Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was like a separate world, one in need of more medical attention than any other, yet also the one who called it in the least. Sue got it, fucking obviously; who in the goddamn Southside had actual health insurance to cover for all of the hospital expenses when they could just patch themselves up with some old, unsterilized rag?

She was never the one to ever judge, of course. She's had plenty of coworkers and trainees--bosses even--from the Southside; people who had probably grown up with stores like these with shattered windows and veining apples on display, the most-searched-for item being Old Style beer and a bottle of Jameson.

She understood it. She really fucking did, hearing the stories and the tales; seeing the goddamn scars and bruises.

These sort of things--these robberies--weren't uncommon at all.

They were different, though, especially compared to the rest of Chicago, where some wacko would enter a bank with a shotgun and hold eighty people hostage and end it with ten victims. Here, the gunfights, the B&Es, the B&As; they were too fucking common, and there sure as hell wasn't a news report each time somebody from the Back of the Yards got shanked.

Sue eyed the store again. Eyed the contents within it as she parked the ambulance, a nod to her colleagues to prepare the gurney.

The store didn't look like the one you'd need a loaded gun to rob. It'd probably just take a scary face and an air-soft pistol. The kid behind the counter would probably hand you the contents of the cash register willingly if you had the right tattoos.

And it wasn't as if you were getting something meaningful out of the store anyway--only expired food and a couple of new viruses to spread back home.

Still, despite it all, some fucker--the one Sue could now pinpoint was sat in the back of an unmoving police car, handcuffs around his wrists and a frightened look on his face--deigned it worthy enough of an armed fucking robbery.

Sue now understood why the guy--the boy, really--needed a loaded gun in the first place. He was nothing more than a skinny teenager with acne littered across his malnourished face. Sue felt a pang in her chest for him, the shaggy, oversized clothes visible even through the window of the police car. Even the handcuffs were tightened to their full extent, so they wouldn't fall off his bony arms.

There was a bag of groceries in front of the door of the store. It was overflowing, items scattered around as it spilled over on the rough pavement, food and condiments cracked open and strewn across on impact. Sue's lips pursed at it. 

"Who in the hell would want to rob this place?" Joanna, the new trainee, asked, voicing out the thoughts that had been plaguing Sue's mind. "If you can even call this robbing."

Nonetheless, Sue still clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, nodding at the girl to pick up the necessary equipment. She pointed at the gurney. "Less judging, more working." 

Joanna's lips thinned and she nodded slightly, head bowed down as she moved towards the ambulance door.

It wasn't like Sue disagreed with anything Joanna said.

This definitely wasn't a skilled, nor well-thought-out anything; not when one of the goddamn customers was able to tackle the thief on the floor, effectively stopping him from even leaving the place.

And what a shocker that was.

This was the Southside, for fuck's sake--everybody was packing, especially in a store like this. It looked like a goddamn magnet for street thugs, even the name above the door sketchy, covered up with red paint that was spilling over on the sides like blood, chipped and old. Red paint, red paint, Grab. What a good fucking name.

Appealing, definitely. One hundred percent the one to draw close a specific crowd.

It was fucking obvious that somebody from within the store--probably a mafia member or some other shit like that, who was probably on the way to steal shit from the store himself--would be able to fight off the skinny boy wielding a lady-gun.

He probably had a lady-gun. It was impossible the guy could even hold anything more than those tiny pink revolvers that 'edgy' Northside women carried in their equally tiny purses, right alongside their poodle.

And yet, somebody still got shot in the fucking ass.

Accidentally.

Sue couldn't believe it when she got the call a mere ten minutes ago, the static-y voice of the dispatcher stopping her in midst of a really good joke, altering the team that there had been a shooting in the Southside--shocking--and that there was a man in need of immediate medical attention because of an...accidental ass wound?

Those may not have been the exact words but Sue had always been able to read between the lines, and, yeah, accidental ass wound was exactly what the dispatcher meant.

