Chapter Text
The initial conversation started after a long night of slamming and slapping for Ian and Mickey Gallagher-Milkovich. The dark haired man lay across Ians chest, right arm draped across him. Ian dug his fingers gently into Mickey's scalp and massaged it.
He was trying to butter Mickey up for what he was about to say.
"Hey, Mick?" He started hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think that maybe we can, I don't know, umm adopt some kids?"
Mickey huffed out a laugh and responded with, "Sure. While we're at it, let's adopt all of fucking Africa. Turn into Brad and Angelina fucking Jolie, why don't you?"
Ian tried to hide his face of disappointment while Mickey laughed, oblivious to the fact that his husband was growing sadder and sadder.
It took about 2 minutes before Mickey stopped laughing and realized that Ian wasn't laughing with him. In fact, Ians' head was turned to the side, desperately trying to hide the tears about to spill from his eyes.
"Wait...you serious?"
"Yes, I'm fucking serious, Mickey. I wouldn't joke about some shit like that." Ian says, lip trembling.
Mickey sat up and crawled onto Ians lap, trying to make the redhead below him look at him.
"Shit, I'm sorry. I thought you were fucking joking. Hey, look at me, please." Mickey tried to get him to look, but Ian didn't budge.
"Babe, can you please look at me? I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to make you sad."
Ian slowly turned his head towards a pleading Mickey and breathed out a soft sigh.
"It's okay Mickey. I understand if you don't want any kids, it was just a thought. " Ian knew that Mickey already had Yev. Even though the dark haired man didn't particularly like him.
"No, I do want some kids. I mean we're like 30 something now, right? Who the fuck is gonna take care of us when we get all Ian McKellen old and shit?" Ian laughed at Mickey's comment and smiled at him.
"Do you actually want some kids or you are you just saying it because you know that's what I want to hear?"
"Little bit of both. But, why fucking not? Let's do it." Mickey encouraged.
Ian sat up to grip Mickey's neck and a very passionate kiss. They locked lips for a minute or two before the need to breathe became a necessity.
"Where do you think we should look first?" Ian asked, forehead pressed against the older man.
"I have no fucking clue."