#i keep it as spoiler free as possible but i'm just covering my ass lol

[trashlie]

Thinking about what kinds of regrets does q-tip have, if one of them includes listening to hansuke to go to the party. Does he regret always expressing hatred to Nolan? Q-tip seems to still rather shirk away personal responsibility.

Thinking about how much does q-tip have trouble distinguishing conditional love with personal boundaries and breaking points in relationships. How much will it take for the rich loonatic to accept that he needs to better himself if he wants anyone to like him. What would it even take for q-tip to change for Nolan to accept his older brother’s a better person than before.

Would there be a new character who not only symbolically represents to q-tip the chances he wasted being an a-hole to Nolan, but a secret test of character to show how much q-tip grew? Like a small child q-tip has a chance to try again? Like maybe another small child who q-tip feels embodies the paranoia and insecurity that festers within the rich loonatic?

I feel shinae would be that second chance, especially if it’s true shin-hye really does have beef with her younger sister. Like the older sister acts like a jerk to shinae and q-tip realizes, s**t, i really was an awful sibling. I always made it about me. So, I’ll be there for shinae the same way Nolan was for her. I must be better.

Does q-tip deeply think Nolan will always stay and try to play nice with him forever, because the young boy’s love or desire to form a friendship with him that strong?

Will Nolan tell shinae that he bled out because q-tip assaulted him?

With q-tip in the hospital, will we get a shock reveal diagnosis, like what if yui secretly drugs him to enhance his paranoia, that’ll make the rich loonatic freak out even more?

I don’t know. I’m still waiting for q-tip to fall apart and go rock bottom bojack horseman style.

We don’t even know how q-tip will pay up for what he did.

Maybe he’ll step down? Maybe he’ll decide to have no kids so that the cycle ends with him, to ensure yui doesn’t level up to evil grandma. Could play into the theme of the cycle of hurt parents directly or indirectly inflict on their children.

Because even if shinae is the bridge between him and Nolan, the rich loonatic needs to choose to better himself before the breaking point of another relationship’s reached.

The thing about Kousuke is he knows all of this. That's what his whole conversation with Nol was about - he knows that he's an unlikeable person, he knows that there's a reason people don't like him and that they only reluctantly do because of WHO they are. From a young age Kousuke was well-aware of the privilege he was afforded for who he is and where he comes from, and that's a major part of his personal problems. He looks at Nol as being the one of them who got the best of Rand, the likable parts, the charismatic and charming points. And seeing that has made him all the more resentful, because none of that is him, none of that is who Kousuke has become.

On a subconscious level, he's even aware of his worst flaws. That night he got drunk in the club revealed a lot of how Kousuke really sees himself, through the lens of others. He so vehemently denies certain aspects of himself because he cannot reconcile himself with the truth: that he is rude and selfish and lacks necessary empathy to maintain relationships.

I think what Kousuke's bigger issue is that he doesn't know how to reconcile who he is with the role he thinks he's meant to fulfill. His whole life has been about trying to obtain Rand's affection and for a moment he'd reached a point of realizing it doesn't exist. But whatever he saw in the Bible - whether it was the fact that Rand carries around letters from Nessa (hence why he wanted to see the Bible again, he recognized the name) or something even more devastating to Kousuke (revealed in the most recent FP thus I won't write it here hehe) I think further broken him. Whatever he saw proves that this version of Rand, this affectionate, funny man neither of them knows does exist and that he just hasn't revealed himself to them.

The other thing about Kousuke is that he's, essentially, sacrificed himself all of these years, right? He's wanted one thing his entire life - his father's affection and validation. Anything else that he's ever enjoyed never became a want, it just became a thing he could shove aside in the quest for what he truly wants. It's clear from his beef with Nol that he does want other things - he just represses and denies them. He DOES want people to like him - but that's not the role of the Hirahara heir, is it? That's not what happens with people like them. Something I'm starting to believe is that Kousuke has to learn how to divorce what he wants from who he is - how does he let go of the ache for his father's affection when it's the root cause of who he is and everything he's done? What is the point of any of this if it doesn't culminate in being seen as good enough, as worthy enough?

Frankly, Kousuke alone cannot deal with his problems. In an ideal world, he'd go to family therapy with his father and work through that, but in an ideal world, he wouldn't have had to fight for his father's love in the first place. But that's the problem Kousuke faces - he knows how to be a decent person, and he's tried to be as evidenced through Shinae, but it's a struggle for him because his identity is so tightly woven with the way he raised. It's not as simple as to say "I want to be better to Nol as I have been to Shinae" becaue Shinae doesn't come with the same baggage that Nol and Kousuke's relationship does. Kousuke cannot have a healthy relationship with Nol until he reconciles what the issue really is: he is jealous of Nol and terrified that because of Nol he will never be loved by Rand, he is terrified that everything good only went to Nol, and that resentment is not something that goes away over night. Especially because Kousuke has that tendency of immediately rewriting anything that triggers that cognitive dissonance, anything that goes against what he expects. Rand assured Kousuke he wasn't in trouble, that he wasn't angry, that Nol was not Kousuke's responsibility, but immediately upon finding Nol at the Park's home, he jumped right into "Do you know how much trouble I'm in because of you?"

There is no quick and easy way for Kousuke to unlearn everything he's grown up to believe, all of the truths forged within him during his formative foundations. It will not be enough going forward to simply remember that Nol, too, has never met that version of Rand, that maybe that version doesn't even exist. Firstly, I think Kousuke would have rewritten that moment in a way that made him feel less uncomfortable in reflection, but also, again, whatever Kousuke saw in that Bible I worry could undo everything. I think Kousuke has seen a reminder that this version of Rand is real, it's just that (according to the beliefs Kousuke carries) he's not good enough.

Now, I DO think Kousuke wants to be better for Shinae, he just, again, is so out of touch, he doesn't know how to do this. I think if we look at the way he was raised, it makes a lot of sense? It seems he's always taken Yui at face value and not really questioned the lessons she imparted in him when he was young. He's never had to earn anyone's trust - he always assumes he has it because he is a person in power, a person to be revered. He has never been taught to earn ANYTHING because as the Hirahara heir, he's had it from the get go. How does he earn Shinae's trust? How does he reconcile his image in front of her? That's the thing that was so laughable about the otter plushie he gave her - not only does it demonstrate how little he knows her, it also demonstrates that he just doesn't know how to earn THINGS, period. The beaver represented something symbolic to him, but she doesn't know that. He has been handed everything he could want or need in life and he thinks that everyone else must want for this, because he has the good life, the one coveted by everyone. In his mind, a gift given seems to equate to something similar. "I am a good person who is giving you something special to prove that I am a good person."