With her hair strung back, uniform on, and a confused expression on her face, she and her team for the day made their way to the scene. At first, they had exchanged glances; then they had affirmed that, yeah, this is a call to the Southside for getting shot in the ass cheek; and lastly, get a move on Joanna, this isn't funny, while Sue herself was just about damn-near cracking up.

It took seven minutes to arrive at the store, crime scene, whatever.

And boy, was it a sight to behold.

The store from within was in perfect condition--well, for what it was, perfect being quite a loose and relative term--and the outside looked just the same, completely untouched, besides for the plastic bag strewn across the sidewalk, a pack of Pringles cracked open and wasted. Sure, there were perhaps a million reasons for disinfection, disinsection--all of the disis--but it didn't really look as if anything remotely sketchy had gone down in it. Certainly not a fully armed robbery.

Except, of course, for the man who was lying on his stomach in the middle of the street, a bullet hole in his ass.

He was spewing out loud curses, eyes half on the people around him, half on the ripped fabric of his tight jeans, the thin strands flimsy, some tilting in the wind, some sticking to the slight trail of blood seeping out. It was the ass, after all. Not like he was going to die.

Sue could barely hold in a laugh at the sight--that truly would've been unprofessional, despite the circumstance--and was thankfully distracted by the man next to the guy who took a bullet for the infamous red paint, red paint, Grab, the ginger all-too-familiar, the sight bringing back memories of some of the best years in Sue's career.

Ian fucking Gallagher. The complicated, crazy, kind-hearted, and amazing Ian Gallagher.

The man Sue had gladly put up with for a couple of years, with his wonderful charm and his amazing talent.

Ian Gallagher's beautiful face was, and forever would be, etched into her memory. The freckles, the green eyes, that wide smile that made her own face light up. The face that brought back memories of chilling around in the ambulance, taking calls, working hard, cracking jokes, telling stories--being just as much friends as co-workers.

Sue busting Ian's ass, giving him advice, reprimanding him, giving him second chances which he took and took and took until there was nothing else left to take because Sue had nothing more to give.

There had been something about Ian Gallagher, with all his emotional wreckage and hard-worked for talents, that made Sue feel like he was one of her dearest friends, even though they hadn't spoken in four fucking years.

Even though it had been a while since she had last seen him, not quite himself, a large group of people following his every move as he drew farther and farther away from normality and into insanity-- It hurt Sue to say it, but it was true--Sue still felt as if their last normal day at work had been yesterday.

The last memory she had of Ian Gallagher wasn't a good one, despite the many she cherished; the many that popped up in her head now.

She remembered the day she signed his resignation. She remembered the day he got arrested, his face all across the news, the words religious fanatic with a cult following arrested for arson! as the headline. The face of a man she didn't recognize anymore, despite the years of getting to know him, his struggles, his disorder.

All those years flushed down the drain the day he plead guilty by insanity. Sue had shed tears when she found out.

Ian Gallagher, the man she cherished in her life as somebody she truly cared about, sentenced to two to five years in prison.

Two to five years.

It had been four. Ian Gallagher was out. He was out and he was standing in front of the ugly-ass Southside store, next to the guy with a bullet in his fucking ass, looking better and fresher than Sue had probably ever seen him.

Muscles lining up his body, his form bulky and big, definitely not the skinny, tall guy she remembered, but now somebody with a broad back and bulging extremities, the shirt on him stretched wide across the span of his chest and back, a sight to behold. His hair was shorter, even, not the ugly side part he sported in the last days she'd been around him, but now the natural curls of his hair short and scruffy on top of his pretty, freckly head.

"Damn," Sue heard Joanna whisper from beside her. "Now that is something else."

Sue tsked at her, a sound Joanna must've been getting used to from the number of times she had heard it. "Stop eyeballing the redhead and start caring to the patient. Do you want to get fired for being distracted?"

Joanna flushed red. "No, ma'am."

God, what a hypocrite Sue was.

"Good. Now get to it."

