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Mickey paused in the doorway and closed his eyes, mentally going over the list Mandy had given him again: the water was the right temperature, he’d poured the fucking bubbles in, his phone was ready with the Bryan Adams station queued up on Pandora, and the shitty candles he’d gotten from the dollar store were already lit. The only thing missing was Ian.
Mickey couldn’t believe how stupid it all was. When had he become so fucking gay? He blamed Mandy for putting the idea into his head to do something “special” for Ian on their anniversary. He shouldn’t even have mentioned it to her…
He opened his phone to check the time. Mickey guessed that Ian would be back from work any minute, since there were no messages from Gallagher to the contrary. He realized he’d forgotten something and ran to the fridge. While he was bent down to get two cold beers out, Mickey heard the front door croak open. “Fuck,” he muttered, kicking the fridge door shut with his knee and rushing to the entrance, beers in hand.
“Hey,” he said to the redhead as casually as he could. He failed miserably, because Ian stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow at Mickey.
“What’s going on?” Ian asked, getting right to the point.
Mickey’s looked anywhere but at his boyfriend. “What are you talkin’ about? Here, have a beer,” he said, shoving the cold bottle into Ian’s hand. (Mandy had told him to get wine but Mickey had to draw the line somewhere‒there was only so much sappiness he could handle.)
Ian eyed him suspiciously but accepted the bottle nevertheless. He kicked his boots off in the corner of the entryway and walked into the living room with a shrug. “Okay,” the redhead said over his shoulder before he collapsed into the couch. “I’ll play along,” he added with a smirk and took a sip of the golden liquid.
Mickey scowled. He hated the fact that Ian could read him so well. It made planning a surprise all the more difficult.
“Fine,” he sighed, defeated. He tore off his shirt and shrugged off his shorts, then tossed them at Ian. “Take off your fuckin’ clothes and come to the bathroom,” he grunted, starting to walk down the hall.
“What?” Ian asked, a startled hitch in his voice. Mickey looked back and saw the redhead pulling the small pile of clothes off of his head with a confused expression on his face that very quickly turned into an eager grin. Apparently Mickey could surprise him.
“You heard me, Firecrotch. Strip, then come and get your anniversary gift.”