Chapter Text
Lip told her Ian and Mickey got engaged the same night he told the family they were moving to Milwaukee. Everyone congratulated them, but no one felt like celebrating with Lip's news hanging over them like the Grim Reaper.
A part of her feels guilty. Marriage is huge. She never thought about it much; but, the few times she let herself, she pictured telling her friends and popping champagne. She imagined her engagement night as a months out pre-game to her bachelorette party.
Moving is what's best for them, but she didn't want it to overshadow what was usually one of the best nights of a couple's life.
Maybe she's overcompensating when she comes up with the idea. Lip tells her as much. She just wants to make it up to them though. Wary as she can be of their relationship, she knows they're always going to come back to each other. She's not even sure death could pull them apart. She can imagine Mickey swaggering into the afterlife with only his fists, to pull Ian back to him. And see Ian storming the pearly gates, using a van as both a battering ram and escape vehicle.
She'll never understand why they are. But she'll feel the why when every 'Bitch' sounds like 'Babe' and every 'Fuck you' an 'I love you'. Or when she catches the quiet moments or watches them move like a well oiled machine that sometimes has a wrench stuck in the gears.
So she does it. She rallies Debbie, who then rallies V, to throw them an engagement party.
At some point, Liam catches wind of the plan and offers to cover the food. (Someone from his old school owes him one apparently). V brings alcohol and music, while Tami and Debbie shop for decorations. She has to stop Debbie from throwing the engagement for herself - No Debs, I don't think Mickey would appreciate a pink boa and Are you sure Ian would want to wear a crown? then Geez, Tami, party pooper much?
They end up with a black and gold Congratulations Grad banner that they folded to hide 'Grad' (Tami suggested cutting it off completely but Debbie said they can save it for Liam and Franny's graduations). A couple bags of little party poppers, those noisy annoying kazoos that roll paper out when you blow and some of those spinning noise makers. Debbie pulled out a stash of party hats they kept in the attic.
Tami splurged on a couple of black and white customizable sashes she found for a bargain on Amazon. They read "Mr. and Mr."
When they arrived in a small, beat up Amazon bag, Lip shook his head saying They're going to hate it. And, sure, maybe Tami went overboard. Maybe she's overcompensating for being the one who's grandma lives in Wisconsin with a free house her and Lip are moving to. She may even be trying to buy love. That's not the point. The point is engagements should be celebrations and she's going to throw the best, budget friendly party possible.
She let Mickey borrow the car earlier so he could take Ian to his follow up appointment. They were supposed to be back already, but Mickey said they needed to run a couple of errands, which was not comforting. But it gave her more time to prepare and time for everyone else to get there. She should have known there would be some stragglers.
Ian let her know they were on their way 15 minutes ago.
The house is nearly pitch black, lit only by the moonlight. The glittery party hats flash against the soft light every now and then. Swiveling heads turn from the front of the house and to the back. Ian and Mickey can come in either door. They learned that lesson last time.
There are soft conversations going on all fronts. Debbie's talking about a client that may or may not be gay and V is giving her some pretty good advice. Kev's complaining about his knees as he's crouched. Popping up is part of the surprise he says when Liam asks why he's doing it in the first place. Franny is jittering next to her, ready to blow her kazoo. Carl complains about being hungry. Will they really miss one wing?
Lip slips a hand around her, "Looks good in here."
Warmth creeps up her toes and stops right in the middle of her chest. She smiles at him. Before she can say anything, there's a click on one of the doors. It's not the back door. She whispers a quiet, "Front door."
Mickey and Ian are laughing about something as they walk in. Mickey's leading them.
"Surprise!" Everyone yells as they enter. Franny stands next to her with the little horn blowing as the paper unfurls. A few party poppers go off and someone switches the light on.
"Ho-ly shit!" Mickey jolts, he looks ready to fight. Maybe the party poppers weren't too thought out.
Ian squints like he's been blinded by fireworks. "What the hell is going on?"
They look around and their shoulders relax.
"Oh, shit." Mickey claps. "A party."
They're barely past the threshold when Tami rushes them with the sashes.
"What's this?" Ian asks, trying to roll it out and read it.
"Oh hell yeah." Mickey says staring at his. He's quick to sling it over his shoulder and turns to Ian flashing it proudly. "Put yours on."
