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The combination of spiked booze and his meds which already made him a lightweight had Ian out like a light before he could drag his sorry ass up the stairs, collapsed into the recliner, squeezed in next to Mickey. The impromptu party that Frank and Monica had thrown to celebrate their -- third? Fourth? Wedding had been surprisingly fun and free of drama which was a rarity when it came to the Gallaghers these days. Usually whenever Frank or Monica were involved things would get especially volatile (lover's spat aside).
Especially when they were involved.
So things go off without a hitch. Everyone dances with everyone, he hugs his mom and means it when he smiles at her and says he's happy to see her happy. She kisses him, tells him how proud of him she is and he can't help the warmth that brings him. She even hugs Mickey and tells him to look out for her boy because she'd know if he wasn't, and she likes him so it would be unfortunate to have to kill him which has Ian cackling with laughter at his boyfriend's face.
When three am hits, Ian is swaying so much on his feet from exhaustion and everything else that Mickey is yanking him to his feet but he really doesn't think he's gonna manage the stairs unless he wants to carry him up and as funny as that would be, he takes pity on him. Ian drags him over to the recliner and squeezes them both onto it, falling asleep in a matter of minutes.
Waking up the next morning and the night before feels hazy and distorted and there's a crick in his neck from the god fucking awful angle he'd slept in, Mickey sprawled out over his body, head heavy on his chest. Despite everything there's a bubble of happiness in his chest that he can't quite shake as he looks over at the mess of the living room and kitchen. Bottles and glasses and food, a box of pizza left open on the dining room table. Debs and her boyfriend (fiance? he's not sure what to consider Neil) are sleeping on the sofa, Liam on a pile of blankets in front of the TV. Further in are Frank and Monica bundled under blankets. Lip and Fiona were the only ones to make it up the stairs from the looks of it.
Everything is calm. Quiet in a way that the house normally isn't -- yelling and coming and going, people throwing things or slamming things. Ian sighs, closing his eyes and playing with Mick's hair as he feels himself drifting back into slumber.
Like all things though, the quiet doesn't last.
Frank's voice cuts through the quiet, rising in intensity that has him finally blinking the sleep out of his eyes to look up towards the kitchen where Lip is stood frozen in shock at the scene before him. Ian blinks again and the sound kicks in -- and Frank has that tone. He's heard it a few times in the short period he's been working as an EMT, that's fear and desperation. Around them the others are beginning to wake. "Mickey, Mick. Get up -- get -- sorry -- " Ian says trying to wriggle out from underneath him because he's not yet awake before none too gently pushing him off of him so he can lurch to his feet and pad to his parents and brother.
"Is she breathing - ?" He asks his brother who seems as lost in the whole thing as he feels. His heart is pounding in his throat and he thinks he might throw up. Instead, he kneels down on the side opposite Frank and reaches for the pulse point in his mo -- no, another patient. If he thinks of her as his mother he's not sure he'll be able to do it. No pulse. Unresponsive pupils. "Someone call an ambulance, now!"
Doing CPR is like second nature to him, compressions to the chest, then breathe -- compressions, then breathe. Ian focuses on the counting and lack of response as he works, rather than who he's doing it on or the reactions of everyone who's woken up at this point to the scene in the living room. Stopping to check for any improvement and finding none before starting again. Actions becoming sharper, a little more desperate as they don't wield any results. He barely even notices the tears pouring down his face.
The combination of spiked booze and his meds which already made him a lightweight had Ian out like a light before he could drag his sorry ass up the stairs, collapsed into the recliner, squeezed in next to Mickey. The impromptu party that Frank and Monica had thrown to celebrate their -- third? Fourth? Wedding had been surprisingly fun and free of drama which was a rarity when it came to the Gallaghers these days. Usually whenever Frank or Monica were involved things would get especially volatile (lover's spat aside).
Especially when they were involved.
So things go off without a hitch. Everyone dances with everyone, he hugs his mom and means it when he smiles at her and says he's happy to see her happy. She kisses him, tells him how proud of him she is and he can't help the warmth that brings him. She even hugs Mickey and tells him to look out for her boy because she'd know if he wasn't, and she likes him so it would be unfortunate to have to kill him which has Ian cackling with laughter at his boyfriend's face.
When three am hits, Ian is swaying so much on his feet from exhaustion and everything else that Mickey is yanking him to his feet but he really doesn't think he's gonna manage the stairs unless he wants to carry him up and as funny as that would be, he takes pity on him. Ian drags him over to the recliner and squeezes them both onto it, falling asleep in a matter of minutes.
Waking up the next morning and the night before feels hazy and distorted and there's a crick in his neck from the god fucking awful angle he'd slept in, Mickey sprawled out over his body, head heavy on his chest. Despite everything there's a bubble of happiness in his chest that he can't quite shake as he looks over at the mess of the living room and kitchen. Bottles and glasses and food, a box of pizza left open on the dining room table. Debs and her boyfriend (fiance? he's not sure what to consider Neil) are sleeping on the sofa, Liam on a pile of blankets in front of the TV. Further in are Frank and Monica bundled under blankets. Lip and Fiona were the only ones to make it up the stairs from the looks of it.
Everything is calm. Quiet in a way that the house normally isn't -- yelling and coming and going, people throwing things or slamming things. Ian sighs, closing his eyes and playing with Mick's hair as he feels himself drifting back into slumber.
Like all things though, the quiet doesn't last.
Frank's voice cuts through the quiet, rising in intensity that has him finally blinking the sleep out of his eyes to look up towards the kitchen where Lip is stood frozen in shock at the scene before him. Ian blinks again and the sound kicks in -- and Frank has that tone. He's heard it a few times in the short period he's been working as an EMT, that's fear and desperation. Around them the others are beginning to wake. "Mickey, Mick. Get up -- get -- sorry -- " Ian says trying to wriggle out from underneath him because he's not yet awake before none too gently pushing him off of him so he can lurch to his feet and pad to his parents and brother.
"Is she breathing - ?" He asks his brother who seems as lost in the whole thing as he feels. His heart is pounding in his throat and he thinks he might throw up. Instead, he kneels down on the side opposite Frank and reaches for the pulse point in his mo -- no, another patient. If he thinks of her as his mother he's not sure he'll be able to do it. No pulse. Unresponsive pupils. "Someone call an ambulance, now!"
Doing CPR is like second nature to him, compressions to the chest, then breathe -- compressions, then breathe. Ian focuses on the counting and lack of response as he works, rather than who he's doing it on or the reactions of everyone who's woken up at this point to the scene in the living room. Stopping to check for any improvement and finding none before starting again. Actions becoming sharper, a little more desperate as they don't wield any results. He barely even notices the tears pouring down his face.
