#that moment when you fuck up bread so badly you invent a new bread

[magp1e-starl1ght]

me n my mom Attempted to make manakeesh/cheese breads but REALLY fucked up and kinda invented a whole new bread

but it’s actually really fuckin good and it’s got like crispy cheesy outside and light fluffy inside and I’ve already eaten like half of them

So

bone atrophy

[itwill-comeback]

Some things to note

Alright, so this is my work's blog, a side blog inside a bog, don't mind me. Nickname's Casper or Cas for now. I'm 20, a Capricorn, a decent writer, huge Hozier fan. This is where I'll be putting the stuff that I write as well as on AO3 which to be fair, I'm not as good at using since I just started using it.

About my writing:

I'm an absolute mess of a writer, zero update consistency, sorry. No editor, unless you count Grammarly. I'll probably only ever post my COVT works here and AO3 so there's that.

× I love the COVT just the way it is, but I crave some new things in it. In my writing you'll probably find the following

× Vlad not being bad at like everything, boy needs some skills and hobbies dang it!

× Vlad having motivations and in some way resembling his father when that motivation is what's driving his decisions, don't worry he won't become his old man, but lord outside of physically resembling Tomas he needs to have some of his traits.

× You don't know where we are canonically in my works? Join the club babes. Call it an AU or post-canon if it makes you feel better cause I'm just writing for the fuck of it, and you're in my candy cottage now kids.

× Vlad has ADHD canonically I'm almost certain, so don't be surprised if it's in my works. He's on adderall and Henry reminds him often to take his medication so he's not the Big Forgetful.

× Vlad is willing to flex on people about being the Pravus because he's aware it tricks vampires out and he finds that funny.

× Henry has an Attitude™ and does Not tolerate shit from vampires. Thank those Slayer Genetics.

× Vlad schemes. No context just,, be aware.

× Dorian is ostracized in Elysia, but he's not actually that creepy, people just really don't like that he's powerful and has a penchant for playing the Cheshire Cat. Cryptic soft boi with a grin that claims madness, promise he's just lonely.

× Vlad is far less awkward in my writing, he's clued in to social and psychological influences.

× D'Ablo has gotten a fucking redemption arc. Will I write it? Unlikely. (I did) But you see in my head canon he's faced off with Tomas and Vikas, and being the incredibly hard to kill bastard that he is, got out of it alive despite their best attempts to be rid of him. Pravus blood will take you so far. He lied low, got bored, came back to Stokerton and basically told Vlad "You're the Pravus, we been knew, want my job back, idc bout u or ur uncle or the Elder Council, like being President tho so tell Otis to scoot." And Vlad was like "yeah sure, Otis wants to go back to being principal anyway & the Elder Council doesn't take up near as much time as the Stokerton Council cause it hardly ever convenes, don't fuck wit me again, my dad's dead btw, oh and Vikas too. Let's just be chill." And that was that.

× Vlad has vampire friends and empathizes with other orphans. Not far fetched. Like at all.

× Vlad has a few jobs, gets that bread... for a college aged kid at least.

× Did I say bread? D'Ablo is rich af. Stunts on everybody in Armani suits and wears Red Bottoms. He's the President of a Council, you know that job pays. Old rich Italian vampire rolls in mad cash and has taste, surprise surprise ?

× Know who else is an old rich Italian vampire? Dorian Ciotti, his family uses stocks and real estate as monopoly money. And you thought they were just a humble family with a small business, jokes on you they haven't been humble for hundreds of years. Dorian is known to travel all the time, where did y'all think he got the money for that? You better believe he spoils Cecile, she's his baby girl. A rich single dad who thinks he might fuck up at any moment, he's doing great at raising her. Your fav could never.

× Elysian Councils are mostly afraid and indignant towards Vlad, but don't worry, he can see through them quite well at this point. (Read: he was raised by Tomas fucking Tod, the king of liars, other vampires don't have shit on him.)

× Elysia is not entirely the Councils, Elysia is a world of vampires full of pocket communities and niche tribes all tied by the same undead thread.

