I know you better than you think Who: Mickey and December Where: December's When: late Warnings: NSFW
It wasn’t planned but well after nightfall Mickey had found himself sitting on the steps outside of December’s house, waiting for her to leave for work. He probably could have knocked, but it was easier to wait her out, sipping at the beer he’d grabbed from his fridge. He’d taken a page out of her book, starting with one beer, but by the time he wound up outside her house, trying to figure out just what the hell she’d been thinking he was working on his third. It was enough to give him a light buzz, but it wasn’t answering his questions. Two hundred and fifty dollars. And while she was willing to shell out that much, she wasn’t willing to bid on him herself. That was one hell of a pity bid if it was.
December only noticed Mickey by chance. She had been shuffled home, made to take time off so she wasn't going to work at all. She had spent her day working on plans. So far they were pretty thin. Taking a break, she had planned on sketching for a while on the porch. Walking past her front window, she caught sight of him.
Biting her lower lip, she opened the door with a twinge in her arm. "Forget how to knock?"
He perked up when he heard her voice, but didn’t glance over his shoulder right away. In fact, he didn’t turn until after he’d taken another swig of his beer. Then he glanced back and shrugged. “I figured I’d catch you on your way to work. Plus I was still figuring out what I was going to say.”
"I'm not heading to work." December said, noting the beer. "And clearly this is a 'I have to be drunk for this conversation' kind of talk. Do I need to get a beer too?" she asked, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe as she eyed him. It could be anything, really, so she didn't even try to work out what he might be upset about. Though, she didn't know if he was upset, she guessed. He didn't sound it, but he also wasn't a dude who did a lot of sitting around drinking on porches.
"Why aren't you going to work?" Mickey asked, confused look on his face. She wasn't the type to not go to work without a reason. "I'm not drunk." Slightly buzzed maybe. Enough to take the edge off. "Up to you. If you get one we can have a drink and I can tell you how the date you bought went."
December was about to tell him that it was a mandatory vacation, and she even started to gesture toward her arm, but then he went on and mentioned that she'd bought him the date. So, the little bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut for two seconds. Great. If she saw her again, she was losing a tooth. End of story on that shit. "Right. I need a beer then." she told him, then went to grab one, coming back before too long. She wanted to lean on the porch railing, but her arm wouldn't like that. "Tell me about the date."
Mickey noticed the bandage as she was leaving, frustrated that his own emotions and the beer had hurt his observational skills. When she came back he shook his head. "You don't really want to know how the date went," he said. "What happened to your arm?" He wanted to ask her why she'd paid someone to bid on him, but the words weren't coming.
She sat down next to him, pretty surprised he wasn't tearing her a new one yet. She couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad one. "So I'm to assume it sucked in a bad way?" she asked. Then she glanced at her arm. "That's...a whole other conversation." she told him. "You came here to say something to me. You said it was to tell me about your date, and now you're not going to? Make up your mind. Or just get to what you're gonna say."
"It didn't suck. We had dinner. Talked about how I had feelings for someone else, she got stoned during the movie and offered to take me home and I left her with a kiss goodnight in return for finding out that you paid two hundred and fifty bucks to have some stranger bid on me." Mickey cut his eyes at her, frowning. "I can't figure out if that's a compliment, that you think I'm worth that much or it's the biggest pity move in the history of pity moves. Or why the hell you didn't just do it yourself."
Yep. She didn't want to be having this conversation. "You leveraged information with a kiss?" December asked. "...was there tongue?" she had to add in there. She took a long drink. "It wasn't pity." she said first. "And let me answer your last thought with a question." she added, looking at him. She made sure she had eye contact before she spoke. "If I had bid on you, how exactly would you have taken that? What would that have meant, in Mickey Land? What conclusions would you have drawn?"
"She leveraged information. And it was a good kiss." The kind that almost made him not care about the information. He shook his head, looking away from her. "I'm not answering that. That you're already referring to it as 'Mickey Land' means you're gonna turn it against me." Which wasn't fair in his mind.
December sighed heavily. "I'm not trying to turn anything against you." she told him honestly. "Just--I know you. If I bid on you and won you you'd be thinking about what it meant. You'd be wondering if it meant we were dating now, because there was going to be a date. What it meant for 'us' as a couple. And right now, I'm pretty sure I'm still in the process of figuring my own shit out without having to worry about leading you on, when you're kind of in a fragile place too. I didn't want to do that to you." she said, coming clean about her motivations. "...on the other hand, I did actually want to help kids, and wanted you to have a date. I thought maybe a total stranger might be a good choice. Someone new, different. Outside of all the bullshit. I didn't know how much anyone was going to go for, and I decided that I could spare that much."
