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“Hey, look at this,” Ian said, turning his phone in Mickey’s direction.
Mickey half-heartedly glanced at the screen, turning back to his breakfast without actually seeing what Ian was showing him. “Cute,” he mumbled through a yawn. It was early as fuck, and he really didn’t want to be awake right now.
“You could at least try to pretend like you read it,” Ian snorted.
“I did!” Mickey protested weakly.
“Yeah, what was it?”
“It was a, uh… picture of… Freddie?” Mickey said hopefully.
“Not even close.”
Sighing in defeat, Mickey put his fork down and held his hand out. “Fine, give it here.”
Ian contemplated his face for a minute before unlocking the screen and handing it over. He knew how Mickey was in the mornings, but he had hoped he would at least find the idea amusing. Maybe he should have waited until later when some of the grumpiness wore off.
“Shit, is this for real?” Mickey said, a slow smile spreading across his face.
“Seems that way,” Ian replied hesitantly.
“Well damn…” Mickey leaned over and planted a firm kiss on his husband’s lips. “Happy Kiss A Ginger Day then.”
Ian smiled, relieved by his reaction, and leaned in for another kiss. To his surprise, Mickey pulled away. “Nope. It’s ‘Kiss a Ginger Day’, not ‘Get Kissed By a Ginger Day’. I’m the only one allowed to do any kissing today.”
Groaning, Ian dropped his head into his hands, knowing that he had probably just created a monster. “So you aren’t going to let me kiss you, even once, for the whole day?”
“I don’t make the rules,” Mickey shrugged. “You’re the one that always wants to celebrate holidays ‘the right way’. I’m just doing what you want.” Finishing his breakfast, he got up and grabbed his dishes to take them to the kitchen, swooping down to plant a quick kiss on Ian’s cheek on his way by.
“We gotta go,” he said, reappearing beside the table where Ian was still sitting. “Get your pants on, Red.”
They scrambled to finish getting ready, pulling on their uniforms and heading out in the old ambulance for their first pickup for the day. Ian was left feeling off-kilter though - he always kissed Mickey right before they left, but today Mickey had hurried out the door, clearly meaning to keep to his ridiculous plan.
Things got a little better when they got into the ambulance because Mickey looked at him with a smile and leaned over with a little “c’mere” to give him a tiny peck of a kiss. Maybe he wasn’t going to keep it up all day after all.
But no, apparently he was. Not only did he spend all day ducking every attempt Ian made to kiss him, but he insisted on announcing loudly to everyone they met all day that it was Kiss a Ginger Day.
“Supposed to be good luck or some shit,” he usually followed up. “You should definitely kiss this one while you have the chance.”
So Ian spent the day being kissed by friends, clients, even complete strangers. Some were polite and just went for quick pecks on the cheek. Others… well others decided they wanted the full-on Ginger makeout session. Most of those were a bit awkward when he had to pull back with a fake laugh, but then there was Roger.
Roger, who Mickey had been insisting for weeks was definitely into Ian. And who they were pretty sure hadn’t clocked the fact that the two of them were married.
Roger took Mickey’s pronouncement with barely disguised glee. “No kidding? Well damn, if it’s a holiday, guess I’ve got no choice then!” And he went for it. He threw his arms around Ian’s neck and practically pounced, lips first. Ian was frozen in shock for all of half a second but quickly pushed Roger off of him when he felt his tongue probing, trying for access.
“Whoa!” he spluttered. “Kiss a Ginger definitely doesn’t include tongue!”
He saw the amused look on Mickey’s face briefly replaced by a flash of anger before he put his (still not very good) ‘smile for the customers’ face back on.
“Sorry!” Roger said merrily. “Can’t blame a guy for taking a chance!”
They finished up at Roger’s shop and walked silently back to the ambulance. Ian took the cash around to the back to put it in the safe, expecting Mickey to get in the front as usual to look up their next stop. He was surprised to feel his husband’s hands on his back as he stood in the open doors, pushing him inside the ambulance. Mickey quickly climbed in after him, pulling the doors shut behind them.
“You know I’m the only one that gets to do that shit,” Mickey said with a scowl before pulling Ian in for a sloppy tongue-filled kiss.
“You’re the one that told him to kiss me,” Ian said with a laugh when they pulled apart.
“And I told you that he’s into you,” Mickey replied, patting him on the cheek before climbing over him and plopping down in his seat. “Now hurry up, we’re gonna be late.”
Sighing, Ian finished stowing the cash, and joined Mickey in the front, starting the ambulance and heading for their final pickup for the day. At least he’d gotten one kiss out of Mickey today. Maybe he would give it up once they were home.
