Hi, Arrow! It's so great to have you back. For the speedwrites, how about the two of them getting stranded somewhere overnight, because of a flat tire or bad weather. 🚗❤️
Thanks Deena! I was trying to go cutesy and then this happened instead, oops😂
“You also told me you’d be ready when I got home, so whose fault is this again?”
Mickey grimaces.
“Would’ve been if not for your brother.”
“Oh, sure.” Mickey can see the roll of Ian’s eyes reflected in the windshield. “Carl made you stay late at the Alibi.”
“What was I supposed to do? Turn down free drinks?” Mickey scoffs. “Yeah, sure.”
He leans forward, peers past Ian out the driver’s side window. He can’t see much except the rain, coming down sideways now, and the roll of clouds in the distance as lightning flashes through them. Beyond the spread of their weak headlights, he can’t even make out the road.
“You sure you can’t drive in this?” he asks anyway, squinting as if it will help him see through the darkness. “Think I probably could. Just need to—”
“Good for you,” Ian cuts in sharply. “Next time, don’t drink five rounds before we leave and I’ll let you try.”
Mickey subsides. Sits back in his seat, lets his head fall against the headrest. Straightens, undoes his seatbelt, and leans back again.
Ian isn’t moving. His hands are still on the wheel even though he’s already put the car in park, and he’s staring blindly through the windshield.
“Shitty start to our first vacation, huh?” Mickey comments, turning toward him and fidgeting until one leg is half up on the seat. He smiles wryly. “I mean, we’re supposed to be in a cabin right now, smoking it up and fucking in front of the fire—”
“I’m trying, okay Mickey?” Ian snaps, fingers white where they still clutch the wheel, and Mickey stops.
It’s cold in the car. Colder than it was a minute ago, a chill seeping through him as his eyes latch onto Ian’s set jaw. Ian is grinding his teeth, giving the weather outside the chin, and his eyes are—
Oh, fuck. That’s not the good kind of red.
“Hey.” He tries to say it softly, but it rings too loud in the suddenly quiet car. The last of his buzz slips away as he reaches out a hand grips Ian’s wrist. He tries to tug Ian’s arm toward him, but it stays stubbornly where it is.
“What,” Ian asks shortly, and Mickey winces.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “I was just teasing you, man.”
Ian snorts. It sounds wet.
“You’re right though,” he says. There’s a bitter roughness to his tone, like he’s fighting to push the words out of his throat. “This was supposed to be a nice thing, a good thing for us. I worked so hard to set it up, and I—” He breaks off. His fingers flex on the wheel, Mickey’s hand moving with his arm as he finally pulls it back. “And I couldn’t even plan for the fucking weather.”
“Ian,” Mickey says. His hand slides from wrist to knuckles, around to palm. “We live in the fucking midwest. The weather can’t even plan itself.”
That earns him another snort, but it’s lighter this time.
“Was sunny this morning,” he agrees. “Not a cloud in sight.”
“Sneaky fuckers, clouds. Total airheads, too.”
This time he gets an actual laugh, and Ian’s fingers tightening on his.
“Sorry this got fucked up,” Ian says quietly, running a thumb across the back of Mickey’s hand. “But I think we’re gonna be stuck here for a while.”
Thunder booms closer, as if in answer. The rain gets louder, water covering the windshield until all they can see are streaks of light. Then even those are gone as Mickey reaches over Ian with his free hand and turns off the headlights.
“Been stuck in worse places.” He shifts until he’s leaning sideways over the center console, and lays his head on Ian’s tense shoulder. “And with worse company.”
Ian lets his hand be pulled over into Mickey’s lap. The position is awkward, but he twists to press his face into Mickey’s hair.
“Yeah,” he breathes, barely audible over the storm. “Me too.”
The first time they properly use the fireplace in their apartment.
💖💖💖💖
Thank you Calli! It was cool(ish) and rainy here today (though it will be hot again by morning), so I'm vibing with this!