× Otis and Vlad share the issue of having a terrible sweet tooth, and now that Nelly's gone they have to figure out how to bake for themselves. Also blood candy and blood mixed baked goods exist and Vlad is really wanting to try some.

× Vlad has the most powerful weapon against vampires on him at all times now, is curious to find out how it works and what it runs on. Elysia knows he doesn't leave it anywhere, if he's somewhere the Lucius is there with him.

× I will be inventing a few of my own charms (like the tego charm) with latin words so you can always ask Google what the charm does before I tell you. (I.e. Tego = to cloak, to hide. This charm is used to allow the vampire who creates it to have a lock down on any humans they place it near.) Tomas places these around the citizens of Bathory to keep other vampires from reading their minds and discovering his location, he closes their minds in a way.

× Vlad has more complex hidy-holes for his things these days.

× Remember that key in the first book that looked like head of a woman that was described in detail and then left behind and never mentioned again? Remember it. I'm gonna use it. Red herring? Who?

× Henry has not forgotten the time he saved Otis' life. He's gonna call in that favor someday, Otis, you know he will.

× Otis has a lot more faith in Vlad to not act like a child and will treat him like an adult.

× Vlad has a huge crush on somebody. Not saying who.

× Vlad's a big hippie. On god, he loves the earth, hates conflict, and wants to tell D'Ablo about how many slave children worked to create his outfit, but wants to keep their peace more.

× Vlad has at long last, filled out and isn't the lanky child he once was, could throw you through a wall but is probably too nice for that. Probably.

× Vlad and the Pravus are separate entities sharing the same vessel. Pravus isn't a ghost though, he's the Adam of the vampire species and died a long ass time ago and wanted to live again after a while. Much like D'Ablo, he lied low, got bored and wanted his place in the world back. Had to create a new form of life to exist in, created the vessel (Vlad's body), could've gotten rid of Vlad's soul and just worn his body, but kind of ended up adoring him before he was even born and, entranced with the concept of this new existence, decided to share the body with him, which sort of forces him to stay hidden in Vlad's subconscious or divide their body into two bodies. Which he can totally do, but it's kind of a lot of trouble and would hurt Vlad badly so he doesn't bother. He really adores this dumb kid and doesn't want him to be lonely, but that'll present its own issues in its own time.

× Dorian is aware of all of this. Pravus can fix his mind and his cravings for vampire blood, but he can't force this from the two of them because it would kind of fuck Vlad up. Oh you mean that fox in the back of my mind isn't my mental support animal, it's an ancient vampire and kind of absurdly powerful? Cool cool.

× Eddie Poe becomes a bigger problem than ever before! Fun!!

× The Slayer Society becomes a bigger problem than ever before!

× As far as I'm concerned, Em is not being manipulated by D'Ablo in the books, he answers to her, she's autographed bible old, you think he could pull one over on her? Tomas Tod couldn't even manage that. (Canonically I know Vlad insinuates that D'Ablo is holding some power over Em but I just can't see that realistically being true.)

× Em went home to Europe after that Slayer cleanse nonsense, she's still President of her Council, but she is no longer on the Council of Elders. Kind of in hiding because she suspects Vlad's about to take over the entire world.

× D'Ablo's cult is still a thing, they send Vlad gifts sometimes. Sometimes it's a dead bird, sometimes it's an envelope full of cash. D'Ablo doesn't care either way what they give him, Vlad prays it's not a dead animal every time tho soo.

× Remember how Mellina was never said to have any family? Turns out her family were just religious nutcases and promptly disowned her (and her child) upon finding out she was having a child out of wedlock.

× Vlad is in touch with the Tod clan in Scotland cause he wanted to get in touch with some part of his family and prove to himself that his dad's side isn't all bad, they kind of give him Evil Dad War Flashbacks™, but they're good people. A few are vampires and they think Vlad's a cool kid.

× There's always gonna be magic in my writing, don't worry though, I'm not gonna make Vlad OP.

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

The Sand In Your Shoe (pt 14)

Mickey spreads an old hoody on the beach next to Ian and puts the plate down on it before disappearing back inside. He reappears on the steps with a cola in his right hand and a beer in his left.

