Archive of Our Own ^beta

Their security business was booming these days, money was less of an issue, allowing them to live without the stress of wondering if they would be able to pay the bills or not. It also meant that they had opportunities to splurge on something they wouldn’t normally be able to do. 

In this case, a honeymoon. 

Ian brought up the idea out of the blue. Their night in the shitty motel that Terry shot up didn’t count. This was for real. A whole week away with no work, no answering any phone calls and more importantly, no fucking Gallagher’s besides his own. 

Mickey was all for it. He just didn’t know that his husband’s idea of a honeymoon meant going to the beach, of all places. Something about experiencing new things or whatever the fuck he’d said. He sure as hell didn’t want to go but for some reason, seeing Ian so happy made going to that hellhole worth it so Mickey sucked it up and agreed to go. 

So here they were, under the damn scorching sun, just about to walk through the sand. It wasn’t too crowded, probably helped that it was late August so there weren’t a ton of families crawling around the place. Mickey glanced at Ian, who was fucking beaming. 

“Where do you wanna sit?” Ian asked, holding onto a small cooler and an umbrella. 

“Don’t care,” Mickey replied. So long as he didn’t have to be near anybody and make small talk. 

Ian found a spot that wasn’t too far away from the water but one that kept a distance between them and another couple that was already situated. “How about this spot-” 

“Fuck,” Mickey cursed, shifting his footing. 

“What’s wrong?” Ian frowned, plunging the umbrella into the sand. 

“Fucking sand’s burning me.” He, like Ian, wore a pair of flip flops which did nothing to keep his feet from burning in the sand. There was nowhere he could move that helped, he looked fucking ridiculous right now. 

His asshole of a husband just snickered at him. “Here, Mick. Step on this.” Ian unfolded a long blanket, laying it down for them to sit on. 

RIght at that moment, an older woman was ushering a young child up the beach, probably to use the bathroom. She gave Mickey a dirty look, obviously having heard him. “You need to watch your language,” she snapped. “There are children here!” 

“Watch this, lady,” Mickey flipped her off. 

“Excuse me?"

Ian, smiling tightly, placed his hands on Mickey’s shoulders, tightening his hold when the older man made a remark about that too-let go, bitch. “I’m sorry about that, Ma’am. I’ll make sure he stops.” 

Mickey’s head swiveled around to meet Ian’s eyes. The fuck you will. 

His husband gave him another look back. Shut the fuck up, Mickey. I swear to God. 

The woman sniffed. “You’d better. My granddaughter doesn’t need to hear you speaking like that. Next time, have some respect!” 

Ian swiftly covered Mickey’s mouth before he could make another remark he’d have to do damage control for. He kept this up until the woman and her grandchild were all the way up the walkway and out of hearing distance. 

Mickey shoved him off. “The fuck did you do that for?” 

“I didn't need you getting us kicked off the beach,” Ian said, a look of exasperated fondness taking over his face. He kissed the top of Mickey’s head, sending warmth through the older man that had nothing to do with the sun. 

While Ian dug through the cooler to make sure all the drinks they’d packed-mostly beer-were adequately covered with ice, Mickey glanced out at the tumbling waves ahead. His gust was twisting uncomfortably, knowing Ian would want to go out there. 

He’d never learned how to swim. Never needed to, never had anyone to teach him. That was partly why he never accompanied Mandy to the public pool. He had a reputation to maintain at the time. What would people have thought if Mickey Milkovich, part of one of the infamous families on the South Side, struggled to keep himself afloat in a fucking pool? He would have never been taken seriously again. 

Now, those things didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t proud to be a Milkovich and didn’t try to maintain that reputation. That didn’t mean he was eager to make a fool of himself anytime soon. 

Ian didn’t know he couldn't swim. And he wasn’t about to tell him either. 

“Ay, you want to sit and have a beer?” Mickey said, hoping to delay the inevitable. 

“No,” Ian was in the midst of peeling his shirt off, giving Mickey a damn good view. “Wasn’t planning on it.” The sight went straight to the older man’s dick. 

