Chapter Text
The alarm went off a quarter past five. Its insistent peeping wove its way into Liam’s dreams, interrupting what should have been a relaxing day on a vacant island.
The beeping continued but he still didn’t rouse. Soon, a voice crept into his dreams of salty air and bottomless Mai Tais, “Liam- Liam…”
He grumbled and tossed around as his sleepy mind clutched onto the fading view of the beautiful waves- “Liam!”
A pillow to his face.
“Jesus-” Liam ripped the assaulting pillow from his face, “What the fuck?”
“Find a way to change that shit to the radio or snooze it for Christ’s sake,” Damon yanked the pillow from Liam’s grip and turned over again.
Eventually, Liam gained enough consciousness to slap the button on his alarm clock.
Damon and Liam had only been married for a little less than a year, but they loved to argue like a couple that had been together for over thirty. They’d known each other for quite some time so the need for posh newlywed behavior was obsolete. But that didn't change the fact that they did love each other. They just had an unconventional way of showing it.
“It’s the only thing that wakes me up,” Liam stretched his arms and groaned as he sat up, “You’re the one that gets to go back to sleep, so a little grace would be appreciated.”
Damon scoffed, half his face buried in the pillow, “I’ve earned my retirement, thank you very much.”
“My darling housewife,” Liam leaned over to press a kiss into Damon’s temple, “You’re in your thirties, a job wouldn't kill you.”
Damon ignored his husband's quips and brushed him away with his hand, “I’ll kill myself before I ever wait tables again.”
Liam pinched Damon’s hip, causing the blonde to squeak, “Don’t talk like that- we’ve got too much going on as it is, I can't plan a funeral on top of that.”
Sitting up, Damon yawned and scratched at his face, “You know I don't mean it.”
Liam took in Damon’s ruffled bedhead, admiring the way it stuck out in different directions and how his sleepy eyes betrayed his sarcastic demeanor. A few crows feet and smile lines were starting to peek through his youthful face as time went on, but everyday, Liam was struck by how gorgeous his man was.
They’d spent a lot of their youth as rivals, enemies even. Liam the youngest son of a New Jersey crime boss and Damon a wayward city kid that earned his way in. They were always in competition with each other to see who could best the other and rank up the fastest within the sector. They had fought over countless jobs; who got to push a certain product in a certain neighborhood, who could collect the most profit from their laundering partners; who did a better job of teaching someone a lesson. At the time, it was a game to them, but with age and experience comes realization.
Surviving two bullet holes in the chest made Damon realize that the game was no longer for him. He turned down the opportunity to become a made man at the age of twenty-eight and never looked back.
And somewhere in the mix after that, true feelings reared their heads and Liam was no longer his enemy. It turned out that Liam had been the only one all along that understood him. They had the same passion and drive to make something of themselves, but a near death experience will shake that drive to the core.
Liam stayed in the game. He wanted to provide for his husband and give Damon a good life. He wasn't meant for a nine-to-five, the sheer boredom alone would kill him. And despite his husband’s pleas to retire, Liam continued on.
Now at thirty-four, Liam was a millionaire and a made man. He bought a three-story house in a beautiful neighborhood with a heated pool and his wallet was still just as fat. Damon could lounge about in the sun and work on his tan all-day because why would he have to clean? That's what the cleaning lady was for.
A giant house, a gorgeous husband, no stupid tax collectors at his door, Liam had made good for himself.
Another pillow hitting his face brought him out of his daze.
“I’m talking to you,” Damon waved his hand in front of Liam’s face, “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The one where you zone out, you look like a fucking space cadet. I'm surprised you haven't started drooling,” Damon scoffed but his demeanor remained amused, “I was asking you if I'm going to have to feed your brothers this morning.”
Ah, Noel and Paul. Liam’s two older brothers, both made men themselves. Noel was next in line to be boss, and Paul, despite being the eldest, hadn't wanted the position. He was content with staying a Captain and doing dirty work for the rest of his life.
