#I like these boys being bridges..... made out of understanding and earnest curiosity....oh and love too; eventually

[alexandriteobscuraarchive]

((The whole high five thing between my fave 7 couple is absolutely positively 100% Kariom with whomever he dates---or is even just friends with. It fits him and the Traveler especially.))

[imaginepirates]

Quiet Moments

For @groovyenby​. The reader comes out to Elizabeth as being non-binary during a quiet moment together in her cabin. Again, if my portrayal of the nb community is off, please tell me. Otherwise, enjoy some fluff!

@emdrabbles​ @tesserphantom​ @paljonkaikenlaista​ @viper-official​

~2500 words (sorry it’s kinda short)

~~~~~~~

          The ship rocked back and forth, gently swaying in the waves. Elizabeth had named it the Swann, both after herself and for her family. She’d left them far behind, though, and you knew the thought hurt her. If only they could see her now, you thought. You had always wondered what she’d been like, back when she was a lady of society. You pictured her in billowing dresses, the very picture of grace. Here, aboard her ship, captaining her crew, she was a force to be reckoned with. People respected her; she was tough, and she knew her way around a ship. But she was soft, too. You knew better than anyone.

          You had met her during the convening of the Brethren Court, as she stalked in with her new crew. There was something about her confidence, despite being so new to the life of the pirate lords. She hadn’t had her crew a week when she was elected Pirate King. You had stood silent in the uproar, watching this stranger with an awed curiosity. Who is this woman? You’d asked yourself.

          You took it upon yourself to find out. You spent days just observing her when you were in the same room. You noticed, beneath her confidence and swagger, a certain tiredness. She looked a little worn.

          You were fast friends; you started a conversation with her in the dining hall, and she seemed thankful for someone to talk to. The dining hall was the deck of a massive ship, a well-lit room enclosed by a ship on top of it whose hull had been carved out. From then on, you took your meals together.

          Now, you met whenever time permitted. Fighting the East India Company would be hard, especially because they were backed by the British fleet. You and Elizabeth both had ships and crews to tend to. You were the captain of another ship, and you would sail beside Elizabeth into battle.

          There were moments, though, when you could forget the impending attack. These quiet moments kept you sane in uncertain times.

          You met where you wouldn’t be disturbed; in your cabins, or in empty rooms of the Cove. Today, you were in her cabin. Her ship was outside the safety of Shipwreck Cove, ready to set sail in the coming days. Your ship was there, too. From one of the portholes in the cabin, you could overlook the sea. Its waves rolled gently against the ship, rocking the deck under your feet.

          Elizabeth was lying on her bed, rolled on her side with her head propped up by a hand. She patted the blankets next to her, motioning for you to join her. You slid off your boots, gladly laying next to her. The two of you did this- laying together and talking- a better way to spend your time than the rest of your company, who drank and gambled away the hours.

          “We’re getting closer to the fight.” Elizabeth pushed a lock of golden hair over her shoulder. “The crew is growing restless.”

          “As is mine.” Each man was itching for action. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it, too. You wanted the fight to be over and done with, won or lost. Waiting was torture.

          “Are you afraid?”

          “Not particularly.” You’d lived through half a hundred battles and skirmishes. You always expected each would be your last. “If I die, I die a pirate. If I’m captured, I’ll be hung as a pirate. If I live, I live as a pirate. I’ll be a free man, no matter what.”

          “Are you afraid to die?”

          “Are you?”

          She sniffed. “No. Death isn’t so bad. I’ll see a lot of people again.”

          She’d told you about all of them. Her mother, her father, her friend James. She would know people, if she died. So would you. Captains, crew-mates, family, friends. It was part of the comfort.

          “I’d rather live, of course. I still want to watch the sun rise over the waves, feel the deck of my ship under me.” You stretched. The lock of hair had fallen back into Elizabeth’s face, and you tucked it away. “Let’s not talk about such dismal things. I come to you to escape the thought of dying.”

          “What would you rather speak of?”

          “Tell me something I don’t know. Something about yourself.”

          “Oh dear.” She sat up, pushing her hair behind her. She wore loose clothing, not the armor Sao Feng had given her.

          “I’ll braid it,” you offered, taking a lock of hair in hand. She turned and let you, humming her approval at the feeling of your fingers in her hair.

