[ from the stories he'd heard about ian's mom, even before the two knew each other, just living in the same neighborhood, monica is not a thing you want to be. least of all when you're one of the children she put through hell. mickey's own dad was definitely an asshole, but he'd at least been there most of the time. and his crazy shit was relatively predictable. a frown pulls at his lips, mickey feeling at once immensely protective of this boy he knows can more than protect himself. ]

You're nothing like Monica.

[ mickey says it quietly, tugging ian's head against his shoulder, another kiss to his forehead. he's still baffled on what this is and what it means, how much of what made monica monica is now in ian, and how he'll help ian handle that. at least they can still joke about it, things always easier with them when they can be careless fucks. ]

Yeah, where's the fuckin' lie, though? [ mickey chuckles against his hair. ] I'll stock up the Midol next time I'm by CVS.

[ which is a joke, he doesn't think it'll do anything for ian's particular issue. hell, he's not sure what would. which is maybe part of why he doesn't stop carding fingers through his hair, now tugging a blanket off the back of the couch to drape over his boyfriend. let ian pass out a while so mickey can do some research. ] Been a long day. No one's gonna bust your balls for a nap.