He listened to her, watching her as she spoke. "You're off. I'd be wondering what it meant, yes. If it meant you were interested in a date, a real one, or if you were just being a friend." He made a face looking towards the hard in front of them. "I'm also not fragile. I've never been fragile. You don't need to baby me because you think I'm going to break or might not go for much at a stupid date auction. Setting me up with a pothead trader isn't going to get rid of me December. I don't need that kind of help from you. You're making assumptions about me and they aren't fair."
"You remember the part where you scared the shit out of me and I had to literally try to escape you, right?" December said, annoyance inching into her tone. "Because I sure as fuck do. And that was, according to you, because you couldn't deal with the thought of me walking away for good. So don't even try to sell me a line about not being fragile. Because that, Donnelly, is a fragile state of mind if I've ever fucking heard one." she told him. "And I wasn't babying you, I was avoiding more complications, thanks. And I didn't get her life story, I just thought it'd be worth a shot. It wasn't to 'get rid of you', and thanks for jumping to that hideous conclusion, I greatly appreciate it's reflection on me. And if that's how you feel, or how you're going to paint it, you can head right the hell on home."
"Yes December. I remember every single moment of that and I've apologized because I fucked up then. I panicked. I'm fine now. Nothing more than you common worrying and jealousy." Mickey ran his hand through his hair, want to slow things down before it got to yelling, because he'd lose to her for sure. "I don't think you're trying to get rid of me, but I get the feeling you would have rather I didn't come home tonight."
"Mickey, I wasn't even thinking about where you were tonight." she said, taking another drink. "I was thinking about what I was going to do with my fucking 'you have to take time off, you can't be in til Tuesday!' mandatory motherfucking vacation." she told him. "Not everything is about you. If you didn't hit it off with Miss Loose Lips, then whatever. Sorry I didn't pick someone better. But I don't really know where you get that feeling." she said honestly. Which might be weird, she was thinking. Because before she had kind of flipped out and been stupid over Zan, but it hadn't happened like that with the scruffy bitch. Why, she didn't know.
"I didn't mean it like that D," Mickey said quietly. "I know you don't think about me like that. What I meant is that you want me to move on with someone else and I don't want to. It's not easy to walk away from that moment when the offer's out there but I keep doing it. One date isn't going to change that." He looked at her bandaged arm, reaching out to tilt it towards him. "Is this what mandatory vacation is for?"
I don't even know if I think about you like that. Don't answer for me. went through her mind, but she didn't share. That would have been a billion times more unfair than he was already leveling in her direction. "Fine, you don't want to. I'll stay out of it." she said. Finishing her beer, she made a little face when he tilted her arm. "Yeah." she said. "...I had a run in at the morgue." she told him. Then shrugged and started unwinding the bandage, since he would likely want to see it, if she knew him at all. Plus she kind of did too. She was thinking massive scarring there, and tended to want to try and picture just how ugly that shit was going to be, and if she could effectively cover it with tattoos.
"Don't get pissed at me for what I'm feeling December,"'he said gently, almost pleading. She agreed to that too quickly and it made him nervous. "What kind of run in exactly?" Mickey asked, eyes cutting to hers before going back to watching her unwind the bandage.
"Mickey." December said. "I'm not giving you shit. I'm answering. I'll stay out of things. End of story. I'm not pissed." she said, wishing he'd stop being oversensitive now. She finished unwinding the bandage, revealing the ugly mess her arm was. The black stitches all over, the angry red around the deep black where the deepest parts of the wounds were...yeah it was pretty damn bad, all right. "It was of the vampiric variety." she told him.
He still wasn't quite comfortable with that but Mickey didn't say more. It seemed pointless at the sight of her arm. "Shit," he swore softly, fingers turning gentler as he studied the damage. At mention of it being a vampire his shoulders tensed. "Who?" There was a darkness in his voice at the question. He didn't care who it was they were dead if December hadn't killed them already. Even Zania as painful as that would be.
December was unsurprised at his reaction. He was protective. She would be the same way if situations were reversed. "I don't know. She came in I think to try and cover up her kill. A drained body came in not long before that. I just happened to be there. She saw me, then came at me. She fucked me up, I killed her. So, you don't have to worry about that. It's taken care of. But...yeah. It sucked. But the doc told me I wasn't allowed to be in again til Tuesday now." She rubbed at her eye a little, the makeup she'd put on to cover the black eye coming off a little to reveal some of the black and blue coloring underneath. "FYI, apparently they turn to dust when you stab them enough times in a fight to the death."