          “There are many things you don’t know about me, particularly about younger me. Back when I was a part of so-ci-e-tay,” she enunciated each syllable , “I was quite the menace.”

          “Oh, I could imagine.” You could. You pictured her running barefoot through the gardens of her home, turning her feet green with grass.

          “I used to do all sorts of things. I was a terror on my poor governess, I’m afraid. The woman couldn’t quite tame me.”

          Thank god for that. If she had, you would never have met the radiant girl with her brilliant smiles and confident speech. What a wonder this girl is. We were captains born from nothing. She is a captain born from luxury. And yet she’s no different from us.

          She continued on. “I had a friend, William. I visited him when I could, though it wasn’t a common thing. He was a blacksmith’s apprentice, and I wasn’t to be seen with him. Just the thought of him maid my governess shudder. She told me I shouldn’t be friends with such a filthy boy, a lowborn boy. It made me sad. Not that I ever listened to her.”

          “One day, I snuck out of the house, and I made it all the way to the blacksmith’s without being caught. He was too drunk to do anything but sleep, and he slept in a stool across the room, so he didn’t notice me come in. Will worked away, but he saw me. He asked what I was doing there, and where my governess was, and I told him I’d come to see him alone. That was very scandalous, of course, and it seemed to be a bit much for poor Will, but we went up to his room anyways and talked for quite a long time.”

          “We climbed out onto the roof for a better view of the harbor. Captain Norrington had taught me quite a lot about ships, and I wanted to show Will what I knew. By the time I was done, the blacksmith had woken, and he was looking for Will. Not finding Will inside, he stepped out under the roof. Well, I just couldn’t help myself. The man was so awful, and though Will told me not to, I poured water on the man’s head. He never knew who did it, either. Even Will couldn’t help but smile.”

          “And what happened to poor Will after that?”

          “He helped me slip out the back door before anyone could find me. He got back to work, and the blacksmith thought Will was using the bathroom.”

          “That was lucky for both of you.” More like Will got a beating and never told you.

          “By the time I got home, the house was in an uproar.” Elizabeth laughed. “My governess had actually fainted. Can you believe that?”

          “Was that common for governesses?”

          “I’ll never know. I only had the one. We brought her with us from England.”

          You finished with Elizabeth’s hair, admiring the golden locks. She patted it with a hand. It was a loose braid, but it served.

          “I didn’t know pirates could braid hair,” she teased.

          You smiled. “Even Jack Sparrow can braid hair.”

          “He can?” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I’d trust him with my hair. Have you seen his? And his hands are dirty.”

          You laughed in earnest. “Would you trust Jack to do anything?”

          “Would you?”

          You planted a soft kiss to her temple, pulling her in close to cuddle with you. You rested your foreheads together, arms draped over each others’ backs. It had been like this for the last few days; your relationship had grown from friendship to something more like love. It was a soft love, quiet and reserved. Calm in dark times.

          The ship rocked gently under you, lulling you into a state of sluggishness. You could have fallen asleep right then and there, curled up next to her. You would have, too, if you weren’t so intent on spending as much time with her as possible before the battle. You wanted memories of her, just in case.

          You lay in silence for a long time, just staring at each other, running your fingers through the other’s hair and tracing patterns in their arms. She ran a finger across your face; it traced your cheekbones, ran over the bridge of your nose, and ended by lightly dancing across your lips. You kept her hand there, pressing feather-light kisses to each of her fingertips before kissing her palm.

          She sighed. “I wish I knew if Will was safe,” she said. “He’s the only thing from home I have left.”

          “I know. I’m sorry.”

          “So am I.” She took a deep breath, turning to look up at a candle hanging from the wall. It was evening, and the light in the cabin grew dimmer. “It’s your turn. To tell me something I don’t know.”

          “Deal.” It was only fair.

          The problem was, you weren’t sure if you were ready to tell her what you intended to say. It was a better time than ever to do so, but the thought scared you. Elizabeth would no doubt understand you, but you were afraid she’d be uncomfortable or get the wrong idea.

          “Elizabeth,” you began, “how do you know that you’re a woman?”           The confusion was evident on her face, but she responded anyway. “Well, I have all the girly parts, don’t I? Besides, I feel like a girl.”

          “And what makes you feel like a girl?”