Even though Sue would love to keep eyeing her former co-worker and friend, she looked away pushing him out of her head for a moment. None of her musings about Ian and how good he looked now, and how different he was, and wasn't he supposed to be in goddamn prison still?, mattered at that moment, though, Not when they were on scene and a guy was bleeding out of his ass. A guy who, if what Sue had heard was true, had tackled the robber onto the floor and had the dude accidentally pull the trigger of his lady gun.

Somehow, straight in his left butt-cheek.

(Seriously, what the fuck?)

The moment Sue approached the guy, despite the seriousness of it all--as serious as a man spouting the most vulgar of swear words with a bullet in his ass was--the first thing she waited for was for Ian to recognize her.

Both Ian and the guy were talking to the cops as she carried the gurney over with Joanna to lift the patient up--the same Joanna whom she had to reprimand for laughing because, do you think a hero with a bullet in his gluteus maximus is funny, Joanna?--and they were speaking animatedly, the Ian she knew reappearing before her in a matter of seconds.

He was cringing and wincing and doing all of those Ian Gallagher facial expressions Sue still vividly remembered.

"You want to know about the fucking robbery now?" The supposed hero asked--he definitely looked like the type of guy to rob a store, not stop it from being robbed, but, Sue never judged a book by its cover. "I have a goddamn bullet in my ass!"

"Officer," She listened as Ian interrupted, his voice familiar to her ears, still languid and smooth. He was pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He used to do that a lot back in the day, Sue thought. "Look, the EMTs are here. Can you please take our statement after he's patched up? Please?"

Ian was still speaking to the cop when Sue and Joanna approached the other man. He locked eyes with her, the corners creased in pain, and simply huffed a breath, subsequently wincing at it. "Fucking finally." He said. "Get this bullet outta my fucking ass."

"Sir," She asked, going from amusedly intrigued to professional in the blink of an eye. This was what she was paid for after all--she had a fucking job she needed to do, and this man in front of her--he was her job.

Bullet or no bullet in his ass. This man was a goddamn hero.

She had to bite her tongue harshly to stop herself from laughing.

"Can you tell me your name, please?" Sue continued. "We'll lift you in a second."

Her attention was on him as he nodded slightly, blue eyes glimmering. She had to note that he was fairly handsome in that gruff, Southside way. She took notice of his tattoos, especially the FUCK-U-UP fading across his knuckles. "Mickey." He replied. "Name's Mickey."

"Okay, Mickey. We're gonna try and make this as painless as possible. Is that name short of something?" It was a distraction method, trying to get the patients to talk so they wouldn't solely focus on the pain.

Sue watched as he rolled his eyes, and whispered, "A little too late for that. And yes."

"Okay, and what is it short for?" She ignored the jab and nodded at Joanna to lift him up.

He simply scoffed. "Short for none of your fucking business." He then yelled out fucking ow! as she and Joanna gripped him onto the gurney, perhaps not as gently as they could've.

A voice interrupted Sue's thoughts of who in the hell is this fucking guy and who the fuck does he think he is?, still familiar, but now going from kind and soft to sharp and stiff.

Irritated was the appropriate word.

"Hey, watch it," Ian said pointedly. "He's been bleeding for ten minutes now, and he needs to get that bullet out. You could be a little fucking gentler with him."

Sue looked up briefly to try and meet Ian's gaze--impossible, she deducted--his being pinned straight on Mickey's ass, swimming with worry.

"Of course," She said, perhaps a slight hope he'd recognize her voice. His face was closer now. She could inspect the lines a little better--he was fuller, she noted. It looked good on him.

"Will you be riding with us to the hospital?" Joanna asked as they carried the gurney over to the ambulance.

"Goddamn hospital," Mickey muttered. "I don't need no goddamn hospital!"

They all ignored him. "Yes, I'll be riding with him."

They lifted Mickey into the ambulance, Ian in tow, head ducking lower than the others to get in. She remembered that well enough from the days they spent together on shifts, poking fun at his height.

And then, as they all climbed into the ambulance, one by one, Mickey's voice still filling the air up with numerous amounts of fuck and shit, now echoing against the walls of the vehicle, Sue heard her name being spoken.

Fucking finally.

"Sue?" The confused voice of Ian Gallagher reached her ears, making her smile widely.

