Don't Work To Death Who: Mickey and Zania Where: Zania's house When: Morning
Mickey stuck around the encampment until well after dawn, making sure everyone had made it out of the cages, that whatever could be taken down was and was one of the last ones to leave. He could have gone home, maybe changed and showered, but he was determined to just keep working, and he’d promised Zania he would come by. After seeing her face when Lily sort of bailed on her, he wasn’t about to do the same. So he went straight to her house, knocking on the door, leaning on the frame to take the weight off of his knee and give himself a moment to get his emotions in check. He was trying hard not to think about how badly things were going, how he probably just needed to lay low for a good month.
Zania didn’t really expect Mickey to come by. She hoped he would, but after the news that Lily was going to deliver? She wouldn’t blame him for just wanting to go home and go to sleep. While she knew Lily hadn’t committed to him in the first place, she couldn’t help but be annoyed with her for hurting Mickey, especially after all that he’d been through. He deserved a break. It was why she’d kept her mouth shut about her own feelings for Mickey, hoping not to discourage Lily. And it turned out it didn’t matter. On the off-chance that he did come by, Zania had made coffee and was attempting to make pancakes. Coffee she had mastered; pancakes, not so much. When she heard a knock at the door, she jumped and ran to it, pulling it open and standing behind it, out of the way of the sun.
“Come in!” she smiled, peering out from behind the door. “I’ve got coffee made and I’m trying for pancakes. I know you’ve been up all night, so I’ll try not to keep you too long.” She’d been up all night as well, but that was her schedule these days. When Lily bailed on her, she’d gone to paint the club by herself, then come home, showered, and changed into a brightly colored dress she’d made herself. If she could fight off the rainclouds of depression, she would.
He couldn’t help but smile a little at her, shaking his head at the ray of sunshine Zania had turned into. “You know...I’m actually not bad at pancakes,” he told her, letting himself into the house and closing the door while blocking the sunlight for her. “How’d work go at the club last night?”
“That might be a good thing because it turns out I’m horrible at them,” she grinned, leading him towards the kitchen. “The batter’s all made. I can follow those directions. But the pouring and flipping? I have no skills.” It hadn’t been her intention for him to make his own breakfast, but since what she was making wasn’t quite edible, he might as well have a go. “I got the painting done. All the walls. But it’s pretty bare without a bar. I thought I could walk you through the plans while you ate.”
Mickey never really would have let her cook on her own for him, that just wasn’t like him, so going to wash his hand and take stock of her set up was almost natural. “I used to make them for my brother and sister. When my parents were out with Rose,” he told her, giving a little bit of history there as he rolled up his sleeves. “Talk to me now. I was thinking of getting started building today.” Anything to keep his mind off of everything else going on.
Zania opened her mouth to ask about his siblings, but then shut it, well aware of how that could bring down both their moods. It was good to have the happy memory, but to dwell on it longer than that brought the reminder that they were dead. “Today?” she asked instead. “You were up all night! The coffee was to get you through breakfast, not the entire day! If I’d known, I’d have made it stronger.”
Mickey was a realist about his family, but he wasn’t sure he’d call them dead. There was a good chance his brother and sister were, but he didn’t want to give up on them without proof. Not when everyone else was dead. “I slept a little yesterday. And this will get me started,” he promised. “Plus...I’d rather work than try and think.”
Her teeth bit into her lip as she gave a little nod of understanding. She’d been there. It was part of why she’d worked through the night. What else was she going to do but come back and stew, especially when she had the night off? “Just don’t kill yourself, okay? If you die from exhaustion while working on my club, I’ll never forgive myself,” she teased, taking a seat on the counter as he began to make himself comfortable in her kitchen. She paused, considered, then asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I won’t die from exhaustion,” Mickey promised. “I won’t ruin your club.” He looked over at her with a half smirk that didn’t go to his eyes before pouring the first pancakes out and adjusting the heat. When she asked if he wanted to talk about it, he considered saying no, but wound up giving her more than usual. She was, after all, one of his only other friends. “Do you know anything already?” he asked, reaching for the spatula and not taking his eyes off the pancakes. It was important to know how long the first ones cooked on a different stove, he told himself even if he knew he just couldn’t look at her.