One more stop that included three more kisses and they were finally done for the day. Of course, Mickey insisted they stop and get a pizza to take home for dinner. And of course, he had to tell the cashier all about Kiss a Ginger Day. Ian counted himself lucky this time though when she called out to someone in the kitchen - someone who turned out to be a redheaded cook. That redhead got the ‘lucky’ kiss this time, and they could almost feel the stirrings of young love as they left.
Ian pinched Mickey - hard - on the back of the arm when they ran into the building manager and her poodle in a diaper on the way to their apartment. Mickey flashed him a grin but accepted the warning and didn’t tell her about Kiss a Ginger Day. Last thing either of them needed was the memory of that uptight bat kissing him.
Closing the door to the apartment behind him with a relieved sigh, Ian shed his outermost layer, dropping everything on the floor knowing full well that he would be annoyed with himself later when he had to pick it up. He trudged tiredly to sit on the couch, leaning down to unlace his boots and kick them across the room. No matter how long he had been wearing the damn things, his feet were always killing him at the end of the day.
A minute later Mickey arrived, flopping down beside him. He was still in all of his gear and had the pizza in one hand, with two bottles of beer held by the necks in the other. He dropped pizza and beer on the coffee table and leaned back, closing his eyes for a minute. They were both always a bit worn out when they got home.
“Looking pretty cute in that uniform Mr. Gallagher,” Ian said appreciatively.
“Fuck off,” Mickey replied with a smile. “I’ll take it off in a minute.”
“Hmm, or not,” Ian suggested, leaning towards him, grabbing at the front of his vest to pull Mickey towards him.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Kissing some guy.”
“Nope,” Mickey said gently, pushing him back. “You know the rules. I do the kissing today.”
“Still?”
“Day ain’t over,” Mickey shrugged before turning away to pull off his vest, jacket, hat, and boots. He unbuckled his belt but left the ends hanging before reaching for his beer and taking a long swig.
Their evening passed much the same as they usually did. They ate, talked, and laughed. The TV was on, but neither was paying too much attention. The only difference was in the lack of kissing. Ian hadn’t realized how frequently he kissed Mickey. Casual kisses of affection, passionate kisses as they took bang breaks from whatever they were doing, and just small gestures throughout their day.
There were kisses tonight, but only from Mickey - he would drop a kiss on Ian’s head as he walked by, pull his hand up to kiss the back of it as they sat watching the TV, fingers tangled together on their laps, or give him a quick kiss in thanks when Ian brought him a drink or snack.
But he was deliberately avoiding the kisses that Ian craved. The way that Mickey ducked away any time Ian tried to kiss him had him burning with need. He wanted, needed, the sex that the lack of kissing had denied them all day, but he realized as the hours went by that he needed the connection and intimacy just as much.
It was almost 10pm when Mickey suddenly swung around and seated himself on Ian’s lap. “Just so we’re clear… this is me kissing you,” he said before finally giving Ian what he had spent the whole day wanting. They made out almost desperately, bodies pressed together, grinding and pressing, hands tearing at clothing as they finally gave into the need for physical closeness that had always underscored their relationship.
Even now Mickey made a point of pulling away from the kisses, pushing Ian back when he automatically tried to chase his lips before diving back in. Eventually, Mickey pulled away again and dropped to the floor, kneeling between Ian’s legs, fingers making quick work of getting his pants and boxers out of the way before putting his mouth to Ian’s other favourite use.
When he was finished, Ian returned the favour, shoving Mickey down on the couch and stripping him of his pants to get his mouth on him.
They lay tangled around each other afterwards, chuckling for no apparent reason, but enjoying the high of being together.
“That didn’t count as kissing, just ‘cause you used your mouth,” Mickey huffed out after a few minutes.
“Shithead,” Ian replied, pinching his nipple as punctuation before sitting up. He got off the couch and collected their clothes, including the stuff he had dropped by the front door earlier. Carrying them into the bedroom, he dropped them in the hamper before grabbing clean boxers and hoodies for each of them.
Mickey was still sprawled - naked and boneless - on the couch when he returned, but he sat up and pulled on the clothing that Ian tossed at him. They stayed there, lying together on the couch until they were both yawning, before heading to bed.
They settled in, Mickey on his back, Ian lying on his side facing him, quietly enjoying each other's presence as they waited for sleep to take them. Mickey glanced at the clock and then lifted his head long enough to give Ian another kiss. “Happy Kiss a Ginger Day,” he said softly. “I think we’ll celebrate this holiday every year, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Ian said with a soft smile. “Just maybe with less sneaky tongue from Roger.”
Mickey chuckled and closed his eyes, quickly drifting to sleep in a way that Ian had always envied. Finally taking his chance, he snuck a soft kiss onto Mickey’s cheek, whispering “Happy Kiss a Ginger Day, Mick,” before settling in beside his husband.
“Doesn’t count,” whispered the apparently not-sleeping Mickey. “It’s after midnight.”