“What were you plannin’ on?” Mickey murmured, lips turning up into a grin. 

His hips were grabbed by Ian, yanking him closer. “Nothing that wouldn’t get us arrested for public indecency,” he said, voice husky. 

That fucking voice. The heat was pooling in Mickey. He wanted nothing more than to rip those damn swimming trunks off his husband right then and there. “You can’t be doin’ that, man,” Mickey groaned. Goddamn, now he had a fucking boner on the beach. 

Ian just smirked, slapping him on the ass. 

Bastard. 

“I had Debbie buy us some sunscreen,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his trunks. He rubbed a generous amount all over his arms, face and legs. Mickey waited for him, face contorted into a puzzled expression when Ian held out the bottle to him. 

“What?” 

“What do you mean what?” Ian said, baffled. “Aren’t you going to use some?” 

“No.” 

“Come on, Mick,” he argued. “You’re gonna burn without it.” 

“I don’t burn, Gallagher.” 

“Would you just-” Ian tried to give it to him but Mickey refused to take it. 

“I don’t need it, Ian.” 

“Fine,” he said, frustrated. “Don’t come crying to me when you’re too burnt to move.”
Mickey rolled his eyes at his husband’s dramatics. “Fuck off, Gallagher.” 

“Come on,” Ian gave him one last ass swat, “let’s go swim.” 

Mickey hid his grimace. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” 

Down the beach they went, having kicked off their flip flops, leaving them at their spot, as well as Mickey’s shirt. On their way, they passed by a group of girls, probably not much younger than they were. A couple of them openly stared at Ian, whispering and giggling. 

This immediately pissed Mickey off. He didn’t want anyone else looking at his husband like that. 

He shot em all a scathing glare, and what’d they do? Fucking ignored him. 

“What are you looking at?” Ian had noticed his glare, following his gaze over to the group of girls who were delighted when he met their eyes. 

“I like your swim trunks,” one called out. 

“Uh, thanks,” Ian said politely. 

“We’re renting out a beach house up there,” another one of them pointed up ahead to some house on the edge of the pier that overlooked the whole place. “If you want, you’re welcome to stop by for our party tonight.” 

Oh, fuck no. 

“No thanks,” Ian looped an arm around Mickey’s waist. “I’d rather just time with my husband. We’re on our honeymoon.” 

This made the seductive grins fall off the faces of those girls in disappointment. 

“Damn right we are,” Mickey grumbled, pleased. 

The girls retreated now that they were aware flirting with Ian was useless. “You know you don’t have to be jealous, right?” Ian smiled softly. 

“I wasn’t jealous,” Mickey lied. 

“So if I go invite those girls to spend the day with us, you won’t mind?” Ian smiled innocently but Mickey saw right through it.

“Don’t you fucking dare you dick.” 

“Don’t worry, baby, your dick’s the only one I want to see,” Ian winked. 

“Quit calling me that,” Mickey muttered, feeling his cheeks heat from the pet name. Jesus, he never thought there’d come a day when he’d secretly like something like that. 

“You weren’t complaining about it the other night,” Ian’s lips brushed against his ear. Mickey closed his eyes, shivering. “You were such a mess underneath me, all hot and bothered.” 

Ian’s body heat fell over him. He waited for the neck kisses that never came. When Mickey opened his eyes, he found Ian heading towards the water. 

Fucking dick. 

“Come on, Mick!” Ian turned back to call at him over his shoulder. 

The water came rushing at him in large, thick waves. Mickey was wary by this, not moving any further to follow his husband out there. Did Ian really expect him to go out there where he was? 

He scratched his eyebrow, squinting at him against the sun with folded arms. 

“Mickey?” Ian frowned, water sloshing around his abdomen. He raised one arm to hold against his forehead, blocking the sunlight so he could look at him properly. “You good?” 

“Fine,” Mickey grunted, his legs feeling heavy as he forced himself to take a step forward. Didn’t want Ian figuring it out. 

“What’s wrong?” Ian had met him halfway so Mickey didn’t have to go out as far as he had. Thank God.

