Archive of Our Own ^beta

Mickey tugs at the collar of his tux. It’s a little too big on him which he fucking told Fiona it would be but whatever. It serves its purpose. He looks a little more civilized. He feels like he’s going to crawl out of his skin if they don’t get this show on the fucking road.

He’s not nervous. He’s not. This is all just formality anyway and marriage in general is just a piece of paper. But his palms are kind of sweaty and he wishes The Alibi had better fucking air conditioning.

“Breathe, man,” he hears Kev say next to him, looking like the most dumbass version of an officiate Mickey’s ever seen. “You look good, and Ian would think so even if you were covered in dog shit. You remember what you looked like when y’all first started bangin’, right?”

“Fuck you, man, I’m fine. I’m just… ready for this stupid shit to be over with.”

Ian’s not late, really. But Mickey’s been here since this morning and Fiona, Debbie and Mandy had absolutely refused to let him see Ian beforehand. They didn’t even let them sleep in the same house last night. It’s all pretty fucking ridiculous, in Mickey’s opinion. He and Ian have been ghetto married for years, anyway.

The Alibi has these stupid twinkling lights strung up around the ceiling and on the bar and they’re distracting as fuck. There’s some drunk dudes in the corner, but everyone else is family. The chairs have been cleared for an aisle . Like Ian’s a fucking bride or something. It’s so stupid.

Mickey tugs at his collar again.

“Dad, you’re sweating,” Yev mentions from where he’s standing next to Vee, bouncing on his toes and he’s such a cute little shit in his tiny suit. He looks like a prettier version of Mickey.

“Hot as fuck in here, bud,” Mickey answers, then looks at Kev. “Alright, go find out what the fuckin’ hold up is. I’m about-”

Just then, the door opens and Mandy comes rushing in with Lip at her side. Mickey breathes. She looks amazing, not that he’d ever tell her bitch ass that. But she does. She’s got her hair dark again and this pretty black strappy dress on. She’s smiling at him and Mickey feels his chest loosen a little.

“Your husband is such a prissy little bitch, you know that?” She grins, taking her spot behind him at the… well, not alter because there isn’t one but what the fuck ever. The place .

“You ever met him?” Mickey responds, raising his eyebrow.

“Svet! Get your phone ready, bitch, what the hell are you doing?”

Lip is standing on the other side, a soft smile on his face. “You look like a person, Mickey.”

“And you still look like an asshole.”

Ian’s got about two more minutes before Mickey just leaves his spot and grabs the whiskey from behind the bar.

But then the door opens again and Mickey doesn’t even have to look, he can feel that it’s Ian simply by how the energy changes or some shit. He just knows .

Still, he looks. He looks and his chest constricts and there’s this weird fucking feeling in his stomach.

Alright, maybe it’s not all that stupid. Maybe it’s okay. Because Ian is practically running the short distance to where Mickey is standing and he looks… Mickey swallows hard.

“Hi,” Ian says breathlessly, standing across from Mickey, smiling so wide that Mickey has to swallow again. He steps forward and grabs Ian’s hand, then takes another step closer.

“Dude, no, no fucking kissing until you’re hitched, asshole. Jesus Christ,” Mandy pipes up, smacking him on the back of his head.

“Hey,” Mickey says to Ian, quietly, still unable to really find his voice. “You look… really good in that tux, Gallagher.”

“Yeah?” Ian asks, beaming, like he’s somehow fucking shocked that he looks so right. “It’s a little tight.”

And it’s so fucking stupid because it’s not like Mickey hasn’t seen Ian dressed like this before. He’s seen it a handful of times but this is different. He’s dressed up for Mickey, for their wedding .

“We ready?” Kev whispers, and he’s smiling, too. When Mickey nods, Kev speaks louder. “Today, we’re here to celebrate the life and love of two men who have fought like hell to be with one another. I mean, the list of things that tried to keep them apart is long and littered with a bunch of bullshit yet somehow, they’re still standing.”

“Kev, get to the fuckin’ point,” Mickey says because if he doesn’t kiss Ian soon, he feels like his heart might jump from his chest. Ian laughs a little and looks down, then looks back up at Mickey from under his lashes and yeah, Mickey’s heart is doing ridiculous things and his breathing isn’t quite right either.

“Christ, man, let me build it up a little,” Kev sighs. “Yev, you got the rings?”