But it doesn't work that way. Since it seems like there's no way out of her contract and Shinae will likely end up working with Kousuke (assuming you know.... there's no repercussions faced after this incident) I think that's when Kousuke will get schooled, but hmmm. Idk it doesn't feel right to me? How does that work when it comes to the time skips - it would mean significant development would happen off screen, and that doesn't suit quimchee's style, so I'm really iffy on this part, tbh.

The thing re: repercussions, too, is that Rand can push for them, but Yui is not a person to yield, and as it is, Rand wants to keep this whole thing hush hush, so I'm not entirely sure what to anticipate from that? Suppose he is forced to step down - a reason will have to be made, and that doesn't keep things very hush hush, does it? And again, I feel like Yui would easily be able to find a reason to block it. It's so easy to brush Nol's injuries off as being from the fall - which had plenty of witnesses - rather than go into detail about what happened. I guess the other thing is, is Nol willing to push it? No one but them REALLY knows what happened. Rand can assume and guess right but the whole thing creates a horrible fork in the road: either Kousuke gets away with it and Nol carries on believing that he is insignificant to Rand, or Kousuke is punished and he comes away believing that Nol does and has always mattered most.

This is where all of the possibilities become limitless to me lol because say the latter happens and Kousuke is held responsible. How does that impact his relationships? Now his relationship with Rand is further ruined, and that resentment towards Nol grows more. Or does he learn to let it go? Decide fuck pleasing Rand. Fuck pleasing ANYONE? He's such a hard one for me to gage because he just has so many unresolved issues and so much of it is rooted in Nol and Rand.

I'm also unsure if Nol will tell Shinae how it happened. I think it's something that is currently unspoken that she's probably already thought about. Without revealing too much from the recent FP episodes, she saw the state Kousuke was in. It's clear to everyone involved that Kousuke is NOT okay, that he's essentially in a state of shock. I think she might be able to deduce that whatever happened wasn't really intentional? That feels funny to say because Kousuke definitely went after Nol because he didn't want to let him leave like that, because he had so much resentment yet unspilled and was goading him into the fight but also his reaction to Nol bleeding, I think, shows that what Kousuke wanted was for Nol to fight back? like, hmm idk how to word this because it's not something I've fully made up my mind about but I think it's more like Kousuke WANTED Nol to call him out, because he feels so much resentment towards Nol, surely Nol must feel the same. It was that realization that this has been a one-sided war for so many years, that Nol never wanted the fight Kousuke did.

But seeing Nol bleeding, passing out? That wasn't what he wanted. Does that make sense? idk.

Anyway all this to say: I think it's not enough for Kousuke to acknowledge the kind of person he's been. His mental stability is fragile and largely held up by altering his accounts of what happens in every confrontational scenario in a way that doesn't make him uncomfortable. He struggles to accept actual reality because of the way it directly opposes what he expects and believes to be true. So how can he just up and change, if he's unprepared to deal with that reality?

I've always said he needs to fall and break to change, and idk if he's there yet. I'm worried about what will happen with him being in Hirahara Memorial, because I don't doubt Yui will, if she hasn't already been, be made aware of what happened, and maybe that's why Rand didn't want him to show up there? Not just because he would find out that that's not where Nol is, but because he doesn't want him to fall prey to Yui when he's at his weakest? Because Yui is a person who not only supports but recreates those accounts for Kousuke? I think as long as she is a player in this game, Kousuke's likelihood of change diminishes.

At this stage, I think it's very possible that Nol and Kousuke will never be brothers to each other, but my hope is at the very least for them to make peace. For Nol to be able to let go of that family and find peace with himself, without thinking of himself as damaged goods or baggage or a villain. For him to be able to let go of Kousuke - let go of the resentment and just live freely without him. But in order to reach that point, I think the only way for him to see change in Kousuke would have to deal with Yui. Since the chess game remains a prevalent them and Kousuke still plays for Yui's side, I think the thing that will aid him and Nol is if Kousuke is able to turn against Yui, and welp, we've established that's going to be increasingly difficult considering Yui is the only figure in his life who has ever shown him a sense of care, the only figure in his life that he has been able to safely run to. I know he knows what she's like, what she does, but when she's the only one who he has felt was ever on his side, that's going to be a difficult feat, isn't it?

(Also as a side note, when sending me asks, please don't refer to Kousuke as a lunatic. That's some pretty ableist language that doesn't sit right with me. Kousuke has a lot of issues, yeah, but trying to write it off as "he's just crazy/insane" or "he's just [mental illness]" doesn't feel right. I'm fine acknowledges all the ways the guy is messed up - he's got some pretty heavy trauma resulting from neglect and something that resembles PTSD but language like lunatic doesn't feel right - it feels very "this is a bad person doing bad things and I'm going to write it off as inane" and that doesn't sit right with me.)

#ILY Brainrot #I Love Yoo #ILY FP #ILY Spoilers #using those tags just in case #i keep it as spoiler free as possible but i'm just covering my ass lol #Kousuke Hirahara #i don't view Kousuke as an inherent evil as much as being a victim of his own life and circumstances in a way that is difficult for him to #escape. like. idk i have a lot of complicated feelings about him #he's absolutely responsible for the person he's become #but i also cannot deny the circumstances that got him here either #the things that define the character he possesses #how does he change and move on from all of that you know? #how does he let go of his resentment and jealousy? #how does he learn to see Nol as a person of his own rather than this extension of everything that makes him so jealous? #I also think in a twisted way Kousuke genuinely thinks Nol has had it easier #because Kousuke was on such a warpspeed fast track to earn his father's affections no shortcuts no breaks #In his mind Nol has already obtained what Kousuke has had to bust ass for #in his mind Nol is loved and Kousuke is trying to catch up #he sees Nol goofing around with friends and feels jealous that he never had that that he wasn't allowed that based on who he is? #so how does he learn to let go of those feelings? #further it's like... when this is his identity what is left if he lets go of it all? who is he? what remains of his identity when #he lets go of everything that propped him up? #who is he outside of chasing his father for a crumb of affection and resenting Nol for something that isn't even true? #I guess this is why I'm really keen for more of Kousuke's story - I want to see what comes of him #I want to see what choices he ends up making #I want to see if he wants the better path or not

[squirrel-fund]

Weekly Updates 🔆

[except when it's my prompt week]

Made possible by @galladrabbles (if you haven't given it a try, you should! The more the merrier!)