“I’m not worried about my club. I’m worried about you,” she said with a roll of her eyes. Though he was right. It wouldn’t go over well if he died in there before it opened. Or after it opened. Though Zania didn’t think she could handle it if he died anywhere. “I knew you were seeing Lily, and she’s my friend so I… I asked how it was going. I was just curious, and I want you to be happy. I didn’t know she was seeing two people until last night. I told her that wasn’t right, to lead both of you on. Should I have kept my mouth shut?”
Mickey waited until the pancakes bubbled around the edges then flipped them, gauging by the color how long to do the next set. “It wasn’t too serious I guess, but it seemed it. She seemed really pleased with how things were going and Jack practically cornered me to ask her out, saying I should jump because she was interested in another guy too, but he didn’t like that guy and had decided I was a better choice.” Mickey rolled his eyes, but didn’t look at her. “I didn’t want to do that again, but, hey she liked me and maybe it would go well. And it did. We spent some time together, it got a little heated, but I didn’t...push too far because she deserves better. To slow it down you know?” He looked at Zania again then ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess whatever she liked about me wasn’t enough to keep her from liking some other guy and getting serious with him.” He pressed one of the pancakes with the spatula then flipped them both over, golden brown on both sides. “So last night she said she had a real connection with this other guy, said things weren’t going to work because I didn’t get along with Mannix and she thought I was still into another girl. I thought it was working, but I guess it wasn’t.”
“Lily’s like me-- she doesn’t always pick the good guys, so I’m sure Jack was thrilled at the idea of you two together,” Zania said, though she wished Jack hadn’t jumped the gun. Mickey would never hurt Lily, but it wasn’t fair to get his hopes up like that when Lily hadn’t made her decision yet. And now she had to worry about this other guy and if he was bad news for her or not. “Why does Mannix matter? Did he say something to her?” she frowned. She didn’t talk to him often, but if he was getting in Mickey’s way here, then they were going to have words. “I’m sorry, Mickey. I… I don’t even know what she’s thinking, but I’m sure she made the wrong choice. She’d be lucky to have you.”
“I think you’ve got better taste than you think,” Mickey pointed out considering she’d picked him which was just the same as Lily. “That was what he said though, with a veiled threat because that family’s just weird.” He shook his head as he poured out new pancakes. “I just said we didn’t get along, and she couldn’t understand it. Why would anyone not like Mannix. Apparently he’s a sweetie.” He tapped the spatula on the counter and shook his head again. “She didn’t make the wrong choice, Zania. She picked the person she was more interested in. If she’d been interested in me enough, that other guy wouldn’t have factored in. But again...they like me but not enough.”
“I don’t know about that. Every guy I’ve ever dated has cheated on me,” she said with a shrug. That didn’t stop her from coming back, from trying to be good enough for them. Justin had hated Dorian for it, but Zania just couldn’t let him go. “He’s her big brother. Of course she thinks he’s a sweetheart,” she said with a little laugh. She could see why Lily thought that about Mannix. He had charm, and that was part of why Mickey didn’t like him, because he’d been charming the girl Mickey wanted. “I know how that goes,” she sighed. It was how she felt with December, and then Lily. Mickey liked her, but not enough by comparison. “You’ll find someone. And until then, you can keep coming over and making me pancakes.”
“That’s because they’re idiots,” Mickey said right away, hating to hear it. Zania deserved better too. “I have it on good authority that one of my younger sisters actually all but hated me, so no, it is not a big brother thing.” A smile twitched in the corner of his mouth, even if it was a sad thought, the sister that likely hated him. When she said she knew how it went he realized she meant him and he couldn’t help but look at her. “And I’m an ass. I know. I’m sorry. At least you didn’t get the level of ass I was to December.” He was still kicking himself for that. “I don’t think I will, but I don’t think I’m going to bother. I did better keeping to myself and now with making you pancakes on the table, what else is there I could need?” Except he was feeling how horribly lonely he was and it was another reason why he hadn’t gone home.
