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True to his word, he doesn’t answer any more questions about his relationship with Ian beyond those three initial minutes. Not in that conference, not in the following ones.
It’s not that the jackals don’t try. Every single time there’s at least one attempt at subtly squeezing in a stupid one and every single time he just raises both eyebrows and fixes the asshole with an incredulous stare until everyone in the room starts feeling uncomfortable and someone takes mercy, awkwardly clears their throat and asks something else, to which Mickey happily gives a long and rather elaborate answer.
At one point, people finally get the gist. He won’t answer questions, period. He does casually mention Ian when his off-court life becomes the topic of conversation and he talks at length about him and their blooming rivalry on court. Questions, though? Too intrusive and way too entitled.
Ian, on the other hand… an entirely different story.
The man should get fined for overstaying his time during press conferences. And a separate fine for whenever he replies to a question using more than one hundred words. And a special kind of fine for those extremely frequent circumstances when he waxes poetic about Mickey because those are fodder for Mandy and Iggy’s incessant teasing.
It's basically the reason Mickey stopped watching his conferences on repeat – one can only blush beetroot red so many times while one’s boyfriend goes on long and passionate monologues that extol all of one’s virtues, existent or not.
Besides, its not like the fucker isn’t effusive face-to-face too. Ever since they hard launched their relationship to an audience of millions, he’s turned into fucking Romeo, all but reciting poetry and serenading Mickey under the moonlight. And Mickey, god help him, gets all flushed and flustered and honest-to-god giggles, which is all sorts of horrifying in and of itself. So, unless somehow forced, he chooses deliberate ignorance.
Except he doesn’t live under a rock and Mandy is pathologically online.
‘Holy fuck, you’re getting married?!’
It’s a literal shriek, followed by a pillow smacking him hard in the face.
‘What the fuck, bitch?’
‘You’re getting married and you didn’t say anything, you fucking asshole!’
Another smack, followed by two more, each of them progressively stronger.
‘What?! Where the– Would you stop fuckin’ hittin’ me?’
‘I don’t know. Will you apologise?’
‘Apologise for what?’
‘Getting engaged and not sharing the fucking news?’
‘Jesus Christ, Mandy, I’m not fuckin’ engaged!’
‘Tell that to your boyfriend!’
She’s seething, he’s gaping at her like an inflated pufferfish.
‘Gimme the phone,’ he finally says, fingers beckoning impatiently. ‘No, actually— Where the fuck is my phone?’
Under the pillow, in the middle of the bed – a collateral victim of Mandy's impromptu and one-sided pillow fight. He unlocks it, fingers hovering for a brief moment – Instagram or Twitter? He goes with the latter, types in “gallagher” in the search bar and takes a deep breath before hitting enter.
Funnily enough, the first result that doesn’t have something to do with one of the Oasis brothers is a repost of a video posted by the ATP’s official account, captioned – in all caps – “OMG THEY’RE GETTING MARRIED?!”.
It’s one of those “get to learn more about the players” thingy that Mickey totally hates and Ian absolutely loves. Probably why the fucker is always invited, it’s always so damn obvious how much fun he’s genuinely having. This time they’re in pairs and supposed to guess the other’s answer to a bunch of questions. Ian is paired with Hurkacz – Mickey hates him because he’s tall and has a very nice smile that he directs full-force towards Ian every single chance he gets.
Anyway, it’s all innocuous: favourite shot, favourite tournament, favourite food. Ian talks a lot, undoubtedly much to the viewers’ delight, but he doesn’t say anything that could be misconstrued, so how did these assholes jump to the stupid conclusion that they’re getting married?
‘Favourite animal.’
Hurkacz babbles something about having loved dolphins his entire life – the guy’s fucking Polish, how many dolphins has he even seen? – and then comes Ian’s turn, who’s quite literally bouncing up and down in the chair and talking a mile a minute.