I have joined the little train of fics written in one little 100 word drabble at a time. This is inspired by this post. (Heads up, I suppose the post will have spoilers lol)

Each week's word will be orange, and each drabble will be separated by a 🔆

69th week added (Feb. 16): valentines card

Read here or on AO3 (updated Oct. 10 - weeks 1 thru 60)

•••

Mickey is fucking excited.

Some might even call him giddy but to hell with those people because he ain't that fucking gay, alright?

But he is excited. Fucking elated.

Because he's just entered the airport with Ian, his husband, and they're finally going on an actual vacation.

Hawaii.

Two whole weeks of nothing but sun, sand, hotel sex, fruity drinks you'd be ridiculed for drinking on the South Side.

It's going to be amazing and they fucking deserve it.

Vacation starts now, as they board the plane, a knowing smile is all it takes.

Mile high club, here they come.

🔆

Ian's tipsy already and he's grinning like an idiot.

But fuck it.

They're on vacation, Ian's hitting that perfect spot that makes Mickey go crazy, and the lady knocking on the bathroom door is just making their departure to the mile high club even more memorable.

"Mick- I'm-"

"Yeah- fuck... I'm close."

Ian sucks on Mickey's neck and that's all it takes before he's coming, his body shuddering as Ian bites down, following his husband into pure bliss.

Another knock on the door.

Ian's still holding Mickey up against the wall and they both laugh breathlessly.

The bitch can wait.

🔆

The absolute look of terror on the bitch's face makes Mickey chuckle as he smirks at her, slipping into his Hawaiian shirt before saying, "All yours."

He follows Ian back to their seats not even trying to cover up the smile that radiates from his face.

"Goddamn, Gallagher. We should go on vacation more often."

Ian gives Mickey's hand a loving squeeze, leaning over and kissing him on the shoulder.

"Think grandma will tell on us?"

"Who cares... What are they gonna do? Pull the plane over?"

Ian lays his head on his husband's shoulder. "Wake me if they do."

🔆

Ian sleeps almost the entire flight. There's a small puddle of drool drying on Mickey's shoulder, and even though some might think it's gross, Mickey loves it. Tiny snapshots of "normal" that always manage to leave him breathless.

Ian yawns, wiping the sleep from his eyes, stretching as much as their tiny seats allows. "Did you sleep?"

Mickey shakes his head. "Fuck no. Someone has to put the oxygen mask on your dumbass if shit goes sideways. I ain't spending my vacation planning your fucking funeral, man."

"I love you too, Mick." He kisses him softly. "You're a fucking romantic."

🔆

Mickey knew this would happen.

He'd be fucking insane to think that he would ever be entitled to a stress-free, everything goes right, vacation.

So, when Mickey can't find his suitcase, he's not even shocked. Hell, there's probably some prophecy written in blood, foretold by some white supremacist, homophobic asshole, that says Milkoviches can't have nice things.

But, leave it to Ian to find it twenty minutes later after leading an embarrassing search party for a suitcase that only holds lube and about six pairs of swimming trunks.

And in the lobby of the Hawaii International Airport, Mickey fucking swoons.

🔆

Mickey's not sure what it is about Hawaii, but in the cab on the way to their hotel, he can't keep his hands off his husband.

They're on vacation. What better time to just enjoy the tall drink of water that is Ian?

When their lips touch, it's like a shot of lightning coursing between them. Ian smiles into the kiss before moving lower and softly nuzzling against Mickey's neck.

The fun ends abruptly when they pull up to a cheap ass Holiday Inn. Mickey is beyond confused.

"This isn't-"

"Uh, yeah... I switched hotels. This one had great reviews."

🔆

Mickey looks up at the ugly tan building. "Like what? Got a fucking STD but didn't die?"

Ian laughs and shrugs. "We're in Hawaii, does the hotel really matter?"

Instead of answering, Mickey grabs his bag and stomps inside the lobby where a girl greets him with a smile.

"Aloha! Here to check in?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Her smile fades and she looks confused as Ian jogs up to them. "Checking in under Gallagher."

"Which one?"

Mickey raises an eyebrow at her.

"Ian."

She grins and clicks something on her computer."Got it! I'm Clover. I'll show you to your room."

🔆

Mickey hopes this is a joke. He knows, for a fucking fact, that they had decided on the bougie hotel with the oceanfront view.

Not. This.

But, as they enter the room, he's worried because there hadn't been any signs of oncoming mania that he could recall.

"Somethin' wrong with the other place?"

Ian just shrugs. "The trip was just a bit more expensive than we initially thought."

And that's a lie. He knows it.

But, there's no evidence behind Ian's eyes of a war that sometimes rages within.

So, Mickey relents. "They got any alcohol up in this bitch?"

🔆

It's only been two days in this shit hole and "understanding" Mickey has disappeared. Because fuck that and fuck this damp room with the mildew smell and the tiny bottles of Malibu Rum that couldn't even get a toddler drunk.

He tried to be a supportive husband. He tried to let it go.

But he can feel the anger simmering. That Milkovich wrath that's fucking etched into his soul. Something he just can't shake. It's why he'll be a shitty dad and it's why he can't hold it back when he finally asks,

"Who the fuck is the other Gallagher?"

🔆

Ian's eyes meet Mickey's. "What?"

"Why did she ask you that, Ian? I swear to God if one of your siblings pop out-"

Ian cuts him off, wrapping his arms around Mickey's waist. "I reserved the room under both of our names. That's it."

Mickey places his hands on the sides of Ian's face. "Baby, I really want this trip to be just about us, okay? No phones, no business talk, no Gallagher family tradition of inserting themselves into our lives."

"This trip is only about us."

"You swear?"

Ian nods, "I swear," and they seal it with a kiss.

🔆

Mickey's barely awake when Ian throws open the curtains, drowning their room in sunlight.

"Wake up, Sleepy Head! I got an entire day planned! Pineapple picking, a helicopter ride, a luau where they roast an actual pig in the ground-"

Mickey sits up, rubbing his eyes. "What fucking time is it?"

"Nine."

"In the morning?"

