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Drinking was as commonplace in the Gallagher family as much as fighting was, which was plentiful. There was always something in the fridge or a free seat at the Alibi to warm so that they may indulge. All the Gallagher kids were no strangers to drinking, everyone but Liam all partaking in the indulgence presented by their former patriarch's addiction. Some could handle it better than others, namely Carl and Debbie having a better grip on their livers than Ian, Lip, and Fiona. Lip had to swear off it because, just like Frank, sobriety was just a woodpecker in the brain that could only be subdued with alcohol. Fiona was a wildcard when she drank. She could either be a fun party girl, or a nasty shell of a person. It would depend on her revolving door of men in her love life, if they were entering or exiting. Ian couldn't partake as much as he used to because of his medication, making him the most lightweight Gallagher to date.
Finding Ian and Mickey at a new bar in the West Side, Ian didn't quite know what to expect when they settled into a booth near the back, it had been Mickey's idea to go check it out. Which was surprising in itself as his husband wasn't the type to want to go out to drink when they could just do that in the comfort of their own home. But Ian didn't mind the change of location, he liked going out with Mickey. Didn't matter what they did.
The music was a touch below the din of people talking, the yellow lights scattered and bounced off the dark surfaces, and the bar lined with all kinds of colourful bottles. Classic movie posters hung as a gallery against the back wall where the booths were. It reminded them of the Alibi but if it was a more hipster, bougie place. Ian didn't know why exactly Mickey had decided on this place, but now that they were sitting, all he wanted was a beer and relax with his husband. Ian barely grazed the drink menu when it was snatched away by Mickey, who only gave a small sly smirk in reply to Ian's furrowed brows.
Whatever, Ian thought. He would just refer to the waitress when she came.
Said waitress quickly came over once Mickey closed the black laminated menu, tablet ready to take their order. Ian was ready to order just a lite beer when Mickey commandeered her attention by pointing at various things. She barely looked over at Ian as she left to go help another table that was flagging her down.
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
"What if I wanted to order something?"
"I ordered for you. Don't worry about it." Normally Ian would go along with Mickey, he trusted his husband unconditionally, but with his smirk and hogging of the menu, Ian had no choice but to worry. Because when Mickey said not to worry, most chances, worrying was necessary. And sure, they were no longer doing anything illegal anymore to make money, but old habits don't always die.
So when the waitress came back with four shots being placed onto their table, two singles and two doubles along with two glasses of water, Ian's suspicions were correct. The smaller ones were obviously for him since his medications made him like a 13-year-old trying wine coolers for the first time. At least Mickey had the foresight to get him water to hopefully dilute it later on.
"What are these?"
"Mm, shots."
"I can see that, but why are they at our table? Mickey..."
"Lighten up, Gallagher. You'll be fine."
"Okay, but if I get shitfaced, it'll be your problem."
"Stop whining and take the first one."
Sighing at his husband, Ian picked up the first of two single shots. It was deep red on-top while the bottom half was a bright blue. Pulling it up to his lips, he took a quick sniff check. It wasn't terrible, it had an overpowering berry scent, with just a little citrus. Tossing it back, the sickly sweet taste of raspberry and orange coated his tongue. While it wasn't bitter, it still made his nose scrunch as it slid down his throat. Grabbing the water, he took a healthy chug, so that it might not hit his system like a freight train.
"How was it?" Micky had that same smirk on his face, as he lifted his own shot glass filled with dark red liquid, barely making a face as the now empty glass was put back onto the table.
"Not the worst shot I've ever had. Kinda fruity. What was it?" Setting the empty shot glass down, he picked up the next one. This one was a cream colour with a dollop of whip on-top. Mikey also had this one.
"Drink up, princess." Mickey's smirk was now a full-blown smile as he raised his matching shot, saluted him, and then downed it in one motion.
This shot was much different from the other. It tasted heavily like butterscotch. It was more bearable than the fruity one. He still took a large drink of the water after. They were gonna need to order some food soon to help soak it up.
"Happy now?"
"Very."
"Are you gonna tell me what I just drank now?"
Mickey, his eyes bright and twitching smile, finally relented. "The first one was a Pornstar for you and a Redheaded Slut for me, the second a Cum shot for both of us."
Heat licked up Ian's neck, settling high onto his cheeks. Groaning at Mickey, Ian covered his face with his hands, elbows firmly landing on the tabletop. Mickey's laughter was loud in Ian's ears. This is why it was necessary to worry, to be suspicious. Mickey didn't always like talking about the past, neither did Ian, but this was not what he was expecting. He should be grateful that Mickey could joke about the things Ian did when he was unmedicated, and he was, but never in a million years did he expect it like this.
"Jesus Christ, Mick." Dropping his hands from his face, Ian tried to glare at his husband, but he couldn't. His face was so light and happy as he revelled in Ian's embarrassment. Maybe it was the alcohol, but it made his stomach warm seeing him like this. Any annoyance he wanted to have at his husband disappeared; because this, this freedom, was worth it. Ian would gladly be teased if it meant he could see Mickey look like this.