Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4206798.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Shameless_(US)
  Relationship:
      Ian_Gallagher/Mickey_Milkovich, Ian_Gallagher_&_Mickey_Milkovich
  Character:
      Mickey_Milkovich, Ian_Gallagher, Debbie_Gallagher, Yevgeny_Milkovich,
      Svetlana_Milkovich, Mandy_Milkovich
  Additional Tags:
      Fluff, Gallavich_Week, GW2015, Marriage, Domestic, Mickey_Uses_His_Words,
      Domestic_Ian_Gallagher/Mickey_Milkovich, Love, Fluff_and_Smut, Smut,
      Explicit_Sexual_Content, Kissing, Anal_Sex
  Series:
      Part 5 of Gallavich_Week_2015
  Collections:
      Gallavich_Week_-_Year_3_(2015)
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-06-25 Words: 1618
****** So who's the bride? ******
by Enochianess
Summary
     Gallavich Week - Day 5: Marriage
     "Mickey and me ain't getting married Debs."
     Mickey remained silent, strangely absorbed in whatever was in the
     bottom of his coffee mug.
     "Why not?" She asked.
     "We're just not. We're happy as we are." He explained. "Plus,
     Mickey's technically already married. To Svetlana, remember?"
Notes
     Feel free to contact me: http://enochianess.tumblr.com
"Hey, Ian?" Debbie started, a thoughtful look on her face. "When you and Mickey
get married, can I be a bridesmaid?" 
Mickey spat his coffee out over the morning paper. "Ah fuck, I wanted to read
that!"
Ian laughed, his eyes squeezing shut and his hand moving to rest over his
stomach. "Shit Debs, I think you've given Mick a brain haemorrhage."
"What's that?" Debbie asked with a frown.
"Uh- It doesn't matter. It was just an expression." 
"Oh, okay." She muttered, still unsure. "So, does that mean I can't?" 
Ian shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, his eyes flickering over at Mickey
hoping for some assistance.
What was he supposed to say? What was the right answer here?
"Mickey and me ain't getting married Debs." 
Mickey remained silent, strangely absorbed in whatever was in the bottom of his
coffee mug. 
"Why not?" She asked.
"We're just not. We're happy as we are." He explained. "Plus, Mickey's
technically already married. To Svetlana, remember?"
In all honesty, Ian hadn't exactly thought a whole lot about marriage. He just
presumed it wasn't in the cards for them. Especially in this neighbourhood.
They hadn't experienced too many problems so far, but he had a feeling making
it official like that might throw a spanner in the works. And, with Frank and
Monica as an example, it wasn't something he was all that desperate for.
"So, you're never going to get married then?" 
"I- I don't know, Debs."
"But how else will I be a bridesmaid? Lip and Carl are probably never going to
get married, and Fiona already went off and got married. She didn't even invite
us." Debbie huffed. 
"You'll be a bridesmaid some day. Besides, it's not even a good job. You have
to do all sorts of shit, running after the bride and going shopping and
organising stuff." 
"But I like doing all that stuff. And you get to wear a nice dress. Can't you
just have a fake wedding like Veronica and Kevin?"
"Do you always ask this many fucking questions in the morning?" Mickey grumbled
as he stood up from the table, walking over and placing the dirty mug in the
sink.
Ian looked at him exasperatedly, but he couldn't hide the fondness swelling in
his chest. His boyfriend had a mouth like a toilet. But he loved him. Ian loved
him so fucking much.
"You heading out?" Ian asked him.
Mickey nodded. "Yeah, got some shit to sort out at the Rub 'n Tug. Svetlana
said some guy's been giving them grief. Got to go sort him out. Mess him up a
little. Y'know, the usual." He waved his hands round emphatically. 
Ian hooked a finger in the neck of Mickey's shirt, tugging him forward and
pressing their lips together softly. Mickey returned the pressure instantly,
his hands moving to rest on Ian's waist, his thumbs massaging at the slight dip
there. 
"Be careful." Ian said gently as he pulled back, that one annoying wisp of hair
falling forward into his eyes.
Mickey smirked, his hand lifting to smooth it back into place. "Yes, mom."
Ian rolled his eyes, shoving lightly at Mickey's chest. "Go earn some fucking
money, asshole." 
Mickey grabbed his jacket from the couch, shrugging it on as he left the house,
his hand raising in a wave.
Ian watched him go, only looking back down at Debbie when she kicked his shin.
"You love Mickey, don't you?"
"Course I do, Debs."
"And you're okay with him being married to someone else?"
"Yeah, I guess. It's complicated. Svetlana's safer married to Mickey, so they
don't deport her back to Siberia or wherever."
"Are they going to be married forever then?"
"I don't know. We haven't really spoken about it."
Debbie sighed, long and suffering. "I guess I'll just have to go work on Lip,
see if he'll get married for me."
Ian chuckled. "You do that, Debs."
 
"You know, you guys are really missing out. If you got a domestic partnership,
I'm pretty sure you'd get benefits. We could be a few bucks better off every
month if you hadn't knocked Svetlana up." Mandy commented from the couch. Her
toes were resting on the edge of the coffee table and she was hunched over
carefully applying red nail varnish to them.
