Chapter Text
Graduation day was an exciting one, with Fiona barging into Frank’s old room excitedly with a tray of chocolate chip pancakes stacked high.
“Good morning, boys!” She yelled, a grin plastered across her face. The grin was soon wiped away and the brunette woman was retreating from the room with closed eyes and a shock of apologies following like breadcrumbs. “God, I am so sorry! So, so sorry!”
Embarrassed would be putting it lightly. His sister had walked in on him rimming Mickey, spreading the kneeling man open as he tongued him eagerly. Mortified was a more appropriate lexical choice for the current situation which saw Ian kneeling back in disbelief.
“Dude, I literally don’t give a fuck that your sister just walked in – it’s my fuckin’ asshole she saw! So put your big boy panties on and fuckin’ get in me, Gallagher!” Sure, his boyfriend was a needy bottom, but this took the cake. “Ian…” The dark-haired man’s moan was low and raspy, desperate for satisfaction.
The noises that his boyfriend made tied in with him rolling his hips and rutting back against his own erection was enough for him to turn the man he loved over and proceed to fuck him until he would be limping into Ian’s graduation ceremony.
And true to his intentions, Ian had to bite back a smug grin as he walked on to the stage and remembered watching his boyfriend hobble to his seat. Accepting his diploma and shaking the principal’s hand, having his tassel moved from right to left, Ian’s grin only widened when the Gallaghers and Milkovich siblings were cheering loudly for him.
Two years ago, Ian would not have believed he would make it to this point in his life; laying in a hospital bed and refusing a psych evaluation, not talking to his family, and having dumped Daya whilst manic. But now, at eighteen years old, he had been relatively stable for the last year and a half (a blip of mania around the Christmas of his junior year, which Mickey helped him through, had been the only issue), he had a steady relationship, and he was planning to study as a paramedic in the next academic year.
In short, Ian Gallagher was riding life on a – non-manic – high!
As the remaining seniors received their diplomas, Ian sat down, constantly craning his neck to meet the blue eyes that could light up the room for him. Every time, he managed to catch Mickey’s gaze, and, every time, Mickey would be the first to look away, pinching at the bridge of his nose or running a hand up the back of his neck. It was peculiar. He would definitely check to make sure that he was feeling okay once the ceremony ended. For the remainder of his graduation, Ian’s mind was occupied by Daya planting herself in the seat next to him after receiving her diploma and waving it about in the redhead’s face with a grin, like he had not received one himself five minutes ago.
His junior year back at school had initially been difficult due to the bad blood with his ex, and as a result of their break-up, he had lost a lot of their mutual friends. Of course, being a dude dating another dude on the South Side didn’t help either. A couple of kids had tried to gay-bash Ian after Mickey had waited for him outside of school one time (Mickey had had a hard day; the pair had simply hugged on the sidewalk). He had basically re-established his ranking within the school by politely beating the shit out of the pair of them, feeling the similar rush of adrenaline he and Mickey had felt after their fights post-works do (“The fucking fag gave the beat-down, assholes!” he had yelled as he walked away, reminiscent of that night). Actually having a sit-down with Daya and airing it all out a month in had helped; insisting nothing had been personal, explaining that he was bisexual, and just being a decent person had him having her as a friend and ally by Halloween, and by a number of his old friends. And now the girl was one of his best friends.
Once the ceremony had let out, Ian regrouped with his family to thank them and the Milkoviches for their attendance before they all went back to Daya’s for the graduation barbecue her parents were hosting. It was a little middle class compared to a Gallagher blowout, but enjoyable nonetheless, with plenty of food and alcohol available.
Ian had hoped that a burger and a beer would settle Mickey’s strange behaviour, but it seemed to make no difference. So, he drained his beer before pulling his boyfriend aside to query the peculiarity, wondering if Mickey was having an ‘off day’ and just putting on a brave face because it was a big day for Ian.
“Hey, what’s up with you? You seem off today, like you’re itching to be anywhere but here.”
And again, Mickey’s tells were in full swing as he moved from scratching the back of his neck to pinching his nose in a fluid movement. “Nah, man, I’m fine, don’t worry.”
“You’re not. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or whatever if you’re not feeling good.” Ian’s hand was squeezing Mickey’s bicep through his navy shirt. Mickey didn’t respond, simply looking down at his shuffling feet.
“I’m feeling real good, it ain’t that.” The older man assured him, letting his eyes flit up to Ian. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he looked away again.
“Are you sure? It’s just that you seem on edge an-” The taller boy’s words were interrupted by Mickey cupping his hands as he spoke over him.
“Ian, I’m on edge because I’m fuckin’ nervous as shit right now. How’d ya’ tell someone how much ya’ love ‘em and how they make your life worth somethin’? How’d ya’ tell someone that your world literally spins for them and that ya’ wanna’ spend forever with ‘em? I ain’t good with words so tell me how I’m s’posed to do that without fuckin’ shit up.” The Milkovich boy’s words were rushed and full of anxiety, his hands shaking as they held the freckled ones in his own.
Unable to process what Mickey had said, the younger boy simply stared into his eyes questioningly. And then Mickey was getting down on one knee, dropping Ian’s hands to go to his pocket.
Shit. Fuck. Crap. Fuck. What the fuck? Please tell me he’s just tying his shoelaces! What? Why’s he in his pockets? Does he have more shoelaces in there?!
“I dunno’ if I’d be here now without ya’, Ian. But I know there ain’t another place I wanna’ be unless it’s with you.” He paused, his chest visibly rising and falling as he pulled the small box from his pocket and opened it to produce a simple silver band for Ian to see.
It was like his world was spinning as he stared down at the beautiful man in front of him. “Holy fuck…” he mumbled.
“Yeah, I know.” Mickey chuckled, bowing his head slightly with the laughter. “I love you so fuckin’ much, Ian Clayton Gallagher, and I wanna’ marry you.”
And then his world stopped. Everything dropped away from around him. The people who had begun to notice their happenings and had gather around them weren’t there, the music barely a whisper. All that was there in that moment were Mickey – down on one fucking knee – Ian, and the ring that was staring up at him in question.
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, his eyes darting between Ian and the ring in his hand, Mickey prompted, “So, will you? Marry me?”
The expression on Mickey’s face was childlike, innocent, and fully exposed. Ian could now understand his behaviour through the day because he was laying himself bare right now and it seemed petrifying. Lips pulling into a grin, he reached out to grasp his boyfriend’s hands and pull him to a standing position as he replied, “Of course I will,” accepting the ring that Mickey was sliding on to his finger like a true gentleman. He pulled the shorter man into his chest as he mumbled “Only smartasses ask questions they already know the answers to,” between them before initiating a passionate kiss, holding his fiancé close.
It felt like the world never fully reappeared around them, not through the claps or cheers, nor the pats on the back, hugs, or well wishes. For the rest of the day, they simply floated in their own dream world where everything was easy, perfect, and just so. Because it was. They had battled the demons of their pasts and regularly sedated the current monsters that plagued their minds, so now there wasn’t anything left but to be happy and succeed. And they sure as hell would do just that – together.
- FUCKING FIN -