It took him a while, but better late than never, she thought.

Sue met his eyes, watching as the green glistened in recognition and happiness upon seeing her. It made her smile herself, the grin stretching out across half of her face. She noticed, from the corner of her eye, Joanna observing the two, a question in her eyes.

Better keep working Joanna, she thought sending her a look that conveyed the message. Joanna looked away, still working on Mickey and the bullet in his ass.

(Still funny.)

"Ian," She said simply, the grin turning into a soft smile. He looked like a happy dog with thelook on his face. It made Sue's mood elevate even further--she had missed that look.

"Sue!" He repeated, eyes growing even wider--the memory of that smile distant and faraway, only from times they got called on scene to save a life. That excitement and anxiousness radiating off his body as he turned the alarm on and sped through the streets, a goal present in his eyes. It had been a long time since Sue saw--if she ever had--a sincere smile on Ian Gallagher's face.

This one; this one was close, yet still not it. Sue wondered if she ever would see it, and what that smile would look like.

Just as Sue was about to answer, she was interrupted.

"Gallagher?" Mickey said, his voice exasperated. Sue's gaze shifted to him, but his eyes were on Ian. She heard the doors finally closing behind them and the engine rumble as Cody, another team member, started the ambulance. Mickey's eyes were narrowed. "Are you really fucking smiling right now? Now that I have literally been shot?"

Ian, much to Sue's confusion, rolled his eyes. His smile was gone but the light was brighter in his eyes. "Ain't the first time, Mick. It's probably in the same fucking place." He then smiled widely again, a Joker-like upturn of lips. "On the other hand," Ian pointed his hands at Sue who was getting the necessary tools ready. "This is Sue!"

The childlike excitement made Sue smile, even as she watched Mickey's pants get pulled down along his underwear to reveal a pale ass with a bloody gash in it.

Hm, she thought. Nice.

Not the blood, obviously. She wasn't that kinky.

Mickey's eyes widened sarcastically at Ian's poor introduction. "Oh. Oh, yeah, no, I'm sorry. Why am I being so rude?" He smiled widely at Sue, like a goddamn maniac, the look on his face scaring Sue, just a tiny bit. "Hi Sue--you mind if we skip this whole meet and greet until this bullet is out of my fucking--ow!"

Ian winced at the same moment Mickey yelped, the tweezers pulling the bullet out, slowly, yet surely, Joanna's hands steady and skillful as she did it.

It was soft tissue, Sue knew, and judging by Mickey's rough looks, he could handle somebody pulling a bullet out of it.

Plus, hadn't Ian said something about this happening before and shit?

"Not his first time, huh?" She teased as Mickey kept swearing, Sue's ears finally getting used to the onslaught. She swore too, of course, but this was something else.

Ian nodded slowly as he gazed softly--too softly--at Mickey's ass. "Yeah," He chuckled. "He got shot like this before, years ago. Just that back then, we pulled the bullet out on the kitchen counter in my house."

Sue huffed a laugh as she watched Joanna discard the bullet in a bowl, placing the tweezers alongside it. She handed her the necessary bandages. Joanna knew her shit.

"Years ago?" She asked as her brain created theories on who Mickey even was. Ian never told her about a best friend or a boyfriend named Mickey. Still, years ago could mean two or three--shit, they could've met in prison.

How long has Ian been out of prison?

She had so many fucking questions.

"What do you think, Mick? Over a decade?"

Mickey glared at Ian. A nasty look that made Sue wince, but did nothing to wipe the softness in Ian's eyes as he held eye contact.

Mickey then scoffed.

"How long, Mick?" Ian's voice was teasing.

Joanna then pressed harshly on the wound to stop the bleeding.

"Ow! Goddamn it--fucking--ow! Fuck you, Gallagher! This is all your fucking fault!"

Ian simply snickered, placing a gentle hand on Mickey's calf. "Yup, you're right, a decade. You can even see a scar right there." He pointed at something Sue herself couldn't see. Perhaps it was just very faint.