"There's no way I'm putting this on." Ian argues.
"Uh, yes the fuck you are." Mickey says grabbing the sash. Ian shakes his head. "Plus if you wear right now, I'll wear mine later with nothin' else."
There's a chorus of ews, gross and get a room as Ian throws it on - he has impressive speed for a guy with crutches - and hobbles his way into the living room. She thinks she hears Mickey mutter a That's what I thought.
One by one they pull Ian and Mickey (reluctantly) in for a hug. Franny goes last, wrapping her arms around their legs with a "Congratulations Uncle Mickey and Uncle Ian." Except the congratulations is missing the 'r'.
"Thank you, Franny."
"Thank you, Lil' Orphan Annie."
"Mickey!" Debbie yells from the kitchen.
"Fine. Lil' Half-Orphan Annie, then." He yells back.
"That doesn't even make sense." Debbie argues.
"Yeah, why half?" Ian asks.
"Her dad's dead." Mickey shrugs. Tami chokes, glad Franny's out of earshot. Brutal but kind of funny.
Like a cartoon character smelling pie, Mickey floats to the kitchen and stacks a little of everything on plate. Mostly wings though. Carl is right behind him like a drug sniffing dog on a trail.
Plastic cups of champagne are passed around. Beer bottles crack open. Music plays from the small but mighty bluetooth speaker V brought. The house feels a lot warmer.
Tami stands quietly near the opening of the kitchen, watching everyone pass back and forth.
"You did good." Lip stops by with a plate. He gives her a quick peck.
"You can say it, you know." Her words laced with the smugness of a tenured professor correcting an arrogant student. Lips face goes flat. She teases with a small shrug,"C'mon, just say it."
"You were right about the sashes." Lip rolls his eyes.
"Yes. I. Was." A kiss tacked on to the end of each word like a period.
Everyone's gathered in the living room, drinking and trading stories about the grooms. Chairs are pulled from the kitchen for extra space. Franny's on the floor, chatting her uncle Liam's ear. She knows he loves Franny but he's also a ten year old boy not equipped to follow a conversation with a toddler. He looks around for a life-line.
Carl's at the foot of the couch's arm, knees up to his chest, curled into his plate like it's the first meal he's had in years. Plate in hand. her gaze drifts around the room. She catches part of a conversation between V and Debbie sitting on the couch. Ian's mid-bite, arm covering his mouth as he laughs about something Kev said across the room.
Mickey and Ian are sat at the head of the party. She's pretty sure the only time Mickey's eye's leave Ian for longer than thirty second is when he's fishing around their plate for his next wing.
She thinks about her and Lip.
"Here," she hears a voice say, "Tami, come, sit." Debbie scoots over to create a space for her.
It feels weird. Different. She's in the middle of all the chatter and drinking and joy.
"Who set this up, anyways? Know it wa'nt you."
"Why not?" Lip looks at Mickey, face scrunched. Mickey tilts his head and rolls his eyes. Lip know's Mickey's right. "It was Tami."
"I helped too!" Debbie pipes in defensively live.
"Everyone chipped in, Debs, but it was Tami's idea." Lip says.
"Well he didn't ask who's idea it was. Did he, Lip? He asked who set it up."
Ian rolls his eyes at her and Lip gives up.
"Relax, Reba."
Tami is mid bite when she almost chokes on her food. She hasn't heard Mickey use that one yet.
Debbie lightly jabs her with an elbow. She clearly doesn't find it as funny.
"Sorry, geez, it was a good one." She quietly laughs a little more.
"You know Reba?" Lip looks at Mickey, amused.
"'Course I do. She sings that one song." He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. He looks to Ian for help. Ian watches him, faced screwed up, just as shocked as his brother. "The one with Dolly Parton."
"Dolly, fucking, Parton?" Ian stares, a smile slowly creeping up his lips. "Who am I marrying?"
Mickey throws a hand out and gives Ian a shove, "Fuck you. They played it in the joint all the time."
"Does He Love You?" Debbie nearly shouts from her spot next to Tami. She needs to get a pair of earplugs before Debbie ruptures her eardrums.
Everyone's head sways to her then back to the couple.
"Well, does he?" Kev asks.
"It's the name of the song, dumbass." Mickey's tone isn't harsh. She notices that. His tone is rarely harsh even when the words sound like they should be.
