I don't own Shameless.


Just Don't Let Me Don't: Chapter 4

Mickey met Lip at the coffee cart in the lobby, a hoodie and Debbie's copy of the Hunger Games tucked under his arm. He figured if he was going to stay with Ian the entire night he might be able to finish the book. He was just adding sugar to his coffee when Lip bumped into the side of him, a big grin on his face. Mickey raised an eyebrow, fitting the lid back on his coffee.

"What's with the grin, douche bag?" He asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the taste. He hated coffee, even with a ton of sugar. He just knew he wouldn't make it through the night without something.

"Ian woke up a couple hours ago," Lip said, handing a five to the cashier.

"And you didn't call me?" Mickey asked, his voice upset.

"He went straight back to sleep. But this time it's a real sleep, not that damn drugs knocking his ass out sleep. He can wake up anytime he wants now." Lip took a sip of his own coffee, a smile playing on his lips.

"Thank God," Mickey said, dropping down into a chair near-by. Lip grinned and nodded, pulling the newspaper out of his pocket.

"He asked about you, actually," Lip said, a small grin on his face.

"Yeah?" Mickey asked, failing to try to hid his face. He raised an eyebrow before continuing. "And how did he do that since he can't talk?" he asked, taking another sip of his bitter drink.

Lip slid the newspaper across the table, tapping the Mickey Mouse head in the top corner. The oldest Gallagher boy slid back, barely missing the spray of coffee when Mickey spit it out.

"You're shittin' me." Mickey said, his face slightly red. Lip just laughed, shaking his head.

"In his defense, I figure drawing a mouse head was easier in that cast than writing out your name. But he was worried if you'd been there or not. I told him you'd be here tonight, just like every other night."

"Thanks, man," Mickey said, finishing the rest of his coffee and debating if he should waste the money to get another one. "We should make it through this dumb book tonight."

"Don't lie, you like it," Lip said, standing up. "By the way, I started a little code with him that we're trying to keep constant. Keep it yes and no questions. If he blinks once that means yes and twice means no."

"That's helpful, thanks dude. What time does Fiona normally get here in the morning so I can leave in time?" Mickey asked, nodding to the lady at the coffee booth again to get another cup.

"Normally around eight. The nurses will probably kick you out around five, though. Just a heads up. Have a good night, Mick." Mickey sighed but nodded, sweetening his sugar before heading for the elevator.


Mickey had his feet propped up carefully on the edge of Ian's bed. He took every precaution to not move the bed any in case he heart his boyfriend. He had angled the chair so he could reach Ian's hand; his own hand was wrapped around two of Ian's fingers, his thumb running over the back of his knuckles. A newspaper laid open on his lap as he sipped absently at his coffee which had already gone cold. He flicked the paper to the back and was focused on a story about a mugging on Central St. when Ian's hand moved under his.

Mickey about dropped his coffee as he sat up, wincing when the bed moved with his feet. "E?" he said quietly, squeezing Ian's fingers in his smaller hand. The whimper that escaped Ian's mouth sounded odd with the tube down his throat and Mickey moved to the edge of his own chair so he was in Ian's line of sight.

"Hey buddy," he whispered, a small smile on his face. "You feeling okay?" Ian kind wrinkled his brow, wincing when the action pulled at the screws keeping the halo on his head. Finally he blinked his eyes twice. "I guess that makes sense. I mean you have had the shit kicked out of you." Ian winced again and Mickey silently berated himself for being so tactless.

"I was real worried about you, you know that?" Mickey said, throwing a glance at the door behind him before carefully perching himself on the edge of Ian's bed. He watched as Ian braced himself, a look of relief passing over his face when the bed didn't move. "Did Lip tell you what's wrong?" Mickey asked.

Ian squeezed Mickey's hand and blinked twice. "No? Do…do you want to know?" the ex-con asked, his voice shaking. Ian paused for a moment before finally blinking once. Mickey bit his lip and nodded.