“Nothing, Firecrotch. Don’t worry about it,” Mickey shrugged him off. 

Ian clearly didn’t believe him but too fucking bad. Mickey wasn’t about to have this conversation in the damn ocean. It was embarrassing, knowin’ there were kids who knew how and he couldn’t, a grown ass man. 

He seemed to have some sense to him not to make a big deal out of it. Just to be an ass, he flicked some water at Mickey, getting him right in the face.

“Ay!” Mickey faked a scowl. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, Red.” 

“Who says I can’t finish?” Ian said confidently. He flicked him again, and Mickey tried to grab his hand to stop him--and failed. 

Ian swooped down, a soft kiss on his lips. A chaste kiss just like the one Mickey gave him when they robbed the ex of that geriatric pedo all those years ago. 

It was just a little forceful, knocking into Mickey and nearly making him lose his footing if not for Ian taking hold of his waist. 

“Damn it, Gallagher,” Mickey said, and he couldn’t even suppress a smile of amusement. 

“Yeah, I guess I have a way of knocking you off your feet, huh?” Ian said grinning. 

Mickey snorted at his corniness. “Say that again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.” 

Ian’s smile was a smug one. “You haven’t knocked my teeth out yet.” 

“M’sure you’ll give me a reason to one of these days.” 

Mickey did not like the mischievous gleam in his husband’s eyes. “Don’t,” he warned. 

“I didn’t do anything, Mick.” 

“And you’re not gonna-” 

“Ow!” Ian suddenly cried. Mickey’s annoyance was promptly forgotten, vanishing just like that. 

“What happened?” He said, concerned. 

“Fuck,” Ian winced. “My foot--something just bit me!” He was half bent over in the water, groaning. 

“Alright, hang on, I’ll look-oof!” 

He’d tried to get a glimpse of whatever was down there, but his bastard of a husband shoved him down in the water. Mickey reemerged, his vision blurry, the water stinging his eyes. He probably looked like some fucking wet dog with his hair plastered to him. 

“You motherfucker!” 

He scowled, while Ian burst into loud cackling. 

“I didn’t--I didn’t think that would work. Oh my God!” 

“Fuck you,” Mickey said moodily. 

Ian was still laughing, leaning against him with his face in the older man’s bare shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said, completely insincere. 

“You’re a dick.” 

Pulling back, Ian grinned shamelessly.

“Takes one to know one.” 

“You’re lucky your ginger ass is too heavy,” Mickey glared, “or you’d be down there with the fish, bitch.” 

Ian smirked. “And they say romance is dead.” 

“Oh, you’re about to be. Just keep talking-” 

A big wave came towards them, cutting Mickey off when it crashed into them. It didn’t do much to Ian other than wet his hair. But Mickey was smaller than him, and the power of the wave had him moving. He’d never admit to anyone but he started to panic a little. 

But then strong arms wrapped themselves around him. “I got you,” Ian said soothingly, holding him close to his chest securely. 

Mickey breathed in and out, not even caring about where he was and who’d see him. “Fuck...” 

“You okay?” 

Mickey shrugged. 

“You can’t swim, huh?” Ian guessed softly. 

Even though it was true, Mickey still felt stupid for admitting it. His silence, however, was enough of an answer. 

“Baby,” Ian murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Didn’t have a reason to...” 

“I thought we agreed not to keep secrets?” Ian buried his face in Mickey’s damp hair, mumbling. 

“It’s fucking embarrassing, Ian.” 

“It’s not that bad. Lots of people don’t know how to swim.” 

“You do.” 

“I took Debs and Carl to the pool a lot,” Ian said, then added, “You know, now that I think about it, I never saw you there.” 

“‘Cause I never went, dumbass.” 

“You should’ve,” Ian trailed his fingers up Mickey’s back. “Would’ve been really fucking hot to see you like that.” 

“The thought of me drowning really makes your dick twitch, Gallagher?” 

“Among other things,” Ian said cheekily. 

His husband was an idiot. But, Mickey watched him lay on his back trying to float on the water, maybe that was okay. 

He still loved the fucker anyway.