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Ian could hear the door slam from where he sat on the back porch of the Milkovich house. He had been enjoying the spring air and feeling himself become sleepy.
“Yo, Ian!” Mickey called out, and as Ian opened his mouth to answer, he heard Mickey call out, “Ian where the fuck are you?”
“If you would give me a chance to fucking answer!” Ian replied with a laugh, and before he knew it, Mickey stood beside him, making as much noise as possible as he clamored down to sit next to Ian.
Ian studied Mickey’s face, finding his eyes to tell a completely different story from the rest of his face. It was interesting that if Ian were to cover the bottom half of Mickey’s face, all he’d see is excitement, but taking in account his lips and his jaw…well he was curious, to say the least. “What?” Ian asked hesitantly, suspicious of what could possibly be cooking in his boyfriend’s head.
“You got anything goin’ this Friday?” Mickey asked nonchalantly, but with a heavy voice, like he was laying on a cover of sorts.
Ian shrugged. “Not that I know of. Why?”
Mickey answered by digging into the back pocket of his jeans. Holding in front of Ian’s face two tickets, Mickey smiled, waiting for Ian’s reaction.
“Blackhawk’s tickets?” Ian exclaimed with shock. It must not have been the reaction Mickey was expecting. Because, Ian was mostly surprised that Mickey could actually get Blackhawk’s tickets; the bloody things were so expensive. “How did you-“
“Kev had won them a while back,” Mickey interrupted, his excitement seeping through, starting to get the best of him. “But he can’t go; has to stay home and take care of his babies. So he gave ‘em to me.”
Ian took the tickets, as indicated by Mickey. He could feel some sort of foreshadowed guilt clouding through. “But Mick, we don’t like sports.”
Mickey scoffed, his nose turning up in defense. “Fuck you, I like sports.”
“But is MMA really a sport? And you only watch it because the guys are sweaty and half naked and all over each other.”
Yup, the guilt was sinking in. Ian watched the sparkle leave Mickey’s drooping eyes. And as soon as he saw Mickey fix his face, putting back on a façade of indifference, he knew he’d really hurt him. He tried to soothe the dark-haired boy with his rub, patting his shoulder. “Mick…”
Mickey shrugged his hand off. “No, fuck you. I wanted to take you to a fucking game like fucking couples do. And the seats are nice, too.” That had been a bluff; Mickey never checked to see where they’d be sitting- if they were going. He checked the tickets and read off the seats, trying with as much conviction as he could muster that the seats were really good when he seriously had no idea. How even big was the fucking rink?
But Ian was sold after hearing Mickey said couple. He had said a bunch of stuff, but Ian hadn’t heard any of it. “You mean you wanted to go on a date?”
“There’s one way to put it,” Mickey snapped back, resting his elbows on his knees. He tried not to watch the red head’s grin broadening on his lips. When he was sure it was the biggest grin yet, he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Jesus, you could fucking hear the smile. “OK. Let’s go.”
Mickey met Ian’s face, which was close since Ian had rested his chin on Mickey’s shoulder. “Seriously?”
Ian nodded. “But we don’t have any Blackhawk’s gear- no wait, Carl has a jersey. And I think Fiona had borrowed Kev’s shirt once.” He stared back at Mickey’s face. “Yeah, we should be good.”
“Could you wipe that grin off your face?” Mickey asked with his own smile glowing through. “You look fuckin’ ridiculous.”
When Ian shook his head, Mickey closed the distance, cradling Ian’s chin so he wouldn’t be able to turn away as Mickey did his best to kiss the grin off his face. It only worked for a second; the moment their lips separated, Mickey watched Ian bite his lip, trying hard, and failing, to hide his smile. “It’ll be fun,” Ian said.
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It turns out the seats were pretty nice- third row from all the action, which was good because they both agreed if they were any further up, they wouldn’t be able to understand shit.
“You know what I just realized?” Ian asked in Mickey’s ear, trying to hear over the loudness and echo of the rink.
Mickey raised his eyebrows in response.
“The guys are actually pretty hot.” He laughed when he saw Mickey’s twisted expression and how he could slowly see the contemplation in his features. After a second, Mickey nodded. “Yeah…you’re right.” Then Mickey pointed to one of the guys sitting down, one that had just gotten off the ice due to a bloody nose or mouth, whatever. “’Specially that one.”
Ian only laughed at how Mickey had just confirmed some unbeknownst question if the Milkovich had a thing for bloodied up guys. The answer being, yes.
There was something oddly settling about the roar of the fans as their team scored another goal, how they rose to their feet, and it may have been the cheesiest thing ever- even for Ian- but he went for it, thinking about the consequences that may come later, as he leant into his boyfriend and placed a small peck on his cheek. When Mickey turned to him with a questioning eyes, Ian just whispered, “Thank you” into his ear. It only made matters better as he watched the blush spread on Mickey’s cheeks with his small smile.
“Sure thing, Firecroth.”