She instead eyed the hand on Mickey's calf, rubbing soothing circles on the skin.

"That what you're looking at all those times when you just fuckin' stare at my bare ass instead of getting on me?" Mickey panted, and the slight confusion of who is Mickey and who is he to Ian clicked together in Sue's brain.

"Nah, babe, you know what I'm staring at."

Ah, Ian Gallagher, always the one with somebody to bang.

Sue remembered the talks they'd had about boyfriends and relationships once upon a time. How people were always fucking looking for somebody to bang--how it was fucking easier to just not.

Sue still didn't have anybody in her life and she even had every possible option to choose from. Her job was her partner, she had decided a long time ago. No need for anybody else, even though she wouldn't really mind it.

Preferably some nice girl.

As she witnessed the exchange between Ian and his boyfriend--fling, fuck buddy?--Sue was quite tempted to ask how long this one was going to last, but that didn't seem appropriate, now, did it?

But how in the hell could she not be skeptical? Ian truly had never had a moment when he wasn't in some form of a relationship, whether it was for real or just so he could fuck. There was never a problem with that, obviously, but it was hard to take him and his relationships seriously then, especially because she'd been present when some of them had gone to complete shit with unfaithfulness.

Hadn't he fucked an ex?

The pet name was new, though, and so was the whole almost a decade part. Sue hadn't seen Ian in years, and who knew--perhaps this was the man from all those stories years ago, not that she'd ever been given a name and a description--the man that had Ian enamored even while he was with all those other men.

But what did she know? She had literally zero information on the guy.

Only an, ex-boyfriend, too irresistible to avoid fucking.

He never seemed happy when she asked about him. Always cast his eyes downward and curled up in himself as if he was reliving a painful memory. Or maybe a beautiful one with too much pain of the loss to bear.

Who was she to judge? Never the one for cheating, but always the one for true connections, she hoped Ian would find happiness in a man one day.

But that boyfriend was long gone in Mexico for all she remembered, and this guy--well, he was still swearing Ian's head off. But he was here, and he was Ian's something, and well, Ian seemed different from that last time she'd seen him.

He had put on weight--good weight--his eyes were clearer, his smile was wider, the laugh lines were more prominent on his face; he had been in prison, yet he looked good.

"It's all done, Mick." Ian soothed after Sue acknowledged the underwear could go up. She had simply nodded at Joanna after assessing her work. It was good--Joanna was good. "See, not even as bad as last time."

"Bad as last time, Ian." Mickey retorted. "Fucking bad."

Sue noticed the slight apprehension in Mickey's expression. This was Ian's current partner after all. She could be nice to him, at least.

"Well, we're about to pull up in the hospital where, judging by the entry of the bullet wound and the way Joanna patched you up, you won't even need to get stitches." She smiled at Ian who was listening to her intently, a soothing hand rubbing now at Mickey's bare thigh. "Probably gonna need to get another check-up, sign some papers, and be out on your merry way."

Mickey grumbled something incoherent, but Sue noticed how the worry dissipated from his features, and she felt a swell of pride in her chest.

"Thank you so much, Sue," Ian's green eyes glinted in the LED lights. Both his and Mickey's attention was now on her. "You have no idea how surprised I am to see you. It really is a small world. How long has it been?"

"Good to see you too, Ian." She replied, knowing Joanna had her ears perked up to hear what they were saying. "And about four years."

She didn't mean for it to come out so accusing, but well.

It had been a long-ass time.

Ian's mouth parted in surprise. "Woah. That long?"

Yes, she wanted to say. You were in prison for most of that time. And you never contacted me when you got out.

It was hypocritical of her, she knew. It wasn't just Ian who could've reached out. Fuck, Sue could've made an effort to visit him sometime or to insert herself in his life even when he tried to push everybody out. Them not speaking was as much her fault as it was Ian's, if not more.

So she just smiled at him, noting how his face had clouded over, deep in thought. "We have time to catch up, though." She added. "I wanna know everything."

Despite Ian's flimsy smile, Mickey still glared at her.