“Gallagher?”

“Left.”

“Good man!”

Ian shakes his head, smiling as Mickey ducks once more inside. Finally he comes back out and he has a tray of beer, chips, some sort of pink dip and a couple of apples which he sets down beside the plate before sitting down with a contented grunt and picking up a beer bottle, temporarily oblivious to the amused look on Ian’s face.

“Cheers! … What?”

“Mick, are we having a picnic on the beach?”

Mickey looks around, scowling

“No.”

“You spread a blanket and put food on it.”

“It’s a fuckin’ hoody.”

Mickey quips, drawing his chin in defensively and swigging from his bottle before pointing the neck at Ian like a teacher with a laser pointer explaining something to a particularly dim student.

“And you can’t just put shit down on the beach, sand gets fuckin’ everwhere.”

“Okay.”

Ian shrugs and Mickey gives him a suspicious side on look before muttering

“It’s not a fuckin’ picnic”

and biting into his sandwich.

*

Ian begins to spiral as they eat. The beach is beautiful, he is sat next to the man he loves, today has been fucking weird as Hell so far but the majority of it has been amazing.

He tries to slow his thoughts down. Tries to breathe through the anxiety and push away the negative thoughts.

He completes his mental health check list and comes to the conclusion that he is feeling seriously fucking stressed. Ian hasn’t slept enough the last few nights, he is in a different climate, he is in love and terrified of ruining it. These are all things he is supposed to avoid or at least carefully prepare for!

Ian thought that things would move slower when he arrived. He didn’t think that they’d already be picnicking on the beach (and Mickey can couch it however he wants, but the activity he has just invited Ian to is a damn picnic!) Ian thought there would be more talking.

But of course that isn’t Mickey. Mickey is someone who acts not someone who talks. Ian knows he should just be grateful that the action Mickey has taken has been to accept him, to make love to him and to have a picnic rather than stamping him to a bloody pulp and banishing him back to Chicago. He knows that and yet the niggling fears at the back of his mind are getting harder to silence and a big part of Ian learning to live with his condition has been addressing things as they come up and Mickey has told him he doesn’t want to do that yet.

Ian’s feet are tapping the sand and his fingers are drumming the crust as if he is on the brink of a manic episode.

This thought panics him further but he pushes it down, Mickey made it very clear that he doesn’t want to deal with this sort of thing yet and Ian doesn’t want to deal with it either. God! How badly he wishes he didn’t have to deal with it. He ducks his head and prays that he is just having a regular, old panic attack and then almost laughs at the twisted absurdity of that.

“Hey, Ringo! You gonna play that bread or eat it?”

Mickey is smirking at him but Ian can see concern clouding his eyes and he hates it. As far as Ian is concerned, his illness is what drove them apart last time. Mickey tried so hard but it wasn’t enough. Any minute he is going to realise that Ian is still just the same. New job. New apartment. Same fucked up brain. Mickey is going to realise and he is going to make him leave.

The hug on the beach, the sex, the ‘I love you’s, even the fucking tomatoes! It’s all going to be swept away. He considers dashing back to the bar and taking another Lithium to calm down but he knows that will only leave him staring at walls whilst sounds echo around his head a few times before he can make out what he is hearing.

“It’s a really nice sandwich, thank you.”

His voice is flattening out and he feels his chin tremble.

Everything is so perfect already, it is all just perfect and it has only been a couple of hours. Too much has passed and too much has changed for everything to be fine so quickly. Mickey should be furious with him for so many things! How is he willing to just pick up with him as if no time has passed at all? Is it just a play? A set-up? Is he going to wake up tomorrow and find that Mickey was just toying with him to get back at him?

Ian reaches out and grips Mickey’s hand tightly in his own unable to bear the swirling paranoia on his own any more and after a second, Mickey squeezes tightly back.

Ian slowly lifts his eyes to meet the calm blue gaze he can already feel resting on him and what he sees there is a level of certainty that Ian hasn’t felt in so long that it almost frightens him in a whole new way.

