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Mickey wasn’t sure why he’d wanted to get married so much. He hadn’t, until Ian had convinced him. He'd felt safe when he’d said yes, safer than he knew he could feel, and then Ian had yanked it away and he’d been angrier than he’d ever been with Ian before. And he’d been plenty angry with Ian over the years. But like Ian did, he’d made it okay in the end.
And now they were married. They’d had their honeymoon night, and then separate interrogations the next morning about their possible gang affiliations after being the victims of a drive by. The cops’ eyes had glazed over when they’d explained that it was Terry Milkovich upset that his son was gay. Nothing glamourous like a meth operation gone bad or rival gang bangers fighting over territory. If they were lucky the cops would ask Terry about it and he would be drunk or angry enough to just say that he wanted to kill his faggot son, but Mickey doubted that would happen and the cops didn’t seem overly keen to investigate.
When they came back to the house, they found it full of friends and relatives who had crashed on the Gallagher couch, many of whom woke up and made half-hearted greetings when they walked in.
“I just want to crash,” Ian said.
Mickey tamped down the automatic worry that Ian wanted to sleep in the middle of the day and ran his hand down Ian’s arm. “If this is what the living room looks like, I doubt our bed is free. But I will happily kick anyone who’s sleeping in there out for you.”
Ian smiled. “Thanks. I’ll get clean sheets in case.”
In case it’s Frank sleeping in our bed, Mickey mentally finished for him. He nodded and gave Ian’s lips a peck, then went upstairs. He didn’t know who the three people in his bed were, but they left without much of an argument after Mickey shouted at them a bit. Mickey stripped the sheets. He and Ian had already had showers to get the glass and other shit out of their hair, so there was no danger they’d transport it into the bed. Well, Ian. Mickey wasn’t going back to sleep.
Ian looked beat and Mickey took the sheets and did the bulk of the work, Ian pulling the sheets down on his side of the bed to make things easier. Mickey tucked Ian in despite his scoffing, then kissed him and left the room.
He found Liam in the kitchen drinking coffee. Weird kid.
“Aren’t you worried you’re going to stunt your growth? You might end up like me.”
Liam raised his eyebrows. “Caffeine doesn’t stunt your growth. That's a myth. And I could do worse than end up like you.”
Mickey absorbed that frightening thought for a moment then said, “Where is everyone?”
“Debbie ran away from the cops.”
“What did the cops want with Debbie?”
“Statutory rape, I guess.”
Mickey poured a coffee and took a sip. “Geez, I must have been really preoccupied with the wedding. No idea what’s been going on around here. Thanks for the car, by the way. Great gift.”
Liam said nothing, and his expression didn’t change all that much, but Mickey got the feeling he was extremely pleased he’d done good. Mickey couldn’t imagine being ten and getting anyone a gift, let alone a good gift. Really weird kid.
Mickey realized they’d left the car at the motel. “Someone’ll have to go get it. We left it at the motel. I don’t think there’s bullet holes in it, though.”
Franny walked in right then and Liam fussed around her for a while getting her cereal and then stood straight abruptly and whipped his head around to look at Mickey. “Wait, bullet holes?”
Mickey took a sip of coffee. “Terry did a drive by. We’re fine though. Ian’s asleep upstairs.”
“Shit,” Liam said.
The visitors filtered in and started looking for breakfast, and Mickey escaped upstairs to see what Ian was doing. Still sleeping, so Mickey flipped through a magazine until he woke up a half an hour later. Mickey went and got him a glass of water and he drank it.
“How did you know I was thirsty?” Ian asked.
Mickey shrugged, and if he’d been pressed to put it into words, he wouldn’t have been able to. At the end of the day it boiled down to what didn’t he know about Ian. He knew every expression on his face, every nerve in his body, every thought in his head. It was a good feeling. Safe. Ian was the one person in his life he could relax around because nothing he did really surprised him. It didn’t make any sense because of the bipolar. Ian said he didn’t know himself some days, so how could Mickey claim to know him?
Maybe it didn’t make sense but it was true nonetheless.
That afternoon they went over to Lip’s apartment and helped him and Tami with demo. Mickey wasn’t entirely clear on why Lip would fix up a rented apartment (was he renting to own? Did he get a discount on the rent if he fixed it up? Was the landlord paying him for repairs?) but he didn’t ask. Lip was a lot smarter than him so he had to imagine he knew what he was doing in a financial sense, at least.
After a few hours they stopped and ordered pizza. While they were waiting Mickey brushed the building dust off of Ian.
Lip looked over. “Thanks for the help guys, but you can take off if you want. It’s still your honeymoon, isn’t it?”
“Getting shot at always ruins the mood,” Ian said, smiling ruefully.
Mickey scowled. “You promised us fucking pizza, man. You gonna just order it and then kick us out before it gets here?”
Lip rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. Lip had this new thing where he just ignored Mickey when he said something provoking instead of talking back. People were going to have to start calling him Tightlip. Mickey frowned. “You stealing Ian’s meds, man? You’re weirdly Zen.”
A car pulled up and Lip squeezed Mickey’s shoulder as he walked to the front door. “Pizza’s here.”
Mickey couldn’t decide if he liked Lip ignoring him or not. Sometimes it was good, like when he’d ignored Mickey’s negativity about the wedding and just booked a place like a hero. Mickey had briefly understood why Ian liked Lip so much when he’d done that. But it was annoying that he wouldn’t engage.
He looked over at Ian. “What’s wrong?”
Ian was struggling against tears, but just shook his head. Mickey tried to figure out if they were happy tears or sad tears. Happy tears, he decided, and put an arm around Ian’s waist. Ian rested his head again st Mickey’s shoulder.
“You two really are...” Lip didn’t finish his sentence. He took off his work gloves , put the pizza box on the floor, opened it and took out a slice.
Ian brushed the tears off his face. “We really are.”
Mickey looked at Tami. “You understand this unspoken Gallagher shit?”
Tami smiled tentatively. “I’m starting to.”
Mickey shook his head sadly. “Beginning of the end, man. Get out while you can. It’s not too late to go to Milwaukee before you’re stuck here like me.”
“One of us, one of us,” Ian chanted.
Lip threw the glove he’d taken off to pick up the pizza at Ian’s head, but Mickey caught it before it hit him and wiped it back at Lip, who caught it before it hit him in the face.
Lip threw it at Mickey and it hit him in the leg.
Ian’s arm snaked around Mickey’s shoulders. “You really married me,” Ian said, like he was still surprised about it.
Mickey’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Yeah. Of course I did.”
If Ian had ever had any doubts, he hadn’t been paying attention.