"How do you feel about hiring a wedding planner?"
Ian Gallagher lifted his head and quirked an eyebrow. "A wedding planner?" he asked around his mouthful of cereal, a drop of milk dribbling down his chin in the process. He wiped at it with the back of his hand as he regarded the other man.
"Yeah," Ian's fiancé answered with a shrug as he stood at the counter island in front of Ian, pouring his own smaller, healthier bowl of cereal. "What's wrong with having a wedding planner?"
"Nothing," Ian assured him. "Nothing's wrong with it, I just thought we were having something small, with just a few family members and some friends?"
"Yeah, well, there's nothing wrong with being organized and having some sort of plan, Ian."
Ian slowly chewed his Fruit Loops as he considered Ayden's suggestion.
Ian met Ayden two years earlier, back when Ian had started tending bar at the club. Ayden, dressed in a fancy suit and tie at the time, had asked Ian for an apple martini and very shortly after that he'd asked for Ian's number. Ian couldn't help it, he'd always been a sucker for a guy in a nice suit and tie. They'd gone home together that first night and had been together basically ever since.
Once Ayden set his sights on something he wanted, he usually got it. Ian had been no exception.
Ayden was quiet, conservative, organized, and laid-back; whereas Ian was loud, reckless, messy, and outgoing. They were about as different as two people could be. But Ayden was exactly what Ian needed in his life, someone to keep him sane and grounded, someone to help keep his bipolar ass in check.
Sometimes, though, Ian could admit only to himself, things tended to get a little too 'vanilla' as far as their relationship was concerned. Sometimes Ian wished their conversations went beyond daily happenings and current world events. Sometimes he wished the sex was a little dirtier (okay, a lot dirtier). Sometimes he wished Ayden would learn to just be without feeling the need to impress people constantly. Ian wished Ayden would laugh more, live more.
Their relationship also didn't really have that spark that most people seek out while searching for the great love of their lives, but Ian was okay with that. He could deal with that. He appreciated Ayden. Ayden was good for him. That was good enough for Ian.
So, when Ayden proposed a couple of weeks ago over an expensive lobster dinner at a stuffy, fancy restaurant, Ian didn't hesitate to say yes, because he knew Ayden could make him happy. He knew Ayden was willing and able to take care of him. Their relationship was safe, comfortable, and stable. Ian wasn't about to pass that up. He'd never had that before in his life. He'd never had stability and safety before, and Ian knew he deserved it.
"So, what do you say?" Ayden pressed on before taking a delicate bite of his cereal.
"Okay, we can do a wedding planner," Ian conceded as he picked his bowl up and slurped at his milk, which he knew was earning him a distasteful look from the other man, but he did it, anyway, just to get under Ayden's skin, "but I get to pick the planner."
"Really?" Ayden asked, smirk in place. "Why is that?"
"Because I say so?" Ian replied with a cocked eyebrow and playful grin.
"Oh, is that right?" Ayden said as he placed his bowl down and walked around the island to where Ian was sitting.
Ian smiled lasciviously and spread his legs open, giving Ayden space to stand between them. He grabbed the man's tie and tugged playfully, pulling Ayden closer. For a brief moment, Ian thought Ayden might actually throw him on the counter and do naughty things to him. Instead, Ayden cupped Ian's face in his hands and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to Ian's forehead.
"Fine, you can pick the planner, but remember we're on a budget, so don't go overboard. I know how you can get once you get my checkbook in your hand," Ayden muttered against Ian's forehead. "And make sure you ask for references. Don't just pick the first person you come across. Planning a wedding isn't something to get spontaneous about, Ian."
Ian hid his disappointment with a fake smile when Ayden pulled back.
"I have to go, I'm going to be late for my meeting," Ayden said as he grabbed his suit jacket and put it on. "Call around, see what you can find, and set up a meeting."
"Got it," Ian said monotonously and watched as his fiancé opened the door to leave.
"Love you," Ayden added over his shoulder as an afterthought.
"Love you, too," Ian replied, the small smile slipping from his face once he was alone. He looked around the expansive, sparkling-clean, luxury penthouse they shared, seeing that not one thing was out of place…nothing was ever out of place. Ian couldn't help but think, in the deep recesses of his mind, that maybe the only thing out of place there was him. He quickly squashed those thoughts and stood up to place his empty bowl in the sink. He knew Ayden would give him hell later on for not rinsing the bowl out and placing it in the dishwasher properly, but he figured it was worth it to get at least some sort of rise out of the other man.
Mickey Milkovich walked into the small, cluttered, two-bedroom South Side apartment he shared with his sister and tossed his jacket over the back of the couch.
