Sleep Alone

Mickey got home later in the evening feeling beat, pain all over his body. He had thrown himself into the car after Debbie, who was holding Yevgeny close to her. Lip and Fiona said nothing as they entered the car after them.

He had stood there watching Ian go into the ward and his heart had seemed to be twisting itself inside his chest. Slowly, malevolously. He still felt like it was trying to escape from its confinements. Maybe it just wanted to go be with Ian.

Debbie cooed as Yev started to gargle beside him. But at that moment he couldn't feel relief for having the baby back. He couldn't feel much of anything, besides his chest nearly imploding.

When they pulled over, he mechanically turned to the side to take the baby from Ian's sister. Ian. He swallowed the ball in his throat and blinked twice, while Yev clutched his shirt tightly. Fiona opened her door, seemingly wanting to get out of the car, but she stopped when he just walked up his driveway.

"Will you be ok?" she called, with the door half open.

"Yeah."

For a few seconds he just stared at his front door, trying to figure where his keys might be. He struggled to hold the baby to the side while he reached for them in his pocked. The car was still working behind him.

He got in as soon as he could, and almost slammed the door shut.

He noticed Svetlana wasn't home, and wondered how the birth had gone. Without putting Yev down, he called her cellphone. It was one of her whore friends who answered, saying she had gotten his earlier message about the baby. She would have to stay overnight in observation because of some bleeding.

As always, Yevgeny tried to chew on his cellphone as soon as it was in his reach. Mickey took it away before any real damage was done.

With slow automated movements, he entered Svetlana's room and laid the baby on her bed, where he usually slept. He started whimpering as soon as Mickey pulled him away from himself and lowered him onto the bed.

"What now?" There wasn't any real protest or annoyance in his voice when the baby started crying. Just a heavy tiredness. "Hungry? Is that it?"

There wasn't much energy in Yevgeny's cries either. Like he too felt a thirty pound weight on top of his head.

"You had quite the adventure too, huh?"

He got even more restless when Mickey left him to go get some milk from the fridge. Their microwave turned itself off about every thirty seconds, so he stood at its side while the milk heated.

His mind felt blank. Like going through his front door had just wiped it clean. Even Yev crying in the background was just another dull sound that reached his ears, but not quite his brain. His chest still hurt. It wasn't pain, it wasn't something he was used to feel (so definitely not pain). It was just... A tightness, a crushing feeling around his heart, like it was as tired as himself and every beat was torture.

He turned the microwave back on.

After making sure the milk wasn't too hot (Ian had scolded him once for not checking before feeding the baby), he went to fetch Yev and sat with him on the couch. He quieted a bit after being picked up, and suckled on the bottle with content.

Mickey almost reached for the TV remote, just to break the overwhelming silence. He realized how alone he was, and didn't even bother giving himself shit for the sentimental thought.

Ian was gone. Ian had been leaving him for a while now, and he hadn't done anything before it was too fucking late.

And it wasn't just Ian, either. Mandy had left him, and he hated her for it. It wasn't so much hate as it was utter disappointment, because Mandy was the one who was supposed to be there. She was supposed to stay home until he left, and then stay until he somehow fucked up and needed to get back.

When they were kids, she liked to play weddings, and at the lack of anyone better, he was always the groom. He'd play along mostly because she promised to take the blame for something around the house. (Their dad didn't beat her like he did with the rest of them, he'd just shut her in her room without dinner, which Mickey managed to sneak her most of the times.) Once she made Mickey promise that when he got married, he would bring his wife over on Sundays and she'd cook lunch for them, and they'd all have cake for desert. He didn't have the heart to tell her he never wanted to get fucking hitched, so he played along and promised.

And now she had gone, and Ian was gone, and he had no one.

Yevgeny gurgled in his arms, and Mickey realized he had already stopped eating, now just playing with the bottle with his pudgy hands and making a mess of himself with spilled milk.

Mickey put the almost empty bottle down on the coffee table, and wiped the baby's chin and neck with his t-shirt. (It was dirty anyways.)

"Let's get you to bed."

He held him up to burp him while heading to Svetlana's room once more, and laid him down afterwards. This time the baby didn't whimper, but kept his eyes open and fixed on Mickey's.