          She opened her mouth as if to respond, then shut it again. “I don’t know. I just feel it.”

          “Do you suppose it’s the same for boys?”

          “I should assume so.”

          “What if you didn’t feel like a girl. What then?”

          “I suppose I’d dress in men’s clothes and go around as I wished. Nobody says that you can’t dress or act how you feel comfortable. Nobody here, anyway.”

          “And what if,” you wiggled into a more comfortable position, “you didn’t feel like either? What if you weren’t a man or a woman?”

          Elizabeth furrowed her brows. “I don’t know. I didn’t know you could do that. I guess I’d just do what I wanted to. Not that I don’t already.”

          You had to smile. “That’s how I feel. I’m not a man or a woman, and you’re right; I do what I want.”

          “Oh!” She perked up. “Tell me about it.”

          “Well, it’s not that different to you and how you feel like a woman, I’d guess. I don’t feel like either, and that’s just another part of me. It’s not something that I made a decision on, it’s just how I feel.”

          “Is it strange?” She asked. “I mean, you must not know too many people like yourself, if you know any. Is that hard for you?”

          “Sometimes,” you admitted. “I definitely feel different from others. I know a few people like myself, but not enough.”

          “I can imagine.” She twined her fingers through yours. “I’m glad you told me. I like to know these things, especially about you. I want you to trust me with things like this.”

          “I’m glad I can tell you, too. I haven’t told many people, and though some may assume, there are still a lot of people who don’t know. It feels good to share it with someone.”

          Elizabeth smiled. “What are you going to do when this is all over?”

          “What I’ve always done, I guess. And you?”

          “I want my own crew. And I want to sail the world over, but I think I’m going to be lonely. I wonder, sometimes, if we could do this again.”

          “I hope so.” An idea struck you. “We should get a small house somewhere. We could agree to meet up at certain times. We’ll have the whole house to ourselves.” Your brain filled with images of romantic houses. Somewhere with a view of the ocean, but with a garden full of bright flowers and moss covering the roof. Somewhere small, but comfortable. Homey.

          “In France. We could buy an entire chateau with all the money we’ll have. We can fill it with exotic animals and stolen art. Jewels from all corners of the world will hang on the walls. We’ll have so many, we won’t have enough room for them all.”

          It was one of your favorite things about Elizabeth. She created entire worlds in her head; completely implausible, unrealistic worlds, but they were still worlds. They were entertaining, if anything, and you appreciated her creativity.

          “We’ll have a thousand servants, one for each of our thousand rooms. The cooks will fill the kitchen floor to ceiling with delicious food,” Elizabeth continued. “Can you imagine?”

          You laughed. “I can see it now. Though I’m not sure that even today’s aristocracy enjoys such luxury.”

          “No, I’m afraid not. Even as the Governor’s daughter, our house only had nine hundred rooms.” She winked at you.

          You kissed the hand that held yours. The two of you lay in amiable silence, tracing over each other with your fingers, kissing each other lightly on exposed patches of skin. A gentle push on your shoulder urged you to roll onto your back, only for Elizabeth to roll on top of you. She pressed a kiss to your lips, stroking your hair with her fingers.

          “I still want this, after the battle is over,” she mumbled against your lips. “I’m still going to want you.”

          “I’ll want you too.” It was no lie. You and Elizabeth got along well; your relationship was calm and functional, and you communicated well. It was the sort of thing you wanted to see last. Your mind wandered to the upcoming fight, but you didn’t dare express your concern. What if one of you didn’t make it?

          “I know what you’re thinking,” Elizabeth whispered. “If something bad happens to one of us, what then?”

          “You know me too well.”

          “I know that you worry.” She closed your eyes with a gentle touch of her fingertips. She kissed both of your eyelids, barely touching them. ��Then I hope whoever lives lives well, and whoever dies will greet the other when they meet again.” She backed away, laying down to rest her hands on your chest. You wrapped your arms around her in response, holding her to you. “For now,” she said, “let’s live.”

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

The Sand In Your Shoe (pt. 20 - Final)

Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and stayed with it since the beginning. This is the final chapter and I would really love to hear your thoughts so please do stop by and say hi. It’s been such a great journey to take with you all xxxx

Mickey is rocking up onto the balls of his feet, trying to peer over the crowd.