“Sometimes people fall in love with idiots,” Zania said with a laugh. Some days she missed Dorian like she missed her heartbeat, while others she realized that she was so much better off without him. What she missed was that feeling of being loved. Even if it wasn’t consistent, it was better than nothing. “How could anyone hate you? Was she crazy, or did you just up and change personalities one day?” With the way the world went, it was possible that Mickey had been a different person back then, but she had trouble seeing it. His sister must have been crazy. “You’re not an ass. Really. You don’t have to apologize for the way you feel. I’ll get over you eventually,” she said with a small smile. “What else could you need? Syrup. And butter.” And maybe a kiss, but that wasn’t something she could put on the table. “You know you’re always welcome here, right? If you ever want to just hang out with someone.”
“That doesn’t justify their being idiots,” Mickey pointed out before laughing to himself and setting pancakes on a plate for her. “When Rose got sick, we all reacted differently. My brother shut down, got quiet and traumatized. I did my best to not make a single wave in the family, I took care of everything I could for my parents and helped them as much as I could. My sister, she...rebelled. She hated me for being good and never getting in trouble.” He shrugged. Setting down the spatula, he moved towards her, ducking his head to watch her eyes. “I’m lucky you like me like you do. You know that, right? Any guy would be lucky.”
“What were the age differences between ya’ll?” she asked, trying to put together his family in her mind. He spoke so little of them that she didn’t even know who was the oldest, or what exactly had happened to Rose. If Mickey was willing to open up, then she wanted to know more about him when she could. “I don’t think it was a real hate, then. Maybe a frustrated hate, but not a down to the core one.” She could be wrong, of course, but she had a hard time believing it was true hate in that situation. “Do you feel lucky?” she asked, surprised by his statement, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She kept expecting him to be sick of her or to feel pressured towards something he didn’t want. “I’ve been told I think too much, so I’m trying to just let things be. I’m lucky I haven’t run you off.”
"Barely two years," he said. "Not much of an age difference at all. Which probably made it worse." He didn't talk about them, but they were there, lurking in the back of his mind. "I'm not sure. I never really found out." Another reason he hoped his sister was okay. "I do. You put up with quite a bit to stay friends with me." Mickey smiled and nodded. "I think that's not too far off. Maybe it's good just to let things happen. I might need to do some of that myself. Or just...stop."
"I made things difficult. I friend-zoned you to protect myself, then got upset about it. So you put up quite a bit to stay friends with me," she smiled, her eyes dropping from him. If only he wasn't so in love with December, maybe she'd have a chance. And maybe he wasn't, if he was willing to give Lily one, but then he'd still not tried with her, so she really needed to back off. "It's hard to just stop when you want something. But not worrying about it so much? I know that's probably a good idea. I put too much pressure on myself and everyone else when I do."
"I still hate that you went through what you did for me," Mickey admitted with a small exhale that wasn't quite a sigh, but was heavier than a regular breath. "I know what you mean though. It is hard to stop. And it's hard to not want to fill that space beside you once you realize it's there." Which had been part of his problem. Being lonely was starting to eat at him, like acid working it's way through some surface. It had taken a while, but finally it was through and starting to hurt.
"For some reason I've got it in my head that you're worth it," she teased lightly. It did occur to her that she might be wrong, that she might just have this delusion that he was that good a guy. It seemed to be a problem for her in the past. "I hate that space," she said, making a face, but then shook her head. This conversation wasn't good for either of them. "I've decided to get a tattoo or two, as soon as I work up the nerve to visit the tattoo artist."
"You're too nice to me," Mickey said shaking his head. He was a good guy, he knew that, but he was doubting he was worth much at the moment. "I'm starting to hate it too." He glanced at her, raising one eyebrow. "December? Why would you need nerves to see her?"
"I dunno. I guess I just..." She wasn't sure she could be around December and not wonder what she had that Zania didn't. She found herself wondering the same thing with Lily. Why were boys flocking to them? Was it confidence? Were they just more attractive? Or interesting? "I haven't seen her since that one time. I know she won't hurt me, but I still wonder what she thinks of me."
Mickey shrugged. “I don’t think she has an opinion one way or another. She knows we’re friends. She actually is the one that told me not to lead you on or hurt you, so in a way she’s got your back. Though that might just be a girl thing.” He smiled at Zania. “You should go. She does great work. My new one is incredible and she was only kind of sober.”