Ian just nods. "I know, we're already running late." He tosses a Hawaiian shirt at Mickey. "Get dressed."

But Mickey isn't going anywhere. He slides back down into the comfy bed. "Yeah, no. It's too early. You want a ride? Get back in bed, Red."

🔆

After giving him a "Mickey ride", which has no relation to that fucking corporate mouse and way better than some stupid helicopter ride, Ian's cellphone rings.

"We said, no phones."

Ian grabs it blindly off the nightstand, bolting up immediately. "Shit- I gotta take this... It's... Tami."

"Tami? The fuck she want?" Ian looks worried which makes Mickey worry. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just..." He takes a deep breath. "Lip wants her to eat his ass so I've been giving her tips."

Mickey is mortified. "T. M. Fucking I, Ian! I could have gone my entire life not knowing that!"

🔆

Ian steps out onto the patio, talking to Tami in hushed tones that Mickey is grateful for. Lip's sex life is not something that anyone needs to know about.

He takes a shower and gets dressed. Secretly excited to spend the day doing stupid tourist shit with Ian. Just because they can.

The patio door is cracked and Ian's voice drifts into the room. "Look, we got distracted... oh, fuck you, Lip. We've got time-"

Mickey moves closer and listens.

"We'll be gone in like thirty minutes. Did you book the... yeah but they need to be... okay, fine... bye."

🔆

Mickey spends his day being a dorky tourist with his equally dorky husband.

He does not bring up the conversation he overheard this morning, even though he wants to. It's right there, itching to crawl out of his fucking skin and make Ian and this entire fucking island his bitch.

But, one thing he's learned, after escaping prison, is that you can't always go in guns blazing. Sometimes, getting to the resolution takes a different approach, a more covert operation, if you will.

He will not allow this vacation to be hijacked. His fun... fucking stolen... by LIP?

Hell no.

🔆

It's late when they get back to their room, exhausted from a long day of sightseeing. But Mickey's got shit to do.

Grabbing a pack of cigarettes off the dresser, he checks the time and gestures towards the door.

"Gonna go get some fresh air."

Ian snuggles into the bed, mumbling a soft, "kay," before sleep takes over.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Mickey heads outside, there's absolutely no doubt in his mind, who he'll find smoking at this particular time.

Rounding the corner, he doesn't even act surprised. "So," he thumbs at his nose," whatcha doin' here, Lip?"

🔆

"So, figured it out?"

"Ian's a shit liar. Always has been."

Lip nods at that. "It's his eyes. Always give him away."

"Why are you here... Phillip?"

He smirks, pocketing his e-cig. "Thought you had it figured out... Mikhailo."

"Well, I figure if I hit you hard enough Ian'll feel it... considering you two are practically attached at the fucking hip."

But Lip's more occupied with his phone than Mickey's mostly empty threat. "Mm, cool story, bro... hey, uh, you still like that Bon Jovi guy, right?"

"Obviously... wait... what? Why?"

Lip just grins as he walks away. "G'night, Mickey."

•••

Ch. 2 (Ian's POV) 🏖

•••

Ian wakes up... disappointed.

Instead of soft touches and eager lips, he gets harsh knocks and an irritated, "Ian, wake the fuck up!"

Glancing around the room, he immediately notices that Mickey isn't there.

And he laughs, because obviously his husband forgot the room key while getting coffee.

But, Ian's grin fades away when he sees Lip standing outside his door.

"What-?"

"Ian. He knows and he's fucking pissed."

"Shit- where is he?"

Lip sighs, looking guilty as he hands over a napkin that reads:

Think of a real good excuse before you leave that room, Firecrotch.

Mickey & Tami

🔆

Ian stares at the note, trying to make sense of where things went sideways. He had everything planned, everything was going so well-

"So, uh... any ideas?"

And, no, Lip. He doesn't have any fucking ideas, alright? But there is one thing...

"Wait- He's not mad at Tami?"

The look on his older brother's face is all he needs to know.

"Jesus, Lip! You didn't tell her?"

And his brother has the audacity to look annoyed. " Course I fuckin' told her! I mean..." He pauses before continuing, "she was busy reading Freddie a bedtime story at the time, but-"

🔆

Ian groans. "Goddamn it! Everything is fucking ruined now."

"Okay, that's a bit dramatic."

But Ian isn't listening, he's too busy spiraling. "I should have just told him. I shouldn't have tried to surprise him... he fucking hates that shit anyway." He stops to look at Lip. "What should I do?"

"You're asking me?" Lip's eyes meet his brother's and, truth be told, he's got nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Love and marriage? Fixing arguments? How can he have the solution if he's never even experienced the problem?

Cause Lip walks his road alone as Ian and Mickey walk theirs together.

🔆

"Mickey only knows that we're here and he thinks that you paid for that to happen."

Ian feels relief wash over him. "Wait. That's it?"

Lip nods. "That's it. So stop panicking. Things are still going according to plan."

"Okay. I can definitely work with that." Ian throws a shirt on along with a wrinkled pair of shorts before exiting his room, shoving Lip down the hall to lead the way. "They by the pool?"

"Yep."

One hundred different scenarios run through Ian's head as they make their way outside. He'd made it this far, what was one more week?

🔆

Ian spots Mickey immediately and he looks... happy. The way he should be, not mad because of a tiny white lie. Ian lives for moments like this. When Mickey isn't aware he's being watched. A smile on his face, a laugh thrown up in the air as he teaches Freddie to blow bubbles in his milk.

But then, their eyes meet, and there it is. That scowl. The narrowing of eyes, the crossing of arms. All familiar signs that an argument is imminent.

So, holding out hope that having Freddie around will soften the blow, Ian takes a step forward.

🔆

But, as he approaches them, Tami stands, picking Freddie up before bending down to whisper something in Mickey's ear. He nods and suddenly, it's just them.

Ian and Mickey.

Mickey and Ian.

If sound effects happened in real life, Ian knows he'd hear that western whistle, indicating a stand-off. A fool-proof way to know that two Southside husbands are about to collide and people should scatter, leave them alone to take their shots, even if they're just words.

Because they can be painful. Because they can fucking cut deep.

"Mornin' Sunshine." Mickey gestures at the chair across from him. "Sit."

🔆

"Okay, on a scale from one to ten... how mad are you, really?" Ian waits for an answer, needs to know how much he has to apologize for.

