his mom's to at least wash off the blood that wasn't his, at any rate most of it. He knew Shouto would only worry again, so he avoided coming home right after work.

Today was Shouto's day off, they promised to each other to go out this night but with this inclement weather it seemed like the both of them would prefer to spend their time at home cozy in a pile of coverlets and cushions cuddling instead of leaving into this freezing night in the midst of autumn.

When he arrived with the bus it was almost dark outside. Since he hadn't got the chance to look on his phone once in a while he took a glance now.

4 missed calls, 3 text messages.

Everyone of them by Shouto. Usually it was his fad to worry about the other too much but since he wasn't home the entire time without telling the other it'd be later again, it was fine. A chilly breeze was blowing furiously through the streets getting him entirely soaked at his back. What did he shower for again?

One hand typing the words into his cell phone he announced he would be home in ten minutes. He was almost there when he saw that the lights were still turned on. A warm glow from the inside that welcomed him at the end of a lengthy dragging on day, there is no better feeling than knowing someone waiting for you. A good smell filled his runny nose and a frail smile climbed up his red glowing cold cheeks.

His legs felt heavier than usual when he climbed up the stairs to their apartment. If it was because of his heavy mood or him being soaking, he didn't mull over it. They live on the fourth floor of this apartment complex and it really isn't extraordinarily big, neither has it really tall walls but it's the attic floor, so it has some roof slopes and it's rather easy to climb out the window sometimes instead of leaving through the front door if it is an emergency.

After a while of rummaging in his trouser pockets for his keys he fumbles it into the keyhole to just run into Shouto at this very moment. Izuku immediately pulls him into a deep hug.

“You were faster than I thought, I heard you from the kitchen. Welcome home.”

“I'm home.”

After a while Izuku just didn't want to let go and Shouto's worries kept up.

“You're drenched. And if you don't let me go soon I'll be drenched too.”

A disapproving murmur followed.

“How about we go get a towel to get you dry?”

“...”

The red and silver haired boy sighed.

Even though the house is nice and warm Izuku just feels dazed. After his back got drenched the rain came in buckets, so he was completely wet through. He let the umbrella drop down and carried it just home leaving it outside to dry in front of the entrance. Beads of water dripping down his clothes, his thick hair down to the wooden floor.

“Well, then there's no helping it.”

Shouto stayed in this soaking hug and slowly walked in baby steps pulling the clingy one backwards heading through their little flat in the direction of their bedroom. Arrived in front of the shelf, two pulls later he just took Izuku's dripping wet sweater off and rubbed the blue and green striped towel over the green head of hair.

“Hey Cuddles, you're okay now?”

“Yeah, almost.”, he hummed.

“Then let me get the soup done and we get something in your stomach, okay?”, Shouto suggests. He was looking into Izuku's eyes with concern, lifting his face for a soft kiss. Cold lips that met warmth in a while again.

Shouto put his meanwhile damped cardigan together with Izuku's sweater on the heater to dry. He slipped through the door making his way to the kitchen.

He really wondered what was up this day with Izuku but after all it might have just been a hard day on him. He knew that too well that saving people day by day didn't make it easier with every day to come because the cases most of the time vary. It wasn't easy to shoulder people's fears and calm them down in a situation you'd most likely panic. Also it wasn't easy to fill in the hopes of people to get saved. Being a hero wasn't a child's play like they imagined in their childhood. It was hard work. He knew that as a fellow hero.

He went back to the kitchen to set the table in their living room. After he brought the big pot to the table Izuku came back changed into dry clothes again with a towel around his neck for his wet hair. The smell of curry spread into the room as Shouto raised the lid. Rice was already on the plates when Izuku arrived. It made Izuku wonder how he didn't notice that he's been hungry for some time now.

“So, what happened?”, Shouto began as he filled the other half of Izuku's soup bowl with the ladle, passed it to his companion before going for his own. This time it was Izuku who sighed.

“Well...”, he let out another breath he didn't know he kept.

“There was this incident this noon and nobody noticed the house was literally on fire since they drew the curtains, in fact those were fireproof. It didn't flame up but lastly there was a neighbor noticing the smoke coming out of the window. And there was a child in that house sleeping for noon. The parents only went out for a small errand.” Izuku certainly didn't look up from his meal. Regret formed in his eyes again. Shouto didn't interrupt him.