"Maybe it's a girl thing," she said thoughtfully. She hadn't said anything to Lily about her interest in Mickey because she didn't want to sabotage his chances with her. Though if December knew she was interested in Mickey, then Zania was sure she had some kind of an opinion, and she wasn't all that sure she wanted to know what it was. She had to seem so lame, pining after a guy who'd been so clear about his lack of interest. But she wasn't going to let that stop her from getting her ink done. "It'll be interesting to get one done as a vampire. I doubt there's any kind of a healing period."
“Maybe. I wouldn’t know then would I?” Mickey had gone back to cooking, making pancakes. “I need to talk to her, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk to me.” He considered the healing period and shook his head. “No you’ll probably bypass the itchy, scabbing period all together. Jealous. Mine’s still a little annoying.” Especially since it was at the tail end of healing.
"Generally the girl thing applies more to girls that are friends. Kind of like the bro-code," Zania smiled. She'd seen that in action back when she was younger. These days, people just weren't as close as they used to be. She missed the days when she had friends that knew her inside and out. "You know I could help you with that, right? I could speed up the healing process if you wanted."
“Bro-code should apply all the time, not just to friends. It usually does. Unless you’re Mannix.” Mickey flashed a smile even if it didn’t go to his eyes. He glanced over at her. “The vampire thing? I guess we haven’t really talked about that have we?”
"I guess I don't know the rules of the bro-code, then," Zania shrugged. She thought it was that you don't go after the girl your friend was into, and Mannix and Mickey weren't exactly friends. She might even call them enemies, except they weren't trying to kill each other or anything that drastic. "Vampire blood heals. It's pretty much why Jack didn't die when he was attacked by a werewolf. I thought I could change him to save him, but instead I healed him enough to keep him from bleeding out."
“Varies on who you talk to anyway,” Mickey said. When she explained things he nodded. “Tattoo’s not the only thing healing,” he told her, holding up his shirt to show her the scratches across his abdomen. They were healing, better looking than they had been when he was first attacked, but the wounds had obviously been deep and he’d earned the few stitches he had. “But that’s good to know, you being able to help people.”
"Oh shit," she said softly, eyes widening when she saw the wounds he was sporting. Why hadn't she known he was that hurt? Zania slid off the counter and came over to inspect them, her cold fingers brushing across his skin. "Let me give you some blood to heal that. Please, Mickey. It'd make me feel better."
Mickey couldn’t help but shiver when she touched him, cold fingers against warm skin in addition to the area being sensitive. “You don’t… I mean how would you?”
"Well, how about this?" Zania asked, drawing a knife from the drawer. She slid her first two finger tips across the blade, then held them up to him. "I know we'd both enjoy it more if it was your blood, but the point is healing you."
He stared at her hand, catching her wrist, watching her fingers, then her. “Do I just?” he asked. “We shouldn’t be talking about the part where we’d enjoy it more.” Since he was pretty sure he would. “Though I should ask if you’re good on blood.”
"I know," she said softly, looking up at him. She didn't want to think about how it might be with Mickey because she knew it would be wrong. He might be like Skylar, might suddenly want her, but it would only be because of the bite. "I wouldn't do that to you. Or to me. If you ever want me, I want it to be real."
“It’d be real,” Mickey told her, considering her hand then doing what he thought he was supposed to do pulling her fingers to his mouth and pulling them into his mouth. The coppery taste was crazy, and the whole thing was weird, but what else was he going to do?
She drew a shaky breath as he began to suck the blood from her fingers, her spare hand sliding up his shirt to find the wound. She could feel it healing beneath her touch and it amazed her, even if she knew it would work. “I don’t know,” she answered as she considered his reply. “I bit Skylar and he came onto me. And he wasn’t interested before that. He has a thing for Clementine. So I’d always wonder, you know?”
She really didn’t need to be touching his stomach like that. It was damn distracting. He finally pulled his mouth away, thumb pressing against her palm. “You’d always wonder about me, no matter what. You’d never trust that I was there for you.”