Mickey bounces his leg, anger radiating off him. "I don't think, at least in our universe, that there is a number high enough for your fucking scale, Ian."

"That's fair-"

Mickey scoffs. "That's fair? You serious right now, Gallagher?"

"Mick-"

"Fuck. You. Tell me the truth, right fucking now or I swear to god, Ian, I'm getting on a plane tonight and going back to Chicago." He crosses his arms. "Without you."

🔆

That hits him in his soul. If Mickey leaves now it'll spoil the surprise, and that cannot fucking happen. Ian has planned this for too long.

"Okay. Here's the truth. I wanted to-"

"Ian!" Lip interrupts them, placing a hand on Mickey's shoulder, which he slaps away immediately.

"Touch me again and you'll be just another dumbass tourist who disappeared."

Putting his hands up in a surrender, Lip takes a step away. "Calm down, Mick. I just wanted to personally apologize."

"For?'

"For guilt tripping Ian to drag us along."

"What?"

Ian stares at his brother in disbelief. "Yeah... what?"

🔆

Lip sighs as he rubs the back of his neck, managing to actually look uncomfortable. "Yeah, so... Ian was talking about your vacation and you know Tami's had a rough year..."

Ian watches as Mickey's defenses start wavering.

"I just-" Lip blows a breath out. Damn, he's really selling this story. "She needed to get away. We all did, really." He grips Ian's shoulder and squeezes. "I knew Ian wouldn't say no."

Mickey just stares at him for a few seconds, then at Ian, before scratching absently at his nose. "That true?"

And you know what? Fuck it. "Sure is."

🔆

And holy shit, it works.

Mickey nods as if he completely understands and with what seems to be a fresh start to their day, he leans forward, intertwining their fingers together.

"I'm sorry I got angry. I think inviting them along was the right call. Just, ya know, talk to me next time, Ian."

He's back to being 'Ian'. Such a tiny detail but he knows it speaks volumes coming from his husband.

"I will. I promise-"

"Don't make a promise we both know your ass can't keep."

Ian chuckles at that before he says. "Got a surprise for you."

🔆

A smug smile appears on Mickey's face. "Yeah." He pulls out a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lights it. "I know."

"You do?"

"Mmm." Mickey nods as he exhales. "You're awful with surprises, man."

Ian is dumbfounded, embarrassment heating his checks "How- When did you figure it out?"

"Last night."

Realization dawns on him. "You saw the hotel's confirmation email."

Mickey shrugs with a grin. "Maybe."

"Damn it, Mick!" Ian says, but he's laughing. "Why can't you ever just let me surprise you?"

"Get better at it and I will." He stubs out his cigarette and stands. "Let's go."

•••

Ch. 3 (Mickey's POV) 🏖

•••

If Mickey could go back in time, he thinks maybe he would approach this situation differently. Healthier, as his therapist likes to say.

But, one week down, one more to go.

And this last one, these last remaining seven days... Mickey knows they're gonna be amazing. Because he married the human equivalent of a golden retriever who just can't say no.

Ian's surprise was booking their last week at that bougie hotel and Mickey can't wait to get there.

So, as their Uber pulls away from that cheap ass Holiday Inn, Mickey shows his husband just how grateful he is.

🔆

It starts innocent enough, seeing as they're in the back of some stranger's '97 Plymouth Neon.

But, without a shadow of a doubt, things won't stay that way.

Because Mickey knows, as soon as Ian pulls him in for a hasty kiss, that stranger or no stranger, he'll do anything his husband wants.

Ian's moody, obviously still annoyed that Mickey ruined the surprise but that shit only makes Mickey want him more.

"Cheer up, Buttercup." He slips his hand into Ian's shorts and hums in appreciation at what he finds. "Although, I've always been a sucker for pissed off redheads."

🔆

A tiny "oof" leaves Mickey's lips as he's pushed away, torn from his favorite fleshy body part.

He raises an eyebrow at his husband. "The fuck?"

Ian frowns. "You're always doing these grand gestures for me. I just thought, maybe this time, I could do one for you."

"Ian-"

But he cuts him off. "No. You fucking escaped prison, Mickey... for me. You got thrown back into prison... for me. What have I done?"

But before Mickey can respond, their Uber driver speaks.

"He kāne hauʻoli!"

"Yo, Spam Can, I ain't from here, so shut your pineapple hole and drive!"

🔆

The driver shuts up immediately and Mickey turns his attention to more important matters.

"Grand fucking gestures? It's called overcompensating." He pokes a finger into his husband's ribs. "You wonder what you do for me? You love me, Ian. No one's ever actually fuckin' loved me before."

He places a hand on a warm freckled knee.

"You sneak candy bars into my jacket pockets, man. You willingly hold my hand in public and I know you fuckin' let me win at game night just so you can get the satisfaction of seeing me happy, you soft bitch."

"You know that?!"

🔆

Amused by the look on his husband's face, Mickey grins, moving closer. "C'mere."

But of course, they're interrupted again by the damn driver.

"We're here."

Eager to get to the room, they walk hand in hand through the lobby of the nicest hotel they've ever seen. Walls covered in fancy-schmancy abstract art that some old rich fuck probably paid a years salary for.

A waste, because they look like shit.

But then, one grabs Mickey's attention. The colors are trippy, and it instantly reminds him of this stained glass trinket his mother used to adore.

And Mickey fucking wants it.

🔆

A handful of orgasms later, they discuss it.

"Okay, calm down. I don't need your help anyway."

Ian sighs, lightly running his fingertips down Mickey's back. "We're supposed to be going straight."

"Right, well maybe you should tell your mouth that, cause the things it just did were far from fucking straight."

"You know what I mean, Mickey!"

"Look, just cause it's illegal, don't mean it's wrong. S'like... loitering "

"Wha-?"

"If Frank Gallagher can steal a big ass painting from a museum by himself, I think I can get my fucking hands on a painting in a hotel lobby."

🔆

But Mickey doesn't stop there, he's fucking right and Ian needs to calm his ass down.

"It'll be easy as shit, Ian. I even got a plan."

Ian sits up, glaring down at him.

"Don't give me the chin, man. We got three things goin' for us being tourists."

"Which are?"

Mickey sighs, but he decides to indulge his husband. "One, we ain't locals. Two-"

"Which makes us more suspicious!"

"Two, there ain't no cameras watching the desk-"

Ian scoffs. "You already cased the place?!