Mickey nodded sternly, glad the thing was dead but anxious about there being more floating around. He studied her face when the make up rubbed away, reaching to brush more of it away gently as he could. "Doc has it right. You look like hell December. Not to mention you're down more blood than you should be." He sounded frustrated with her, but it was obviously rooted in concern.
"You always know just what to say to the ladies." December said drily, though there was no bite to her words. She knew he was completely right. She did look like hell. She also didn't stop him from wiping her makeup aside, it twinged a little, but not in a really bad way. In fact, for her? It was actually kind of nice. In a pretty inappropriate way. "But I'll listen. Unless there's an emergency. So, let's hope no one else drops dead of mysterious causes, and I'll get rest." she said. "Sort of."
When she didn't stop him, he kept his hand on her cheek, thumb grazing her skin in an attempt to be comforting. "Good. Even then...I know it's important but you need rest. And to eat. Did you eat today? Can I make you something?" Something she said registered late and he frowned, hand freezing even though he didn't pull it away. "What do you mean sort of?"
There was a nearly imperceptible hesitation in her breath, the slightest sound in an exhale from his touch on her cheek, the bruise there. "I've eaten, Mickey." she told him. "And I mean sort of by...I've made a decision. Which, I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you about it. After what happened with the vamp...I'm doing this. I'm signing on to hunt whatever stupid bullshit this dome is going to throw at us. I'm hoping that this won't actually be too much of a thing, but..." she shrugged one shoulder. "That's it. if something needs hunting? I'm doing it."
He almost thought he saw something there, some tiny reaction to him but it was so small he wondered if he imagined it. At her declaration he'd found himself nodding, eyes ticking down to her arm then back to her eyes. "We. We're hunting it." He wasn't about to let her go in without back up and he didn't even sound upset about it. He had no intention of fighting her on the item, mostly because he knew she wasn't going to budge no matter what he said so he might as well tag along. He smiled softly stroking her cheek again, as if it would drive his point home. "Do we have to start tonight?"
She shouldn't have been surprised, but part of her was. He didn't even attempt to argue with her. It had her quirking a smile at him. "No, we don't have to start tonight." she conceded. "Got any other brilliant ideas for what we should do?"
He smiled more tilting his head slightly as if he was thinking. "A couple, some you might not be as ready to jump at as others." His humor slipped slightly, a softer smile that hit his eyes, making them light up more than usual. "But I could work with another beer to start." Who cared if he'd already had enough? She didn't seem pissed at him like she'd been before and it was like a weight being lifted off his shoulders.
"Oh? Now I'm kind of dying to know what it is you had in mind." December said. She also stood up. "C'mon. If we're continuing drinking, we're doing it inside." she told him, starting back in. She left the door open for him though. She went and got them both fresh beers, then went to flop on the couch, setting her back against one of the arms. She rested her arm across the tops of her knees, as she curled them up toward her chest. "You can also help me figure out what the fuck to tattoo over the scars once this is healed." she called.
He watched her go first, following after and shutting the door behind him. He took his beer but didn't sit until she was settled, more at the middle of the couch, legs stretched in front of him. "I was thinking since you paid for the date you probably deserved the goodnight kiss more than Kenzie. And that now I owe you one," he told her, tone light, almost joking. Looking at her arm he shrugged. "I'd keep the stitches. Recreate them."
December arched a brow at him, then looked back at her arm. "How's that logic work? Seems to me you'd be getting the benefit there. Your ass has been kissing people all over town, lately." she noted. She also noticed that he didn't sit on the opposite end of the couch from her, he was closer than that. If she stretched her legs out, they'd be across his lap. "Just...recreate the wound?" she asked. "My indoctrination into hunting like I live on some stupid old tv show?"
"I doubt you'd be disappointed to the point where I'm the only one getting any benefit," Mickey countered with a smirk. "And two people is not all over town. Plus one was mostly a necessity." Shrugging his shoulders he took another sip of his beer. "I was thinking more like being stitched back together," he explained. "Made whole again. Don't recreate the wound, recreate the healing process."
"Oh?" she asked. "You're some world class kisser, who'd leave everyone panting in your wake for more?" she posed. "You'd be doing me a favor, by bestowing me with a kiss?" she turned her arm a little more, absently wiping off the rest of the makeup revealing most of the damage of the clock to the eye she'd taken. "And okay the healing process. Interesting. I'll keep it in mind." she said honestly. Might be best, considering she didn't know what else could cover there.