“Can you see them yet?”

“No, but they’ll be here.”

“Where the fuck are they?”

“Relax.”

Ian squeezes his fingers, their wedding bands clinking together. Mickey is anxiously worrying at the corner of his mouth with his incisors and Ian ducks down to press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. Mickey jerks his head irritably but stops fidgeting, a little more at ease.

“There! I see them!”

Ian waves and grins as Mickey freezes to the spot.

“Mick, they’re by the Starbucks, just over …”

“Yeah. I see. Do I look OK?”

Mickey is tugging at his collar and looking very much like he is about to be sick. Ian rests his hands lightly on Mickey’s upper arms, smoothing the fabric of his shirt and giving him an earnest smile that calms Mickey’s nerves instantly.

“You look great and this is going to be fine. If he didn’t want to meet you, he wouldn’t be here.”

“What the fuck am I gonna say, man?”

“Start off with ‘Hello’ and take it from there.”

Ian grins, giving Mickey’s arms and encouraging squeeze before letting go and stepping back out of the way. Mickey’s breath catches and stammers out of him as his eyes light on the young man walking towards them, Svetlana at his side. He is taller than Mickey, and a slimmer build.

*More like Ian.*

Mickey thinks automatically before berating himself for being stupid. He has his teeth set firmly in his lower lip and his bright blue eyes are looking Mickey up and down with obvious eager curiosity. There is a slight swagger in his step but it is tempered by the way he hovers at Svetlana’s elbow, not quite bold enough to break away and walk alone.

“He looks just like you, Mick.”

Ian murmurs behind him and Mickey nods, not quite trusting his voice. He realises he is scowling a bit and thumbs his upper lip, making a conscious effort to neutralise his expression.

Ian waits for Mickey to say something, to call out a greeting or wave. When it doesn’t happen he nudges him pointedly and Mickey clears his throat as if waking from a trance.

“Hello!”

The word sounds weird and kind of final and Mickey winces slightly

“Fuck.”

Yevgeny grins, his mother has told him that his father swears almost compulsively and it is nice to have a fact confirmed.

“Hey. So which of you is my dad?”

Mickey looks momentarily at a loss and then Svetlana slaps her son’s shoulder and rolls her eyes

“Ignore him, he is as stupid as his father.”

“Hey!”

Father and son glare at her as one, twin sets of blue eyes narrowing and then widening when they notice the similarity and hastily looking away. Svetlana gives Ian a small knowing smile and they share a look of mutual understanding. Apparently, Yevgeny has inherited his father’s love of new social situations.

Ian decides a small rescue is needed and steps forward, embracing Svetlana and then holding out his hand to Yevgeny.

“It is so good to see you both! Welcome to Mexico!”

“Thanks, it’s Ian, right?”

Yevgeny shakes his hand firmly and Ian gets a tiny thrill of pride

*Mickey made this kid. This sharp, beautiful boy. He’s Mickeys!*

“Yeah, can I take your bag? We parked right out front.”

Ian takes the rucksack from Yev’s hands and the kid immediately stuffs them into his pockets and switches his gaze back to Mickey, although both are doing their best not to appear too interested.

“Shall we go?”

Svetlana hoists her own bag onto her shoulder impatiently.

“I need a cigarette and fresh air.”

“Yeah let’s fuckin’ go.”

Mickey nods and turns on his heel, grabbing Yev’s backpack from Ian and holding it protectively as he leads the way.

“I must sit in the front, my travel sickness is very bad.”

Svetlana announces as they are loading the bags into the trunk of Ian’s old Ford. Yev shrugs and gets into the back of the car, closing the door behind him.

“I’ll drive.”

“What? No! Talk to your kid!”

“I can’t talk to him for that long! Jesus! I can’t even talk to you for that long!”

Mickey whispers furiously, looking up at Ian with wild, pleading eyes and Ian sighs in exasperation but quietly hands the car keys over.

*

Ian chats away happily as they make their way home. He fills Yevgeny and Svetlana in on local sites and local facts and makes Mickey stop to show them an old fountain outside a church that was apparently blessed by a saint.

Mickey leans against the car door and lights up a cigarette as Ian drags Svetlana closer to look at the inscription but Yev manages to dodge around a pale palm tree and loop back to the car before Ian can snag him.