Resounding oh's echo around the room, proving that he's surrounded by a room full of dumbasses, herself included.
"It's a good wedding song." Mickey taps Ian's arm with the back of his hand.
Debbie's quick to say, "I'm pretty sure it's a song about cheating."
"No it's not." He argues.
"Hey V-" Debbie says because she like to be right.
"Already on it." V types away on her phone and presses play.
They all listen for a moment, letting the lyrics sitting with them. V doesn't play it all the way through because it's obvious.
"Yeah, that's a cheater's anthem." V says pausing the song and switching back.
"Does he love you like he loves me?" Carl tilts his head at Mickey.
"Totally a cheating song." Kev adds.
"Did you listen with your ears closed?" Liam piles on.
"Very likely." Lip says.
Mickey looks to Ian for defense. Ian clearly agrees with everyone else but doesn't say it. Mickey's face contorts sweeping hand across the room. "Man, fuck you guys." He pauses and clarifies with a softer, "Not you, Franny."
It's nice the way everyone pokes fun at each other. Someone argues that a story's being told wrong and someone else groans begging for a story not to be told. And she's in the middle of it all.
Tami leave to refill her cup and when she gets back she catches the end of something Lip's saying.
"...hated Kash."
"Cash?" She asks plopping back onto the couch. "Why do you hate cash?"
"Not money. Ian's ex-boyfriend Kash." Lip says swallowing the last bit of food he was chewing.
"More like ex-manfriend." Mickey corrects lifting his beer to his mouth, annoyed. Ian groans beside him, not wanting to get into it. "I'm just sayin', if I saw him on the streets tomorrow I'd kick his ass. Guy was in his fuckin' 30's skeevin' on a teenager."
"C'mon. What happened, happened. It's done." Ian shrugs. He looks disinterested. Like it's something he doesn't want to relive.
Lip and Mickey are ready to argue when Tami casually shrugs her shoulders and stuffs a fry into her mouth.
"I get it." All heads turn to her. "Well, except mine was my junior high teacher."
"Well, I'd kick his ass too." Mickey getting riled up on her behalf feels nice.
"Hey, I know where he works. Say the word, Mick." Lip lifts a bare chicken bone up in a hear hear fashion.
"Alright, no one's kicking anyone's ass." Ian shuts all the ass-kicking down.
Apparently Kev's a reservoir of stories.
"It was back in like 2013 or something. Mickey comes in, already plastered." Mickey points out he was plastered a lot back then so Kev would have to be more specific. "You came in and threatened to kill me if I told anyone."
"He used to do that a lot too, babe." V points out.
"Yeah, but this was the time he didn't even ask for a drink. You know what he did ask though?" Kev sends Mickey a sly smile.
"No. Absolutely the fuck not." Mickey objects throwing a hand out. "Kev, I might have to kill you. Actual murder."
Kev gives him a small, "C'mon man. It's cute."
Ian looks up at Mickey with a raised brow. "Fine, but don't call me cute."
"So, he comes in. Doesn't want a shot or a beer. Just wants some advice. I say 'Okay' and he asks," Mickey interrupts with a pained groan, "He says 'How did you know you were in love with V?"
"Yeah?" Ian asks, eyes stuck on his fiancee. Mickey nods a yeah-yeah, whatever. He looks away, nodding at Kevin. "What'd you say Kev?"
"Told him it was when I realized I didn't like that we lived separately."
"Is that why you asked me to move in?" If eyes could change shapes, V's would be perfect little hearts.
"Of course." He says as if it's obvious. "And splitting less rent."
She swats at him, but she's grinning. They both are.
"Wait, what'd did Mick say?" It's obvious Ian's going to give him shit about it.
"Asked for a shot, threatened to kill me again, and said he thinks he's in love and asked 'Does it usually feel like shit?'"
"What did you say?" V asks, eyes narrowing as if his answer can and will get him in trouble.
"He said all the time." Mickey folds his arms, happy to shift the attention.
"Kev!"
"I said sometimes!"
"Doesn't make it better." V's eyes dart towards Kevin with a head tilt.
Ian's just as amused as his husband to be.
"Think that's embarrassing?" Debbie leans forward in her seat. "When Mickey went to jail-"
"Debs, no." Ian looks like he wants to jump across the living room and press his hand to her mouth. "You don't get to tell a story."
