Summary: When Mickey thinks Ian's sleeping, he talks to him. One night, Ian isn't asleep.

Better Than Me

Things have been rough lately, rougher than usual. But they've got each other and that's all that really matters. Ian's sleeping and Mickey's watching him, eyes carefully tracing the lines of the other man's face. It's a face he knows almost better than he knows his own. Ian is beautiful, he thinks, watching the other boy sleep soundly beside him. He's beautiful and he's Mickey's and that fact alone brings warmth that fills Mickey down to his fucking bones. He's not sure why he's not sleeping, why he's sitting awake at two in the fucking morning, but he knows it must have something to do with the warm feeling his chest.

It is right about then that he realizes – for the billionth fucking time – that he's in love with Ian. He's in love with him and he's so fucking lucky to have him. Lucky because Ian could have anyone he fucking wants and he chooses Mickey. Even after all the shit Mickey's put him through, Ian chooses him, loves him even. It's a fact that Mickey doesn't understand. He doesn't understand how someone like Ian, someone so fucking beautiful and fucking pure, could love someone like Mickey. Someone broken and dirty and so fucked up it should be illegal. But Ian loves him and that's something Mickey will never take for granted again.

"I don't understand you Gallagher." Mickey whispers.

Ian doesn't reply and Mickey goes on. "How could you want me? Knowing the kind of person I am, how could you love me? I don't ever want you to stop loving me…but how could you love me? I don't deserve you. I could never fuckin' deserve you but you fuckin' choose me every time. Every fuckin' time you choose me. And I don't know why."

Ian's eyes open then and he stares at Mickey, eyes searching his face. There's a lump in Mickey's throat because Ian fucking heard him. He knows it. And now what? What's going to happen now? Ian's quiet, though, just staring at him. When he finally speaks his voice is quiet, filled with adoration.

"I love you because you're Mickey Milkovich. Because, even after all the stupid shit I pull, you're still fuckin' here. I'm Bi-fucking-Polar, Mick, and you're still here. Forcing food down my throat, talking to me, loving me when I can't even move. Mick…I love you because you love me. Isn't that reason enough?"

Mickey frowns. "But…I'm so much less than what you deserve. I can't give you a house or money or cars or…fucking any of that shit. All I have is me."

Ian laughs, kissing him. "All I want is you. I don't need money or cars or a fucking house, Mick. You're all I need."

Mickey kisses him again. "I guess maybe I can see it. I…I feel the same by the way. I know I never say it but I love you. I mean, I don't say it 'cause I sound like a fuckin' chick but…I do."

Ian laughs again and Mickey's heart races at the sound. "You don't need to say it, Mick. I mean, yeah it's nice to hear every once in a while…but I know you love me. If you didn't, you'd have left by now."

Mickey nods. "Damn right Gallagher."

Ian yawns, wrapping his arms around Mickey's waist. "Can we sleep now? Or are you going to stay up talking to me?"

Mickey relaxes into the strong arms that've held him together for longer than he deserves. "Yeah. Sleep sounds nice."

Ian hums into his shoulder and falls into sleep easily. Mickey, though, stays awake for a while longer. He's thanking his lucky stars that Ian fucking Gallagher loves him enough to stick around. Because really, Ian could do a lot fuckin' better than a fucked up pimp with an attitude problem. When he finally falls asleep, it's to the gentle sound of Ian's breathing.