“Can I bum a cigarette?”

He asks Mickey, looking up from under lowered brows, his voice unnaturally deep as he tries to be what he thinks his father will want a son to be.

“You smoke?”

“Psshh. Yeah! All the time. I fuckin’ love it.”

Yev licks his lip and stands up a little straighter. Mickey smirks slightly and nods to Svetlana

“Your Mom gonna tear me a new one if she sees you doin’ it?”

“Nah, man. She just has to deal.”

Yev puffs his chest out and mirrors Mickey’s posture, holding out his hand for the packet. Mickey snorts and hands it over, watching as Yev fumbles the lighter but finally manages to get it lit and inhales enthusiastically before doubling over coughing. Mickey grins to himself and claps a hand on Yevgeny’s shoulder, as the boy looks up utterly humiliated. Mickey hasn’t forgotten how fragile the ego is at sixteen, nor has he forgotten just how desperate he was to please Terry at every turn.

“Don’t worry about it, Mexican cigarettes are stronger. I should’ve warned you.”

“Oh. Yeah. No it’s cool. Thanks.”

Yev is blushing furiously and Mickey tries to think of a point of reference that they might share. He nods his head toward Ian and Svetlana

“You into history at all? Ian likes it.”

“Nah. What are you into?”

Mickey thinks for a moment. He can’t really say cigarettes, guns, pot, beer and sex. Well … maybe he could but he doesn’t want to. He tries to think of something Yev might approve of.

“I got a canoe a couple years ago, I like to take that out on the ocean.”

“Cool!”

Yev nods enthusiastically and Mickey grins, then clicks his head left and right, noticing with a faint touch of pride that Yev does the same. He begins to wonder if having a kid is really just like having a big puppy that follows you around adoringly and occasionally shits on the rug.

“I went on a boat once, it wasn’t a canoe but it was cool.”

“Cooler than a fuckin’ fountain?”

Mickey arches his eyebrows and nods toward Ian who is in full flow and Svetlana who looks bored to tears. Yev grins shyly and shrugs, scratching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, like, no offence to your husband though.”

“Ah, none taken, man. He’s not normally this much of a dork, just really excited to see you I think.”

“Yeah?”

Yev looks suddenly hopeful and Mickey isn’t sure why so he hedges his bets and changes the subject

“Doin’ good in school?”

“I guess. Mom writes you though, right? Tells you about school and stuff? She said she did that…”

“Oh yeah, I mean she does, I was just … I dunno. Just askin’ I guess.”

Mickey draws deeply on his cigarette and looks away and Yev mistakes his discomfort for annoyance

“You can ask! I mean, you paid for, like, more than half of it right? Mom says you always send money…”

Put like that Mickey realises just how flimsy his involvement has been and clears his throat self-consciously.

“Yeah.”

“Thank you by the way. You didn’t have to.”

Mickey has no idea what to do with being thanked for that and awkwardly pats Yevgeny’s shoulder, giving him a small smile.

“You’re welcome.”

The two stand in silence then until Ian finally releases Svetlana and they all resume their journey.

*

Evidently Yevgeny is feeling a little emboldened by having his first proper (sort of) conversation with his father because he is more chatty on the second leg of the journey. Ian can’t get enough of hearing the kid talk. He sounds just like Mickey! They both grew up in South Side so the inflections are the same but it’s more than that. Listening to Yev speak is like hearing Mickey as a teenager but with less threats and swearing. If Mickey had been into football and playing piano (fucking piano! Ian squeals internally) he would have sounded just like this.

“I prefer to compose my own stuff now, ya know? I mean, playing other people’s stuff is great but it is awesome to hear something you’ve imagined coming to life. Do you guys play any instruments?”

Mickey peers at Yev in the mirror and shakes his head

“A little guitar maybe but I suck. Never had the patience to learn.”

“None at all.”

Ian smiles guiltily at Yev, who shrugs and smiles.

“Mom wasn’t sure who I got my music talent from.”

“Not true, all your fine qualities come from me.”

Svetlana laughs, nudging Mickey with her elbow. Mickey tongues his lip and grins at her

“Hey, I changed a few diapers, that probably had positive impact, right?”