“I know you’re here for me,” Zania said with confidence. “It’s that…” She knew he wanted December so much more, that he might leave her if the possibility ever came up. And if he didn’t, if he stayed with her out of some kind of obligation, he might resent her for it. They had a connection she couldn’t compete with. Would he really be happy if he settled for her? It scared her to know she was second best, and maybe not even that. Maybe third, if Lily changed her mind. In all their time spent together, the only time he’d given any indication that he might be interested was when he was sleep deprived and coming off a rejection from December. Otherwise it was just her chasing him, hoping he’d notice her, want her, maybe even fight for her. Zania sighed and rubbed her thumb over his now healed wound. “I don’t want you to settle, Mickey. I want you to find someone you want desperately, that you can’t take your hands off. Someone that makes you smile and maybe even laugh. That you look forward to seeing. If I thought that was me, I’d be thrilled to pieces, but…” Her eyes darted to the stove and a laugh burst past her lips. “I can’t even make you proper pancakes.”
Mickey watched her, sighing and pressing her palm against his cheek for a moment. “Zania, at some point you’re going to realize that being with you would never be settling.” He smiled at her mention of pancakes and shook his head. “You do fine. Just fine.”
When he touched her like that, she couldn’t help but smile up at him. He wouldn’t lie to her, would he? It just seemed impossible when he’d seen her have a breakdown on the swingset just a few days prior. Most guys weren’t willing to sign on with a basket case. “That’s because I have syrup,” she smiled. “You know that’s my plan, right? To lure you in with cookies, pies, and other sweets.”
“You’re just going to get me fat,” Mickey said. He squeeze her hand then let it go. “But syrup works. We can have pancakes and then...I can go to work.”
She laughed and let her hand fall away, missing it instantly. “You work too hard to get fat,” she told him, checking her fingers to make sure they’d healed. Sure enough, the wounds were closed. “But yes, pancakes, let me cut out those stitches for you, and then sure, you can go to work.”
He lifted his shirt to look at his stomach, staring at his stomach. It was almost completely healed, not sure what to make of it. “Sounds fair,” he told her, handing her a plate.
“Great,” she said, taking the plate from him, though her eyes did dart to his stomach with a satisfied smile. “So I was wondering, if you could have any drink at my club, what would it be? Do you prefer beer or whiskey? Wine or vodka?” she asked, forking a couple of pancakes onto her plate.
“Drink? Probably whiskey. Always drank that before.” And he had a jar of the strong stuff in his kitchen. “Why does it matter?” he asked.
“Because I’m thinking of branching out from the moonshine I make the basement,” she smiled, taking a seat at the counter and pouring syrup on her pancakes. “I plan to pay you for the work done, of course, but I thought I’d throw in a bottle of something you like, if I can manage to make it.”
“You don’t really have to pay me. Just cover materials,” Mickey said. He hadn’t planned on really charging her for things. They were friends after all. “You don’t have to do that.” He set his own food on a plate, then found a fork.
“If you don’t let me pay you, how do you expect to pay your bills or buy your food?” she asked. It was a huge amount of work she was asking of him and she didn’t expect him to do it for free. Maybe give her a discount, but not for free. “Maybe I want to,” she said, taking a bite of her pancakes. “Half my moonshine goes to Jack and Mannix in payment for the sound system and the lights for the club. I want to branch out, so I figure I should make something my friends like, and you’re probably my closest. I’m making tequila for myself.”
“I do fine,” Mickey said. His expenses were pretty low anyway. He didn’t have much or need much. “You owe them that much?” That was quite a bit. “I don’t need any tequila. That’s all you. Thanks but no thanks.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll come to some kind of agreement now that they’re stuck. It was going to be half my inventory each time they came through, but I’m not sure what to make it of it now,” she said with a shrug. “They brought in the lights, the wiring, the speakers, everything. I asked ‘em for it the last time they were here, a few months back.” She honestly hadn’t expected them to deliver, but they were known for taking orders, so she’d given it a shot. “Oh! And did I tell you I found a drum set?”
“Quite the haul,” he said. “Everything wired up correctly or do you need help with that too?” Mickey could help. Maybe not completely, but he could probably figure it out. “Yeah? Where?”