“I was on my regular patrol through the quarters near the main station when someone shouted 'fire'” and I immediately took the hint,” Shouto listened to his every word. He took the last sip of his soup before he continued to the curry. “The fire department on it's way and people who rushed outside. It was all a turmoil, of course the first thing I did was going in to check if there was anybody left behind. And then there was this girl, I know if I had been even a second too late she would have died from smoke intoxication.”

After a pause Izuku added “Her lungs must've taken immense damage!”

Shouto stuck in his movement for a moment. His look full of concern but still tender.

“Have you tried your hardest?”

Izuku glanced up for the first time since they began to eat, definitely sore.

“I tried my hardest. I don't know what else to do,” Tears were welling up but he held them back.

“Then there was nothing else for you to do.” Softly and clearly these words got into Izuku's mind finally. Shouto had reached for the freckled one's right hand with both of his. He rubbed little circles into his palm, kneading it warily. It was covered in scars, over here and there buckles of grown again layers of skin. His left hand a little warmer, his right one apparently a bit cooler but still his touch wasn't uncomfortable, more of a soothing kind.

“You know you tried your hardest. So it's okay now. You did your best. The girl might be fine now. You'll hear tomorrow about her fettle. It's fine.”

Relief filled the tense shoulders and exhaustion kicked in. He felt like he could finally breath again. Izuku nodded. He really needed to hear those words.

“Thanks,” The boy with the still wet hair smiled frail but it was for a beginning. “for always bearing with me.” Shouto brightened up too.

“And now you should eat before it gets cold, you must be hungry.”

The both of them looked down to the bowl of still steaming rice and curry which Izuku reluctantly had been stabbing for the past couple minutes. He finally took a bite realizing how worn out he physically felt additionally to his emotional state. And he was just grateful to be with Shouto and he would do the same for him. Bit by bit his body filled up with warmth and a pleasant feeling of joy, a peace of mind.

“Binging Ghibli movies tonight to hot chocolate and marshmallows?” A trace of a smile showing on the bi-coloured haired one's face after they finished dinner.

“Who am I to deny this offer, I'm in,” an affirming hug from behind nuzzling into the taller one's neck followed on the tousle-head's words assuring he was okay now.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

#tododeku #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #deku midoriya #my writing #actually this was for toodeku week and this was in my drafts way too long so have some floof #imma not even tag it with the tododekuweek tag anymore since it's long over #but i still did the rest for fun #bnha #fanfiction #rainy fic

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easydoesittile · 4 years

Text

Meet Our EDIT Team - Robbie McGee

Founder - CEO

"Great leaders don't set out to be leaders...they set out to make a difference. It's never about the role, it's always about the goal." - Lisa Haisha

Hi, my name is Robbie McGee, I am one of the founders of Easy Does It Tile.

I was born in Halifax and spent my first 14 years of my life living in Halifax. Then my family moved to a small town on the South Shore of NS, called Dayspring just outside of Bridgewater. I went to high school at Park View Education Centre. Living in a small town, I turned to basketball and part-time jobs to pass the time.

One thing you might find interesting is I didn’t learn to read until I was 18 when I was taught by a local church using biblical scripture. At the age of 18, I also left home to pursue my independence. I started contracting odd jobs to make a living until I took a job as a marine construction worker. I excelled in this position and quickly rose to captain of a tugboat and 120’ barge, and foreman of a 6 man crew. I helped the owner scale his business from $250,000 to over $1,000,000 in less than 1 year.

Around this time I moved into a house and started renovating, having no knowledge of tile, I went to Home Depot and asked an expert. Long story short the expert was not an expert and set me up with the wrong products and instructions. I found local help and fixed all the issues. Once I assessed the lack of knowledge and skill in the flooring industry I decided to open a Flooring store on Main St. in Mahone Bay, Top Of The Line Floor Design. My market assessment was correct as 2 large flooring companies followed me within a year.

