Work Text
"Motherfuck!"It happens so quickly Mickey almost wouldn't have noticed it at all, except for the droplets of blood rapidly ruining the sheets he'd just fucking taken out of the dryer."Aw, shit," he hisses, trying to step away before he gets blood on his hard day's work. He’d been warned in passing; small weapons hidden inside unlikely linings of linens. He pulls out a piece of blade from the tangle of thread on the sheet he'd been folding, careful not to cut himself again on the jagged edge where clearly one had been turned to two. He doesn’t think it was meant for him specifically, thank fuck. They've been doing okay, laying low and keeping things looking how they should in a prison setting.That being said, what's surprised him the most is just how well things are actually going for them. After everything on the outside, he doesn't know if he's mad it's better on the inside. Certainly a billion times better than any stint he's ever had because of Ian.Another thing he hates and loves is just how popular Ian is with everyone, even when he’s not running on manic energy. He gets it, though. Years of being with Ian has taught him that no one is spared from his almost magical pull. Mickey’s just gay enough to call it that with a smile between kisses. It's not totally bad that even the most hardened guys are more tolerable towards them, but he can still not like the lingering stares or overt friendliness of an indecent proposal waiting to happen.Mickey sucked on his sliced fingers, only slightly aroused by the memory of that morning the action conjures. Of course Ian fucking knows he's jealous. He loves it, the maniac; drives him wild in the best ways that lead to blissful aches in their bodies and tired eyes. Ian shoved him into a tool closet, no doubt getting the keys from some comraderic connection, and growled into his neck with teeth and tongue.
"Suck my fingers. Gonna fuck you with'em..."
That and what Ian did to him next had been running through his mind all day. All because Mickey had pouted about the attention his boyfriend was getting from anyone that wasn't him alone. Fuck, he loved Ian so goddamn much. And Ian loved him back.He was allowed to leave the stiflingly warm laundry room and headed straight for the infirmary. He uses his jumpsuit to staunch the bloodflow, glad he doesn't handle clothing; the unmistakable crust on the sheets is enough to make him consider switching, though. When he arrives, his eyes immediately find Ian on a stool shining a little flashlight in another inmates eye. The regular nurse looks up at Mickey, her knowing eyes making his cheeks pink as he takes a seat to wait for the only person he wants."Definitely pink eye again, Maron." Of course Ian would know his name even if it wasn't in his file. "The usual dose should clear it right up, okay?"The guy nods and heads to the pharmacy window, while Ian finishes up. When he finally notices Mickey, the biggest smile spreads across his face and he seems to simultaneously relax and get excited. All Mickey wants to do when he gets close enough to Ian is grab him and kiss him and not care who sees. But he doesn't. Instead he watches as Ian’s face falls to concern when he sees the blood, his eyes assessing everything in an instant. He quickly washes and dries his hands then guides Mickey to a chair."Lemme see," Ian says, pulling Mickey’s hand in his to see the gash across his fingers. He gives him a look. "I thought it was called fabric softener. You could've just come to see me, Mick."Mickey doesn’t even try to hold in his laugh. "Was folding. Blade got me," he explains, wincing a little as Ian begins to clean it. He's lucky it wasn’t more, but it still hurts a lot actually and he knows he's gonna need stitches.Ian confirms it when he grabs the kit and starts threading a needle. "I hide all my weapons in my underwear.""Is that a warning or..." Mickey teases because what else is he supposed to do when needles don't agree with him? He tries not to look, but he likes to watch Ian work with his hands. "Don't they got a staple thing that does this now?"Ian snorts even though he's concentrating on being efficient but quick for Mickey’s sake. The anesthetic stuff he'd sprayed is barely more than a mild numbing, so Mickey sucks in a breath as the curved needle pierces his skin. "If you want this to be infected by the end of the week. Plus, there wouldn't be one in here anyway."Mickey knows all about how Ian hates how inferior the equipment is compared to what he was used to working with. He listens as Ian gets worked up over it, telling him gruesome stories and about how he'd do things better. He tries so hard. Mickey made sure to tell him he was proud of him, struggling to feel the same regarding himself. He keeps breathing steadily as Ian continues, biting his lip to counteract the pain. This close, he can feel Ian’s warmth and smell the day on him. It acts as a better calming agent so Mickey focuses on him more; the slight freckles cropping up from their outside time, the soft shine of his buzz cut after the lice incident, his eyelashes and eyes....."All done," Ian looks up with a smile, catching the loving look basically tattooed across Mickey’s face. He returns it and ducks his head to press gentle kisses to each of the freshly wrapped fingers."You do that for everyone that comes in here?" Mickey asks softly, eyes roaming to the nurse and back to Ian.Ian shakes his head. "Just you,""Good.""And Crit," Ian adds, knowing he was toying with his lover's jealousy.Mickey rolls his eyes. "Who the fuck calls themselves Crit?""It's short for Critical. He’s actually really nice once you get past the--""Triple homicide?" Mickey raises an eyebrow.Ian shrugs and laughs. "I was gonna say the swearing." He stands and comes closer to Mickey, pulling him closer by his bloodied jumpsuit and looking at him seriously. "Be careful."Mickey nods, wanting so badly to kiss him. He steps back after a moment, though, when another inmate enters. "See you later.""See you."Ian's promise slices right through to Mickey’s heart.