"Yes," Mickey said a smile before taking a swig of his drink. He was teasing, but when she asked like that he could be cocky even if it was a facade. "Remember that pair of fanatics that had all those ancient symbols thinking that would keep them safe? Cool looking ink even if the purpose was out of a bad tv show."
"Well, apparently vampires are a thing now, so who knows what could and could not help." December said. "Though, for the record, I checked out crosses, and that's a no-go. Which blows." she rolled her eyes, and shifted back, attention on him. "And talking yourself up that much--that's dangerous, you know. Though for the record? I've never gotten any complaints myself." Unless Mannix counted, who hadn't gone further with things after their mini kissing session.
"That does blow. I already have one of those," he said gesturing to the chain around his neck. Turning slightly towards her, he raised his eyebrows. "Why's it dangerous? I got a compliment last night. So I think it'd be interesting to see who's better."
"You go talking yourself up too much and all that's left is disappointment when you hit up the real thing." December said. "So don't get too confident over there. Judging from what I know about you? You haven't had all that much experience." she pointed out. "Just sayin. Might wanna tone that down, boyo." she smirked, leaning back a little as she rubbed at her eye again. "So, is the hot post-scrappy fight look me?"
"Ouch." Mickey didn't have any disdain in his voice though. She was mostly right. It had been a series of relationships that either hadn't gotten there or had and fizzled out. He studied her cheek before reaching out to touch the bruise lightly. "Not really no. Doesn't take away from how pretty you are but I don't think I like the bruised version."
She stilled when he reached out to touch her. She'd kind of been in almost a flirty mode here with him, if she was being honest with herself. But that statement had her internally hitting the brakes. Because it was exactly the reminder she needed. Mickey was a nice guy. He would always be a nice guy. And bruises weren't okay with him. He definitely wasn't going to be able to hand them out. "Good to know." she answered him, sighing as she stretched, back cracking while she did so.
Mickey frowned more at the change in tone of their conversation than what she said. "Was that the wrong answer?" He guessed and pulled his hand away from her when she sighed.
"No." She told him. And her answer was honest, too. It wasn't wrong. It was his opinion, part of who he was. It couldn't be wrong. "I think I'm just tired. I didn't want a stupid vacation in the first place, but now that I'm not heading to work? Jesus. I kind of feel how tired I am." she admitted, which was also pure truth.
She said it wasn't wrong, but something had definitely changed. He reached out for her hand finding her unhurt arm and running his fingers along it. "You've been doing too much. You earned a chance to rest."
"Maybe. I just know I'm going to be listening to the news every night, and just waiting for some other body to drop to go running in." she said. Which was exactly what she'd do. It was how her mind worked. She wouldn't be able to let it go. She paused. "I don't think I've had this much free time since we got here." she realized.
"I do that most nights without the urge to hunt something," Mickey admitted. "Keeps me sane I guess. Or in touch with everything." He didn't pull his hand away, still touching her arm lightly. "I think that means you're working too hard. We should come up with something else for you to do."
"I'm not even talking that, I'm talking going to the hospital, start autopsies." December said, eyes on his hand. "And I have something else to do now. Hunter prep. Which, you should know if you plan on doing this with me, Mannix wanted in too. After I laid down ground rules. And I told him he should get a hobby. Like creating interesting weaponry."
"That's important, but not quite what I meant," Mickey told her, trying hard not to make a face. "How do you feel about trusting him?" he asked, slowly so it didn't quite come out as jealous, but true concern. "What kind of ground rules? Though if that's the hobby you gave him, I have to wonder what you'd give me."
"What did you mean?" she asked. "And I think I made myself clear. If anyone lands on my table due to him, I'm coming after him--ground rules. But I think he genuinely wants to help. He's even making an attempt to be more civilized in general. I think he's dealing with everything the best he can, and he gives enough of a shit to sign on." December shrugged. "So I guess I feel okay for now about trusting him. And you don't need a hobby. You aren't stuck inside all day every day due to sunlight. I suggested it for him because I don't want him bored. Boredom doesn't lead to great things."
"Something less stress inducing I guess." His fingers stilled as she talked about Mannix, but he didn't react more than that and even after a moment he picked it up again. "I know. It's a lot to deal with. I need to check in on Zania, but I noticed she's been by." The blood supply had gone down somewhat which lead him to believe she'd either been there and hadn't told him.
"Yeah? She hit up the bag?" she asked. "And...I don't know. Maybe I need to do some tats." she said, thinking that was about the only thing she found not stressful in the slightest. She took another long drink of her beer. "Ever land on what you might want if you got another one?"