"Well, Mickey," Joanna cut through the tension, thankfully. "You're all good, so just take it easy there, okay? Maybe you guys can tell us how this even happened. We've still got some way to go."

Meddler, Sue thought. You should be working not making idle chatter.

Despite her thoughts, in response, Mickey groaned, his head falling in his hands. "Ian's fault. All fucking Ian's fault."

"What," Ian said, incredulous. "How is it my fault?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Man, you're the one who wanted to fucking reminisce."

"Reminisce?" Sue asked. She really had no idea what was going on.

And for the first time since she'd met him--if you could call what happened an actual meeting--Mickey turned to her, eyes glinting as he spoke.

"Gallagher here and I, we used to work at that shit store,"

Work there? Was that how they met? Was that the job Ian had after he lost his EMT job and after he got out of prison whenever that was?

Mickey continued, "And Ian here," He pointed a thumb at Ian who was rolling his eyes and watching Mickey as he explained, hand still on his thigh, now simply rubbing over the fabric of his jeans. "He wanted us to go check it out for old time's sake." Mickey scoffed. "So we drove all the way down here just so I could get shot in the fucking ass again!"

"Hey," Ian chimed in. "Last time it was the leg."

What?

"Leg? Didn't you say he got shot in the same spot?" On his ass.

Ian shook his head. "Oh, no, that was a different time. He got shot in the leg before he even worked there. When only I did."

"And I got shot by this crazy old asshole he'd been fucking."

"Hey now, you egged him on!"

"I egged him on?"

"'You like 'em sweet don't you? So do I', blah blah. Jealous bitch."

"I wasn't jealous!"

"Uh-uh. Sure you weren't."

"You were the one who was all over me, with your kid-ass face and all those freckles."

"I had a crush on you, Mick! We can now admit I had a crush on you! You can admit it too!"

"I'm admitting fuck-all."

"Ugh, thirteen years and you still deny it."

Sue could let them bicker on forever, listening to things she didn't fucking understand because what the fuck were they even talking about? They worked there together? Ian had worked there alone? Crazy old asshole? Getting shot in the leg? Crushing on each other? 

Thirteen years?

But she understood nothing and she was never the type to let something go.

"When was this?" Sue interrupted, trying to get the timeline right in her head, even if she didn't understand shit what they were saying.

"We've been together for a while," Ian replied. Then added, because Sue had known him for a while and had never even heard of Mickey. "On and off. He's that boyfriend I told you about."

So he was the boyfriend? Mickey was that boyfriend that made Ian relive some faraway time when they were together and when Ian was first diagnosed? Sue knew fuck-all about Mickey and his relationship with Ian, but if they were still together after all this time, and if her mind had finally gathered all the pieces of the puzzle, arranging them neatly--this was something important.

This relationship was something important.

Because Ian had told Sue that the boyfriend had been in his life for a long time. Because Ian had cheated on that other guy with the boyfriend. Because he had tried to run away to Mexico with him. Because the boyfriend was now here--and he was still a boyfriend.

"Wow," She finally said, questions swirling around her mind. "Good to know you guys reconnected. How long have you been back together?"

Mickey scowled at that question, but the hand on his thigh kept rubbing and Sue guessed that this was Ian's way of calming his partner down. Of making sure he was grounded, the fingers making patterns, comforting.

Mickey relaxed, just slightly, as Ian said, "Um, prison. My first day there."

Sue didn't even want to open that dam up. She needn't know why Mickey was in prison. Why he had escaped. How he was out. Who he had killed, if she had to guess.

She didn't need to know that. No, no.

Sue wouldn't be able to handle being in the witness protection program one day. She just wouldn't.

Still, Joanna croaked out, "Prison?"

Sue shot her a glare.

"Oh, yeah, we were in, uh, prison." Heat found its way up Ian's neck, his eyes cast to the side sheepishly. He was a second away from rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

"Both of you?" She prodded on.

"Joanna!"

"Nah," Mickey said, nodding at the girl. "It's fine. Ask whatever you want."