"Your fib, no your tibia is broken. Whichever one is your shine bone, I forget what Lip said. But both of your knee caps were shattered. The doctors went in and put plates and pins and all that kind of stuff to reconstruct them and that's why they have those metal frames fit on there to keep you from moving them. Your pelvis was broken, too, which is why there's a metal frame around your hips. Whoever did this broke four of your ribs, once that punctured your lungs. Your back and neck was broken pretty high up and they put a metal rod in your spine to fix it. That's what the halo's for. I guess that'll be on the longest. Your left hand was shattered and the right wrist was broken. There was some internal bleeding and what not. That and a bunch of bruises and stuff. You're a right mess, E."

Mickey watched as Ian's face crumbled, his green eyes filled with tears. In that moment Mickey knew that Ian had the same thought as him and Lip; West Point was out of the question. Ian would barely be able to pass the SAT and GPA scores. If Mickey remembered right, the only thing Ian had felt comfortable with was the fitness test and with joints now made of metal.

The dark haired boy sighed, his own face taking on a sympathetic look. He carefully placed his hand on the side of Ian's face, keeping his hands away from the bars connecting to the chest piece of the halo.

"Hey, hey, shh." Mickey whispered, his eyes flicking to the heart monitor next to Ian's bed that had started to speed up. "You're going to choke on that damn tube and then Nurse Pam with her damn blue hair is going to come and kick me out. Shh, calm down Ian. That's it, calm down." Mickey gently rubbed a finger down the side of Ian's face, his other hand on Ian's shoulder. Finally the red-head started to calm down, his face caked with tear tracks.

"You're going to get better, E," Mickey whispered. "You're a strong kid and you're a Gallagher. Better yet you're a red headed, Irish, Gallagher. You know what that means? That means you're stubborn as fuck which means you won't give up. We're just going to have to take it one day at a time."

Ian's right hand carefully reached out, the hard cast brushing against Mickey's side. Mickey caught his hand, holding his fingers gently. Ian's face looked strained, his eyes searching Mickey's face. The look was clear, he wanted to know what Mickey was really thinking. Mickey closed his eyes and sighed.

"You know it already, E. Don't make me say it. You know it already." Ian blinked once and Mickey gave him a small smile. Mickey carefully moved off the bed back into his chair, his hand still wrapped around Ian's fingers.

"I've been reading you the Hunger Games," Mickey said, biting his lip when Ian's eyes lit up. "Don't judge me, Lip said you've already read it. I only have a couple more chapters if you don't mind me keeping going?" Ian blinked once and Mickey carefully propped his legs on the bed again.

"Traditionally, the Career tributes' strategy is to get hold of all the food early on and work from there." Mickey read quietly, one hand still wrapped in Ian's. He flicked his eyes back and forth from Ian and the book, smiling slightly as he watched as Ian fought to stay awake. Finally, halfway through the chapter Ian fell asleep, his face finally looking at peace. Mickey rose to his feet and carefully kissed his forehead.

"I love you, Firecrotch," he whispered. Mickey slipped out of the room, finally wanting to get a good night's sleep.


The next day Lip and Mickey were at Wal-Mart, picking up the most random shopping list Mickey had ever seen that Fiona had given them. He paused at the front of the store, nodding his head in hello to the Conkle twins as the approached him.

"Alex, Brett," He nodded, bumping knuckles with Alex. "What are you two up to?"

"Nothing much," Alex said. "Someone stole our bats," he said, holding up one of the new ones he was holding. "Had to get some new ones for our baseball league."

"Huh, why would someone steal bats?" Lip asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"No idea, but they're gone." The four boys stayed silent for a moment.

"How's your brother, Lip?" Brett asked, and Alex elbowed him in the side.

"Ugh, he's getting better. He's pretty fucked up, though. It's going to be a while before he's even in an upright position let alone walking, but he should be off the ventilator in a few days." Alex exchanged a look with Brett before elbowing him again.

"Ugh, good. That's great. We got to get moving again. See you too later."

Mickey and Lip watched as they two twins walked away. Lip turned to Mickey, his brow furrowed.

"Was it just me, or are they extra weird today?" He asked the ex-con.

"Yeah, some thing is not right." The two boys stood again, watching as the twins left the store. "Let's get going Gallagher. I gotta spend some time with my Ginger." Lip snorted but nodded, pushing the cart down the aisle.


AN: I hope you liked it. Please review.