Yev comes bounding forward, digging in his little pocket and fishing out two silver bands. Mickey takes them from him and kisses his son on the cheek, praying like fuck that no one can see how much his hand is shaking. He passes his ring to Ian, and then wipes his palm on his thigh.

“Ian, do you-”

“No,” Mickey interrupts, shaking his head. “No fuckin’ vows, man.”

“We wrote our own,” Ian explains, still grinning like a fool and fuck, he’s gorgeous. He’s so out of place in this filthy bar with Mickey and his knuckle tattoos and a tux that doesn’t fit.

Mickey grasps Ian’s hand a little tighter.

“And none of you motherfuckers are hearin’ ‘em, so don’t fuckin’ ask.” He takes a deep breath and clasps the ring between his fingers. “You love me?”

Ian’s cheeks must be hurting by now with how wide he’s smiling. “You know I do.”

Of course it’s fucking noticeable how hard his hand shakes as he slides the ring on Ian’s finger but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because Ian loves him anyway. Because his son is looking at them with happiness on his face. Because he’s surrounded by people that have his back. Because he doesn’t have to be scared ever again. Ian loves him.

“I love you, too,” he whispers, watching Ian slide his ring on his finger, then lace their hands together.

“I know.”

“Well, fuck,” Kev says, sniffling. Fiona laughs from somewhere and it sounds a little wet. Mandy is crying.

“You’re all a bunch of fuckin’ pussies,” Mickey says but the laughter coming from his chest feels lighter than it has in his entire life, and his legs feel a little wobbly.

“I now pronounce you husbands,” Kev exclaims. “You may kiss the groom.”

Mickey exhales harshly. “C’mere.”

Mickey knows there was a time when this would have bothered him; being curled into Ian and clinging to him so tightly that they’re  practically inseparable. But now, he’s not even sure he’ll be able to stop kissing Ian. Maybe ever.

There’s cheers and everyone is clapping, and when Mickey finally pulls back and rests his forehead against Ian’s, he feels the wetness on his lashes.

“I love you, Mickey Gallagher,” Ian swears, squeezing Mickey hard enough that he has trouble breathing.

“Love you, too. Always have.”

So, it’s not just a fucking piece of paper. It’s something that Mickey doesn’t have a term for. It’s his ability to get rid of the last name that’s followed and haunted and betrayed him for his entire life. It’s a promise that he’ll wake up with Ian every morning. That he’ll never be alone again. That he’s loved and safe.

It’s the biggest fuck you to the asshole that terrorized him for so many years. Mickey is free and happy, and it can never be taken away from him.

“I can’t wait to hear your vows,” Ian beams, kissing Mickey’s eyes and cheeks and lips, like they’re the only two in the room. They might as well be, as far as Mickey is concerned.

“Yours better be some poetic shit, Gallagher, I spent like three weeks on mine.”

Ian literally tightens up with excitement. “Mine are fucking awesome. You’re gonna cry.”

“Wait, Mickey’s a crier?” Lip asks from somewhere behind Ian.

“Fuck you, I don’t cry.”

“Oh, he cries,” Svetlana remarks, actually fucking smiling for once, still holding her phone up to record.

“You wanna fuckin’ die?”

“Look, assholes, no fuckin’ with my brother-in-law ,” Fiona says, stepping up to wrap her arm around Mickey’s shoulder. Then it’s like it hits her or some shit and she squeals, right in Mickey’s fucking ear. “Oh my God. My brother-in-law!”

“Alright, alright,” Mickey mutters, trying to back out of her death grip.

“Okay, can I get drunk now? I’m getting drunk now,” Mandy declares, wiping the makeup from under her eyes.

“Better save some for me, bitch,” Mickey says, but Ian pulls him close again before he can move toward the bar.

“Me, too!” It’s a chorus from Carl and Vee and maybe even Debbie.

“Don’t get too drunk,” Ian says against Mickey’s lips. “I’ll be real pissed off if you pass out on me tonight.”

“Yeah? Got plans for me?”

“Mhmm,” Ian hums, dragging his lips down Mickey’s throat. Mickey’s knees feel a little shaky.

“Yo! Reception time, bitches, y’all can do that shit later.”

Mickey’s not even sure who said it. It doesn’t matter because Ian is grinning and kissing him and slipping his hands under Mickey’s too big jacket. There’s a ring on Mickey’s finger that means something, and the buzzing of conversation from people that mean something.

He’s happy. He’s free.