Thankfully, Joanna did not take him up on that offer, the glare from Sue enough to shut her up for a while--still, it opened up a whole new range of questions for Sue, who immediately pounced on.

"So," She asked Ian, who was even redder in the cheeks. "When did you get out?"

Ian puffed out a breath as he thought about the answer, mumbling numbers under his breath. It was Mickey who eventually said, "It's been like over two years or some shit like that."

"Yeah," Ian said. "Sorry, I get kind of lost with the timeline. Ever since we left the Southside, I haven't even really been keeping track."

Sue's brain malfunctioned. "You left the Southside?"

"Yeah, remember when Mickey said we came there to reminisce?"

She nodded.

"Well, we drove from the Westside. Been there for some time now." He chanced a glance at Mickey, his eyes soft and somewhat pleading. Sue watched as Mickey met Ian's eyes. "It's become home to us."

The nod Mickey gave was almost imperceptible. But it was there. It was there and Sue still had no idea what to think.

This Ian--the Ian who was standing in front of her now--this wasn't the Ian she remembered.

The Ian she remembered was, despite the kindness and generosity, somewhat self-centered and careless, the perfect example of somebody who had long ago stopped giving a fuck about anything and everything.

He was sometimes angry, sometimes rude, sometimes annoying, sometimes all of the above, the charm he brought along with him to work getting diminished slowly as time went on. As life became too much for him, she guessed.

Until he became Gay fucking Jesus with a fucking cult, the idea good, his intentions something else.

Because the Ian back then was manic. Or he was simply unhappy. And if he was happy--maybe he had just been distracted by something at that moment.

Sue had never seen him truly smile.

But this Ian--this Ian was now looking at Mickey like the world revolved around him. Like there was truly nothing else to him other than Mickey.

And maybe there wasn't. Maybe Ian was still on parole. Maybe he had some shitty job at some place because the COVID consequences were still at large.

Maybe Mickey was all Ian had.

Or maybe he was just the most important one out of them all.

"Are you vaccinated?" She asked out of nowhere as she remembered COVID, the worry overpowering her. Sue had almost died due to it--it was important to her that Ian and his boyfriend were safe.

Ian's brows furrowed at the change of subject but he nodded. "Yeah, yeah. My entire family got vaccinated after my dad died. It was Corona, so we all needed to be safe."

"Your dad died?"

Ian's eyes fluttered downwards again. "Um, yeah. I'm okay, though. Moved on."

She would've asked more but Mickey's glare was sharper than the one she had given Joanna, so she didn't.

Sue cleared her throat, trying to change the subject again, this one obviously being too heavy for her former friend. She turned to Mickey. "So, how did you end up getting shot? You tackled the boy?"

Mickey snorted. "Bad decision on my part."

"And he shot you?"

"Bad decision on his part because now I'm fucking pissed."

Sue raised an eyebrow, and Ian stepped in quickly. "He's not gonna do anything. He's all talk."

"You sure, Gallagher?"

"Yes, I am, Milkovich."

Mickey shrugged. "You should think about that a little more. I know where they're holding the guy."

And in a move Sue definitely did not expect, Ian glared at Mickey, and then slapped him straight across the ass.

"Ow! You motherfucker!" Mickey yelled.

Ian shrugged. "Maybe you should think about it a little more. I know where I'm gonna be holding you."

That effectively shut the big bad thug up.

"We're almost at the hospital," Joanna muttered as she stared at Mickey's ass, slightly glaring at Ian for slapping at his wound. Sue herself damn-near reprimanded him, but, well--maybe Mickey needed a slight reality check.

"Which means," Joanna continued, looking straight at Mickey. "You're just gonna need to sign some papers, give them your insurance, and then you can leave." She then nodded at Ian. "I suggest your husband gets transport ready so you can elevate the place of entry."

Joanna cracked a smile. "Ass needs to go up."

Both of the men smiled back, but Sue was stuck on one thing.

She glanced at their fingers.

How could've she been so stupid?

She sucker-punched Ian straight in the arm.

It was Ian's turn to say ow!.

