we’re doing a murder thing here

Mickey Milkovich Had A Dream

if these rough tender hands could talk

Thank you, dearest Annise @gallavich-annise 😍 A damn good choice of prompt 😁 Paging @galladrabbles 😎

---

Getting the part first comes with its downsides. Sort of.

He’s been at the studio for over three hours and still one guy to go.

He’s seen him in some stuff. A couple of indie movies, a minor character in a detective show. Quite aloof in interviews, answers bordering on evasive.

And yet…

He clears his throat, rolls his shoulders and poof, Mickey Milkovich disappears. There’s just Brett, crying and pleading and Ian gets lost in piercing blue eyes.

‘You love me!’

Ian swallows. His heart beats wildly. His lines, long forgotten.

The director – ecstatic.

End of scene. Mickey grins.

God, Mickey looks so good. He hasn't wiped the eyeliner off yet, and his whole worried thing he's got going on is strangely attractive. Ian's officially lost it. Mickey's just staring at him. He should probably say something. If only his braincells would do anything productive.

"You didn't wash it off?" is what he lands on, the words feeling awkward as they leave his mouth, trying desperately to sound normal.

Mickey stares back, shrugs. "Didn't wanna hurt Franny's feelings."

Fuck, he can't stop staring at him. He looks so good. His eyes look so blue, his skin looks even more pale than usual, which enhances his dark hair and the dark eyeliner around his eyes. He looks amazing. Like a model. Or a really sexy vampire or something. Ian can't fucking think straight, okay? Sue him. His husband looks so fucking good and he can't be normal about any of this and Mickey's looking at him like he's freaking him out but he can't stop staring.