Work Text:
There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.
Mickey almost didn’t hear it, but he did. It sounded foreign, only because no one in the Milkovich house had been very keen on knocking before entering, especially the bathroom. As their dad would say with a gravely laugh and a cigarette on his lip, perfect opportunity.
The knocking came again then a small voice on the other side.
“Daddy?”
Mickey sighed, shaking his head. Fucking stupid to think he could have a moment to himself. There was no such thing with kids unless it was nap time or their show was on. Privacy went out the damn window too.
“Occupado,” he said, knowing that by answering he was in essence screwing himself out of his time alone.
“Daddy?” Tasha knocked again.
Moment over.
Mickey ran his hands down his face and got off the pot. He was probably done anyway, but it was the principle of not having to rush that was being violated. Still, he hurried through washing his hands in case it was an actual emergency. He opened the door and found his daughter standing there with tears in her eyes. Then she flung herself at him.
“I’m sorry, daddy, I didn’t mean to break it,” she cried.
“Whoa, hey, what are you talking about? Break what?” Mickey asked.
Tasha took his hand and led him to presumably the scene of the crime. A vase lay broken on the floor, pieces scattered everywhere. She wiped at her eyes, sniffling.
Mickey kneeled down beside her, checking her hands and feet for blood. He didn’t see any. “What happened?”
Tasha ducked her head, frowning. “I was looking for my coloring book and when I tried to pull it, the vase fell down. I’m sorry.”
Mickey nodded, “It’s okay, Tash.” He hugged her to him, kissing her cheek.
“But I broke it. Aren’t you mad at me?” she asked, looking up at her dad for any signs of anger.
Mickey shook his head. Sure, he had lost his cool a few times, yelled a little louder than he should, gotten angry too quick. And he certainly felt bad immediately after once he saw her face or Yev’s. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but think about how breaking something would’ve played out when he was a kid in Terry’s house. It usually meant he got something of his broken, and it wasn’t always just some toy. One of his fingers was still crooked from when a plate had smashed in the sink. Iggy broke it, of course, but he got blamed and punished for it. There was no such thing as accidents.
But he knew the vase. It had always just been amongst the piles of junk in their house, collecting dust after being stolen from somewhere. Terry would keep a stash of money in it. No one knew, but Mickey had seen him pull from it when he thought no one was around. On more than one occasion, he had dreamed of taking the treasure and running, but it was Terry’s brand of discipline that kept him right where he was. Just imagining getting in trouble was enough to scare any of them, and it worked for a long time.
Mickey shook his head again. Kissed her face again. “I’m not mad, baby girl. It was an accident. It’s just an old vase.”
Tasha still looked worried, until Mickey booped her on the nose. She giggled.
“Thanks for telling me, though. Help me clean it up?” She nodded, all smiles now. “Okay, you hold the dustpan, I’ll sweep. Deal?”
“Deal!” Tasha ran off to the kitchen with Mickey behind her.