My childhood dream was to become a police officer, this was born from being a diehard Lethal Weapon fan as a child. I continued to attend church and learning to read, I even learned a little piano. I was presented with an opportunity to go to Pensacola Christian College to become a pastor sponsored by the church, I passed on this offer as I was blessed with a son at the age of 20 and decided not to leave NS. With the dream of becoming a police officer still a driving force in my life, I had been accepted to the police academy in PEI. I knew this was my once in a lifetime opportunity so I accepted the opportunity, and signed my business over to one of my employees. He did not have the ideal qualities to run a business. He ran the business into the ground within weeks, leaving me as the guarantor on all accounts. Without a job and no business I was left holding the bag and had to declare bankruptcy leaving me ineligible to become a police officer as I was no longer bondable. So I found a job at a unionized factory and realized it was no place for me, so I moved to Halifax and enrolled in a commerce program at Saint Mary’s University and found a job selling water treatment systems. Within a year I was promoted to sales manager then general manager shortly after that. Sales increased from just over $500,000 to over $1,000,000 within 1 year.

I had continued to install flooring as a side hustle while I worked as a general manager and attended university. After year 3 in university, I decided there was no benefit to finishing my degree so I dropped out and started my own water treatment company. I called it Rain Drop Water Solutions and also purchased an investment property. I found and introduced 2 new products into the market, tankless on-demand water heaters and bottle-less water coolers that filter the water. After several years later I sold Rain Drop Water Solutions to a larger company out of Winnipeg. I also sold the investment property as it was not my passion.

This was where I decided to get back into the flooring industry full time, so I started a small business and called it Flooring Dudes with my wife. We eventually incorporated and renamed the business JMC Flooring Inc after our children Julius, Madelyn, and Chloe. After running a small flooring business for 10 years and being involved in the flooring industry for over 20 years I realized my favorite part of this business is the people. The people that surround me and the opportunities we create for others to participate in what they are passionate about, this is why we started Easy Does It Tile & Shower.

Now approaching 10 amazing people on our EDIT team, we are excited to make a huge positive impact in our community.

In my spare time, I coach basketball at the YMCA, volunteer at my kids’ school, I also design for a fashion company Michelle-Rober. Michelle-Rober was also founded by my wife and I in an effort to find, develop, and promote authenticity and confidence. I occasionally model when the opportunity presents itself. One of my favorite things to do is watching university basketball, especially my son who plays for CBU men’s basketball program and one of my favorite events is Full Court 21 the most unique basketball tournament on the planet. Each year my good friend Will Strickland brings this tournament to Halifax as one stop of a global tour, as part of a global effort to bring the community together through basketball. My son has won this tournament in Halifax and made it to the international game in NYC for 4 years, it is an amazing community event. It is our hope to see Full Court 21 as an official sport in the Olympic games.

Want to know anything else? Contact us on social media @easydoesittile on Facebook, Linked In, Twitter, or TikTok, or @easydoesittileca on Instagram, or email us [email protected]. We look forward to hearing from you.

#founder teamwork dreamteam tile halifax ceolife

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hamletstudy · 5 years

Photo

[1/100] - // 7.18.19 // death’s head hawkmoth

So I’ve been kind of emotional as of late. I was jarred into remembering about the ghost of the knight that guarded Jenna Heap’s bedroom after seeing a photoset with a description that listed various ways how ghosts could exist or reasons why they would linger: and that those paired with strong emotions never did fade away. For some reason, this triggered the floodgates: and I found myself weeping over a knight whose name I can’t even remember. I just know that he was fond of silly jokes, and often made terrible puns. He presided over the princess’ bedroom as he had for all of the other princesses before her, and when the castle was being overcome with dark magic thanks to Simon, her brother gone rogue: he made a spirited (spirited!) attempt to defend her. There’s something about that sweet wholesomeness in a paternal figure that really made me bawl, especially when he’s clumsy about it and sometimes taken for granted when Jenna is in a snit.

I keep hearing the whip poor will birds. The tiger lilies that’d been shorn and placed into a glass to dry out and die have long been disposed of, mulched back into the earth, maybe- buried like compost in little piles in the rich loam. They call in a peculiar sort of way, against the other bright birdsong that lights up in early morning and continues until late evening, when the sun falls from the skies: a repeated end noise that makes it sound as if they’re speaking to you.

