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The Kash n Grab is boring when Mickey isn’t here. It’s quiet, only a few stragglers who come in for cheap shit and there’s only so much reorganising of the shelves he can do before he goes insane. The clock on the wall ticks by, somehow getting louder with every second and Ian just wishes Linda will come down and tell him to do something, anything at this point.
Mickey’s supposed to be here today but he never showed. Linda was pissed when she realised that Mickey didn’t show up for work but the shoplifters are too scared to enter the store just in case Mickey’s ready to pounce so she’s not too upset - more money for her to keep anyways.
He’s not at the Kash n Grab the next day either and Mandy was no help at school today when he asked why. He sighs and pulls out his homework onto the register bench and starts his work out of boredom. Mickey teases him about being a brainiac and a nerd for doing homework but Mickey is also the one who points out he’s gotten an equation wrong so who’s the real nerd?
Ian is tempted to walk straight to the Milkovich house during the middle of his shift just to find out where the fuck Mickey is when he steps through the front door, a bell ringing as he swaggers on through.
He looks…exactly the same. As in he’s wearing a ratty tee, baggy jeans and his security jacket that Linda threw a fit over when he cut the sleeves off. He’s got a smirk on his face as he makes eye contact with Ian and grins.
“Missed me?” he teases and Ian rolls his eyes
“Been pretty boring without someone to entertain me”
“Yeah I’d imagine” Mickey’s eyes give Ian a quick once over
They don’t fuck right away. There’s actual work to do with a large shipment of stock waiting to be put on the shelf and then Ian has to do some repricing for a sale Linda is having to try and entice people into the store with.
Ian’s putting cans of soup on a shelf while Mickey refills some of the fruits and vegetables when he hears a hiss. He turns around because it had to be Mickey making that noise but when he turns around Mickey is reaching over to catch an apple that had rolled down from a pyramid he was making.
“You good?” Ian asks
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Mickey raised an eyebrow
“Thought I heard something”
“You heard wrong”
Ian shrugs and gets back to work. He doesn’t hear the noise again.
Later, he locks the door and meets Mickey in the storeroom. He’s leaning against the metal box of empty boxes that need to be thrown away, arms crossed and looking cocky. Ian smiles as he enters, shutting the door behind them and Mickey returns the smile. Ian crosses the room and turns him around.
Mickey’s pants are down by his ankles and Ian’s are quick to follow. They have the routine memorised, relying on pure muscle memory to know what the other wants. Mickey’s hands brace on the edge of the metal box and he pushes back into Ian who grabs his hips and guides him into place. Mickey seems to have prepped himself before he came to work and both of them carry lube and condoms on them at all times.
They don’t really have sex face to face, especially when it’s going to be a quick session like this but Mickey likes it when Ian’s hands stray under his shirt, likes it when there are strong hands gripping his chest, fingers digging into his waist and holding him. He’s never outright said he likes it because that would be gay but Ian knows Mickey’s body well enough by now to have figured it out.
Today is no different. Except it’s different when Mickey lets out another hiss of pain when Ian grabs a hold of waist. Ian stops immediately and takes his hands off of his waist because he’s not imagining sounds this time.
“Are you okay?” Ian asks “Am I hurting you?”
“What?” Mickey glances over his shoulder “No fuck off, you just have boney fingers and you’re jabbing me”
“No” Ian frowns and pulls out, reaching down to pull his pants back up. “You’re in pain, I can tell”
“No, I’m not”
“You are!”
“It’s fucking nothing” Mickey groans “Just fucking hurry up”
“No” Ian stands his ground. “I’m not having sex with you like this”
“God, you’re so annoying” Mickey huffs, reaching down to pull his own pants back up.
“Your ribs hurt”
“No they don’t”
“They do!” Ian’s voice gets louder “It’s why you don’t want me touching your chest and why you didn’t do the shelves”
“Fuck” Mickey rubs at his nose “Fine, I hurt my ribs”
“How?”
“Nosey bitch”
“Mickey” Ian levels
“They’re just bruised” Mickey sniffs again “It’s not a big deal”
“Show me” Ian demands
“No” Mickey replies
“Show me” he repeats and takes a step closer, essentially trapping Mickey between his body and the metal behind him. “I wanna see”
Mickey looks up at him and Ian’s surprised when he finally relents. His shoulders fall and he pulls a face as he shrugs his vest off and lifts his arms to pull his tee off. His breath hitches as he does so and Ian can see the makeshift bandages wrapped around his ribs, sloppily overlapping one another. They stretch from slightly over the bottom of Mickey’s pecs to where just above Ian’s fingers were pressed.