“Me too actually!”

Ian pipes up.

“So everyone in this car has seen my ass?”

“Pretty much. Yeah.”

Ian nods cheerfully and Yev sighs, a very familiar long-suffering sigh, blue eyes rolling wearily.

“Great.”

*

Yevgeny nods off about thirty minutes away from Galagers. Mickey checks in the mirror a couple of times, checking the gentle rise and fall of his sons chest.

“Anything I should keep my mouth shut about?”

He asks, looking pointedly at Svetlana. She shrugs and shakes her head

“He knows all there is to know.”

“Could you be a bit more fuckin’ specific?”

Mickey snaps irritably and Svetlana blinks languidly at him.

“He knows he is the product of unwanted sex between his homosexual father and hooker mother, forced by his paternal grandfather who has spent most of his life in prison. He knows his father is a fugitive who married the man who kidnapped him as a baby and lives in Mexico. He knows to keep his mouth shut about these things as well.”

Svetlana ducks her head, lighting a cigarette and then narrows her eyes at the dawning look of incredulous horror Mickey is giving her

“What?”

“ ‘What’? Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Those are fuckin horrible things for the kid to know!”

Mickey turns to look at Ian for reassurance and Ian nods grimly

“Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up, Svet.”

“What part of it is untrue?”

She snaps back at both men and Mickey frowns, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

“None of it but, you know, I don’t want him thinkin’ he’s a rape baby. That’s a heavy thing for a kid his age to find out.”

“He has known since he was eight.”

“EIGHT?”

Mickey and Ian cry in unison and Svetlana shrugs a little defensively

“He asked why his father never calls or visits. What would you have rather I told him?”

“That I’m a fuckin’ asshole not worth his time! Jesus, Svetlana. Hey, did you let him believe in Santa or did you just slice that one right off the bat too?”

Mickey shakes his head angrily and Svetlana sighs heavily.

“Of course we had Santa, Idiot! But truth is important for children. Yevgeny is a sensitive boy, it is important for him to understand his existence.”

“It’s fucked up, that’s what it is.”

Mickey huffs and turns his attention completely to the road. Ian takes in the tense set of his husband’s shoulders and clears his throat tentatively.

“Perhaps it is good that he knows the truth. Means he gets it, Mick.”

Mickey grunts in response and the three of them lapse into silence.

“I’m sorry if it makes you angry. I thought it for the best.”

Svetlana ventures finally and Mickey flicks his eyes towards her, scanning for sarcasm and finding none.

“It’s fine. It sucks but yeah … it is the truth and … he seems happy enough.”

It is a question but he won’t allow himself to phrase it like one, just in case the answer is not what he desperately hopes to hear.

“He has always been a very happy boy. He wanted for nothing and grew up loved.”

Mickey rolls his shoulders and then sighs

“Well then… thank you, I guess.”

“Life is funny, yes?”

“Yeah. Fuckin’ hilarious.”

Mickey says dryly and Ian smiles slightly as Svetlana gives Mickey’s arm a very light squeeze.

*

For the first week, Yevgeny follows Mickey around constantly. He helps stock the bar, he goes to the store, he is into everything Mickey does and in turn Mickey swallows his natural inclination toward running errands in solitude and does his best to embrace Yev’s interest.

He takes Yev out in the canoe and after basically wrestling the kid into a life preserver, allows him to take it out by himself a few times, though he paces the shore anxiously each time until Yev is safely back.

Yev shadows him so faithfully that Mickey get’s kind of used to it so when Yev doesn’t appear one morning to drive into town, Mickey is a little disappointed. Not surprised, because getting booze and groceries with your dad can only be interesting for so long, right? But still, he has come to value the quiet thirty minute round trip and the easy flow of conversation.

He figures Yev must have gone down to the beach early because he isn’t on the sofa bed and Mickey runs the errand on his own. When he gets back, Svet has gone shopping in town and Ian is in the kitchen making coffee.

“You seen Yev?”

“No, we thought he was with you?”

“Nah. He never showed up.”

Mickey frowns and drums his fingers against his leg, instantly worried. Ian shrugs and smiles, handing Mickey a steaming mug.

“Probably just gone for a wander.”

“Yeah. Hey, the canoe ain’t on the porch, did you store it?”