“Can I ask what you’re thinking?”

“No.”

Mickey says firmly, but he is still smiling at Ian in that way that creates a little pocket of light in the darkening clouds of his mind.

“Fine,”

Ian half-laughs, shaking the tattooed fingers in his palm lightly

“Can I tell you what I’m thinking then?”

“Sure, but if I fall asleep don’t be offended.”

Mickey teases, even as he is putting his beer aside and turning to look at Ian properly, giving him his full attention. He has a vague notion of what is coming and braces himself for it. Mandy was right, Ian is like a dog with a fucking bone once he gets something in his head. Mickey should have known that simply telling Ian he didn’t want to talk about shit yet was not going to stall him long.

“You seem really happy here.”

“Yeah? Well it sure as Hell beats being behind bars.”

“Yeah but I mean … you’ve made a great life here, Mick.”

Ian is starting to find his stride and his hands are not shaking quite so badly now that he is talking.

“I guess.”

Mickey is clearly wary, giving nothing away and Ian bites his lip.

“You have everything set up just how you like it, right?”

Ian is searching Mickey’s face as if looking for some sort of flashing sign to appear on his forehead saying … something. Ian doesn’t really know what.

“Okay,”

Mickey huffs a long suffering sigh and removes his hand from Ian’s grasp, stretching his fingers through tangled red curls.

“Spit it out.”

“What?”

“Whatever dumb ass question you’re goin’ to ask me.”

“Why do you think it’ll be dumb?”

Ian asks, a little hurt and Mickey kisses the top of his head fondly

“Because it’s going to be about whether I want you here or whether there is room for you or some shit like that and I think I made myself pretty fuckin’ clear on that earlier.”

His tone is much gentler than the words he speaks and Ian chews the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before replying

“Well, I guess, I mean … where do you see me fitting in longterm?”

Ian is trying not to sound too worried but it creeps into his voice all the same.

“You’ve been here less than a day, man. I don’t … I mean, listen, we got time to figure all that shit out.”

Mickey shrugs and picks up his beer but his eyes never leave Ian’s face, he is staying with him, even though he is clearly not sure why Ian is being such a pain in the ass about this.

“But I need to know, Mick. I can’t just float around in your life.”

Ian crosses his legs neatly, facing Mickey properly.

“I know, but I didn’t exactly have a lot of warning you were coming,”

Mickey begins and then holds up his hands as Ian’s chin take prominence and quickly continues

“and I am fuckin’ glad you are here but I don’t have all the answers yet, Ian.”

Ian nods and allows a little of that logic to cut through the panic that has been building since Mickey pressed him against the wall in the kitchen.

He wishes that he could push it to the back of his mind and leave it there like Mickey asked him to but it’s just too much pressure. They’ve declared their love, they’ve had sex twice but they don’t have any actual plan and no matter how much he wants to be free, Ian can’t just go along on a whim.

“It’s just I have to give up my job and my apartment …”

“No, you said you were gonna to do that. No one is forcing your hand here.”

Ian hears the slight sharpness in Mickey’s tone and takes a slow breath before continuing with a careful precision to his words that instantly irritates Mickey.

“But all the same, that is what I have to do in order to be here with you and I just want to be sure that I have a place. If I do not have a place then I cannot move here.”

“Jesus! Yes! You have a place! I don’t know what it is yet but maybe we could spend five fuckin’ minutes working it out before you get all psycho-chick on me.”

Mickey doesn’t mean to lose his patience and he instantly regrets it but he doesn’t get why Ian is making this so hard. He just arrived, pretty much out of the blue, and expects Mickey to know exactly what to do with him! Outside of fucking, eating together and all the other shit that couples do, Mickey has no desire to control what Ian does at all, and he never has.

“I didn’t mean to be a psycho.”

Ian mutters and Mickey frowns guiltily down at his hands.

“Yeah, no, you weren’t. I was out of line.”

He doesn’t know why Ian needs to do this now. If Mickey is completely honest, he would rather jerk off with sandpaper than try and talk about this without time to prepare what he wants to say. It is exactly why he was so pissed that Ian has only given him a week, but there is something so obviously wrong with Ian at the moment … Mickey lets out a short heavy exhalation of breath through his nose.