"Fuckin' gross out there man," Mickey complains as soon as he walks through the door. He kicks it shut behind him, hands full, and beelines for the kitchen. The cardboard box he's holding lands heavy on the counter, his keys sliding off the top.
Ian catches them before they hit the floor, and sets them properly in the bowl they keep for that purpose.
"Thought it was supposed to be cooler today," he comments, glancing out the window behind the sink. It certainly looks cooler: the shimmery heat of the past few days has given over to grey skies and quickly-moving clouds.
"Tell that to the damn humidity," Mickey counters. "Like walking through soup out there, and it ain't gettin' better."
He's right about that--the light drizzle that begins to tap at the glass proves it for him.
"Even worse at the donut shop if you can believe it," Mickey continues. "It's been under 80 fucking degrees out for one day, one day, and they turned on the goddamned fireplace in the cafe!"
The rain starts to hit harder, tap to rap to a steady, hard drumming.
"Sounds ridiculous," Ian says. He watches the rain on the window, and listens to the sudden, distant boom of late-summer thunder. "What were they thinking?"
"I know!" Mickey pops the box of donuts open, grabs a chocolate long john. Waves it around in one hand as he speaks.
"And they must have cranked the air in there or somethin', because it was still better than outside!"
Ian cocks his head.
"Thought you said it was worse?"
"I mean." Mickey pauses to take a bite and chew. His cheeks are faintly flushed--from annoyance? from the heat?--as he swallows.
"Wasn't actually hot in there," he admits, "but who puts on a fire when it ain't even freezing?"
Ian doesn't answer; there's no need to. But the question hangs between them like it was something more than rhetorical.
"I mean, it was kinda nice and all, I guess," Mickey adds. "Cozy and shit. Probably good for business, too--sort of made me want a hot chocolate or somethin'."
He takes another bite of his donut, and nudges the box over to Ian. Ian picks out one of his own, a cream-filled monstrosity that might well put him into hibernation.
"But puttin' on a fire when you've got AC runnin' is crazy, right?" Mickey asks again, voice tipping high at the end.
It is crazy, Ian thinks, eating his giant donut and listening to the rain. Neither of them ever would have thought to do it. Wasting energy, wasting money, just to capture a vibe? Just to make the world around them match the way it made them feel?
Absolute insanity.
"Wanna do it?" Ian asks.
"Fuck yes," Mickey answers, already heading for the living room. "And make us some cocoa, we're doin' this shit right."
hi arrow! for your speedwriting, if you vibe with the prompt: gallavich go to fright fest together for the first time 👻 (them experiencing the decorations/scary street actors specifically would be amazing i think)
Thank you Ray!
"So?" Ian asks, walking backward with arms spread wide to either side. "What do you think?"
"I think it was crazy to spend sixty bucks a pop is what I think," Mickey retorts. "What's wrong with sneakin' in?"
Ian's arms drop, and though he would refuse to admit it, he pouts.
"If I hadn't gone through the line for tickets," he says, "I wouldn't have been able to tell the ticketer that it was my husband's first time here." He raises a brow, and adds, "and she wouldn't have comped that fast-pass upgrade."
Mickey's ears feel warm, the way they always do when Ian flaunts their still-new titles.
"I guess the decorations are cool," he gives in, and the beam Ian graces him with is worth it.
"Just wait 'til you try my favorite ride! It's across the park, but it's worth the walk!"
Ian is practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on his heels. Every time he bounces up, his head aligns with some creepy clown guy standing behind him, making it look like he's the one wearing the awful red wig.
Mickey chokes back a laugh, and gestures with one arm.
"Lead on.""
-
Ian wasn't lying--they really are crossing the entire damn park. They pass half a dozen rollercoasters, a haunted mansion, some ride where you get to shoot stuff with lasers--Mickey is definitely coming back to that one--all glowing an eerie reddish-orange against the darkening sky.
