Work Text:
Hot, Summer Night
It was one of the hottest days of Ian’s life. The air was thick and heavy, and he was sticky before even getting to work . It was absolutely disgusting outside, but Ian was relieved to get into the air-conditioned club and strip down to his booty shorts. The hours passed by slowly until his shift eventually ended. He counted his cash after getting dressed in the dressing room in the back: $250 in tips; not a bad night, all things considered.
He got back to Mickey’s place a quick train ride later and tiptoed in so as not to wake the baby. Ian was quiet while taking his clothes off. It was almost three in the morning and he didn’t want to wake up his boyfriend either. After pushing the handful of smoothed out singles and five dollar bills into the gun drawer, he picked up the thin sheet they were using as a blanket and slipped in beside Mickey.
The only sounds in the room were the quiet humming of the fan and the little squeaks it made as it rotated. The breeze on his face wasn’t enough to make him feel less disgusting, but he tried to settled back and get to sleep. Just when he thought he’d succeeded in flawlessly getting to bed, Mickey turned to face him.
“How was it tonight?” he asked, groggily. “Did y’get any sweaty, old faggots gropin’ you with their fuckin’ skeleton hands?” the brunette teased.
Ian smiled and shook his head almost imperceptibly. He loved seeing his boyfriend be jealous, despite the fact that Mickey tried to hide it. “I think there were more guys there than usual tonight,” Ian told him. “I made double what I usually get on weeknights.”
Mickey scowled. “It’s still ninety degrees out, at night . Don’t they have anything better to do?”
“Like what, Mick?”
“I dunno, go sit in their fancy, air-conditioned houses? Swim in their fuckin’ pools?” He sighed, turned back to his original position before the redhead had roused him, and, using the back of his hand, wiped a bead of sweat that had begun to drip down his furrowed brow.
Ian shrugged, even though Mickey was now facing away from him. “I guess the heat doesn’t affect how horny they are...” He turned to his side and made a move to spoon the older boy but Mickey squirmed away from him, shoving Ian’s hand away.
“It’s too fucking hot for that, Gallagher.”
Ian pulled his hand back with a frown, but didn’t comment, resigned to spend the right without touching his lover.
But, as if he could sense Ian’s sadness, Mickey huffed out an apology. “I’m sweating, you’re sweating, and if we get any fucking closer we’ll probably melt… Plus, I don’t want your dirty stripper paws all over me when I don’t know where they’ve been!”
Ian barked out a laugh, since Mickey was clearly past hiding his jealousy now.
“S’that so?”
“Mhmm,” Mickey hummed.
Ian was grinning as he suddenly kicked the bedsheet aside and got out of bed.
“Oh come on… You’re not actually pissed, are you?”
“ Nope, but you’re right: I am gross.” He pushed his boxers down and walked away. Before leaving the room, he turned and flashed Mickey a smile. “I’m gonna take a cool shower; get some of this ‘ old-man sweat ’ off of me,” he mimicked in Mickey’s voice, ghosting his fingers down his chest. “Feel free to join me…”
He didn’t have to look back to know Mickey would follow.