“Ian, what you and I have is like … it’s like the fuckin’ ocean.”

He feels ridiculous but there isn’t much else in view to give him some sort of visual cue for what he’s trying to say and when violence or flight isn’t an option, Mickey can be surprisingly inventive in crisis.

“You know? Like, I love the ocean, it’s beautiful and I love being in it and being near it but I never know what the fuck it’s gonna do next. It might send one of those freak waves and destroy the whole fuckin’ town, for all I know. Point is, I don’t care ‘cause I’m sat here and I am down for whatever. But if you need to know exactly what’s what, you gotta try and find out for yourself.”

Mickey breaks off shrugging, he doesn’t know what else he can say and his nose is twitching like a fucking rabbit.

A couple of the tears that Ian managed to control in the kitchen slip over his lashes and tumble down his cheeks. It is perhaps the most romantic thing Mickey has ever to him and he watched every ounce of struggle cross his lovers face as he got the words out.

“I love the ocean too but I need to have a boat ready, Mick. If I don’t then I’ll sink.”

Mickey chews at the edge of his thumb, nodding slowly. He isn’t great with metaphors, but he started this one and he gets what Ian is trying to say, he just isn’t sure how to respond. After a few seconds he decides to just plunge in.

“Because of the bi-polar?”

Ian is still looking at him with that odd searching way that makes Mickey feel a bit too scrutinised for his liking but he bears it as best he can while Ian decides how to answer. He opens his mouth and closes it a couple of times and finally says:

“Yeah.”

It is hardly the cascade of information Mickey was both dreading and hoping for and catches him off guard. He snorts and gives Ian a brief cheeky smile

“You been around me for less than a day and I’ve already zapped your ability to string a fuckin’ sentence together.”

It’s a bit of a weak joke but Ian gives him an answering smile and brushes the back of his hand down Mickey’s forearm affectionately.

“Do you actually want to hear about it?”

“I don’t know, man. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to but I was kind of there for the beginning of this whole thing. I get it, you know?”

Ian nods. It is a fair point and makes him feel a bit silly for worrying so much about trying to talk to Mickey about it in the first place.

“I’m still on my meds, they got the dose right and my moods are pretty even. When something big happens, I can get a little rattled and I have to stick to a routine or I can lose track of things pretty quickly. It’s how I have to live Mickey, I can’t just throw all the cards in the air because I never know if I’ll still be there when they land. You were so fucking great with me but I know how hard it was and … well I’m not like that anymore, I don’t get depressed and I don’t get crazy.”

As Ian speaks, his confidence grows and he twines their fingers together again and Mickey moves himself a little closer.

“Okay, so you just, like, need a routine? Like the guy who’s really good at scammin’ casinos and won’t go on a plane. Not Tom Cruise, the other one.”

“Are you comparing me to Rain Man?”

Ian is so surprised it actually completely bursts the bubble of the panic attack which has been deflating a little as their conversation went on.

“Yeah! Rain Man! That guy needed a routine, right? But he was wicked smart.”

“He was autistic.”

“Yeah? Oh. Well whatever man. Point is, I’m Tom Cruise and you’re Rain Man. I can take care of you.”

“You’re short enough...”

Ian mumbles and Mickey grins, punching his arm lightly.

“So what time do you take your pills?”

“Seven AM and Seven PM. Everyday.”

Mickey nods and Ian gives him a slightly wobbly smile as he watches him commit it to memory.

“Okay. What can I do to help?”

“Nothing, I got it under control. I just … I have to have a plan Mick. I know that’s gonna drive you crazy but I really can’t help it.”

Ian brings Mickey’s hand to his lips and kisses along the word ‘FUCK’ in four soft little pecks that brings a genuine smile to Mickey’s lips.

“Fine. I ain’t gonna want to talk with you about it all the time though. This shit is exhausting. You just tell me what we’re doin’ and I’ll roll with it.”

“As easy as that? You just deal with my bi-polar forever?”