"I would gladly volunteer but no, nothing's come to me. Any suggestions?" He trusted her to know him, probably better than he knew himself. He was also still touching her, fingers somewhere around her elbow. She hadn't pulled away and the beer was making him fuzzy enough to not care.
December thought about that. Really, really thought. She eyed him, eyes narrowed as she did so. She took another big drink, killing her second beer. "How much do you trust me?" she asked.
That had Mickey raise his eyebrow at her for a moment before considering the question. "With my life."
"How about with a patch of skin right here?" she asked, reaching up to pat the back of his shoulder. She traced a pretty big circle there.
He looked over his shoulder as she traced her circle, then shrugged. What did size matter? There were enough small scars across his skin that were nothing compared to a tattoo. "Seems like a decent canvas."
"Fine." December said, standing up. She went to take another drink of her beer, but she'd just finished it. So she went to get another one. "Lose the shirt, and get on the chair." she said, indicating the tattoo chair she had.
Mickey finished off his beer and stood up after her. "Are you getting me one of those?" He asked. Maybe he should be worried about her drinking and tattooing but it was December. He trusted her. Hooking his fingers on his shirt he pulled it off and sat on the chair to wait for her.
"Yes." December said, grabbing two. She opened them up before she strolled over, setting hers down on the table and holding his out for him as she surveyed her inks. "Talk to me." she said, concentration still on the ink. She started grabbing a few, an idea forming in her mind. But she wanted them to be talking. That seemed to be working right now. It wasn't awkward, or anything and she wanted to keep that up.
Mickey took his beer, taking a drink before looking back at her, making a face at the request, somewhat surprised by it. "I still think I owe you a kiss goodnight." It wasn't great but it was the best thing he could come up with at the moment.
"I think you just want to kiss me." she told him. "And to owe someone something, they've got to hold it as an owed thing." she said, knowing her set up there was shaky. She didn't explain it well at all. She started setting up the ink she wanted first, black, of course, for the outline, and she got her gloves on, getting everything set before she grabbed the gun.
“Maybe I do. Take it as a compliment.” More people should want to kiss her, more probably did. “So I have to convince you to want it? It’d be easier just to actually kiss you or something. even if you might hit me.” He watched her set her inks up, but not asking any questions.
"Let's say yes, you have to convince me I want it. Or something." she said, knowing this was a dangerous conversation, but whatever. She was a couple beers deep now, and she was about to free hand ink his shoulder. She put her foot on the recliner bar and hit it, to drop him back without warning. "Lay on your stomach."
“I can do that,” Mickey said, but then he was dropping backwards, swearing and only just barely managing to not spill beer on himself. He gave her a look before turning around and laying on his stomach. “We can start with the obvious reasons. You know I’m good at kissing I can find references if you need it. I also know pretty damn well so you’d have that working in your favor.”
"Hearsay." December countered, scooting her stool up close to the chair. She leaned down to prop herself on his back, fired up the gun, and started in on her work. "Also, subjective. I knew one girl who hated french kissing." she pointed out. "And knowing me well would help your kissing technique how exactly?"
“So you just shot down having references? I’m shooting down what you said about not having complaints then,” he told her, wincing when she started, but managing to stay still. He’d been here before. And his shoulder wasn’t nearly as sensitive as his forearm had been. “I know you. I know the noises you make when you’re annoyed or when you’re amused. I don’t have to guess.”
"Not the same thing. Mine's just a statement of past experience, not listed as evidence that I rock." December said, paying most of her attention to her work on his shoulder. She didn't want to fuck it up, but she did have a very very strong image in her mind that she wanted to get down on him. "Your argument is you know what kinds of noises I make?" she asked. "Annoyed and amused don't really play in with kissing, I would think."
“Though I’m sure they would say that you do,” Mickey said, wanting to shrug but she was working. His voice was slightly more strained from what she was doing, but not gone yet. He could deal with the pain. He’d been through worse when his knee tried to wrench itself in half. “If I was doing something wrong it would be good information. But beyond that. We didn’t talk for how long? I don’t need to with you.”
"Okay, that is actually a decent point." December said, about them having spent a ton of time not talking. That she could see playing in. So it was valid. "But I'm not convinced yet." she added, so he knew he'd have to keep arguing. Weirdly, she was getting the design done faster than she would have thought. But it was so firmly in her head that it wasn't taking much in the way of contemplation as she drew.
“There you go,” Mickey said, smiling that he’d found one point. “Alright, I think my size would play a factor. Being stronger than you has to help me out in some way, but that’s more for what could come after kissing.”
"Okay, I'm going to redirect you just to kissing here in a minute." she said, getting more ink. "But you've got to explain your logic there. What exactly are you thinking?" Because whether she wanted to or not, that statement did actually entice her.