I haven’t heard, or seen any black birds: crows, ravens, red winged black birds, and I’m worried that the mortal offense of the SUV nearly running them over made them a little more cold, indifferent: I hadn’t had any of them call at my usual alarm hours. I can understand. Or perhaps it’s just that I’m growing up- after all, a coming of age, a loosening of the bonds of childhood: plunged into new plumages and new eras coming alighting down on feathers not so glossily inky.

I’ve been watching a lot of Dr. Mike reacts to medical dramas as of late- I think it’s just that weird, parasocial coziness of having someone more informed than I am explain as we go along, a sort of false learning that I nod and smile at while idly digitally collaging in the background. Speaking of digital collaging, I forgot how soothing that is for me. It’s the perfect way to go about it. The internet has limitless resources, all of the ways to edit it you could want- without any of the mess of glue, shakily trimmed edges from damaged hands, and no worrying about the bulk or tearing if you choose to arrange them in a particular way.

I’ve been feeling isolated. I feel like I know some things approximately, and not very many concretely. The sheer variation of plants around here is comforting, in a distracting sort of way: but the birds are beginning to haunt me. They’re there when I wake up, jarred from sleep- they’re there when I’m trying to go to bed. They’re always there. The greenery seems so far apart from me: almost too exhausted to take in the variation. It all seems like so much work.

It feels like I’m perpetually exhausted. My body seems to want eight hours of its own accord, regardless of the timespan that this falls into. I’m sick of being eaten alive in my own house. The walls are infested with biting bugs: my shoulders and back are livid and red, and I’ve expressed pus from several of them, including on my face and fingers myself. Blood spattering down my face has become almost commonplace.

My hair is a lot more biddable when it’s not being run through the daily stress of being washed three times with enough shampoo to drown a rat in. I’ve killed one black spider that was already curled up and twitching after I trod on a curtain, and one fly that took entirely too long to die. I’m a terrible shot with a towel. I like running my hands through my bangs. The way that it looks as if I’ve a particularly short, boyish cut is really pleasing. I think the bang running is a self soothing habit borne of nervousness, though. Sometimes I pull at my hair in frustration. It’s annoying to try to sleep with it all bundled up into a bun, but even in the cooler depths of the basement- which due to the odd placement of a hilly slope, is really the ground floor, it’s hot as hell. And giant mosquitos live down there. Alongside the black widow colony that set up residence and that I spotted first, as well as swaying, white thick strands of webbing that had gotten all tangled up and coarse.

Found a book that I forgot that I had lent, that I had owned. The sparkly triangles on the cover are soothing. The heft of the book, the cut of the pages. The softness of its supine spine. I cried when I realized it was a book about a woman in my shoes, who had chosen to be furiously happy in spite of her circumstances. Perhaps to spite them. I could only bring myself to read a single chapter. She’s high energy: a lot to process. Even in text I’m an introvert, worn out and exhausted by interactions, even of the parasocial kind.

I tested all of the toilets in the house when we first moved, and ranked them in order of how likely I thought that I might break them, hilariously. The one assigned to me is the one that I thought worked the best, even if it’s cold: and positioned weirdly, it’s tiny, everything lined up: window, you, mirror. You watch others watching yourself, blinds a thin separation. It’s kind of hilarious in a metaphorical sort of way.

I took a bath for the first time in maybe a year, maybe more- and it felt like a religious experience. I wept at being held. I wept at the sensation of being loved, of something that I longed for and missed and hadn’t had the time or chance to in so long. My body hurt, less. I could forget myself, suspended tenderly in the suds. I cried. I stayed in the bath until it ran cold, and pulled myself out hesitantly, gingerly. I wanted to stay. I stayed for the better part of two hours, wrinkling all over. I cried until I couldn’t tell where I ended and started.

The cold winds in combination with the random mechanical sounds and various airplanes flying overhead, with a wet edge to the air can make night seem particularly foreboding. I’m cranky. I’ve been a lot more on emotional tenterhooks as of late. I’ve found myself living according to waiting around for others, on their whims- and I don’t like that. It’s something that I need to address again. It’s the malaise of not having a concrete, solo project to pour all of my attention into.