"Go to sleep now, will you?" He just kept staring and playing with his feet. "Ok, knock yourself out, then."

He had every intention of getting himself a beer or six, but as soon as he got up Yevgeny started crying, rolling into the makeshift guard he and Ian had made for the bed.

"Come on, what now?" Mickey let out, sighing. "Diaper?"

His fears were unfounded, though. His diaper seemed to be dry and clean of any foul odors. He thought for a minute of where Yevgeny's creams and wipes were, realizing he had no idea. Svetlana's room was the only one in the house not cluttered by Ian's suitcase collection, but it wasn't exactly pristine either. He wasn't in the mood to start looking through her things. He was way too tired, and he didn't really need it for the moment. He would have to clean the house eventually - sort through everything Ian had brought, sort through his things to take to the hospital...

His chest tightened once more and Mickey let his head fall back, hitting the wall behind him. It wasn't as if it could hurt worse than it already was.

As soon as Yevgeny fell asleep, he wrapped him in the blanket that laid on the bed with as soft movements as he could. The baby closed on of his pudgy hands around one of the blanket's corners, and seemed peaceful enough that Mickey felt comfortable leaving him be.

Just exactly the opposite of how he felt himself, most likely. He wished his life could be as carefree as Yevgeny's – it probably hadn't even been so when he was a baby.

Entering his bedroom was an ordeal he wasn't even aware he had been dreading before he actually ventured through the hall. He hadn't been there all day. He remembered sitting at the table incessantly calling Ian. Praying silently he would just fucking pick up. Now he almost felt like sitting back in the same chair, maybe calm himself with some booze. He had no idea why. Still, he dragged himself to his room, to their room.

It was full of Ian. It smelled like him, like the stupid products he used on his stupid hair. The unmade bed smelled like the crook of Ian's neck did, and he didn't even need to lie down to know that. If Mickey were into soppy bullshit like that, he would say that was his favorite smell in the world. But he wasn't.

Stripping down to his boxers, and throwing the dirty clothes to a pile next to the dresser, Mickey felt like disgusting. Even though he felt too tired to function, he dragged himself to the bathroom and turned on the shower, boxers ending up hanging in the sink.

He waited until the water was scalding hot to jump in. It seemed to ease the tightness in his chest in the slightest. But it did nothing for the turbulence going on in his head.

He'd have to get Ian's things, he reminded himself while staring at the redhead's shampoo. He'd been using it since his ran out a week ago. He closed his eyes as he lathered his hair, at first to protect them from the foam. But out of nowhere, a violent sob escaped his mouth, and he shut his eyes even harder. As if he could keep the tears away. Like there was a point to it.

He didn't know if what he had seen on Ian's eyes at the station, all the way to the hospital, had been sorrow, or apathy, or regret. Or maybe he did, and it was all of them. It made him sick to his stomach to think of how limp Ian had been leaning against him in that car. How broken and defeated he felt for not knowing what to do or say to make him feel better.

His life had always hurt, he knew that. But never like this. It never hurt as much as feeling completely powerless to help someone you'd kill for. Never like watching that person being taken away. Like sending them away because of your fucking inability to help them.

He rubbed his face hard, mixing hot water with tears with soap, but it's not like his eyes were going to sting any less. He rubbed too hard, and from there to punching the wall was only a matter of seconds. He punched it until he had no more strength in his forearms and his hands were numb. All the emotions going through him were coming out of his fists, and that he could deal with, that he was used to.

When he finally stopped, only the water running could be heard, reminding him once more that he was on his own. Mickey turned it off and stepped out of the shower. He didn't feel any better, but at least the physical pain provided a distraction.

He fished for a new pair of boxers out of a drawer, and put on the t-shirt he had worn to sleep the night before.

It's for his own good. He's going to get better.

None of it made him feel better at the moment, as he faced their unmade bed. He was being unbelievably selfish, and that made him feel even shittier. He knew that they were doing the best for Ian, and here he was wallowing like a fucking fairy because he was home alone.

Their bed.

He lied awake for what seemed like hours, replaying the sight of Ian entering the psych ward again and again.

