Chapter Text
“Alright come here, Firecrotch, you need to relax..”
Mickey smirked as he turned in his seat. He tugged on the back of Ian’s neck, bringing their lips together. The kiss turned heated fairly quickly, as it usually did with them, especially when Mickey was trying to get Ian to clear his mind.
When Ian broke apart, needing to catch his breath, Mickey took the opportunity to tease him further. Trailing his lips down the other man’s jaw, his neck..
A delighted moan threatened to escape Ian’s lips, but with the excitement also came the realisation of what his husband was doing - hands tugging at his jeans, head still wondering south.
“Mickey!” he chastised, trying his best to get Mickey to stop. It worked.
“We are on a road, barely on the side of it, might I add, in broad daylight! I am NOT getting arrested for public indecency.”
“Chill, Gallagher. We’re in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere.” the brunette rolled his eyes but settled back in his seat
“Plus, if that sign’s anything to go by,” he gestured towards the Welcome to Schitt’s Creek sign they had passed a few moments before the car started throwing what Ian could only describe as a mechanical temper tantrum, “this weirdo town clearly encourages sex.”
Ian sighed, fully exasperated at both his husband and their car.
This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, their first real one as a stable couple. Once their parole was up and they could finally leave the state of Illinois, all Ian could think about was them getting out of Chicago.
Their past escapade to Mexico had been a shit show, but he had liked their time together on the road, even if the circumstances had been less than ideal. He knew that if they could do that part of it again — if they could do it now, now that they were married, that they had roots, an established life — it would be perfect. It would finally just be them taking the break they deserved, together.
“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t try helping..”
After shooting his husband a glare, Ian got out of the car, praying that maybe he could open the hood and see that the only thing wrong was a cable that had come loose. That could happen right?
The Jeep he’d gotten them was old, sure, it’s moss green paint chipped in some spots and rusted in others, but he’d been assured it was in great condition. As he opened the front lid, he realised he’d been scammed.
Lip had told him about the used car auction while they sat on the porch one night, smoking cigarettes, welcoming the slightly chilly April breeze.
“The guys at the shop say you can pick up some good shit there, for cheap. Vic got a bike he’s been restoring for next to nothing, ended up barely needing any work.” he’d said. “After hearing you complain about how renting’s out of the question, and then Debbie refusing to lend you guys her truck, it seems like buying used is the only choice you have.”
Ian had asked his brother to go along with him to the next auction, knowing it was damn near impossible to scam Lip, but when the day came Freddy was having a rough time, teething coupled with diarrhoea. There was no way he could get away and bringing the little man was out of the question.
So Ian went alone. He was a grown ass man, an EMT, he’d been to prison for fuck’s sake. He could handle buying a used car.
Turns out he couldn’t.
The ’92 Jeep Cherokee might have been older than him, but it had relatively low mileage on it, the guys working at the auction had told him all the running cars had to pass inspection before they got sold, and the price was actually something he could afford given his set budget.
Plus, it was spacious enough for them to be comfortable during the prolonged trip.
It was perfect, Ian had thought.
***
You want to help?” Ian called over to his husband. “Great. Put whatever mechanic skills you have to work.”
Steam was still coming out of an unidentified source as Mickey approached the front of the car.
“On this piece of shit? Hard pass. I ain’t gettin' blown up.”
“It’s a car, you pussy, not a bomb.”
The shorter man flipped the other off, but leaned in to inspect the damage
They were both staring at the car engine, not really sure of what their next step should be, when an old pick up truck drove past them on the other side of the road. It merged lanes, and stopped slightly ahead of where they had parked, its hood facing theirs.
An odd looking guy stepped out.
“Hey, you boys having car trouble?” the man asked, coming around the front of his truck.
“Nah, we’re just enjoying the beautiful views. No fu-“
“Yes.” Ian interrupted, shooting daggers at his husband. “It’s probably the engine,” head motioning towards the shitty vehicle behind him, “it’s an old car..”
:Yeah I can see that.. tell you what, I’ll call for a tow. Bob will have someone down in a minute.``
“Oh, uh, thank you..” Ian said before the man cheerly cut him off.
“I’m Roland Schitt, the mayor of this fine town you’ve wandered into.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Ian Gallagher. This is my husband Mickey.”
Mickey sarcastically saluted Roland. Though his expression softened.
Mick knew this trip meant a lot to Ian, it meant a lot to him too.
A “do-over” Ian had called it. Their new chance at a road trip. Mickey honestly would rather forget about their ride to Mexico altogether, forget Ian had left him at the border. But shit was different now.
They were good, they were married. Ian wasn’t leaving him again and this trip was symbolic of that, he guessed. Ian had planned it for months, choosing Canada because he wanted them to actually leave the country together this time. He’d budgeted for them both, bought them a car, told him when to ask Kev for time off, mostly worked out the routes they’d take.
Ian was trying his best, at everything. He never missed taking his meds, he’d gotten his EMT job back, encouraged Mickey when he’d gone into business with Kev — as long as he promised not to be the one actually handling the pot.
He knew Ian deserved a break, so it was particularly shitty that after not even 4 days on the road, the fucking car decided to try and screw it all up.
***
When whoever Roland was calling picked up, Ian turned to face his husband.
“Well, guess that solves one problem. I just hope they don’t charge us a shitload.”
“We can always leave it, hot-wire a new one, get the hell out of dodge.”
“Yes, the perfect vacation spot: Canadian Prison”
Mickey rolled his eyes, even as the corners of his mouth turned up.
“Whatever, princess.” he retorted, no bite in voice but a whole lot of fondness. “Did you see the dude’s hair? Who the hell would vote for that?
“Be nice, Mick.”
Ian looked over to Roland. The man had one hand on the phone, the other patting his stomach. Ugh..
Ian could tell he was making a face even as he said, “he seems like a good guy, though. Stopped to help us, right?”
“Yea cause he’s nosy..”
Roland got off the phone then, yelling over to other men in a much louder tone than necessary.
“Rescue team is on its way, boys. I’ll stick by until they get here, give you a ride into town.”
“Oh, you don’t ne- “
“Don’t worry about it, Red. All in a Mayor’s day’s work.”
Ian forced a smile, hoping they could wait in silence for the tow truck. No such luck, it seemed.
“So, what are you guys like on your honeymoon or something? Where you from?”
“uhh.. nope, just a vacation. We’re from the US, Chicago” Ian said.
“Ah, a couple's retreat huh?” Roland asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
Ian could see Mickey scowl through his peripheral. Roland either didn’t see it, or chose to ignore it.
“You picked the perfect town!”
”..yeah, for a murder suicide, maybe,” scoffed Mickey.
Luckily, the sound of an oncoming car muffled just about every sound. Still, Ian could hear Roland shout: “Calvary’s here!”