"And three, it'll just look like one of your gay ass souvenirs when we leave."

🔆

Ian is quick to defend himself. "I haven't bought anything 'gay', Mick."

"You bought a glass pineapple shaped buttplug the other day, man."

Mickey fucking loves the tiny blush that appears on his husband's face right before he's caged between strong freckled arms.

"Why you always gotta be so damn mean to me, huh?"

Tattooed fingers find their home in red locks, while Mickey pretends to be offended. "You think I'm mean, Red?"

Ian grins down at him, nothing but affection in his voice. "The meanest."

"Scary?"

"Mmhm, mean and scary."

Mickey thinks he'll hang the painting in their bedroom.

🔆

Mickey hates Karma.

Not the universe's version, but the one currently working the front desk of their hotel.

He's trying to be fucking reasonable here. Play shit cool and maybe not get thrown in jail.

But apparently, being curious about the photographer and then point blank asking how much the hotel paid for the photo was a crime in itself to Miss Karma.

He sees her glance down at the ink on his fingers before the resting bitch face returns. "I'm sure it's too expensive for someone with your... lifestyle."

Mickey blinks at her. Surely he heard wrong. "Excuse you?"

🔆

But before the conversation can escalate, his phone rings, vibrating in his back pocket, granting a literal 'saved by the bell' moment for the overly judgemental front desk bitch.

"Yeah?" Mickey answers, turning his back to the counter.

"Miiiiiick! You gotta come to where I am... is our song, baby!"

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Are you... drunk?"

"No...? I mean... kinda? We're in paradise, Mick-key... s'okay."

"Yeah, I forgot that in Hawaii, your medicine doesn't make you a fucking lightweight... Jesus Christ, Ian..."

But he's not listening. "In this world... where nothing else is truue... here I aaaammm... still tangled up in you."

🔆

A grin blooms across his face as Ian finishes his drunken love serenade.

And holy hell. Out of all the guys Mickey could have eventually fell for, he really went all in, choosing a redhead with a fucking bleeding heart.

But it's not like he even really had a choice. Up until he met Ian, nobody ever looked at him like he actually mattered. No one dared try to touch him in a loving way, and they sure as shit never actually wanted to see behind the wall of bullshit and trauma that was Mickey Milkovich.

"On my way, Red."

🔆

The hotel bar isn't very far away, and even if Mickey was oblivious to its location, the cheers and catcalls echoing through the hallway would be a dead giveaway to the chaos taking place just around the corner.

Secondhand embarrassment hits him hard as he rounds the corner, eyes wide, when he takes in the sight of his husband doing a dance that would give Magic Mike a run for his money all while singing that it's raining men up in this bitch.

Almost immediately, Ian spots him, and suddenly, against his will, Mickey is being pushed towards the stage.

🔆

And these pushy motherfuckers must be from Vegas or some shit, because they are definitely gambling with their lives right now. Putting their hands in areas specifically reserved for one man and one man only.

But it's not until Mickey is halfway to the stage that he realizes there's a fucking spotlight shining down on him as Ian, the annoying butthole, pretends to pull him in as if Ian's some hot, crazed, stripper-mime and not the adorable, baby girl, husband type that Mickey knows and loves.

He trips up the stairs, both aroused and appalled by what awaits him onstage.

🔆

"Ian."

"Shhh."

"The fuc- don't you fucking shush me, Gallag-"

But Mickey's cut off as he finds himself being pushed down into a vacant chair sitting dead center on the stage.

And suddenly words dissolve completely, both on his tongue and in his mind, as Ian straddles him, an over-eager, teasing grind tells him this is about to lead, undoubtedly, to the world's sloppiest lap dance ever.

"You like this grand gesture?" Ian whispers, not hushed at all, to Mickey's nose.

"This is because I ruined your stupid surprise? Are you fucking serious?"

"Mmhmm, and this is only step one."

🔆

"Yeah, okay, tough guy," Mickey says, a million thoughts flooding his mind. "You hungry? We can go get food. Take this back to our room."

"Mmm, I'll settle for this Mickey sandwich we're making."

"Seriously?"

Then, Ian drops to his knees, and Mickey knows it's now or never.

"We could... we could go get ice cream."

"Mmm... wanna taste it dripping down your thick thighs."

"Ian."

"Be all sticky..."

"Jesus... how about those pineapple burgers you wanted to try?"

That seems to work because Ian stands up, grinning. "Yeah?

"Sure. 'Course. As long as we can leave this fuckin' place."

🔆

Guiding Ian through the hotel towards their room takes much longer than expected.

They've already had to stop for: "Mick! Keychains! Can we get some? Can we?"

Followed by: "Ice creeeeam! You promised!"

What kind of fucking hotel has an ice cream place anyway?

"Thought you wanted burgers?"

And immediately, Ian shuts down. Taking a stand in front of God and everyone else, he crosses his arms and fucking pouts.

"No. Want ice cream."

And it's at this moment that Mickey finally understands why Tami straps Freddie into that fucking kid harness.

He wonders if they make them husband size.

•••

Ch. 4 (Ian's POV) 🏖

•••

Ian wakes up with a mouth full of sand, or at least, that's what it feels like. His throat is scratchy, and when he tries to sit up, the entire room spins.

A tattooed hand offers him a bottle of water and Ian rolls onto his side before chugging half of it in one go.

"Thanks." He says, as he hands the bottle back to Mickey and tries, once again, to sit up.

But, a firm hand on his chest stops him. "You should save your energy, American Idol. You got a lotta makin' up to me after last night."

🔆

And yeah, okay, Ian knows he overdid it last night, but all he can seem to remember is why he did it, just not the acts that resulted from that decision.

So, he asks, "How bad did I get?"

"You don't remember?"

Ian shakes his head, an act he regrets immediately as the nausea hits him.

"Well, besides trying to swim in an aquarium, you fucking koala hugged a complete stranger!"

"I did?!"

"Yeah, he had long hair and a leather vest so you screamed like a bitch that it was Dog the Bounty Hunter and latched onto his leg!"

🔆

He tries to listen to Mickey, who continues to regale him about last night shenanigans, but the pounding in his head along with the agonizing pressure behind his eyes... he's failing miserably.

"Are you even fucking listening to me?"

"Yes, I'm listening, but... I can hear colors right now. I think this is the end, Mick.

The bed dips as beautiful blue eyes appear above him. "Only the good die young, Ian. You're nowhere near that category."

