Chapter Text
Reedport, Oregon.
Two years later.
Steve stopped by the mailbox in front of the lawn, to check if they got any mail.
Bills. Nothing strange, nothing dangerous. Only companies sucking hard earned money.
“Hello neighbor!”
He turned turned around to greet Mr Carr, who lived only two houses away from them. The neighbor was out for his daily jogging that basically consisted of starting conversation with whoever had the misfortune of being spotted by the noisy man.
“Good evening to you too, Larry. Things good at home?” Steve politely asked.
“Except for the nagging, sure. Wives, you know.”
“You adore her,” he said, obtaining a shrug from Larry.
“And how's your old lady doing?”
Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “You know. One day he 's gonna kick your ass if you insist on calling him that.”
Larry laughed heartedly. “Then I'll be sure to save the best steak for him at the next bbq. By the way, Andrea wants to throw one next Thursday and she insists you have to come. No excuses this time.”
“Don't worry, we’ll try our best to be there. You know we're always suckers for Andrea’s dinners.”
Before Larry could add anything else, Steve waved goodbye to the neighbor and went inside his house.
“Honey! I'm hooome!” he called for his ‘old lady’.
“First of all, fuck you,” said a voice that couldn't seem to lose its Chicagoan accent any time soon. Steve looked up to watch his beloved Jack coming down the stairs with his charming swagger. “Secondly, welcome back.”
Jack had always this kind of grumpy appearance, but the way he was smiling at his husband, betrayed his real feelings.
Jack was happy to see Steve. Just like he was to see Jack.
Jack came closer and combed back Steve's red hair with his fingers. “It's getting too long. How the fuck can you even see with these bangs?”
His husband grinned. “You know I keep it long ‘cause you love to have something to hang on to when I go down on you.”
Jack could only chuckle at that. “That may be true, but I'd still prefer it if you didn’t face plant a pole ‘cause you can’t see your surroundings.”
Steve nodded. “Promise you, I'll get an haircut.”
“Good.”
They stared at each other and the redhead knew he could easily lose track of time just by admiring every little detail of his husband’s face. He had a perfect, straight little nose, his lips plump that not even the faint trace of a scar starting from one of the angles of his mouth could make them less kissable; Jack couldn't open his right eye completely, another nasty scar causing his upper eyelid not to move at its corner, but his baby blue eyes were still gorgeous and able to make Steve feel all kind of fluttering in his stomach with just a glance. His beloved had been a broken beauty, but he was now patched up with all the love Steve could give him.
The moved together in perfect synchrony. Both meeting the other's lips for a chaste, yet so meaningful kiss.
“Ian,” whispered Jack to Steve.
“Mickey,” whispered Steve to Jack.
They might had new identities, but once a day, usually towards its end, they'd say each other's original name. Their little ritual kept them grounded and thankful they still had one another.
During the two-year time they had lived under the Witness Protection Program, Ian Gallagher had become Steve , a federal employee with a desk job, while Mickey Milkovich had become his doting husband Jack, now enrolled in college to try to sort out what he'd like to do in life. At the moment, he was just satisfied to have his beloved home everyday.
They kissed again, this time more passionately, Steve cupping his husband's cheeks in his hands.
It was for simple things, like kissing without fear, or be glad the other half would sleep beside them in bed every night, that they had fought for. Still did.
But they were ready to change identities yet again - and again - if that meant be together.
They could be named Steve and Jack, or Cameron and Noel… it didn't fucking matter when they still got to wake up to one another's sleepy face. Every morning. For the rest of their lives.