What Happens After?

Chapter One

(This chapter contains my OCs Greyson and Luke, not heavily but they are there!)

"Jesus Christ Gallagher," Mickey hollered the second he saw the tall red head round the corner, long legs making quick work of the sidewalk, "could you have taken any longer? I'm freezing my fuckin tits off over here!" He spluttered around his cigarette, smoke from his last ferocious drag escaping quickly from his lips into the frigid dusk air.

Ian cracked a sly smile as he sped his strides up to a light jog in order to meet up with his husband who stood next to the bus shelter where they had agreed to meet (fuckin' half a goddamn hour ago, Mickey thought grumpily). Even from nearly half a block away, Mickey could see that Ian's smile was a sincere one (all fuckin' teeth, Mickey liked to joke), and although it irked the man to no end, he was happy to see it.

"Sorry Mick!" Ian yelled, the scarf he had hurriedly knotted around his neck flapping in the slipstream of wind behind him as he approached Mickey, who was struggling like hell not to shiver in his old threadbare jean jacket. "Got held up. We had a fuckin runner right before my shift ended, jumped right out of the ambulance when I turned my back for one second, chased him for like four goddamn blocks. Swear to god, the mother fucker had two sprained ankles and still out ran me- ME Mick, it was-"

Mickey grunted to get his husband to stop rambling. "Can we just get wherever the fuck we're going?" He barked "Then you can tell me your whole life story 'Kay?" Ian finally reached the other man, pulling him in for a peck on the cheek before snatching the cigarette from Mickey's reluctant hand and taking a drag.

"Someone's cranky," he said, his voice slightly strained from holding the smoke in his lungs as he spoke. He let the puff out and took a second drag before handing it back to Mickey.

Mickey snatched it back between his fingers and took one last puff from the butt before flicking it onto the filthy Chicago sidewalk. "Someone's fucking cold," he growled.

Ian chuckled, reaching up to his own neck to dislodge the scarf from around his thick jacket collar, and unceremoniously wrapped it around his husband's neck. "No wonder, all you've got on is that ratty old jean jacket and it's only, like, 30 degrees out. You shoulda layered tough guy."

Despite the corners of his mouth being turn downward, Mickey was secretly thankful for Ian's signature thoughtfulness, and he casually wrapped the scarf around a second time to show his appreciation "Thanks," he huffed, "now let's fuckin gooooo." Mickey grasped the red head's hand and began yanking him down the street.

"Jesus, Okay, okay," Ian laughed widening his strides to match Mickey's brisk pace. He knew that Mickey was bound to be on edge tonight.

Mick wasn't exactly a people person, even now, after all of the opportunities he had to socialize with Ian's friends over the first year and a half after getting hitched. Tonight Ian had planned to meet with a group of his pals, something they did once a month whenever they found the time in their busy lives to get together. Ian somehow persuaded Mickey to come along every time, yet the man never seemed to warm up to Ian's compadres anymore than to shake their hands (reluctantly) and join in on conversations (sparingly). Ian didn't ride him about the minimal effort though; he knew better than anyone alive that Mickey Milkovich struggled to open up to others. Although it may not appear so to the novice onlooker, Ian knew that simply agreeing to join them once a month was a great deal of effort for Mickey to expend, and he recognized it as his husband's unique way of showing how much he cared.

After they had rushed a few blocks under the bright street lamps of the side of Chicago they had only dreamt about visiting as poor Southside hood-rats, Ian recognized Mickey's pace slowing to a walk, and his calloused hand- which had been almost uncomfortably clenched around Ian's fingers- relaxed, his wedding ring no longer digging a trench in the red head's fair skin. Ian smiled at the sidewalk as he felt Mickey's stalky fingers smoothly intertwine with his slim ones.