Work Text:
Mickey swirled the beer in his hand with a sigh, before bringing it to his lips. This was his third night in a row at the FairyTale, watching Ian dance, but more often than not, watching the men watch Ian dance, so he could intervene whenever anyone got too near.
Ian thought it was hilarious. Ian’s boss did not.
Just as Mickey’s eyes were doing their usual scan of all the geriatric pedos surrounding the little podium Ian was dancing on, a hand appeared beside him, which Mickey’s eyes followed to the attached muscled guy with a smirk on his face. The muscled guy who was standing about 5ft closer than Mickey would have preferred him.
"Hi there," the guy, who looked about as gay as Mickey did, but obviously felt much more comfortable than him, "Can I get you a refill?"
"What?"
No one ever talked to Mickey. He was quite proud of the aura of ‘do not fucking talk to me or I will snap you in half’ he gave out, and he had spent his entire lifetime perfecting it. It was always respected. Having some random guy, who Mickey could admit was not bad looking, but his hair was brown and his eyes were too dark, and honestly he wasn’t Ian so it didn’t matter what he looked like, was throwing Mickey off so much that he didn’t immediately tell the guy to Fuck Off.
"A refill? You look bored, and you’re getting low." The guy was somehow getting more into Mickey’s personal space, despite being practically already plastered to his side. "I’ve seen you in here a few times the last couple weeks. You never dance, but I bet you’d be a fucking amazing fuck."
"No, back the fuck up," Mickey said, taking a couple steps to the side, but still leaning on the rail he was propped against.
The guy pouted, which looked fucking ridiculous in Mickey’s opinion, and followed Mickey’s steps. “C’mon, baby, I need a good fuck, and you look like the kind of guy who wouldn’t hold back.”
At that, Mickey laughed, and tipped his beer back to finish the last swallow.
"Believe me, you’ve got the wrong fucking guy, then."
"Mmmm, I don’t think so. Tough guy like you. I bet you can pound my ass until I scream." The guy’s eyes racked over Mickey’s body, which pissed him off more than anything, and his hand came to rest on Mickey’s forearm.
And then it was promptly ripped back off.
"Two things. Mickey’s not your baby, and he’s already here with someone," Ian said, wrapping his finger in Mickey’s belt loops and dragging him to his side. Mickey’s arm automatically circled around his naked back, his fingers playing on his ribcage.
The guy’s eyes shot up, before he dragged his gaze down Ian’s body. “Oh, well if you want to make it a party, boys.”
Ian just laughed, before flipping the guy off and grabbing Mickey’s hand.
"Come on, Mick, it’s my break, and I want to blow you in the bathroom."