No wonder he was in pain.
Mickey has never looked so vulnerable in his life. He goes around with this thuggish exterior, letting some of his guards down when he’s around Ian but not all of them. Seems like all of them are down at this moment.
“They’re not broken” he says quietly
“Can I unwrap them?” Ian asks just as quietly, like if they went back to yelling at each other Mickey’s walls will go right back up.
Mickey nods slightly and Ian carefully finds one of the ends of the bandage. It’s an old t-shirt, he realises. He doesn’t say anything about it but he can’t help picture Mickey cutting up an old t-shirt because he couldn’t find any bandages.
Mickey winces as Ian must press against the worst of the area which he immediately apologises for. His arms almost wrap around Mickey as he uses both hands to take them off, so he can pass them to his other hand behind Mickey’s back. Mickey’s breath is warm against his neck, hitching every so often but stays in a rhythmic pattern that is slightly off from his normal breathing.
He imagines if their relationship was different, Mickey wouldn’t be so hidden away, that he would be able to give Mickey a soft hug, a comforting hug. But he doesn’t. He just finishes taking the bandages off and drops them on the floor.
He takes a step back and sees a large purple bruise going up Mickey's right side, fading as it gets closer to his sternum and wrapping around towards his back. Mickey’s hands are in fists by his side and he’s shifted his eyes to avoid looking at Ian.
“Told you it wasn’t a big deal”
“Mickey” Ian says “These look like they hurt”
“They don’t” Mickey says stubbornly, almost like it was a mantra.
“It’s okay if they do”
“God” Mickey shakes his head “I should’ve stayed home like I did the other days”
“Is this why you didn’t come to work?” Ian asks “Because you hurt your ribs?”
“Stop doing that!” Mickey says loudly, stepping forward and getting up in Ian’s face. “Stop, fucking, talking like that! Like you give a shit”
“Mick-”
“Stop treating me like I’m helpless!”
“Okay-”
“I don’t understand why you’re like this” Mickey continues, he steps out of Ian’s way and starts pacing around the storeroom. “It’s fucking nothing, we’re not boyfriend girlfriend, you’re not my fucking mom so stop treating me like I’m gonna fucking break!”
Mickey’s breathing heavily across the small room, it looks like it’s a struggle considering the state of his ribs but he doesn’t show that it’s bothering him.
“I don’t think you’re going to break” Ian says firmly “I was just going to ask if I can get you some fucking painkillers or something because it might make you feel better!”
Mickey stares at him and doesn’t say anything for what seems like hours but was probably only seconds. He bites his lip and seems to be thinking everything over until he finally nods. It’s a slow and slight nod but a nod all the same. Ian nods back and goes out the front where the first aid kit is under the register and pulls out the cheap painkillers that are kept inside. He takes a detour to the refrigerated drinks and takes one of the cold cans out, showing it up to the camera so Linda can watch it back and show it was Ian taking it and he’ll pay for it out of his paycheck.
He pops one out of the tin foil packaging and hands it to Mickey along with his drink bottle he also keeps under the bench. Mickey takes both of them, not even commenting on sharing Ian’s drink bottle and pops the pill in his mouth. Ian passes him the can of soda which Mickey raises an eyebrow at.
“For your ribs” Ian shrugs “You’re not supposed to wrap your ribs up when they’re sore, meant to put an ice pack on it or something”
Mickey nods and takes the can, hissing at the coldness as he places it on the darkest part of the bruise.
Ian returns to the front of the store and unlocks the front door while Mickey stays out the back and puts his shirt back on. He would have offered to help but he didn’t think Mickey would take too kindly to that. It takes a while but eventually Mickey walks back out of the storeroom and takes his usual place near the magazine rack. He’s not facing Ian but Ian doesn’t mind. Just quietly arranges the things in front of him like he isn’t hyperfocused on Mickey’s every move.
“Thanks” Mickey says “You know, for the coke”
“Yeah” Ian smiles softly because Mickey can’t see his expression and knows it’s not really about the coke “You’re welcome”