Memories from a distant past also flashed through his mind. Of how much he enjoyed every moment with the redhead, even when he was scared shitless of getting caught. Of the panic in Ian's eyes when they had actually been caught by his father, and how he felt when he realized he was actually scared for Mickey and not himself. Of how betrayed he felt when Ian left, and angry at himself at the same time for not being able to make him stay. Of Ian's body above him, his gasps against Mickey's neck that made his spine arch and make them even closer. Of Ian fixing his tie with Yevgeny in his arms.

His eyelids were led heavy, and the tightness in his chest had subsided a bit, but his mind refused to give his aching body the relief it needed. He couldn't sleep, but he wasn't awake either. Mickey didn't know how long the baby's cries went on for before he came back to reality, and forced himself up.

Soap and lukewarm water in his sink were the best he could do to clean Yev up, since his wipes were nowhere to be found. Luckily, he'd found an unopened bag of diapers in Svetlana's closet. But even after he'd changed him and gave him another bottle, Yevgeny would start crying when Mickey tried to put him down.

"Please go back to sleep. Please," he let out, after staying silent the whole time since he had gotten up.

Fat droplets kept rolling out of the big blue eyes that stared up at him, but at least the crying went down to a faint whimpering.

"I know I'm not good at this, ok? I won't let you ever starve or be cold or shit like that, ever, but… I'm not good at comforting anybody. I'm barely keeping my shit together, how am I supposed to…?"

Mickey sighed, interrupting his rant for the sake of the established peace. The baby had stopped crying altogether, kicking energetically in every direction and looking around. But he barely made it to the middle of the hallway before Yev started crying once more. As soon as Mickey went back, cursing at his luck and anything else he could think of, the baby quieted. Instead, he looked up at Mickey with a frown.

"So now you're mad at me too?"

His inadequacy for taking care of his own son only added to his crushing feeling of loneliness. Svetlana and Mandy were great with him, and Ian… he was a natural. Ever since the baby had started laughing, Ian was the one who made him laugh the most. He tried to include Mickey in his play, but it was obvious that Yev preferred his wide and warm smile to Mickey's semi-permanent frown.

It became obvious that Yevgeny would not tolerate being left alone for too long without protest. Mickey cursed Svetlana in his mind for still having him sleep with her. He made a mental note to go to the Gallaghers' later and have Ian charm his way into Fiona letting them bring Liam's crib. That kid was getting too old for it, anyways.

Of course, he'd have to wait for Ian to get out.

It's not like he's in fucking jail, he reminded himself, smiling sadly.

With a sudden resolve, which arose after he almost feel forwards head first having fallen asleep in the chair, Mickey got up. He lifted Yevgeny from the bed and held him against his chest.

Hell, if you can't beat them…

With the baby secured with his left arm, he untied the guard from Svetlana's bed, and held it up with his right hand. He felt pretty proud of himself when he got to his room with an unharmed baby and only two new notches on his walls.

When he was settled on the unmade bed, Yev once again took to playing with his feet, while watching Mickey intently as he tied the guard on his side. When he was satisfied it wouldn't fall off, he sighed deeply.

It didn't even feel wrong climbing into Ian's side, since jumping on top on a half asleep Ian was one of his favorite things to do before bed. He smiled while he pulled the sheets up, thinking of the time Ian was very much awake, and dodged his attack only to launch one himself in revenge.

"Daddy needs his rest, so no more of this crying bullshit, okay?"

He was met with a drooling, but otherwise content expression.

"We need to go visit Ian in the morning." Yev babbled something at him. "Do you miss Ian?"

He looked into the eyes of his son, and although he realized Yevgeny's now quiet hum was probably random, he was certain of the answer to his own question. With a heavier beat of his heart, he realized how he was looking into a pair of clear blue eyes, much like his own, which was what Ian must see every night while lying beside him. In contrast with Yev's innocent ones, Mickey's eyes started welling up.

"I do too, kid. Real bad." He sniffled as he raised his hand to stroke his son's cheek. "But you're not alone, alright? I'm here with you."

Mickey kissed the baby's forehead gently.

"I'm here."

They both fell asleep soon after.

(Cross posted to AO3.)

I started writing this after 5x06, I was so heartbroken. Mickey tearing up on the ride home almost made me cry too, and I just had to write this. Plus, who doesn't love Mickey/Yev bonding?

My first Shameless story, I appreciate all the constructive criticism you can throw my way. Thanks for reading! :)
- Bee