Liam’s relationship with Noel was a bit more complicated. He loved his brother, truly, and looked up to him in a thousand different ways, but sometimes his stubbornness made Liam want to scream. He was sure his brother thought the same of him.
There wasn't yet a power struggle because Noel wasn't in charge yet, but by the looks of things it wouldn't be long. Their father, Tommy, was still acting boss, but the man was getting older and his health was declining. It was only a matter of time before the old man kicked the bucket or stepped down. Liam didn't necessarily want to be the boss, but the thought of having to do what Noel said without being able to push back anymore irked him.
There was no questioning the boss, and if Noel was the one in charge, then Liam would do what needed to be done and put his pride aside for the sake of the family. But as of now, they were still equals.
Liam finally answered his awaiting husband, “They’ll be over at seven. ”
“And your father?” Damon raised a brow before getting up to look for something to wear in their massive walk-in closet.
“Couldn’t be arsed,” Liam responded with little care in his voice.
Ever since the Gallaghers migrated from Manchester to New Jersey when Liam was only seven, his accent had lost a lot of its sharper edge, but certain words and phrases brought it out. Especially when he was drunk or angry, but his roots never left him, it just made blending in somewhat easier.
Liam didn't see his father as a paternal figure, he was merely his boss. He did what was asked of him and kept his mouth shut, only openly complaining to one of his brothers or the other guys. It made life easier if Tommy wasn't questioned. He was a man who commanded blind obedience, and Liam couldn't wait for the day when he could finally have a say in something.
The pair got ready for the day, Liam dawning a pair of dark slacks and a cream short-sleeve button-down while Damon opted for a designer t-shirt and a pair of jeans that probably cost more than a luxury car. Liam shaved, styled his hair with some gel and spritzed himself in cologne, his gold chain with the family heirloom rested on his chest tucked underneath his unbuttoned collar.
He was almost out of the bedroom before Damon made a loud “ahem” noise from behind.
Liam turned, “What? I was gonna go start the coffee.”
“Forgetting something?” Damon stood by the bed, his arms behind his back.
Exhaling, Liam stepped to his husband and gently cupped his jaw, “You look gorgeous today,” he pressed a soft kiss to the other’s lips before pulling back, “There, happy?”
“Mmm… Well I already knew that, but I was talking about this,” Damon moved his arms to his front, revealing what Liam had actually forgotten.
“Shit!” Liam exclaimed, grabbing his gun and holster from Damon’s hands, “That’s the second time this week.”
Damon smiled and gently patted his husband’s chest, “And it’s only Tuesday, baby.”
Liam quickly attached the holster to his belt and checked his gun to make sure it was loaded, “Fuckin’ thing keeps getting away from me.”
“Over fifteen years in and you still have to be reminded to stay armed,” Damon said with fond sarcasm, “What would you do without me?”
Liam pressed the gun into the holster and pulled his shirt over it, “Probably go hungry.”
That earned him a pinch on his rear-end from Damon as he walked out of the room.
***
Banging from the front door at any other time would have Liam in fight or flight mode, but at seven o’clock sharp on a weekday, he knew exactly who was at his door.
Noel never knocked gently, not at Liam’s house at least. The man had his ways of making himself known, and asserting his dominance before he even entered the premises via punching a wooden door, was one of those ways. Liam always thought it had to do with him being so short.
“Christ, I’m going I'm going!” Liam begrudgingly set his coffee down on the counter and headed for the door.
“I got fuckin’ neighbors out here asshole, would it kill you to ease up?” Liam snipped as he opened the door.
Noel didn't grace his brother with an answer. He wore a dark sport’s coat and sunglasses along with his signature scowl and pushed right past him. Liam could only roll his eyes, Noel wasn't a morning person, but in their line of work, sleep was a luxury, and a grumpy Noel was better than no Noel at all.