“Is that not obvious?” he asked, turning his head to get a better look at her when the needle left his skin. “You’re not exactly heavy, so the mind wanders to a variety of options that involve you not really needing to be on the floor, or...whatever else. Bed, couch. You follow.” That was definitely the beers talking. Otherwise he would have just stammered his way through that, but feeling tipsy made it easier to just blurt out what he was thinking.
She did notice that he managed to say all that pretty smoothly. She smirked a little, then went back to inking. "So, the extent of you being stronger than me is just you can relocate me at will?" she asked, wanting to know how far he'd get into descriptions here.
Mickey made a face. “That wasn’t at all what I was thinking. It’s a good one, but it was more...having you against a wall.” That part he hesitated on, but still said it. There was the issue where his knee might give out, but for that he’d play through the pain. “And I’m sure me being stronger has other uses beyond carrying heavy things. Though I can do that too.”
Mm. That was a pretty good mental image, she had to admit. "...you came up with that pretty fast. What, you picture that before?" she asked. Yeah, she should really shut up and not keep talking here but now she was interested in whatever the fuck really had gone through his mind previously.
Caught. “Maybe. Yes. Sue me.” Because it wasn’t a bad thought. None of it was. She knew the truth about how he felt, lying about what he’d thought about was just going to get him in trouble later. “Among other things, yes that crossed my mind.”
December was silent a moment, nibbling at her lower lip as she considered. Then she took another long drink of beer, went back to inking, and said something dumb. "You get the chance, right now, to tell me about one fantasy you've had involving me. Make it good." she told him. "And if it involves a whole like, narrative? Include that."
He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer that. Yes, he did want to tell her, but admitting to it seemed a little much. Closing his eyes he considered his options for a long moment before starting. “Your tub, assuming I fit, which I sort of don’t in mine.” Soaking his knee when it ached was a pain in the ass in a too small tub. “They always start off so freaking normal, candles, a massage, something nothing like the life we’ve had together. Like we need it or something. But then it’s you in my lap, not caring if water’s spilling over the edges of the tub, but focusing on getting there, feeling something. And making you cry out loudly.”
Romantic. Of course it was romantic. It was Mickey. It was sweet, in it's own way, really. "Interesting." she said. She also noted that the focus of the fantasy seemed to be making her time a good one, which was also so very him. She smiled a little as she kept inking. "That the one you have the most often?" she asked. "What's the most recent?" she asked. She didn't ask when, though. Though she did have to admit, she was curious if there'd been any new ones since Mannix had wandered into their lives.
“Interesting? Fantastic.” That wasn’t playing down his fantasy at all. “No, just one of the clearer ones. Most of them just involve being with you, the specifics aren’t necessary.” He half glanced at her as best he could without moving. “Most recent? Crossed my mind out there that instead of asking you about why you paid someone to bid on me, I could just show you why you should have bid on me yourself. That played out in your kitchen really.”
She laughed a little. "Yes, interesting, as in interesting." she said, getting his tone there. "Last time I checked, interesting was still a good thing." she told him. When he said the rest, she had to grin. So he'd had one right before she'd noticed him out there? Or something like that... "...tell me about the kitchen." she invited.
“I think I would have gone with ‘that sounds awesome let’s try it’,” Mickey told her, sounding somewhat amused. When she asked about the kitchen he waited a moment before starting. “I was angrier, more frustrated, so there was more dragging you around, lifting you up onto the counter and kissing you until it hurt. Then more, there, but not quite...sweet.”
It was sad that she liked that fantasy better, wasn't it. Because that? Got her attention. She kind of wanted to see him like that, she knew it would do something for her if he was forceful about things, if he just dragged her wherever, done exactly what he said. Yeah. That was probably sad. But it was totally true. She really tried hard to come up with a response there that wasn't 'god, that sounds fucking awesome'. And in the end she sort of forgot to really reply.
He'd been waiting for her to say something, anything. He would have been okay with 'interesting' again but instead he got nothing. "That bad?" He finally prompted.
Shit. She'd not come up with something fast enough. "...let's go with emphatically not." she answered. Which was a bad answer, she knew. At least, a bad answer for keeping things from not getting complicated. Shit, shit, shit.
"So better than interesting," Mickey went with, frowning at that, but more because it was a curious response. "Maybe later."
"Better than interesting." December admitted. She kept working on the design, then paused. "...wait, 'maybe later'?"