"You asshole," She said, hitting him again, the lightbulb above her head finally lighting up as her eyes narrowed in on the matching gold on their ring fingers. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting married!?"

Ian's look of surprise melted into guilt. "I, uh," He stammered. "Well, I,"

"No," She interrupted, feigning hurt--well, not feigning really, but still. "I don't want to hear it. Just make sure to invite me to your next one."

Despite it clearly being a joke, Mickey bared his teeth at her. "There won't be a next one."

Ian ran his fingers through the hair on the back of his head. "She's just joking, Mick."

"The joke ain't funny."

Ian and Sue met each other's gaze and Ian just winked.

"Don't worry. Still the only one, Mickey."

Sue didn't know how to react to the sincerity in Ian's voice. The same Ian who used to just have relationships so he could fuck. The same Ian who never truly smiled.

But he was smiling now as he stared at his husband--fucking hell, husband--and Sue couldn't help but be proud.

This was the real Ian Gallagher.

Happy Ian Gallagher.

"We're here," Joanna said as the ambulance came to a stop, the engine shutting off and the doors bursting open.

Cody and Joanna gripped the gurney and lifted Mickey up again, the grumbling starting up again as they brought him towards the hospital.

"I'll be at the hospital soon, okay?"

Mickey nodded. "I'll be waiting for you, Red."

Ian winked. "Love you."

Mickey flipped him off, earning back a sappy kiss getting blown towards him, hand motions and everything.

Sue watched them both smile.

"Nice meeting you, Mickey," Sue said before he left. She felt like she needed to say it--the man had done the fucking impossible. 

He made Ian Gallagher happy.

He just nodded, not even replying with a 'you too'. Sue huffed out a breath.

This was the guy Ian had to marry?

But then Mickey was out of sight, and Ian was staying behind with Sue who was left to clean everything up. The cops would be there soon anyway, ready to bring back the bullet as evidence.

"You know the drill," She said to Ian as he kept sitting in the vehicle, eyes roaming around all the equipment, longing in his eyes. They lingered on certain parts, certain buttons, then on the wheel.

"Yeah," He breathed out. "I do."

Sue watched him for a few moments, the feeling of happiness overwhelming her as she eyed Ian.

Ian Gallagher, the man she never thought she'd see again.

"I'm happy for you," Sue finally said. She watched as Ian whipped his head around to look at her. She noticed the shining of his eyes. "You seem to be doing great."

And he did seem like he was doing great. He seemed like he finally had his shit together. Like all those things back then--like they were truly left back then.

"Well," He started, the glimmer in his eyes growing as obvious unshed tears appeared in his eyes. "I got my life back."

She waited for him to continue. 

Ian breathed in deeply. Licked his lips. "You know, I, uh, I had a rough time before I went to prison. It's obvious with the whole Gay Jesus thing and just leaving my job thing.

"I didn't really know what to do with myself anymore, so I decided to run away." He huffed a laugh. "Was gonna go down to Mexico. Find Mickey.

"But I decided against it. Decided to just do my fucking time and then get out and move on with my life."

He looked up at her, eyes red as he blinked away tears. "Best decision of my life."

"Because Mickey was there?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Because Mickey was there."

Sue extended a hand towards him, pressing a palm against his cheek. He leaned into it slightly, the man in front of her turning into a boy. Just a scared, hurt boy with too much weight on his back. The weight that was now lifted.

Or simply split so that half was on the shoulders of the person who loved him the most. 

"I'm proud of you, Ian. I really am."

A tear rolled down his cheek, one he wiped away quickly. Ian huffed out a laugh. "I'm proud of me too."

"Don't disappear this time, okay?" Sue said. "This time, you're gonna stay."

Ian nodded. "I will, Sue. Promise."

It was a promise she knew he would keep. 

She pulled her hand away from his cheek, poking the side of her cheek with her tongue.

It was his turn to send her a questioning look.

"So," Sue started coyly. "Mickey."

And for the first time in all the years Sue had known him, Ian laughed and then really--really--smiled.

"Yeah," 

The smile grew wider.

"Mickey."

That was all Sue needed to know.