Ian compresses his lips and draws in a shuddering breath trying desperately hard not to go completely to pieces or start laughing hysterically at how easy Mickey makes it all sound.

“It’s a part of you, Ian. Be like you not lovin’ me for having blue eyes. It’s what I got and shit all I can do about it.”

“I love your eyes.”

Ian smiles and shakes his head

“I know it’s who I am but it caused so many problems before ...”

“It was never me who had the problem with your diagnosis, man. You’re family. Would have taken a Hell of a lot more than being sick to make me quit you. In sickness and health, just like I told you.”

Ian stares at him, dumbfounded for a moment. He always saw what Mickey could be, he saw through the rough exterior and he knew there was more there but still ...

“Jesus Christ, Mickey! You’re like some sort of zen Guru! You’re like, Kev!”

“Fuck off! I’m smarter than Kev.”

Mickey lifts his eyebrows, mildly offended, and Ian laughs despite the massive damn lump in his throat.

“You really think this can work?”

“Yes.”

Short and sweet and absolutely fucking certain.

“Is there anything else you need to get off your chest today?”

“No.”

“You sure? Cause in a minute I am goin’ to get us a couple more beers and when I get back I want that mopey fuckin’ look off your face. So you got something else to say, say it now.”

Ian smiles, he loves it when Mickey is sweet to him but this is the tough guy he fell for and Ian will never be sorry to see this side of him. He considers for a moment

“Have you been with a lot of other guys?”

Ian blurts the question and immediately feels foolish but Mickey simply puffs his cheeks out, thinking.

“A few. One time I thought it was maybe going somewhere but it didn’t and I was fine with that.”

“Did you love him?”

“No. I been in love once, Ian. It wasn’t with him and you fuckin’ better know that.”

Mickey is deadly serious all of a sudden and Ian nods sheepishly. Tough guy indeed!

“I had a couple of boyfriends.”

“I figured.”

Mickey narrows his eyes, looking out toward the horizon.

“Do you want …”

“No. I don’t.”

Mickey tilts his head slightly and gives Ian a look from under his eyebrows, his mouth pinched a little tight. Ian nods and swallows, sniffs and slowly leans forward, pressing his forehead against Mickeys.

“Thank you and I’m sorry. I wish I could turn off my brain sometimes.”

“What is it with you and Mandy always fuckin’ apologising all the damn time? Is it a girl thing? Is it a gay thing? I don’t even fuckin’ know anymore.”

The exasperation in Mickey’s voice is only slightly exaggerated and Ian’s heart squeezes with love.

“Could be a red-head thing?”

“Yeah, maybe. I need a drink. Can I go and grab some beer now? You good?”

“I’m good.”

Ian nods and kisses the tip of Mickey’s nose.

“Good. Back in a minute.”

*

Mandy can see them as soon as she rounds the corner onto the beach strip. Her brother is sprawled at Ian’s feet whilst he is stood doing some sort of crazy ‘Titanic’ moment impression with his arms spread wide and tipped back.

She deliberately slows her pace, enjoying watching two of her favourite people in the world have some of the fun that they both clearly need. Ian strolls down to the water’s edge and Mandy can’t help but grin as Mickey dusts himself off and follows. It had been a risky coin-toss of a situation leaving them together like she had.

Mickey had clearly been working something out or he wouldn’t have used her as a damn human shield to put between him and Ian. Working out for Mickey normally involved a world class fucking temper tantrum followed by a ton of obnoxious posturing afterwards but he seemed to have himself pretty much under control by the time he got back, even if he was being a cocky asshole.

As for Ian, well, Mandy loved her best friend dearly, she would probably take a bullet for him if it ever came to it, but he could be a stubborn jerk when he wanted to be. He had clearly said something to set Mickey off and he either wasn’t aware of the effect he managed to have (which she doubted) or he hadn’t been entirely sure what to do about it (which was far more likely) and if that was the case, he just needed to figure it the fuck out.