“No. But that probably answers where Yev is.”

Ian’s cheery lack of concern grates on Mickey’s nerves and he scowls at his husband.

“Well he ain’t supposed to go out without telling me. What if a fuckin’ freak wave catches him?”

“Oh, you mean like all those ‘freak waves’ that we get warned about around here? Relax. He’s fine.”

Ian smirks and Mickey shoots him a withering look

“A freak wave would be a fuckin’ random occurrence, smart ass.”

“Maybe Yev put it away for you? Have you checked the lock-up?”

Mickey admits he hasn’t and Ian ruffles his hair affectionately, ignoring the impatient flapping as Mickey shoos him away

“I like seeing you in protective dad mode, it’s kinda hot.”

“I’m not in … shut the fuck up!”

Mickey allows a small grin to curl the corner of his mouth and takes his coffee and dignity outside, Ian trailing in his wake as he strides around the back of Galagers.

“So if the canoe is in there, are we going to calm down or shall we call the coast guard?”

Ian teases and Mickey is about to retort but a sound catches his attention and he holds up a stilling hand, setting his coffee cup on the ground. There is a muffled thumping coming from the lock-up and what sounds like crying.

Ian clearly hears it to because his eyes narrow and he grabs a plank of drift wood at his feet, nodding to Mickey. Mickey nods back and makes a ‘wait here’ gesture as he takes a firm grip on the door. One … two … three …

Mickey wrenches the door open ready to start swinging fists at the same moment as Ian lunges forward, plank of wood held high. There is a flash of dark skinned calve wrapped around a pale ass and then two high, guilty gasps of shock as the couple roll apart and hastily adjust their dishevelled clothing, scrabbling to their feet as the adults stare at them in horrified amusement.

“Hey Dad! Uh...”

Yevgeny gives his father a wonky smile as colour floods his face and he glances sideways at Christina, who is grimacing back at him.

Mickey glances down between the young couple and his eyebrows, which had shot up to his hairline, lower as he throws out his hands in a ‘what the fuck’ gesture

“Oh come on, man! On my fuckin’ canoe?”

“Sorry.”

Yev hunches his shoulders defensively. For a moment there is silence and then a strangled snort to Mickey’s right cuts through the air. Ian’s whole body is vibrating with suppressed laughter, his chin quivering helplessly.

“Really? You can’t hold your shit together for two fuckin’ minutes and be a grown up?”

Mickey looks up at him, shaking his head in exasperation but his own lip is trembling precariously. Christina grabs Yev’s hand and tugs him forward

“We’ll go ...”

“Oh really, Tina? You don’t wanna finish?”

Mickey quips but there is no heat to his words at all and he is rapidly losing the battle against his laughter.

“Um… No. It’s okay. We can go somewhere else.”

Yev mumbles and as Christina slaps her boyfriends arm, Ian loses his shit completely, doubling over and clutching his middle as he laughs.

“Oh Yev! Oh my God! No paternity test is ever going to be needed, kid. Oh my God!”

Mickey rolls his eyes at his husband before pointing a finger at his son

“I want it spotless in here, and learn to lock the fuckin’ door.”

He catches Ian by the collar and tugs him out

“Hey! Be safe! Condoms are in the bathr...”

“Not now!”

Mickey snaps at his husband, kicking the door shut behind them. Yev and Christina grin guiltily at each other and then have to smother laughs of their own as Ian happily asks when could possibly be a better time.

*

Mickey is scrolling through his phone on the porch a little while later and he glances up at the sound of footsteps.

“Hey.”

Yev approaches Mickey sheepishly, not sure whether he is actually in trouble or not.

“Hey. You walk Tina home?”

“Yeah. I mean, like, it’s the middle of the day but yeah, I did.”

“Good. She’s a nice girl. You treat her right, you hear me?”

Mickey fixes Yev with a stern blue eyed stare but his expression clears as soon as the boy nods.

“Alright.”

Yev scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and takes a deep breath

“You can yell if you want? I fucked up.”

“Nah, you’re fine. My dad caught me fuckin’ someone once, it happens.”

Mickey shrugs and Yev grins at him

“Yeah look how that ended up.”