Mickey's eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening as he span round to glare
threateningly at his sister. Twice this had been brought up this week.
Twice. It shouldn't have been coming up at all.
"What the fuck are you talking 'bout now?"
"You don't get that in Illinois." Ian replied, ignoring Mickey's comment. 
"How the hell you know that?" Mickey asked, turning to face Ian now.
Ian shrugged, his cheeks reddening. "I checked."
"You serious? You wanna get hitched now? 'Cause, in case you haven't fucking
noticed, I'm sort of already married. There's no way in hell I'm going down for
fucking bigamy. That's a pussy crime."
Ian sighed. "No, that's not what I meant. I looked it up years ago, when I
first, y'know, figured all the gay shit out. I wanted to see if I could help
out with the squirrel fund." 
Mickey snorted. "So what? You were gonna get married to some old queen just so
you could claim on employment and healthcare benefits?"
"Hey, I grew up with fucking Frank for a dad. What did you expect?"
Mickey pursed his lips and nodded. "Fair point."
"No money, no point." Svetlana called from the bathroom. "If that piece of shit
go to jail, I get sent back. No gay weddings. I not sharing husband."
"We're not getting fucking married!" Mickey yelled. "Why the fuck does everyone
think we're gonna get married?"
"So, guess now's the wrong time to drop to one knee, huh?" Ian teased, picking
up and bouncing a crying Yevgeny on his hip.
"Fuck off." Mickey muttered. "Save that for later and try dropping to both
knees."
Ian hummed. "How romantic."
 
"Fuck." Mickey groaned as Ian bottomed out, his legs hooked over Ian's
shoulders. 
"Yeah." Ian replied, his eyes snapping shut as he began to thrust, his speed
quickly picking up.
"You really want to get married?" Mickey gasped, his fingers knotting in Ian's
red hair and tugging him down to press their lips together.
"You- you really wanna talk about- about that now?" Ian murmured between
kisses, sweat beginning to bead on his chest and forehead.
Mickey's back arched, a cry torn from deep inside his chest when Ian slammed
against his prostate. "There. There. There. There."
"You like that, huh? When I fuck into you quick and deep and dirty?" Ian
whispered, his breath hot and damp against Mickey's throat, his teeth nipping
at the skin there.
"Yeah." Mickey moaned.
"What about... when I take it real slow... and deep... and long?" Ian asked,
his voice pitched low in that way that had Mickey yanking on his hair and
whimpering. 
"Yeah." Mickey said, his voice hitching.
Ian opened his eyes to find Mickey was already staring up at him, eyes wide and
vulnerable and hungry. 
"What if I married you like this?" He asked, one hand on Mickey's hip, the
other reaching round to rub at the base of his spine. "Just married you while I
fucked you?"
"Ian-" Mickey murmured, his eyes rolling back when Ian made a particularly good
thrust. 
Ian ran his lips along Mickey's jaw and down to his ear, his tongue flicking
out against his earlobe and his teeth biting down lightly. "Every time I fuck
you, especially like this, when it's slow and you can feel every inch of me
inside you, I want you to think about it. I want you to remember that you had a
wedding with Svetlana, you have her ring, but you're married
to me. You're mine. Not hers. Not anyone's. Mine." 
Mickey's hands shot back to grip the bed frame, his hips rolling down to meet
Ian's desperately, the heat building in the pit of his stomach.
"Ian- please." Mickey whined.
"Say you're mine. Do it now. Otherwise I'm not gonna touch you, and you'll have
to stay like this." Ian said roughly, his thrusts beginning to falter.
"Fuck, Ian- I'm yours. I'm yours. Please-"
"You wanna marry me?" Ian groaned out, struggling to keep his own release at
bay. He let his head drop, his forehead resting against Mickey's, their eyes
wide as they stared intensely at each other.
"Yeah. Yeah. 'Course I do." 
"Good." 
And then Ian let go of all his control and pounded relentlessly into him, the
headboard of the bed slamming against the wall and creaking in protest.
Mickey's mouth opened in a silent cry, his hands scrabbling over Ian's back as
his orgasm took over, his body shaking with its force, completely untouched.
Ian bit down on Mickey's bottom lip, stilling over him as he came deep inside
him, eyes rolling back. 
"Damn." Mickey muttered, his hands smoothing down Ian's spine once he
resurfaced.
Ian collapsed on top of him, his face buried in Mickey's neck. 
"That was fucking awesome." Ian replied.
Mickey hummed, his eyes beginning to close. He would never admit it, but Ian
had worn him out.
"I was wondering," Ian began, his voice syrupy and slow already, sleep settling
in quickly. "Which of us is the bride?"
Mickey stretched his arm down until he could slap at Ian's ass. "Who's the
fucking bride? Are you being serious?"
Ian chuckled, rolling over on to his back and pulling Mickey to lay over his
chest. "It's okay. You can be the bride. You do have nice legs after all."
"Shut up." Mickey grumbled.
"I love you."
"Yeah. I guess I love you too. Sometimes."
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