“Maybe we can try later,” Mickey said, smile working across his features at her reactions. “Which part is better than interesting?” He had a feeling it was something that had been better than his first suggestion, but he couldn’t nail down what.
"Oh really." she said skeptically. "And I don't know. The intensity." she answered. "I'm not really a 'sweet' kind of girl." she said. Which she knew wouldn't come as a surprise at all. "I tend to like things...rougher."
“Yes really,” Mickey said. “If my shoulder still works after whatever you’re doing to it.” He listened to her, thinking about what she was saying. “Rougher,” he echoed. “I...don’t know what I like.” He’d always conformed, done what was liked and what the women he was with liked.
"Quit getting ahead of yourself. I know you're buzzed up pretty good here, but still." December warned. She didn't want him thinking things were a done deal or anything. Unless he was kidding--honestly at the moment she couldn't tell. "And you can't possibly be any good to anyone if you don't know what you like." she told him, getting more ink, and blotting at his skin. "How can you possibly put passion into it if you're just...what, following along or some shit?"
He wasn't sure if he was kidding or not. "Maybe I am kinda buzzed." It didn't mean he didn't want to try though. "And I'm plenty useful, just never focused on me. I don't follow along, I give the other person what they want."
"Which would be fine, if the other person didn't give a shit if you were into it too." December said. "How much can you really get truly into it if that's all you do? Seriously, if you don't even know what you like, how can you initiate anything? Explore anything? Everything would be landed on someone else's shoulders. I get the idea here? But not the execution. Sounds to me like it'd be lackluster, like you'd just be in it for the wrong reasons."
“Probably why none of my relationships lasted long,” Mickey said though he was sure that wasn’t it. “I guess I just enjoy seeing the other person enjoy it. I guess I keep making sacrifices for that.” He wanted to shrug, but he knew better than to move. “You’d be surprised at how few people care about the other person, especially when they’re getting what they want.” Or maybe he just hadn’t found someone who’d gotten through his walls enough.
She started on some more detail, nearly done with the initial outline before she could work on color. "And no, I really wouldn't be surprised about that." December said. "Remember who you're talking to." she pointed out. "But yeah, either way, I get wanting your partner to have a good time. That's good. Just...not to the total lack of attention to yourself. When I'm with someone? I want that urgent, desperate feel. Like an intense drive, a need. Not just 'hmm, guess I'll do whatever someone else wants'."
Mickey half snorted, not looking at her. “You’re probably the only person I’d feel like that with.” There was a moment before he realized that he’d said it outloud and not just thought it. It was something he usually just thought. Groaning softly he wished he hadn’t said it. She wasn’t going to take that well.
"Why? You realize you mostly need to figure out yourself, right? That the other person at the moment doesn't even really play in--you need to work out how you want it to be. Then you'll bring something to the table other than y'know. A fuckstick." December told him.
“Why? Because you’ve already figured me out. I don’t pretend with you. I just am.” He glanced at her then, but only for a moment. “That I’m even letting you put that gun of yours near me should be evidence enough. Whatever you’re working on is going to show you know all the parts that I keep to myself.” It was funny, how never talking had made them so close. She didn’t know much about him, but she knew. “That and I want you. That makes a difference.”
"So you think that would mean you'd actually go for what you want?" she asked. "I still think you need to sit there, and actually figure out what would get your off. What would actually, completely consume you. What you want, and how you want it."
“Maybe. Probably.” He was quiet for a long few moments, listening to the whirr of the tattoo gun while she worked. Did he know what would consume him? Probably not, but he’d never been in a position to let anything do that much. “I’ve never had sex with someone I wasn’t hiding most of myself from,” he admitted after realizing it. “So there you go. You like it rough and I’d like not to have to lie leading up to it.”
"Dig deeper, Donnelly." December told him. "It shouldn't be just you not having to do something. It's all about desire, all about going for something, not just avoidance. I get what you're talking about--just there's got to be other angles there." she told him.
Mickey was quiet, thinking, really thinking, which wasn’t exactly easy with the tattoo going on and the buzz he had, but he was trying. He eventually came up with something, but wasn’t sure she’d understand. He wanted her to, but he really wasn’t sure. “You know that moment where you forget everything but what’s going on in that second? Doesn’t matter where you are, all it is that instant, that other person?”
"Yes." December said. Or, she got the concept at least. She hadn't been there very often, but whatever. She got what he was saying.
“I want to make that happen. Knowing that’s happening, that’s what does it. Makes it all the better. Makes me work even harder.” Mickey could feel his cheeks heating up slightly at the thought. “Probably doesn’t make sense.”