"I think I'm gonna throw up."

Mickey sighs, but thankfully, he gets the ice bucket under Ian's chin right before the purge begins.

🔆

An hour later, Ian sits out on the balcony in hopes that the rays of the Hawaiian sun can suck out the remaining toxins inside his body that didn't escape into a plastic trash bin earlier.

But other than that, he feels fucking fantastic.

Because it only took one buzzed confession last night to Lip about how Ian believes himself to be cursed when it comes to relationship shit to essentially get things back on track.

And whether this thing goes according to plan or not, Lip is right, Mickey and Ian would rather have each other, cursed or not.

🔆

"Holy shit!"

Ian turns his head towards the open door and smiles. Step two is right on schedule. "What?"

"The hotel comped us a fuckin' couple massage for today. Guess they saw me dealin' with your crazy ass and thought we needed it."

It's a playful jab, Ian knows this, but that one word is like a slap in the face.

"Why don't you go without me, then. Hate to ruin it with my crazy ass."

Mickey kicks the leg of Ian's chair. "Hey, stop that shit. You know, even on our worst nights, I'm still into you, man. Always."

🔆

And Ian does know. He does.

"So, we gotta make reservations, or what?"

Mickey shrugs. "No clue, but I say we just go down there. Fuckers ain't gonna kick us out."

"Okay. Give me a minute."

Once he's safely behind their locked bathroom door, Ian does a tiny, silent, celebratory dance. It doesn't seem like Mickey has any clue that Ian has orchestrated these massages. He wishes he weren't so hungover but whatever.

He can't fucking wait.

Ian quickly pees and checks himself in the mirror before exiting the bathroom. He zips up his hoodie and tells Mickey he's ready.

🔆

The spa is fucking nice. No, that word doesn't do this place justice. The goddamn spa is fucking... elegant, okay?

From the complimentary fluffy robes to the personalized skincare routine they use... it's nothing like he ever imagined.

As they rest before their next round of relaxation, Mickey chuckles, eyes locked on Ian's bare back."How has your ass gone this long without getting scorched? You and the fuckin' sun call a truce or somethin'?"

Ian sighs, content as hell. "Bought a different sunscreen." He stretches, melting back down into the massage table beneath him. "Had to look good for pictures."

🔆

Mickey raises an eyebrow. "Whaddya mean? You've been the one taking all the damn pictures since we fucking landed."

Ian sits up fast, catching his tiny slip-up. "Oh, well, I mean... pictures are... memories should be -"

But Mickey unknowingly saves him. "Please tell me we ain't gonna do those creepy ass old timey photos, man. Shit's fucking weird."

Ian takes a breath before looking guilty. "You, uh... you got me... I uhm..."

"Jesus, save your fucking breath, Red." Mickey gets up, wrapping his arms around Ian's neck. "I'll fold. You know I'd kill just to be with you, Gallagher."

🔆

Ian chuckles at that. "Well, you did kinda 𝘵𝘳𝘺 to."

"Yeah... and I'm sure I wasn't the first. Bitch has a fuckin' death wish."

Tears well up in green eyes as he hugs Mickey tight to his chest, because, fuck, he's so grateful to have this. "Thank you."

Mickey shifts, leaning back to look at him. "For trying to kill a psycho?"

"Yeah, that, but also just for loving me, ya know? Through all the shit I've been through, I've never had to ask myself if someone would ever love me. Flaws and all, you never gave up on us."

🔆

"Gave up on a lotta shit back then. Felt kinda nice to finally have something I didn't wanna lose."

Ian kisses him softly. "Yeah?"

Mickey nods, biting his lip, a classic sign that something else is floating around in that head of his. "Remember back when I was stayin' with you and your nosey ass family?"

Ian smiles because, yeah, he remembers.

"Debs needed help on a paper for school. Some old white dude who was all about bein' truthful 'n shit. Said if you tell the truth, you don't gotta remember shit. Only truth I really had... was you."

🔆

"I like Vacation Mickey. He's-"

"Don't say it."

"-fucking cute."

Mickey groaned, pushing off of Ian's lap. "I hate you."

"You have an odd way of showing it."

"You know hate fuckin' is a thing, right?"

"Of course. It was all we did at first." And Ian's joking, of course, but his smile fades as he sees the look on Mickey's face. "What?"

"I know you're just givin' me shit, man, but those days were kinda fuckin'..."

"Kinda what?"

Mickey huffs. "They were nice, alright? Felt like my whole shitty world was coming to an end, but... it needed to."

🔆

The next day, Ian stands just outside the lobby, waiting for Mickey to finish his conversation with the front desk supervisor. He had demanded to see the manager, but she was apparently busy with meetings all day.

Ian knows that his husband is nothing if not persistent, and he hopes the supervisor can hold her own.

Suddenly, two hands squeeze his shoulders, making Ian turn around on the spot.

"Lip? What..." he glances toward the front desk. "What if Mickey saw you?"

Lip doesn't answer him. "Look, uh... I ran into a few issues yesterday. Any chance Mickey likes Elvis?"

🔆

"Why?"

"Well, there may have been a miscommunication between myself and -"

"A miscommunication? How the fuck..?"

Lip just shrugs. "No idea, but it is what it is. Besides, that's the least of our problems." He manages to look a little bit guilty as he hands over a list detailing all the things that need to be fixed by tomorrow.

Ian groans. "What the fuck, Lip?"

"Also... uhm... our VIPs didn't arrive yesterday. They'll be here tonight."

"Tonight?!"

"Yeah... but don't worry, we'll have Mickey outta here before they arrive."

Ian's not convinced. "How?"

"Me, you, Tami, Mick. Double date."

🔆

"A double date? You're dreaming if you think that Mickey would ever agree to-"

Ian stops talking as he notices Mickey walking towards them, a beautiful victorious grin upon his face.

"Good news?"

He nods, speaking enthusiastically. "They apparently recycle their art every few months so that they can feature local artists. Said they'd pass it along to the manager that I'm interested in it. Better to give it away than toss the thing, right?"

Lip glances at Ian before focusing on Mickey. "Nicely done, man. We should celebrate! What d'ya say? Me and Tams, you and Ian. My treat."

🔆

Ian clears his throat. They don't need another night of chaos on this vacation. "Actually, Lip... I don't think -"

But Mickey elbows him in the side, shutting him right up. "Sure. Considering we paid for your ass to be here in the first fuckin' place."