"Skank."
"Assface."
"The fuck're you watching?"
Mandy didn't bother taking her eyes off the television screen. "The Saved By the Bell documentary on Lifetime. It's some pretty fucking riveting stuff, you should watch it," she said, patting the spot on the couch next to her.
Mickey scoffed in disgust, acting as if he was completely disinterested, but he still sat down next to her to watch it. "Heard Screech was a dick in real life," he muttered as he reached forward to steal a handful of her popcorn.
They watched in silence for a few minutes before Mandy spoke. "So, how was work, dickhead?"
Mickey groaned and rested his head back against the couch. "Fuckin' hell. Danny called out again, so I had to take over his shift and serve double the tables. Tips were good, though, so can't fuckin' complain."
"Sounds fun," Mandy said with a sneer.
"What about you?" Mickey asked, frowning when he saw who Lifetime had cast as Zack; the guy wasn't nearly fucking hot enough. "How was that new hotshot client you met with today?"
"About as picky as they fuckin' come," Mandy said with a scowl, "She wants all this shit shipped in from Paris. Fucking Paris! But she's paying me a shitload of money, so it'll be worth it. Can you believe this is her fourth fucking marriage?"
Mickey scoffed. "Fuckin' rich, straight people… and they say we're the ones who ruin the fuckin' quote unquote sanctity of marriage."
Mandy, despite the fact that she'd never been in love, nor had she ever been able to sustain a meaningful, long-term relationship, had decided to become a wedding planner, of all things. She had decided that, even though she never planned on getting married herself, and didn't really believe in the whole 'sanctity of marriage' bullshit, she might as well help other people plan to fuck up their own lives. The money was great, and she got paid to essentially plan parties. She loved it.
"It's gonna take up every spare moment I have for the next couple weeks," Mandy continued with a groan. "So it better be fuckin' worth it."
Mickey stood up and walked over to their small kitchen to grab a beer from the mostly bare fridge. He kicked the door shut and plopped back down on the old worn couch, intent on finishing the shit-show of a documentary, just because he was bored, and not because he was genuinely interested or anything.
Mickey scoffed when he saw who they'd cast as Slater, and he was officially done.
Mickey was on his lunch break the next day when he decided to pay his little sister a visit. The diner he worked at was only three blocks away from his sister's small office on the outskirts of the North Side, and he usually made it a point to get lunch with her a couple times a week, since their busy schedules usually kept them from spending much time together, despite the fact that they lived together. Plus, she usually offered to pay, so that was a nice bonus.
Mickey pulled the door open and walked into the small, air-conditioned space, seeking his sister out but not finding her.
"Ay, Mandy here?"
"She stepped out for a minute," Mandy's assistant Emily said.
"Any idea when she'll be back?"
"She ran down to the post office," Emily replied as she typed away on her laptop. "She should be back in about five minutes."
"Guess I'll just sit around and annoy your ass for a bit, then," Mickey teased.
"Yay me," Emily said playfully.
Mickey took a seat on one of the fuchsia pink chairs that lined the wall. He looked around, still a little in awe of the fact that Mandy had actually made something of herself despite their awful, hellish upbringing. It had taken a few years, a shitload of loans, and a lot of people giving her a chance and building up her references, but there she was, doing her thing… and she was really fucking good at it. He smiled softly, feeling pride for his little sister at that moment.
The bell above the door chimed and Mickey looked up, expecting to find his sister returning from doing her errands, but instead, he found himself staring back at a redhead; a redhead that, quite literally, took Mickey's breath away. The man was fucking beautiful; tall, pale, freckly, incredible eyes. Based on what little Mickey saw, the man had a certain confidence about himself. Mickey definitely liked what he saw.
Emily looked up and smiled kindly at the man, the clipped, playful tone of voice she'd used on Mickey was gone, replaced by a sickly sweet tone. "Hi, may I help you?"
"Uh, yeah, I hope so," the man said, and Mickey realized even the guy's voice was fucking incredible. "I'm lookin' for M. Milkovich. I'm gettin' married in a couple months, and my fiancé and I are lookin' for a wedding planner. I found a card for this place on the bulletin board at the grocery store over on Randolph, thought I'd check it out."
Mickey swallowed hard, ran a hand over his mouth, and looked away. He didn't know why he was surprised. Why else would someone come walking into a fucking wedding planner's office if they weren't getting married?
"I'm sorry," Emily apologized before looking down at her scheduling book. "We're actually all booked up for the next month and a half. We're a one-woman show around here, so appointments are extremely limited."