“I don’t have it all wired yet. In fact, I probably need a few of you to get them hung. I was going to have a bit of a party where maybe the guys could help me with that, and I’ve give free drinks or something,” she smiled. By the time she had the club completely set up, she might be out of alcohol. “This trader guy, Ben, he happened to have a drum set. He got free pie out of it.”
“Your pie is totally worth a drum set,” Mickey said before nodding. “We can do that. Might be best to get the layout sorted, then start in on electrics and sound. Then you can be sure everything is placed right.”
“Thanks,” she grinned, glad to hear that Mickey liked her pies. She’d have to make him another, maybe just leave it for him on his kitchen counter. It made her glad she’d been invited in previously. “That’s what I was thinking. It’s hard to know where to put the lights when the room’s so empty. I have the cash for everything you should need for the bar. And I have my drawings. I wish I could be there to help, but I’d probably just get in the way.”
“You can weigh in on what you think when you get in tonight,” Mickey told her with a smile before it faded and he paused. “Unless you and Lily were planning on rainchecking tonight?”
“I have no idea when I’ll get Lily back there again,” Zania shrugged. “I only half told her what I was last night, but if she knows about Mannix, then she can draw her own conclusions. I’ll probably come by the club before I go into work. I can’t wait to see what you get done,” she said with a smile. She didn’t want to think about Lily leaving her to watch wolves all night, or the way mention of her friend chased away Mickey’s smile. She liked it when he smiled, and he didn’t do it often enough.
He nodded. “I’m sorry she bailed on you. Though she might come looking for you. I canceled our dinner.” Which Mickey had been left to feel bad about even if it had been the best choice for him. “I don’t think she’ll want to see me. Or if I should see her.”
Zania thought that if Mickey cancelled their dinner, Lily wouldn’t come looking for her, she’d go looking for the other guy. But she didn’t want to tell Mickey that, especially since she didn’t know for sure. “You two probably need some space. Not forever or anything like that, but you were right to cancel. It’d be weird to go on a date that’s no longer a date.”
“That’s what I thought, but I don’t think she felt the same way,” Mickey admitted, taking a bite of his pancakes and chewing it slowly before speaking again. “I don’t know what I was thinking with all of it. I should have known better. I knew from the start there was another guy in the picture.”
“There’s always the possibility that a girl will meet another guy. It was just bad timing. Everything feels like bad timing lately,” Zania said between bites of pancakes. “I knew there was another guy, but I thought it was Lance. He was supposed to have a drinking contest with her or something, but didn’t show.”
“It seems to be an epidemic,” Mickey said shaking his head. “So it’s not the guy that already blew her off once. That’s good.” He paused. “Should I know Lance?”
“Um, not sure,” Zania said, biting her lip. “He’s the guy I’m kinda sleeping with, but Lily didn’t know about that at the time. I know he doesn’t really want anything more, but he thinks I’m pretty and… I just got tired of being alone. So I’m trying not to care so much.” And she was getting better at it, pushing the thoughts from her mind. It was harder when she was around Mickey, but that was because he reminded her of what she wanted.
“The guy you’re...what?” Mickey said, feeling like he should have known that. Well he did know that. He knew she hooked up with someone and now that he thought about it, he knew that was the guy. No wonder the name sounded familiar. And it was painfully obvious he did need sleep. “I thought you were done with that…” he added. “You changed your mind?”
“I was,” she answered, scooting her pancakes around her plate to soak up the syrup, but also so she didn’t have to look at him. “But he came into the diner and we got to talking. And then I saw him on my way home and he invited me in. And it just felt like… why not take what I can get? Waiting, and wanting, and hoping wasn’t getting me anywhere. And maybe he won’t call me or want to hang out, but it was something. For all I know, he might not even see me again.”
Why did that make Mickey feel so damn jealous? They weren’t together, but he found himself instantly hating the guy for all of it. Maybe it had something to do with feeling like Zania deserved better, with having been there to pick up the broken pieces when this guy made her feel like the shit the first time. He kept it off his face beyond a twitch and nodded. “Well, he’d be an idiot to not want to see you again. Hopefully it works out.”