"The fuck she doesn't. Debbie, tell the story."
Mickey and Ian go back and forth a couple of times before Debbie cuts in.
"When Mickey went to jail," she starts louder than their bickering, "Ian wore his flannel everywhere. Work, wearing the flannel. Sleeping, wearing the flannel. Wouldn't be surprised if he was wearing it in the shower.
Ian groans. "Fuck you, Debbie."
"What? It was kinda adorable."
Ian rolls his eyes, probably about her use of 'adorable'. Mickey eyes twitch up at Ian. It's like they're telepathic because Ian just says, "It was a nice flannel, ok?"
There's that smile Mickey does. The one reserved for Ian. His hand grips Ian's shoulder and slides down his back.
The conversation slows, everyone retreating into smaller talks until Franny starts dancing. As the life of the party she pulls Liam to his feet, then Carl and Debbie. She doesn't stop until everyone's up and dancing, tummies full and bodies buzzing. She even gets Ian to join with his broken leg. "You too, Uncle Mickey."
"Me too?" She shouts a 'yes!' yanking on his hand until he stands.
At one point, Franny ends up on the coffee table begging her mom to join. She does.
Tami's standing in the kitchen to take a break from all the dancing when Mickey walks in silently. He's still wearing his sash proudly as he pulls a beer out of the refrigerator followed by... an egg and tabasco? She wants to ask.
"Thanks." He mutters while he pours the beer into a beat up cup.
"Sure." It's all she can say, entranced by his concoction. He cracks an egg in it. Fuck it, she's buzzed. "What thefuck is'at?" She's more buzzed than she thought. Like fuck a groomsmen in a broom closet and puke on his shoes buzzed.
"Don't knock it 'til you try it a'right?" He douses a few drops of tabasco to top it off then holds it out to her in offering. She's pretty sure her nose scrunches.
"Sex in a glass."
She shakes her head again.
"Try the damn beer, Paris Hilton." He pushes it over to her.
Pausing, she realizes that's the first nickname he's ever given her. Now she feels like she has to try it. Slow, she pulls the cup to her mouth prepared for it to make her want to vomit. It's a little slimy with a kick of spice that hides the taste of beer she usually finds hard to swallow. It's pleasant. She coughs, the spice hitting the back of her throat.
"Holy shit." She stares at the cup like it's made of gold.
"Can have that one." He's already pulling more ingredients out. "Drink it fast, though. Beer'll cook the egg if you drink it too slowly."
She tosses the rest of it back in three big gulps.
"Jesus, I ain't mean that fast. You fuckin' Russian or somethin'?"
A heavy burp escapes her mouth. She's only quick enough to cover her mouth halfway through. Like a child it makes her giggle.
"I'm so sorry." The words barely make a sounds through her laughter.
She thinks she sees an upturn of Mickey's lips as he shakes his head. He doesn't say anything, just takes a drink of his beer.
"'Ey, what's going on?" Lip's smiling and holding his coffee cup when he walks in. "Mickey holding you hostage?"
"More like she's holdin' me hostage. Threatened me with a burp. Homer Simpson over here. Surprised you didn't feel the whole damn house shake." He says it with a straight face and such nonchalance Tami can't help but laugh. Mickey's eyes crinkle as he huffs out a laugh.
Tami's sure he can and will keep going but Lip stops him.
"Alright, Mick."
"'M just sayin'. Should prob'ly keep her away from open flames." Mickey saunters bacl to Ian.
Not even death, she thinks.
Everyone looks happy and relaxed. There's so much worry all the time. It feels like life never gives them a break. But not now. Now everyone's smiling and drinking and dancing and free. Tami leans on the counter to get comfortable.
"You good?" Lip asks, leaning next to her.
"All good." She thinks a little longer. "Yeah. I'm good."
The thing is, she thinks she gets it now.
The Gallaghers. Tied together by blood and decades of collective reliance.
The house. A safe-ish place for people to find shelter. Except Frank. Fuck Frank.
Ian and Mickey. Two sharp edged puzzle pieces, softening each other when they're together. Their constant pushing that only pull them together.
She feels it now. That tinge of envy. Watching them together - Mickey now sitting on the arm of Ian's seat, Ian's hand gripping Mickey's thigh to keep him in place, to keep him close - Tami hopes she gets there too.