He gestures at himself and Mickey snorts, amused. It’s a lame joke and kind of distasteful but that’s Mickey’s sense of humour too so how can he blame Yevgeny for having it?

“True.”

They are quiet for a minute and then Mickey coughs and ducks his head, looking up at his son from beneath gently swept brows. He has been thinking about when he would say something since Svetlana told him about Yevgeny’s knowledge of his conception and now seems as good a time as any.

“Hey listen, I … ah … I know you know how all that shit when down, how me and your Mom … anywya you know your Mom loves you?”

Yevgeny nods, his eyes huge and round, waiting for his father to continue.

“Well I want you to know that I love you too. If things had been different, I would have stuck around, Yevgeny. I would have been there. I never held any of that shit against you. You’re the one good thing to come out of it and I’m really glad you’re here. Me and Ian both are. I shouldn’t have left it so long.”

Mickey finishes and straightens to his full height waiting patiently for whatever Yevgeny might want to get off his chest. He owes him that much.

“Thank you but it’s fine. I’m here now and you and Ian are both being really cool to me. And I am sorry I had sex on the canoe.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Mickey laughs as both of them grin, the tension draining from the atmosphere to be replaced with an easy companionship that is more than Mickey had ever dared hope for.

*

Yevgeny visits most school breaks and after high school he arrives in a battered old pick up to collect Christina for a tour of the USA, with a ring in his top pocket and a smile that melts Ian’s heart. He is young, beautiful and full of determined courage. Mickey hugs his son tightly and then steps back to let Ian in.

“I’m doing it, guys! I’m gonna ask her.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah Dad. I’m gonna wait until we get to New York and then I’m doing it.”

“Alright.”

Mickey nods and nudges Ian who slips Yev an envelope. Yev frowns and peers inside

“Guys, this is too much!”

“It’s a border crossing tradition in this family. When you start a new life, you get a wad of cash.”

Mickey grins and Ian shakes his head with a long suffering sigh, though a small smile is tugging at the corner of his own mouth.

*

Time winds onwards and soon Svetlana is stood in a beautiful Mexican church, cradling baby Miguel in her arms, utterly besotted with her first grandson.

“Ah! We have another set of those blue eyes in the world.”

She coos happily, glancing at her own blue eyed boy who is deep conversation with his aunt and uncle who have come to the church for the celebration.

“Yeah, he’s beautiful isn’t he?”

Ian smiles indulgently down at his grandson and carefully traces one chubby pink cheek with his finger. Yev makes his way over to them, looking at his watch.

“Do you think we should start? The priest is getting antsy”

“No, we must wait for your father.”

“Or what? It didn’t happen?”

Yev quips irritably, oblivious to the startle his words give his mother. Svetlana smothers her smile in the sweet smelling lace of Miguel’s gown.

The church doors open and all present turn to watch Mickey dash up the flagstones, waving his apologies

“Sorry! I had to pick something up.”

He takes the steps up to the font two at a time and produces a sleek box from his pants pocket, handing it to Yevgeny with another grimaced apology and then taking his place beside Ian and Svetlana who jabs him and whispers.

“Do you enjoy being late to christenings or is it just habit?”

“You always ask the weirdest fuckin’ questions.”

Mickey frowns as she happily passes his name sake into his arms. Mickey jiggles his grandson, looking down at him with a mixture of awe and pride.

“He’s perfect, isn’t he? I mean, I know I’m supposed to think that, but look at him!”

Ian kisses the greying hair at Mickey’s temple and nods

“He is. Milkovich’s make very pretty babies.”

Mickey smirks and hands Miguel over to Christina.

“Thanks Dad, and thank you both for the gift.”

She kisses his cheek gratefully and Mickey nods, blushing a little.

“You’re welcome.”

The ceremony is held in the same church as Mandy and Juan married in all those years before and Mickey and Ian take the same seats, their hands linked just as tightly.

The future which has always stretched so far before them zooms into focus and then expands beyond them, the legacy of their love carried on the lips and in the memories of their family.

They walk home from the ceremony, pausing to kick off their shoes when they reach the beach and strolling across the warm sand barefoot, hand in hand. They have walked home this way for nearly twenty years and despite being careful, there is still sand in their shoes at the end of every trip. Neither of them mind and neither could be happier.