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Their big day is finally here. Despite what Ian's family wanted to pay for, they're gonna go down to the court house in some tuxes like a couple old queens, then have a buffet and get drunk at that dive bar they got trashed in the night they finally got it together. Simple, sweet and South Side.
It's hardly a demanding schedule, but Ian is adamant they need to be ready an hour and a half early so that they can run an 'errand' beforehand. It sounds like bullshit, but he insists it's important and Mickey's never been good at telling him no, so he's hardly gonna start on their wedding day.
Ian leads him to the L and they ride uptown, looking out of place in their formal wear in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. He assumes Ian's arranged with the photographer to take some pictures of them at landmarks in the Loop or something, but they get off in a random-ass neighborhood neither of them knows well and that definitely doesn't have much in the way of tourist attractions.
Ian takes his hand and they walk for a few minutes, Mickey growing more and more perplexed until a high school comes into view and he finally understands where he's being taken.
"Soft bitch," he smirks, giving Ian's hand a squeeze.
Another 20 yards and Mickey can read the bulletin board out front by the road, where passing cars can see notices from the school about upcoming events. Today it's the first round of the Chicago Scholastic Freestyle-Wrestling Championship. He stops in his tracks.
"Did you- did you plan our entire wedding around this? The date and everything?"
Ian looks awfully pleased with himself.
"You love it."
"I ... yeah fuck, I do." Mickey admits, chuckling and flashing Ian one of those dazzling, beautiful smiles that only he ever gets to see.
They wend their way around the block and then enter a familiar alley by the gym. Nothing looks to have changed. Mickey feels around in his pockets for his cigarettes, but slowly realizes that they're not in there. Of course they aren't. Ian's looking even more self-satisfied as he reaches into his breast pocket and pulls them out. There's only one in there too.
"You know I'm gonna be bitchy as hell if this is all the nicotine I get for the next two hours, right?"
"Worth it," Ian smiles. Apparently he's not done with the romantic gestures either, because instead of letting Mickey have his smoke, he pulls out a pocket knife and starts scratching at a brick.
"Jesus, you're really going full cliché on the teenage love thing, aren't you Gallagher?" Mickey grouses, as the letters 'I G M M' start to take shape. Ian flashes him one of those knowing, calling-Mickey's-bluff smiles that everyone gets to see, all the damn time.
"C'mere," Mickey grins, pulling him in for a long, slow, smiling kiss.
Once Ian's satisfied that their love has been adequately engraved for eternity, he finally pulls out his lighter and they lean back against the wall as he sparks it and takes the first puff of their cigarette. They don't speak, just pass it back and forth between them, soaking up the nostalgia for a while but then both jump when the door crashes open beside them and two boys with gym bags slung over their shoulders emerge. They look at them the way two teenagers would two men in tuxedos smoking behind a high school gym, but Mickey just takes another drag, exposing his 'fuck' knuckles.
"Don't mind us man. We won't snitch."
The kids look at each other but then shrug, and one pulls out a carton of cigarettes and offers them to the other.
Ian smiles.
"Hey uh, be careful with this wall; it'll turn you gay. I was straight, but then I shared a smoke with this douche and now I'm marrying him."
"Same tournament too," Mickey adds.
The boys look at them with raised eyebrows, but then smirk.
"Ahhhh," Mickey laughs. "Too late, the wall already got 'em."
The cigarette's down to the butt, so he takes one more pull and then tosses it down, stamping it out with his shoe without giving Ian a final drag.
"A'ight, well when you two get married you can come warn the next generation and carve another brick in the wall," he says, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at Ian's handiwork behind him.
"You ready?" Ian asks Mickey softly.
"Yeah, let's get this shit over with." He wraps his arm around Ian's waist under his jacket and starts leading him out of the alley.
Ian looks over his shoulder to smile at the teenagers. "Good luck!"
The boys watch them go, taking a few more silent puffs on their cigarettes before tossing them aside and lighting up a second.
"You think he's right about it?" the redhead asks the brunet.
"What, that this is some kind of homo-transfiguring wall?" the other scoffs.
"No! That we're going to get married."
The brunet tips his head back and laughs.
"Trust you to latch onto that. I guess there's only one way to find out though, right?"
That makes red beam from ear to ear.
"C'mere," he grins, pulling him in for a long, slow, smiling kiss.