However, from the way they were acting on the beach, Mandy is pretty confident they have things a little more worked out now. As she watches, Ian catches Mickey around the waist and half-drags, half-carries him into the sea. Mickey is waving his arms about, clearly trying to protect something in his hand, Mandy is too far away to see clearly but she would bet her right boob it is a cigarette.

Ian boosts Mickey up in his arms and Mandy can hear her brother’s voice, raised high in shock and alarm, spouting all sorts of threats that clearly do not phase Ian in the slightest as he wades out further. Mandy leans against the railing, close enough to see them clearly now and sighs happily.

There is no one in the world besides Ian who Mickey would let manhandle him this way. It is like Ian manages to strip away the layers of carefully constructed self-preservation and fierce control that her brother has wrapped around himself to get straight down to the playful, gentle soul that exists beneath.

“You drop me and … I swear to God! … Ian! …”

Ian is up to his own waist now and Mickey’s arms are wrapped around his neck

“DIVE BOMB!”

Ian roars and plunges them both into the blue. The water turns cloudy with churned up sand and water flies up into the air in a shower of crystal. Mandy covers her mouth, though she knows there is zero chance of them hearing her laughter.

She sees a flash of red and then Ian is up, spluttering and pushing his hair back from his head. He looks around grinning, but there is no sign of Mickey. He takes a few steps forward, looks around again and Mandy can see his smile turning into a mild panic.

“Mick? Mickey?!”

He yells, cupping his hands around his mouth, looking frantically left and right, turning in a full circle. Mandy lights a cigarette, gets out her iPhone, opens the camera, zooms in on Ian and waits.

There is a split second when the water stills and Ian looks absolutely fucking terrified and then he is being boosted into the air with a shriek that has Mandy choking on her smoke for its ridiculousness. As her thumb fans the camera button like a Spaghetti Western gunslinger, she captures Mickey erupting from the water grinning triumphantly, one arm wrapped around Ian’s thighs. She captures Ian’s stunned expression turning into a raucous laugh as Mickey launches him upwards and let’s go and she captures a very blurry image of Ian hitting the water, still beaming.

She puts her phone away as Ian chases Mickey out of the surf, his long legs making light work of the distance, tackling him down onto the sand and kissing him passionately - as if that isn’t what they have been doing since about five minutes after she left them alone together, Mandy thinks, rolling her eyes.

She sighs and wonders if all the flat surfaces in the bar will need bleaching before they let the customers in for the evening. A hand lightly rests on the small of her back and a slim, brown chin drops down onto her shoulder.

“Who’s that sucking Boss’s face off?”

Juan asks and Mandy shrugs nonchalantly

“His boyfriend.”

“Cool.”

Juan nods and stands up straight, trailing a finger up Mandy’s back.

“Wanna do the same thing but somewhere … a little more private?”

Mandy tips her head to the side and looks up at him through lowered lashes

“You worried my big brother will catch us being bad?”

“Nah, pretty sure I could marry you on the beach right now with a priest and my whole family there and he wouldn’t notice.”

Juan grins and Mandy rolls her eyes again.

“You know how I feel about marriage.”

“I’ll get you one day, baby. Just a matter of time.”

Juan links his fingers with hers and tows her back toward his flat and Mandy does not even pretend to resist.

*

“Good job you’re a decent kisser. That little stunt just cost me a nearly full pack of smokes and a pretty sweet lighter.”

Mickey, who has been patting his wet pockets and found them to be empty, gives Ian an accusing look before smiling against the next onslaught of kisses that cover his mouth.

“Forgiven?”

Ian grins down at him and Mickey catches the front of Ian’s shirt in his fist pulling him down.

“Gimmee one more… Mmm… yeah okay, forgiven.”

Ian rolls off Mickey and they lie on their backs, side by side squinting up at the bright blue sky, each occasionally turning to look at the other with soft, lazy smiles.

Mickey has his hands folded neatly on his chest and Ian slowly inches his own hand across. He feels Mickey’s gaze shift back to him as Ian slips his fingers under his palm and gently tugs it onto the sand between them.

He lifts his eyes to meet Mickey’s and sees that same clear blue stare of utter certainty and this time, Ian feels it too.