"Oh… that sucks," the hot stranger said, sounding disappointed as he moved to head out the door. "Thanks, anyway."
Mickey stood up abruptly, not knowing why the hell he was doing so, he just suddenly felt inclined to. "Uh, Emily, why don't you check the book again," he said, scratching his temple and avoiding Emily's perplexed stare. "I'm sure we can squeeze him in somewhere."
The man turned and looked at Mickey then, looking as if he was just noticing Mickey for the first time. Their eyes locked, and Mickey was the first to look away, wondering just why in the hell he was getting such a reaction from a complete stranger… a complete stranger who was straight and getting married for fuck's sake.
Emily looked genuinely confused. "Uh, no, we don't have anything available until—"
"I'll figure somethin' out," Mickey interrupted her with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just pencil him in somewhere."
"Right," Emily said, "okay."
"Wait, you're M. Milkovich?" the man asked, turning fully towards Mickey and holding up the pink, flowery business card he held in his hand. "You're the one-woman show?" He smirked in amusement.
Mickey swallowed down the lump in his throat, realizing the guy had almost a good six inches of height on him; yet another thing he liked about the guy. It looked like the guy had the ability to toss him around a little, rough him up a bit between the sheets. Christ, he couldn't believe he had a fucking crush on some random dude he'd just met. What the fuck was wrong with him?
"Yeah, uh, that's me," Mickey said, holding out his hand for the man to shake. "Mickey Milkovich."
The redhead took Mickey's hand with a small, tentative smile. "Ian… Gallagher."
"Uh, Mickey?" Emily asked from behind them, sounding genuinely confused. "What's going on?"
"Em, take Ian's information and set up a meeting," Mickey said, realizing he was still holding Ian's hand. He pulled his hand back quickly, not wanting to freak the guy out.
"Okay," Emily intoned, "I'll get right on that… boss."
"So, you're the wedding planner?" Ian asked, looking and sounding a little skeptical about it all.
Mickey swallowed hard and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into, and why he felt so compelled to not let the guy walk right out the door. "Yeah, why? Got a fuckin' problem with that?"
"No," Ian stammered, looking Mickey over. "No problem, it's just that you don't really look like a wedding planner. You know, with the tattoos and… and everything." Ian paused to take a look around the office, "and everything is so… pink."
"Yeah, well, fuck you. I'm a wedding planner and damn good at it, too," Mickey retorted, feeling irrationally defensive. "Shows what the fuck you know. And what the fuck's wrong with a guy likin' pink, huh?"
"Hey, no offense, tough guy," Ian said with a chuckle as he held up his hands in surrender. "You're progressive, that's cool. Uh, so should we set up that meeting or not?"
"Yeah, what day's good for you?" Mickey asked, not really knowing how to go about doing the whole wedding planning shit. He guessed he was fucked and was stuck helping the guy plan his wedding. Really, though, how hard could it be? He just had to listen to the guy talk, take into account the stupid shit he wanted, and make shit happen. It would be a piece of cake. If Mandy could do it, he sure the fuck could.
"Well, my fiancé can only do late evenings or weekends."
At the mention of Ian's fiancé, Mickey was brought back to reality after having gotten momentarily lost in Ian's eyes. "Uh, yeah, right," he stammered. "How's tomorrow night? Six o'clock good for you?"
"Tomorrow at six is good… great, actually." Ian grinned. "Should we meet here?"
"Uh, no… no," Mickey quickly said, knowing that that would be a terrible fucking idea. "How about the, uh, coffee shop over on seventy-ninth and Ashland?"
"Sounds good," Ian said with a kind smile.
"Alright, it's a date, then," Mickey said, but he quickly backtracked. "Uh, I mean, cool, yeah, we can meet there." The very idea of sitting across from Ian and some woman, helping them plan their wedding, didn't appeal to Mickey in the least, but he still kept going along with it. All Mickey knew was he wanted to see Ian again.
Ian gave Emily his information and turned to leave, but not before tossing a grin over his shoulder at Mickey. "See ya tomorrow, Mickey."
Once Ian was gone, Mickey finally relaxed with a sigh, and then looked at Emily to find her watching him. He did a double take and sneered. "Can I help you with somethin'?"
Emily just smirked knowingly with an arched eyebrow, leaned back in her swivel chair, and went back to her previous paperwork. "Nope."
Just then, Mandy walked in, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. "Holy shit, did you see that tall slice of fuckin' heaven walk past a minute ago?"
"Sure did," Emily singsonged, tapping her pencil on her desk. "He's Mickey's new client."
Mandy turned to glare at Mickey. "What the fuck did you just do?"