Lip chuckles at the jab. "Awesome. How about three?"

"Kinda fucking early don't you think?"

Ian can't help but agree, because, yeah, what the fuck is his brother doing? So much for having shit under control...

"Well, yeah, but check-in is from two to four, right? Reservations for three guarantee we get a table."

🔆

It's exactly three when Lip asks, "Where's Mick?"

Ian sighs. "Front desk."

"Well. Go. get. him. In case you forgot, we need to keep him away from there."

"I can't just handcuff him-"

"Why not? Worked on your wedding day."

"Fuck off-"

"Stop." Tami places a calming hand against Ian's chest. "I'm gonna take a leap of faith here and say that a handcuffed Mickey would only complicate things, right?"

Ian nods, eyes still on Lip. "Right."

"Good." Tami gestures in Mickey's direction. "Then you should probably go help him."

Ian turns, watching as two cops approach his husband.

"Fuck."

🔆

It only takes a second or so for him to reach the tiny huddle that has formed around Mickey.

"Excuse me." He slides between the officers and his husband. "Is there a problem?"

The tallest officer nods. "Got a call that some guy keeps harassing the staff members here."

Ian hears a scoff behind him and turns around, making direct eye contact with angry blue eyes, and before he even knows what he's doing, he shoves Mickey away. "Go. Let me handle this, okay?"

"I don't fuckin' -"

"Go, Mickey." He crosses his arms. "You'll only complicate things even more."

•••

Ch. 5 (Mickey's POV)🏖

•••

Mickey doesn't head towards the restaurant.

Because there is absolutely no way in hell he wants to spend the last few days of his vacation anywhere near Lip and that annoying ass smirk that practically lives on his fucking face.

And he'd bet his life that Lip is the reason Ian intervened just now.

As far as he's concerned, the oldest Gallagher brother is, and will forever be, his natural sworn enemy.

He stomps past the doors of the restaurant, that all too familiar chuckle echoing around him, but Mickey doesn't give a damn.

Because fuck him.

Fuck them all.

🔆

He's halfway to the room when he hears a voice behind him. "Mickey, stop."

And he does stop, with fists clenched at his side, unwilling to actually turn around. "What."

But, thankfully, it's Tami, so she understands. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

With an annoyed huff, she pushes him towards the side exit.

The fuck is with people shoving him today?

Once outside, she pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her bra. Silently offering it to him.

"Thought you quit." He mumbles before lightning it, indulging in the only childhood comfort he really has.

"Fuckin'... Gallaghers, ya know?

She nods. "Yep."

🔆

Minutes pass by in comfortable silence. One thing he likes most about Tami is the things she doesn't say. Tami understands, and that's enough.

Knowing he's waited long enough, Mickey flicks away the cigarette and opens the door. "Let's get this shit over with."

Walking back, they discuss what the most expensive thing on the menu might be, because whatever it is, Mickey is going to order it.

Entering the restaurant, they spot the brothers Gallagher immediately. Ian's read hair a beacon in the fucking night.

"All caught up on talkin' shit about me?" Mickey says, pulling out his chair.

🔆

Tami shoves a menu at him, her not so subtle way of telling him to shut the fuck up.

She snaps her fingers at a waiter who shuffles over immediately. "Six shots of whiskey. Pronto."

Then, she shoos him away.

Lip looks up from his phone, not even bothering to put it down. "Six? There's only four of us."

"Three for me, three for Mickey. If you want one, I suggest you order one. We're celebrating."

And damn it's a fucking chore for Mickey to keep his mouth shut as Lip looks at him and smirks. "Celebrating what? Avoiding incarceration?"

🔆

Ian speaks up, putting a stop to the impending argument between his husband and his brother.

"'S'fine. Hotel manager called. Was all just a big misunderstanding."

But that shit irks Mickey. "Wait. The bitch can call and speak to the fucking five-O but not me?"

"Well, I- I'm sure she'll call... you..." Ian trails off, eyes landing on something behind Mickey's left shoulder.

Turning around, Mickey sees that it's some middle aged motherfucker trying to wave Ian over to join him at the bar.

"You know that fucking guy, Ian?"

"Uhm... no. He must have me confused with someone else."

🔆

"Uh huh... How many fuckin' pastey ass redheads can there be on this island?"

Ian shrugs, but when he picks up his water glass the slight tremble in his hand gives away his lie.

But then Tami glances at the guy. Once, twice, three fucking times before she gasps. "Oh fuck, it's me he wants."

Lip looks just as confused as Mickey feels while he stares the guy down. "The hell does that mean?"

She kicks Lip under the table. "Chill. I only have enough patience for one jabby fuck in my life. He needs a haircut, and I volunteered."

🔆

But, Lip's not buying it. "That guy has like six hairs on the top of his head! Wh-"

He's interrupted by the waiter, who quickly places the six shots in the middle of the table before rushing off again.

Lip picks up one of the shots, surprising everyone as he toasts to the sky before downing it. "I say, long live the comb over."

Tami is instantly furious with him. "What the fuck, Lip?! You just ruined three years of sobriety because you're jealous?!"

Angry, he stands up, his chair screeching against the wooden floor. "So what if I am?!"

🔆

Amidst the chaos of whatever that was, Mickey slips away to have a smoke and possibly find this 'forever busy' hotel manager.

That's when he hears it. The unmistakable giggle he hears every time he steps into the house of Gallagher.

Eyes scanning the lobby, he spots them. Franny and Debbie. Debbie and Fran. They're here. In this fucking lobby at this overpriced hotel on this god forsaken island.

And honestly, at this point, Mickey has fucking had it.

He has absolutely no room for more. Bring him the check cause he's out. Gone. Leaving on a goddamn jet plane.

🔆

But, instead of turning around and stomping his way back towards their table in that dramatic way his husband hates, ready to give Ian the big red liar a piece of his goddamn mind, he freezes, because, despite the overwhelming frustration within him... he's tired.

Apparently, nothing he can say or do will change the fact that he's destined to be bombarded with these Gallaghers forever.

And from where he's standing, he can hear Franny and her never-ending questions.

"Is this where Moana lives?"

"Are pineapples the state flower?"

"When can I give Uncle Ian and Mickey their valentines card?"

#this has been helping my writer's block #now i look forward to Mondays #vacation for our boys #gallavich #shameless #gallavich fic #ian x mickey