I swing between wild extremes. If I was an astrologist in any earnest capacity, I would blame it on my gemini moon and libra aspect to my sun sign. Because I don’t believe in astrology, and at most think it’s an amusing short hand to quickly communicate with others about ourselves that at best: has social value, rather than scientific, I chalk it up to a lack of structure and order in my routine, all over the place eating and times, weirdly bunched up water intake, and being sweaty and hormone fluctuations and blood loss out the wazoo.

There was still beach sand inside of my pen, when I took a closer look at it, after a moment of startled fear and confusion as to why the texture was so different on it. Summer draws ever closer to an end and it paralyzes me. I’m horrified by the passage of time, and this time, that deep dread and anxiety about it started as early as the very first week of July. I really hope that this doesn’t start becoming a trend. It strikes me that it probably won’t have the opportunity to, considering the odd placement of summer in the higher echelons of education.

Going into a new city, dealing with new circumstances and faces and navigating it all pretty much after being tossed into the deep end- terrifying. Being stranded in the concrete jungle without a scrap of greenery, other than the tall pink tree in whose bowers I saw a peregrine falcon slaughter a pigeon and rip it to shreds one summer? Terrible. But then, even now- the nature here drives me to distraction. I can’t really enjoy it. I wonder what part of me lost the ability to do that, to sit simply in the world and let it wash over me in deep, abiding comfort.

The cold grayness of the city is depressing, the soot and grime of it settles into your bones and after awhile even the warmth of summer, or the rattling heater can’t make me feel any better about the black, sooty snow churned into a slushy slurry beneath your feet. And the stairs! It’s just the shift of newness. It’s not entirely unknown grounds. It’s a place I know well by night and summer and the neon, shifting quality of holidays. Not so much in its every day to day. But I think it’ll be alright. Its always been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home city, throughout all of my turmoil brewing years.

I think a part of it is deep grief that’s been stirred up again by contact I didn’t expect. I think a part of it is the sharp hurt at realizing that my importance in others’ lives is not the same as theirs in mind. I know logically, that just calls for a readjustment, a tuning in dialing: but having the curtain pulled back on it aches all of the same. The things we do for the people we love, not knowing if they love us in the same ways, in the ways that matter.

I haven’t been able to bring my pen down onto the paper. I finger the frilled edge from where I ripped pages out, scoring down with a pair of splayed open scissors, I smell the perfume, heady and rosy and floral, and sweet, so sweet- mellowing out the sharp printer’s ink, still a cloud that gets thrown up, a scent of beauty and warm summer beach sand, eating melted icecreams and lying in white, clean sheets snuggled against the blue silky pillowcases that I love so much- and I can’t bring myself to mar it. I don’t know what to do with it. I want to make a safe space, a familiar place: a private sanctum before, to have a place to retreat to, a concept of safety, a place to head back to when I am unsure and lost and questioning, but I can’t bring myself to. A part of me wonders if it is because I am punishing myself for all of the things I cannot bring myself to do, out of that paralyzing fear of indecision, and learned helplessness.

It’s something that bites at me constantly: where do I stand in others’ eyes? Sometimes it surprises me, the unwavering support revealed in a pithy, half of a joke remark. Sometimes it punches the air out of my lungs, a twisting hurt at realization: and smothering it underneath, because no one told you to feel like that. No one ever said that they felt like that. You had just assumed, and sometimes- your assumptions are wrong. Sometimes you are wrong. You walk around with grief in your eyes, tangled in your hair, hands shaking from holding all of it, dripping from the corner of your mouth like the spit and snot and tears that cut tracks down your face: like the baying hounds fighting over territory two doors down.

But whose fault is it, really? You’re the one who put it there.

I read something that struck home. It isn’t naive to expect people to appreciate your love. It was an empty, generic platitude, and yet somehow it was as comforting to see as being wrapped up in my favourite blanket and eating my favourite chocolate cake. I know that I eat to self soothe. I know that it’s a problem. These days, my hands are gnawed down bloodily raw, I am anxious, trembling, walking through my days with generalized anxiety and fear and wanting to cry. I find myself crying at little to no provocation. I feel like a vessel of water filled to the brim: the top bulging with surface tension. One drop and I rupture, I shatter- the elasticity only goes so far. I spilleth over.

