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A car fire was a South Side staple, and a fitting, if not a little dramatic, ending to a perfect evening. It had been so long since they’d had a good ol’ fashioned Gallagher rager, and Ian supposed this one counted just as much. After all, Mickey was a Gallagher now. Legally. Permanently.
There was so much warmth surrounding them: the heat of the flames, the burn of the liquor, the love and affection of family. This was not the first time they’d broken out in a drunken, impromptu sing-song, and it wouldn’t be the last. These traditions would carry on, passed down from generation to generation. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
South Side forever.
When they all stumbled their way back into The Alibi Room the party fizzled out. The dancers packed up and left, Tami had taken Fred home. Franny was curled up in a leather booth with Mickey’s jacket draped over her as she slumbered. Debbie had taken her new friend to the bathroom about twenty minutes earlier. Vee was wiping the bar top as Kev counted cash beside her, and it looked like their actions were methodic, more out of habit than necessity.
As Ian looked around at these people, at this place that he loved, that had shaped him, he was overwhelmed with wistful melancholy. He had come so far, and had rediscovered himself over and over. Despite knowing now that it would work out in the end, he still wasn’t good with change. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to how things were.
One thing that never changed, never faltered, was the feeling he got when he looked at Mickey. The thrum in his blood, the squeeze in his chest, the itch in his fingertips that had him longing to touch. It had been one whole year. Twelve full months. Three hundred and sixty five complete days since they’d made it official, since they’d made it legally binding.
It had been more than ten years since the first time Ian felt this way, but sometimes he thought he’d always felt it. His heart didn’t know how to be anyone else's. There was no beginning nor end, just an endless expanse in which they existed together, exactly like this.
Ian had sidled into the booth opposite Franny. The booze he’d consumed had hit him hard, just like he’d known it would. He should’ve paced himself a little better, but he was celebrating, and so indulged. It didn’t take long for his husband to find him, and immediately take up his usual spot tucked beneath Ian’s arm.
They were like magnets. Kept apart only when obstacles held them in place. But as soon as they were free, they’d go careening back together, pulled by an invisible force that was an inherent part of them. It was just how they were built.
“Hey,” Ian murmured as he turned to press a kiss to Mickey’s head. “Happy anniversary.”
“Can’t believe you thought I’d forget,” Mickey grumbled around the rim of his beer bottle.
“It’s just-” Ian broke off, and his flushed cheeks were half from embarrassment and half from the liquor he’d consumed. “You didn’t say anything.”
“Oh yeah?” Mickey lifted a brow in an expression that Ian knew by heart. “Neither did you, Einstein.”
Ian had the good grace to look sheepish. He ducked his head away slightly and the flush to his skin grew more pronounced, spreading down his throat and to the back of his neck. Because Mickey was right, Ian hadn't said anything. He’d clumsily dropped his hints in a bid to get Mickey to speak up first. He’d been led around all day by his own insecurities, and only considered how the situation made him feel.
“You’re right,” Ian conceded. “I’m sorry. I guess I just…” He trailed off. How could he put his thoughts into words, after being confronted with the reality of how foolish they’d been? “I guess sometimes I still can’t believe you wanna be with me.”
“I love you,” Mickey said simply. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and his tone was that of someone who absolutely thought Ian was a dumbass. “Fuckin’ married you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” Ian replied softly, as if he was still in awe. Like he still couldn’t believe that was the truth. “One year ago today.”
“And next year, you’re planning the party,” Mickey told him decisively.
“Next year, huh?”
“And the next one, and the next one, and the next one…”
“Fuck off,” Ian laughed. “You want me to plan every other party we have for the rest of our lives?”
“Yeah.” Mickey leaned in, and reached up to cradle Ian’s jaw. His expression smoothed out and his smile grew soft. He spoke against Ian’s mouth as they shared a breath. “For the rest of our lives.”
And as they kissed in the middle of The Alibi, surrounded by the remnants of their anniversary party and the people who loved them, Ian smiled. He marveled at how far they’d come. Once upon a time Mickey wouldn’t kiss him at all, let alone in public. Yet, here they were, trading tender kisses in a crowded room, with matching rings glinting in the dim light.