“I don’t… I don’t know if I’m expecting it to work out,” she said, looking up at him briefly. “It’s weird. I’ve never been with a guy where I just didn’t know what I was doing, or what I wanted. I think if he lost interest, I’d be upset, but we don’t have enough going on for it to be much more. I can’t even tell if he wants to get to know me.” The whole relationship threw her for a loop in not having any idea what direction it was going. Lance could have been with another girl last night and she’d never know.
Mickey thought that sounded absolutely ridiculous, but people did it all the time. He just wasn’t good at it. “Well then I hope you’re enjoying yourself?” he tried. He wanted her to be happy and he knew he couldn’t make her happy like she wanted.
“Kind of,” Zania said, now watching him closely as she sucked on her bottom lip. She had fun with Lance, but it was just fun, nothing more. Nothing deeper. “But I’d drop him in a second to be with you.”
Mickey hadn’t been expecting that and it showed on his face for a moment before he managed to shove that aside too. “You don’t mean that,” he said, starting to clean up from breakfast so he could do something with his hands.
She was surprised to see that expression on his face, having thought her feelings about him had been pretty obvious. Apparently that wasn't the case. "Of course I do," she said. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. Though I can see where I've been misleading before, so I don't blame you for not believing me."
He shook his head. “I don’t think as much. I just...I don’t know if you’d believe me. If you’d be willing to take that bet.” Mickey was still working on the dishes, not looking back at her, because he couldn’t. Not when she said that. Not when part of him was screaming to just go for it. Say fuck his feelings otherwise and just go for it. It wasn’t like he didn’t want her.
"And I don't know if you'd be willing to try," she said, watching him from where she sat, head propped up in her hand. Mickey had had more chances with her than any other guy and he'd never acted on them. Not the good opportunities anyways. "It's always a risk. If you don't think I'm worth it, then don't take it."
“Not when you could get hurt.” Mickey looked over at her then, only for a moment before looking back at what he was doing. “I didn’t mean me taking the risk. I meant you. I don’t think you’d be willing to take the risk.”
"Would you hurt me, Mickey? Would you break my heart?" She asked lightly, though they were serious questions. Sometimes she wondered if she could be any more broken than she already was. Most times she doubted it. "You have to be willing to find out. I can't give you everything on a silver platter."
“Not if I could help it,” Mickey told her. It was the last thing he wanted to do. Resting his hands on the edges of the sink he looked down at it instead of at her. “I’m not willing. Not yet. It’s just not...the timing’s not right.”
"I know," she said with a little smile. It made her a bit sad that he couldn't even look at her. But that's how it was with them. The timing was never right. "But when you're feeling lonely, think of me, okay? Don't... Don't let being alone get to you. I know it sucks. I hate it too."
“You don’t think I do?” Mickey said, looking over at her finally, eyes pleading for the conversation to stop. He was going to wind up doing something stupid if he kept going. “Just...I’m better alone.”
"I..." She couldn't really answer when he looked at her like that. No, she didn't think he thought if her. She imagined he thought of December, or Lily, but why would he think of her? "Okay," she finally sighed, giving up. She was pushing too hard and she knew it. He needed space, and a friend, not her desperately wanting more. "So what's your favorite kind of pie?" she asked, drastically changing the subject. "I'll probably get a few hours sleep, but then I'm stuck inside till the sun goes down. I thought I might make you one."
Mickey finished with the dishes, wiping his hands on his pants and shaking his head. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t need anything. Just...work. And then maybe sleep.” Though he doubted he’d sleep until he’d worked his ass off and he was half dead on his sleep.
"Well, don't kill yourself trying to get it all done," she said sweetly. "I know how you get on too little sleep." He did crazy things, like going after her because he couldn't have December. Zania still wondered if she'd made the right decision that day. Some days it felt like she'd missed her only chance with a great guy over a technicality.
“I won’t. It takes a lot to kill me,” Mickey said, feeling like that was the truth more than anything else. “I get more done, which is hard to believe but true.” He knew what she was talking about, but he didn’t want to think about that.
“Yeah, well, I still want to know your favorite kind of pie,” she smiled, though there was a nervous flutter in her stomach. She felt like she needed to tread carefully, and probably backwards. “I was supposed to feed you breakfast, and instead you made it yourself, then did my dishes for me.”