‘Oh, man, this was such a tough one! I mean, what kind of animal to pick: domestic, wild? Real or imaginary? Do extinct ones count? Anyways, so I wanted to go with camels, because they’re all chill but also very resilient and then I remembered I love seagulls so much! Still, in the end, I went with dogs. Always wanted one of my own but it wasn’t a possibility growing up, so now I’m thinking, “now’s my chance”, except Mickey’s more of a cat person, so there’s intense lobbying happening these days,’ he finishes with an amused laugh and Mickey almost exhales in relief. Almost.
‘Oh, you guys live together?’
It’s Hurkacz who asks the question and his voice is laced with nothing but pure curiosity. Mickey still hates him for the bait.
‘Mhm,’ Ian nods enthusiastically. ‘So, I can’t really make the decision on my own, can I? Plus, you know what they say, “the key to a happy marriage is compromise”, right? Or was it “communication”?’ he finishes with a bubbly laugh, for a few moments completely oblivious to Hurkacz's eyes almost popping out of their sockets.
‘You’re telling me you’re married?’ he asks, voice an octave higher on the last word, at the same time a voice behind the camera exclaims, ‘You sneaky boys!’.
‘Wait, we’re not married.’
Ian seems to have finally caught up. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are suddenly ruddy and Mickey is 100% expecting him to backtrack.
‘Not yet. I mean… I hope he’s not watching– Mick, if you are, now’s the time to stop,’ he chuckles and punctuates it with a cheeky wink. ‘But yeah, it’s gonna happen. Sooner than you think.’
‘Have you bought a ring yet?’ Hurkacz prods, ever-so-helpful.
‘Not answering that. Knowing Mickey, he’s still watching, so we should go back to our game,’ he grins and reaches for another prompt card.
Mickey doesn’t watch the rest of the video. He locks the phone, throws it on the nightstand and lets himself fall backwards on the bed, dragging a pillow over his face.
‘What I’m getting from all of this,’ comes Mandy’s very amused voice, ‘is that your boyfriend’s a blabbermouth.’
‘You think?’ Mickey deadpans from underneath the pillow.
Then, without even looking, reaches for the phone again. Ian’s one hour behind, he should be back in his hotel room already.
‘So when am I gettin’ my ring?’ he asks without preamble as soon as Ian picks up, chuckling under his breath when Ian chokes on his saliva on the other end of the line.
‘You saw the video, huh?’ he asks weakly.
‘Damn right I did! Also got hit in the fuckin’ face with one of these lumpy ass pillows for not sharin’ the news.’
‘Sorry,’ Ian says sheepishly, then falls uncharacteristically quiet. Mickey mirrors him and suddenly, they’re pretty much listening to each other breathe while Mandy is watching his every single move like a psychotic hawk.
‘It’s fine, man,’ Mickey finally says after a long minute, barely stifling a disappointed sigh. ‘I know it was just a stupid interview, you don’t have to–’
‘Wait, you think I was joking?’ Ian cuts him off, completely appalled.
‘I dunno…’
‘Mickey. I would never joke about something this serious.’
‘Then why’d you say sorry?’
‘Well, for one, for the fact that you got assaulted with a pillow,’ he says, laughing softly. ‘But mostly for letting the cat out of the bag without talking to you first. I mean, I know we talked about marriage in general, but I’d wanted to ask you before running my mouth to the rest of the world. Got a bit carried away.’
‘S'okay,’ Mickey whispers, entirely too aware of Mandy’s eyes, narrowed to slits in concentration.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Okay. Good. Now I can go back to planning.’
‘Plannin’ what?’
‘The proposal.’
Mickey hears the unspoken duh. His cheeks heat up a little and his next question is more of a shy mumble than a clearly articulated sentence.
‘So you do have a ring…’
Mandy’s eyes go as wide as saucers and she immediately covers her mouth with her right hand, most likely to tamp down an excited squeal.
‘Yup.’
‘Okay,’ he replies, not even bothering to hide a delirious smile. ‘Okay.’
‘Yeah. Anyway, gonna grab a shower now. Call you later?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
For the second time in less than five minutes, he lets himself fall backwards and drags a pillow over his face. This time, it’s to conceal that almost hysterical grin.
‘So… are you or are you not engaged?’
She tries to sound exasperated but fails spectacularly – her eyes are shining with too much emotion and her smile is way too soft and tender.
‘Soon.’