Paul at least had the decency to greet Liam with a smile and a brotherly hug, already going on about the upcoming Man-City match.
They made their way back into the kitchen where Noel actually was making an effort to say good morning to Damon.
“Hello, darling,” Noel’s tone was much more friendly towards the blonde as he leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.
“Good morning,” Damon smiled sweetly and pressed a coffee mug into Noel’s hands, “You know where everything is.”
Liam was unbothered by Noel’s friendliness with Damon. It came with how they were raised and the business they grew up in. Spouses and children were treated with the utmost respect and kindness. Liam could remember many times in the past where Noel had treated Damon the exact opposite way, but it was different now. Damon was a civilian and his brother’s husband, and he was treated as such.
Paul did the same as Damon handed him a mug of his own, and before long the brothers were sitting at the table enjoying their morning brew.
The brothers rarely dabbled in small talk. Usually if Paul and Liam were together they’d get each other laughing, but when Noel was around it was all business. It made working with family that much more bearable.
Liam finally broke the silence as he fiddled with his mug handle, “Any word from Marr?”
Noel’s face gave little away, “None, last I heard he was waiting for a good time to bounce.”
“He’s our guy on the inside in Dublin and you don't even know if he’s alive?” Liam grit his teeth, this day was already wearing on him.
Noel was quick to snap back, “You don't know what I know-”
“Enough- fellas, please,” Paul urged, always the peacekeeper among the two, “Can we enjoy our breakfast before we talk business?”
Sitting back, Noel crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at Liam. The younger didn't mind, he knew that Noel was lying about Johnny Marr’s whereabouts anyway. Noel would rather bite his own toe off then let Johnny go on a suicide mission, despite the man being far more senior than him. Liam knew how close they were.
If there was to be no business talk then there wasn't going to be much talk at all. Liam and Noel scowled at each other like children until Damon started bringing in their plates.
“Cheers, Dae, lovely as always,” Paul complimented, doing his best to maintain a cheerful disposition despite his brothers.
Noel muttered a quiet thank you as his plate was set in front of him, only breaking the tepid look on his face, momentarily.
Damon brought in the last of the food before taking his spot next to Liam. The dining room table was huge and unless there were a dozen guests over, there was no need for Liam or Damon to take either head of the table. As much as tradition ran through all of their blood, Liam and Damon made their own rules when they saw fit.
“Thanks, love,” Liam leaned over to catch Damon’s mouth in a quick kiss before turning his attention to the bacon on his plate.
Prayer was also something the Gallaghers only did when they were hosting larger groups of people. Liam didn't consider himself to be a man of God and couldn't really bring himself to care what the afterlife held as long as he made his life worth a damn on Earth. Paul didn't seem bothered either way, but Noel, once again, was trickier.
Not only had Noel lost his faith, but he resented it. He never talked about it, but there was a painful past that only served to fuel his discontent with religion as a whole.
They ate in a comfortable quiet, Paul asking Liam or Damon a question here and there, or Liam telling Paul about his plans to buy the house behind them to make more room for whatever crazy thing he became obsessed with next. Noel stayed quiet. Not out of anger or frustration, but he was content enough to just let his brothers ramble for the sake of it.
“Noel?” Damon asked, breaking Noel’s attention away from his plate.
Liam and Paul were so invested in their own conversation about ‘second pools’ that neither noticed Damon and Noel conversing.
“More coffee?”
Noel nodded appreciatively, offering his mug. When Damon came back with a full mug and sat down with his elbows on the table, it was obvious that Damon wanted answers.
It was easy for Damon to flash his pretty smile, blink his big bright blue eyes, and play the role of ‘devoted house-husband.’ But that didn’t mean he was out of the loop. He still knew everyone on the inside, there were people he cared about still mixed up in this business, his husband being one of them. He already knew more than any typical civilian spouse would know; it was a blessing and a curse.