"I would have tried to do dishes no matter what," Mickey pointed out. "But if you are determined, surprise me. I'm not really that picky when it comes to food."
It seemed that he wasn’t going to give her any hints, possibly because he thought that might deter her. A part of Zania thought she should make him one of each, just to be stubborn, but she knew that was going overboard and he might not find it funny. “Fine, I’ll surprise you,” she sighed. “Did you want to review the drawings first? Make sure you don’t have any questions? Though you can always call me if you do later.”
"Or you could just let it go," Mickey said, reaching for his coffee again, just to keep his hands busy. "Sure let me see what you've got. It's easier to give suggestions before I start them than the other way around." He was uncomfortable again, though fully aware that was his fault and not hers. He just didn't know how to make her happy and doubted that even if he tried, she'd really be happy or constantly be worried he'd leave her for someone else.
“Okay,” she said, giving him a smile though she was discouraged and a little bit annoyed. She liked baking for people, especially those she cared about, but if he didn’t want her to… she supposed she could just sleep instead. Or see if Lance wanted to come over. “This is what I’ve planned as far as size and location,” she said, getting out a few of her drawings. She wasn’t an artist, but hopefully it would give him an idea of what she was looking for. “I’m going to let you get creative with the design, since I don’t really know what’s easiest. I think function is most important.”
He took the drawings looking them over with a nod. "This should work," he said. He'd need to see the space. Walk through it and really get a feel for it, but it seemed reasonable. "Any extra needs? Shelves, cabinets, things like that? And how sturdy do you want it?"
“As sturdy as you can make it. I want to be able to dance on it, if I feel inclined,” Zania grinned. She didn’t weigh all that much, so it shouldn’t be a problem, but she thought she might as well throw it out there. “I want cabinets below and I’ll probably put shelves up on the wall behind.”
"I wondered if that would be a requirement," Mickey said with a nod, pulling short pencil from his pockets and marking the drawings up in his own shorthand. "Got it. We can do shelves behind it. How many people behind the bar at once?"
“Nothing wrong with a little dancing,” she said, watching as he made notes. “I can’t imagine I’d need more than two people working the bar at once. We’re just not that big a town. Once we get the bar done, I was thinking about barstools and maybe a booth that runs along this wall, but I need to see the space. I want there to be plenty of room for dancing. And I want to DJ box here.”
Mickey kept making notes as she talked, realizing that good work done for her would mean good things for him. More opportunities. He wasn't really a carpenter but he could manage as one. "We will have to see what we can fit but I'm sure it will work."
Zania realized she was going to owe Mickey more than she could afford, but since he didn’t want her to pay him, she could at least spread the payments out over time. Supplies now, services later. “This is what I’ve got in the way of cash for supplies,” she said, handing him an envelope. “Spend whatever you need and let me know if you need more. I’ll pay you for the work later.” And there was no changing her mind on that point.
Mickey took the envelope and looked inside before nodding. "This should be fine." It would be enough to get him started. He a was a frugal buyer anyway. "Just, if you like it, make sure you tell people who built it. Might get me even more work."
“Of course! Everyone that’s helped me is going to get a wall panel for lyrics, so think about a song you like because it’s going on the wall. And I plan to have a sign by the front door noting who did what. Plus, you know I pimp you out to everyone that needs something fixed, right?” If it was broken, Zania was sure Mickey could fix it, and she told everyone that brought up anything of the sort.
"You love to push my boundaries don't you?" Mickey hadn't actively thought of music in ages. "Just the word of mouth recognition works fine. Promise."
“I do,” she grinned. It was something she did with everyone, though not necessarily on purpose. “I have a plan, Mickey, and nothing you say is going to make me change my mind on this one. Except maybe denying me the work. But that would just be mean.”
"I'll do the work, just leave me out of the creative parts that aren't building." It was the best Mickey could do for the moment. "I'm gonna get to it so you can get to the rest."
“Okay,” she sighed. She wasn’t letting him out of it, but she was too tired to argue with him right now. She had a vision and she wasn’t going to drop it just because he didn’t want to participate. “Call me if you need anything?”
Mickey gathered up his things and nodded. "Of course. I'll see you tonight. You can tell me what you think."
“Sounds good,” she said with a little smile. “See you later.”