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what about your promises promises

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Mickey and Ian were plastered. Laughing at the noise their shoes made against the sidewalk, singing dramatic 90’s ballads, would wake up with a skull-splitting headache, plastered. 

They didn’t have time to dwell on the consequences. Right then, at that moment, they were happy, content, celebrating . Mickey Milkovich and Ian Gallagher were engaged, soon to be wed. Nothing that life could throw at them would deter their happiness. 

“Fuckin love you” Mickey half-slurred his lips almost missing his fiance’s in the heat of the moment. 

“Mmm” Ian hummed against his skin, mouth travelled south. He sloppily sucked against the hot flushed skin of Mickey’s neck and down his shoulder. “God I missed this, you

“Oh yeah, tough guy?” Mickey pushed Ian off of him with a wiggle of his eyebrows. A cocky smirk across his lip.

It felt surreal. That time the night before Ian wasn’t even sure he would ever see Mickey again but now, he stood in front of him. Half dropped eyes, kiss-swollen lips and well, his

Ian could have just stood there the entire night staring at him, completely overwhelming his senses in all things Mickey. As much as he wanted that to be an option, Mickey’s hungry eyes stared up at him expecting some sort of response. 

“Like hell” Ian was quick to peak his lips. The kiss was quick to deepen, the two migrating to the couch as one. Hand movements were sloppy and feverish, trying to grab at any part of one another they could. 

There wasn’t much room on the old Gallagher couch, but the couple made do with what space they had. Their legs slotted between one other. Ian’s hand’s dug into the cushion beside Mickey’s head, holding on for dear life.

Ian pulled away, Mickey’s neck strained to chase his lips. “Promise me we’ll never be apart for that long again” 

The soft sincerity of Ian’s voice was almost enough to sober Mickey up. He searched the ginger’s eyes.

 “Yeah man, promise” His hand met Ian’s cheek with a gentle stroke, pulling him down for another soft kiss. 

They pulled away again, Ian adjusting himself to be able to stay hovering with one hand only. He stuck his left hand in Mickey’s face, extending out a pinky.

Mickey couldn’t help but snort. “Ya want me to pinky swear ya like some twelve-year-old chick?”

“Mickey, c’mon please?” 

Mickey found himself searching those same green eyes again before he extended his own pinky out, linking their appendages. He pulled their interlocked hands down to his lips. A kiss to seal the deal.

“Thanks” Ian’s dopey smile was enough to make Mickey’s heart flip. He knew that he was going to do whatever Ian asked of him, no matter how ridiculous.

Their lips drew back together like magnets, both hellbent on keeping that promise. 

By the time Debbie made her way into the living room, Mickey’s shirt had been discarded somewhere off to the side. Ian’s pants are halfway to his ankles. She adjusted Franny on her hip with a huff as she pushed her way through the door before she caught sight of the impromptu make-out session.

“Fucking hell, guys!” She exclaimed, unravelling the scarf around her neck to throw at them in an attempt for them to get a hint and stop. She threw Franny’s too, just for good measure. 

“Sorry” Ian downright giggled but made no attempt to crawl off.

“God you’re like horny little weasels” Debbie rolled her eyes. She kicked her shoes off before marching her way upstairs, muttering something else indifferently. 

“Night, Debs!” Ian’s voice followed. From upstairs they heard her door slam shut. Both erupted into laughter.