The crowds thin a little as they go, too, shifting from kids and parents to edgy teenagers and a handful of other couples. The noise dissipates as they leave the main area, and so do the lights. The actors are gone, and the regular attendants. They're just walking through a darkened theme park in the middle of the night, the pavement growing cold beneath them.
Somewhere behind them a child shrieks, and laughter follows. The echoes are tinged with a malice that makes Mickey's shoulders hunch under his jacket, makes him draw it tight against the night wind.
"Somebody's having fun," Ian comments, but Mickey isn't so sure.
There's more laughter. Closer this time, louder.
"Hurry up man," Mickey says, and picks up his own pace. "I wanna get there before dawn."
He wants to get somewhere, at least. Somewhere with lights again, and people. Where he doesn't hear his own footsteps echo and feel the need to look back over his shoulder as harsh laughter closes in behind him.
In his haste, though, he's only made it worse. Because the next corner they turn leads into a tall tunnel of metal and piled brush, and suddenly they're completely alone.
"So, uh, how much farther we going?" Mickey asks, and walks as close next to Ian as he can. There's not much light in the tunnel, just a few colored bulbs and the little moonlight that makes it through overhead, but he's close enough to feel Ian shrug.
"Think we're almost there."
Mickey stops.
"You think?" he asks. There's a weird feeling climbing up his back, up his neck. "Or you know?"
"I mean, I'm pretty sure." Ian stops too, turns back to him. "Why? Something wrong?"
And no, nothing's wrong. But also, yes.
"Damn it Ian," he hisses, eyes closing as he runs a hand through his hair. "Can't believe I let you talk me into this."
Ian taps his shoulder, but Mickey shrugs it off.
"I thought we were gonna go on rides, maybe shoot somethin', scare a few kids," he goes on. "Not wander around in the dark, probably halfway out of the park, with no fucking clue where we are!"
"Mickey," Ian says quietly, and taps his shoulder again.
"Don't Mickey me!" His breath is coming fast, and he pinches the top of his nose. Breathes through his mouth instead. "I need to--"
One more tap on his shoulder, and he drops his hand, spins around and shoves.
"Mickey!" Ian shouts, and Mickey wants to push him again, needs to push past and out of this dead-end tunnel and out of this goddamned park and--
And Ian had said that from behind him. Which means...
Mickey opens his eyes, and stares in startled red. Red from colored contacts, which go with the kid's plastic fangs and black cape. Red that's surrounded on all sides by white, eyelids stretched in shock.
"Um," Mickey says, feeling both a lot more settled and a lot more embarrassed by how much the night had gotten to him. "Sorry?"
The kid just blinks at him. Behind, Ian laughs. And instead of echoing with malice, it lights up the tunnel like the sun.
“Sorry kid,” Mickey repeats. Ian is still laughing when he turns and takes his hand. “Shut up,” Mickey orders, swallowing the giggle that lightens his own chest, “and let’s go find your coaster.”
OK guys, I have been STRUGGLING after my very long hiatus. So to get me out of my head, we're going to temporarily reinstate speedwrites for practice. If you want to request something here are the rules:
1. Simple please! I'm looking to cap at 30 minutes max.
2. Have no expectations: I'm not necessarily going for quality here.
3. Most of y'all are Shameless pals, but I'll also do Good Omens, maybe OFMD, maybe WoT, and am open to others if I'm familiar.
4. Not taking explicit/smut requests at this time
Feel free to drop ideas on my asks; otherwise, I'll see you soon with a random word generator!
I've been incredibly unproductive creatively for the last while, and I'm looking to get back into things. So since I'm mentally blocked on everything else...speedwrites are coming back on a limited schedule!
Every Sunday night, I'll be picking a prompt from my inbox. I have a bunch in there from ages past, but I'm posting this now because new options are also welcome! Just toss it in an ask and don't get your hopes too high😂
Edit to add: while I mostly write shameless I'm open to many other things if requested.