Damon promised himself if he survived the shooting, he’d be done. Set himself straight, start a family. He didn't expect it to be with Liam, but Damon was happier than he’d been in years, and though the scratch to get back out there still itched, he had to keep his word.
“You’re staring holes into my forehead, what is it?” Noel sipped his coffee, furrowing a brow at his brother-in-law.
It would be easier if he never tried to find out, if Damon just accepted the past for what it was and moved on. But the thought made his chest clench, there were so many unanswered questions.
“Is he..?” Damon tried to emphasize with his fork. There was only one person he could be talking about and it wasn't Johnny Marr.
“Alive?” Noel blinked.
“Yeah… I guess. Is he alive?”
Noel looked over to his brothers still deep in conversation, not paying an ounce of attention to the other two.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek and thought for a bit.
Leaning forward, Noel whispered, “Marr should be back by Thursday, I'll know more then. But we’ve been in talks of a trade. It wasn’t a hit mission, and unless something went to shit then everyone should be in one piece. Your old friend is giving us a hard time, though.”
“My old friend? That’s a load of shit coming from you,” Damon shot Noel a look, eventually leaning back into his chair, “That doesn't give me a lot of hope.”
Noel did the same and poked at some leftover egg on his plate with his fork, “Sometimes I can’t tell if you want Coxon dead or not.”
Damon brought his coffee mug to his lips and sighed, “Neither can I.”
Once they finished eating and all the dishes were brought into the kitchen, Liam pulled Damon aside to say his goodbyes.
“Don’t forget, I need you back around two,” Damon reminded as he fussed with Liam’s shirt, smoothing it out along his chest.
“For what?” Liam had both hands placed on Damon’s hips and pulled him closer, trying to be playful.
Damon wasn't having it, “Liam… our appointment? At the adoption agency?”
Liam blinked for a moment as the information settled in, “Baby, we’ve got collection rounds today I don't know if I can make it.”
The look on Damon’s face turned sour, “Why the fuck are you even on collections, that shit is for kids- and- and you've known about this appointment for two weeks! This is our life I'm talking about. Don’t you want to start a family?”
“Of course I do,” Liam was quick to realize his mistake, rubbing Damon’s back in an attempt to soothe his husband, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“No. Not ‘I’ll see what I can do’ you show up to this appointment or I’ll go down to the Warehouse myself and give Tommy a piece of my-”
“I’ll be there, Damon. I promise,” Liam interrupted, not exactly wanting to hear his husband finish that sentence, “You have my word, okay?”
Damon averted his gaze, but Liam tilted Damon’s chin back towards him, “Soon enough there's gonna be a little one running around here driving the both of us crazy; we’ll be a picture perfect family.”
“Okay,” Damon responded, his fears somewhat alleviated.
Liam peppered kisses to Damon’s face till he reached his lips and slowed down, using his mouth to say what he couldn’t with actual words. Damon’s lips parted as he welcomed Liam’s tongue into his mouth, albeit very briefly.
Much to Damon’s displeasure, Liam pulled back, “Gotta hit the road, I love you.”
He pressed one last kiss to Damon’s lips before turning and heading to the door. Noel and Paul were already waiting in the car, no doubt pissed about how long Liam was taking.
“Alright?” Paul asked as Liam got settled in the back seat of the Mercedes.
“Yeah,” Liam’s tone was neutral before he furrowed his brow, “Why the fuck am I still doing rounds?”
Noel couldn't help the snicker that escaped his lips, “He was gonna figure it out eventually,” he teased, giving Paul a playful punch to the shoulder from the passenger seat.
“He's been a bruiser all morning but the moment it’s at my expense it's funny?” Liam leaned forward to grab at the neck of his brother’s sports coat.
“Hey! That costs more than your fuckin’ life,” Noel struggled against Liam’s grip, “I’ll skin you if you wrinkle it!”
If it was Paul’s job to intervene, then he was quite neglectful of his duty. He turned the radio up and whistled as he pulled out of the driveway.