#sickey

Mickey looked back to Sam, his brows furrowed.

“It is! I can practically see the house through those trees!” He replied with a grin, pointing through the dense woodland to where he swore their house was. It was starting to get dark now, the sunset beyond the horizon and the moon slowly rising.

“Mickey...” Sam’s voice came from behind him and Mick came to a halt, looking back to him and Apollo, who seemed rather done with all their travels that day. An owl hooted in the distance.

“Angel, I’m telling you we’re nearly home, okay?” He assured, moving towards Sam. Sam’s eyes were wide, his face white as a sheet. “Angel?” Mickey’s brow furrowed. Sam’s lips parted, but no words came out as he raised his finger to point behind Mickey.

Mickey turned.

arrest :   your  muse  finds  my  muse  arrested  in  cuffs  with  swarming  police  everywhere.

Blood. There is blood everywhere. On his hands, on his clothes, in his mouth and nose. He's never seen so much blood. There are flashing lights all around him but all that he can see is red.

When his hands are tugged together, he doesn't fight. He knows what is happening, but he can't comprehend. He isn't a threat anymore. The weapon was dropped as soon as it was used. The smell of blood makes his stomach turn. The officer is speaking to him, but it's like he's under water.

Bubbubbub.

Nothing makes sense.

He blinks as a flash of blonde hair catches his eye, tries to focus on it and to figure out why it makes him feel sick and achy.

It's Sam. He's calling his name, waving at him, trying to push past an officer as Mickey is being led towards a car.

"It's okay," he speaks but his voice can't be heard over all the noise. "It's okay Angel," he tries to focus his eyes on Sam's, to calm and reassure him but he doesn't know it's working. Everything is red with blood. Everything isn't okay. But Sam is. And that's all that Mickey cares about. He manages to keep Sam's eye for a moment, mouth the words "Love you," before his head is shoved down and he's bundled into a police car.

Showering is one of Mickey’s favorite nighttime activities, especially when Sam joins him like he has done tonight. He’s thankful, honestly. Mickey is tired and his ribs ache and it’s a pain trying to keep his cast dry while washing himself with his one good arm. Thankfully, Sam has helped him out and now, he’s started lathering up Mickey’s hair with shampoo. Sam’s hands are soft, moving gently through his locks, so very careful that Mickey wonders why he isn’t so kind to his own hair.

“Head back,” Sam says softly and Mick does so without question. He can hear water splashing and then the gentle trickle of it as Sam pours some over his head from his hands, washing out the suds from the shampoo.

Mickey lets out a soft sigh and Sam repeats the action again and again until Mickey’s hair is clear of suds. “All done,” He tells Mick with a kiss to his cheek and Mickey turns carefully to face Sam, shuffling in close.

Mick scrunched his nose at Sam, shaking his head softly. His bangs fell in his face but he made no effort to move them.

“How many times have I fucked up, Angel?” He asked softly, dampening his lips with a swipe of his tongue. “How many times have you forgiven me for the shit I’ve put you through?” He asked, reaching up to push blonde strands behind Sam’s ear.

“It ain’t that I don’t care,” He breathed softly, rough thumb moving to caress Sam’s cheek, “It’s that I love you, no matter how much you fuck up, no matter what you do - you’re mine.” He breathed a soft laugh, fingers moving to Sam’s chin.

It had been a hard sell for Sam to convince Mickey to go to the zoo, given his interest in animals usually ended with the semi-aquatic. Even those were pushing their luck, really but when Sam pointed out their new Asian Carp exhibit, Mickey had finally given in and agreed to go, just for the fish.

It turned out though, Mickey had more of an interest in animals than he’d expected.

“Hey, woah, look at the fuckin’ size of them..!” Mickey marveled as they approached the giraffes, towering over them. “They’re fuckin’ huge.”

“Mickey, mouth.” Sam scolded, glancing at the family stood beside them.

“What? Oh Fu--dge. Sorry,” He said to both Sam and the disapproving family. 

“They are pretty big though,” Sam replied with a small smile, his arm moving around Mickey’s waist.

“They’re huge. I wonder what they eat. Hey, look, we can go up higher and see them closer.. c’mon.” Mickey started to lead Sam up to the viewing platform.

“Mick, we’re gonna miss the Carp Exhibit if we’re not quick.”

Mickey was shaking as he said the words, his eyes firmly on his former drug dealer who currently had his arm around Sam, knife held against his middle. Things had escalated quickly. They had been heading home from a date in the city when Dan had appeared and grabbed hold of Sam. It had been six months since they’d left and Mickey had thought they’d escaped this.

“Don’t you dare.” 

Since the incident with Sam, Mickey has been pushing for him to learn a little self-defense. Mickey is well trained in MMA and has taught others in the past, but it feels strange to be sparring with his boyfriend. Sam’s arm isn’t completely healed yet and Mickey is wary of being too rough with him.

Mickey’s explained to Sam what to do, shown him the move with another member of his MMA team, but now that he’s facing Sam, hands up, clenched into fists and feet firmly apart, he’s hesitating.

“Come on, then! Hit me!” Sam’s encouragement just makes Mickey all the more nervous. But he wants to do this. He wants Sam to learn how to deflect punches and use people’s power against them just in case he has to defend himself again.

“Bossy,” He comments and takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. His hands tighten more and he tells himself Sam can do this. He exhales and throws the first punch with his right hand, there isn’t much force behind it and Sam swats it away easily.