I’ve been listening to a lot of country music. I’ve been listening to a lot of indie pop music. I’ve been listening to a lot of Russian pop music, because I was trying to find a ringtone for Sascha’s father in the thing I’m writing with my friend. I found myself crying, shoulders heaving, shoulders trembling over an Ed Sheeran song, of all things: at the idea of being able to put it all on someone else, put it into their hands, let go of that weight and be held for a little while, just to be taken care of. I feel as if that’s what I truly want, underneath all the hysteria and the raw, rough edges: to be loved, and to love in turn. Sometimes I run across songs that chafe at me: make me feel seen, exposed, a throbbing wound barely held back by the lightest layer of skin, the blood flushing the surface: that you aren’t alright. And I don’t think that I am alright.

I find myself crying myself to sleep these days. It makes me sad in an abstract sort of way, for myself, for the fact that I am crying. The winds remind me of when I was a child, and spoke to the wind: fully believing that it was a man, it was named Zephyr, that he pushed and carried my tiny body down the windy round about, that he made tiny cyclones and leaf circulations where I waved twigs at: the sensation of being held and caressed by the wind, hair gently tousled and pried loose. It feels as if a little part of my past has come back to haunt me. I feel as if I am a dwelling of ghosts. I feel as if I am a collection of all that has happened to me, rather than what I have done. I question what exactly I have done.

It’s bizarre what changing the quality of light will do to you: the sky seems flat and gray, and the world similarly dulled and muted for it: the skies are yellow. The umbrella is a stark, sharp red: the extended wood light overtop, weathered, cracked, grey. I want to take a power washer to it.

I want to write a book some day. Who doesn’t? Why? I promised the woman who kept me writing, inspired me to continue to- she said that she expected, in the easily gracious way of absolute faith, to see a dedication in the front cover’s page to her. I don’t know what I want to write about. I don’t know. I sit here for hours sometimes, paralyzed by indecision, unable to make a choice: unable to commit to even the most meaningless of things. Paper or pen. Fridge or room temperature. This identical pen, or the other? Phone or computer? What to hold in my pockets? What to eat?

I feel like I’m slipping into bad habits. Last summer I starved myself thinner. People noticed, complimented me: told me to keep up the good work. I’ve put all of it back on and then some, and I’m disgusted at being recognized. There is an ache in wanting to be seen, and the revulsion in that actually transpiring. It is central to the experience of womanhood. This summer I find myself indulging in comfort foods at hours when the night haunts me: oven soft chocolate chunk cookies, pizza folded over on itself, chocolate cake with creamy frosting, burgers with red onions that make my mouth smart and hurt but God, they’re good. I’ve been drinking a lot of water. I’ve been taking my iron pills. I’ve been trying to see if I have been getting enough sleep. Learning to be gentle with myself is a process.

I’m a woman now, not a girl. No longer the feral wild child, haunting the clover fields and picking through for red budding gowns, laughing with delight at monarchs high up in the sky: symbolic for a livening of the senses, a quickening of breath: the heart thrumming and racing with enthusiasm at learning that the wonders captured on the glossy ink page were real, and here in this life too: but a tired eyed, hollowed out woman. A woman who can’t find solace in the outdoors, who shies from the biting insects, who expresses pus and dribbles blood, spurting out onto mirrors, so tired. I have lines from frowning, now. I have lines carved in lightly where my eyebrows scrunch and furrow. I wear my unhappiness writ across my face, even when I don’t want to be. The monarchs haven’t come this year. They haven’t in many.

The first anniversary of the worst day of my life harkens: and I dread it. Immediately after is one of the most hysterical belated birthday gifts possible, a little nod of absurdism from the universe. Emotional whiplash. It’ll be a year soon. A year into the unknown, stumbling forwards into the future: time doesn’t wait for anyone, doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop: even as we crawl forwards, haul ourselves on worn down fingernails. And wasn’t it good? Wasn’t there good in it, after all? Even if you didn’t know to anticipate it? Didn’t know what to look forward to?

I’m a very tired young woman, who has been harangued by death all of my life. I think that I’ll live a little longer, as far as the odds go. Someday I will love the things that I love again. For now: I cry when it washes over me, and try to hold onto the idea that it’ll be alright.

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