Work Text:
“No work today?” Ian asked once he’d swallowed the toast he’d made. He scrubbed the crumbs off his face with his hand and then got his stuff together.
“Nah. Not till tonight,” Mickey replied, accepting the cup of coffee Debbie offered him and adding a metric ton of sugar. “Got other shit to do today.”
“Starting with helping out making mac n’ cheese,” Debbie said. She waited for him to set down his coffee and replaced it with a wooden spoon and gestured to the pot of noodles on the stove. “Cheese is there. Strain the noodles then stir it in. I gotta get them washed up.”
Mickey tried to protest but Debbie was gone, lining the kids up to wash them up in the bathroom. He clutched the spoon and looked frantically between the noodles and Ian.
Ian just laughed and gave him a goodbye kiss, after which he shoved at the redhead. Ian circled behind Mickey and peppered kisses at the back of his head and temple and got a whack with the wooden spoon for his trouble.
“I’ll see you later Mick. Don’t be late or Linda will murder you,” Ian said, leaving for the store.
Mickey only got a second to enjoy his coffee in relative peace before Debbie stuck her head back in the kitchen. “Take that mac n’ cheese off the stove, Mickey. It’ll be mush in another minute and it’ll be on you to make more.”
“Alright, fuck,” Mickey groaned, getting to his feet and turning the stove off, taking the pot to the sink to drain it. Debbie watched him from the doorway and scoffed, then bustled in and pushed Mickey aside, taking over for him.
“You’re terrible at this. Let me do it and you go watch the kids.”
Mickey treated this like a fate worse than death and when he eventually did drag himself into the living room and sit down on the floor in front of the couch, his fears were realized. The second he sat down the kid sitting on the couch behind him stuck his hands in Mickey’s hair and somehow the kid next to him found a sucker and soon that was stuck to the side of Mickey’s head and a little girl tripped and dumped a cup of juice all down his front. Then she was crying and he was sticky and wet and he had some kid’s dirty hands on him.
“Ay, stop crying,” he said to the little girl. He scowled and she only cried harder. “Oh, for fuck sakes-“
“Mickey, don’t swear at the kids,” Debbie called, before she rushed into the room and took the screaming child from Mickey. He clambered to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair, cringing.
“Gonna wash my hair. I don’t even wanna know what that little shithead was into,” Mickey said, reading up to carefully peel the half-eaten sucker out of his hair and frowning when it came away with a handful of hair stuck to it. “Fuck.”
Debbie shook her head as she rubbed the gradually-calming little girl’s back. “No point, you’re just gonna get dirtier anyways. And stop swearing in front of my kids,” she turned to the roomful of kids and said; “Alright, everyone get in a line in front of Mickey for mac n’ cheese!”
The kids cheered and lined up in front of Mickey, pawing at his legs and screaming. Mickey thought he had seen hell and a half with these kids, but every nightmare of his was brought to life as Debbie said; “Okay, Mickey Mouse, bring ‘em in.”
It was like the world stopped and all the kids heard nothing but ‘Mickey Mouse’ and the rest of the day it was nothing but kids screaming that as him and he would welcome a gun barrel in his mouth at that point.
By the time he had to head in to work he was drunk out of his skull but he still dragged his ass in to the store. On time and everything.
“Christ, Mick!” Ian said when he came into the back room after he’d heard Mickey knock a shelf over. He was practically giggling as Ian helped him get to his feet. As soon as he saw Ian though, he got grumpy again.
“Your… your sister’s an evil bitch,” Mickey began and Ian eyed him. “The little one. Fiona too, but the little one today.”
“What happened to you?” Ian asked, watching as Mickey swayed and then leaned on him, mouth hot on Ian’s neck. He sucked a mark into Ian’s neck and laughed when the redhead pushed him away. “Mickey, what happened?”
“Jus’ wanna fuck. C’mon, Gallagher,” Mickey pulled futilely at Ian’s shirt, drunk fingers fumbling with his buttons.
“You’re wasted, Mick. You probably can’t even get it up right now anyways,” Ian said, holding Mickey at arm’s length and then sliding past him.
“Come on, Firecrotch, just help me forget,” Mickey said, catching up to Ian again and leaning against his chest.
“Forget what?” Ian asked.
“Mickey fuckin’ Mouse,” Mickey mumbled. Unsurprisingly, Ian was still confused.