"No, I get it." December told him, doing finishing touches on the outline. "I still say you should give yourself time to come up with the dirtiest fantasies you can, just to see what it is you would want." she suggested. "Come at it with the idea that anything's possible, and there aren't judgments happening."
Mickey made face, but at least started to consider it, even if it wasn’t his strongest area. Maybe he just wasn’t creative. “Why don’t you share something too so I don’t feel so on display here.”
"Because mine involve blood, and therefore are pretty intensely not your thing." December answered. "And I'm not drunk enough." She blotted at his skin and sat up, cracking her neck and back before she was going to start on the color.
“We just established that I don’t even know what my thing is,” Mickey said but he did have a bit of pause about ‘blood’ part. God, he really hoped that wasn’t a vampire thing because he was relying on her strong emotions against them to be truth and if he was getting into this hunting thing with her and she was into them, it could end badly. Especially with Mannix around. “Tell me about it. You don’t have to be drunk. It’s me.”
"Remember the part where you said I know you?" December said. "Trust that. I just know my thing and your thing, whatever yours is, isn't the same thing." she explained, taking another drink of her beer, then starting to get into coloring. "Why is it you want to hear again?"
“Except neither of us know what my thing is. Outside of what I said. Because I want to know. And the whole part about wanting to be with you. Sort of pointless if you just won’t flat out tell me.” In a way it felt like setting himself up for failure, if she was so sure he wasn’t into it, but he didn’t mention that part.
"Question." December said, seeming like she was changing the topic or something. She kept inking, putting in brilliant reds first. "Would you ever hurt me?" she asked. "And I'm not talking you grabbing my arm too hard, like you do sometimes. I mean, deliberately."
Mickey frowned. “I don’t think I understand the question.” The short answer was no, but he couldn’t figure out why she’d change the topic to that, which had him hesitant to answer.
"What's to understand? Would you ever deliberately hurt me? Like, physically?" she posed. "It isn't a trick question."
“It feels like a trick question.” He considered it for a moment more before shaking his head as much as he could without disturbing her work. “No. Not on purpose.”
"Of course not. Because you're a good man. You don't run around hurting girls, and even if you can get pretty dramatic now and then, deep down you're always going to be that good man. The first fantasy you mentioned was sweet. Something more along the lines of making love than anything else. Which makes sense to me." she continued. "Me, on the other hand..." she gave a moment to finish off on section before she got new ink. "I'm a masochist. And I don't mean that in the emotional way, or funny ha-ha way either. So my fantasy? Has to do with someone pulling so hard on my ribbons that the piercing site bleeds a little. And being bitten, and scratched, and all kinds of shit like that.”
Oh. Mickey was quiet for a long few moments, thinking about what she’d said. He’d never felt so stupid being called a ‘good man’ before, considering in most circles that would be a compliment, but from her and what she followed it with made him sound boring and dull. He realized belatedly he hadn’t said anything and forced words that weren’t lamenting about being lame or confused by the whole thing out. “I’ve always wondered about the ribbons. Why you have them, you know.” And now he did know, mind racing as he remembered the new colors he’d given her, wondering how they looked against her skin, and the purpose they really served. “What’s it like, when someone pulls on them? Tell me about it.”
"It's not just that. I like them." December said. "I guess...I don't know, it's my own personal version of putting on a dress to feel pretty or something." she admitted, thinking about the ribbons he'd gotten her. She never had gotten anyone to lace them in. "And I don't know how to describe it, honestly. It's sort of one of those things you either get or you don't. It hurts. I just happen to like that."
“They are pretty,” he told her, half looking at her again with a smile. “Shame you don’t have anything in now.” Listening to her describe the feeling, he tried hard to get it, but he wasn’t there just yet. “Maybe you’ll show me at some point.” If he could see it, maybe then he’d get it. Part of him really wanted to get it even if it was hard to wrap his mind around.
"You sound a whole lot tonight like you think you're going to end up sleeping with me." December told him, getting more color down into the design. She really liked it so far, and was hoping he would. "And I don't have any in, because it's been a while since I've had opportunity to have someone thread them."
“No, I sound like I would be completely okay with that. I know better.” As much as it hurt to think it, there was a part of Mickey that knew December wasn’t interested and it was there, kicking him with every suggestion he made. “Pretty sure I offered a couple of days ago. I can do that after instead. Seems harmless enough.”
Harmless right up until you opt to test out the whole ribbon pulling thing? she thought, but didn't actually say. "Sure." she said, figuring he was going to test things, but maybe part of her wanted to see how it went. Or if he'd chicken out, or how she would react. or maybe she wanted her damn ribbons in again. “What color are you picking?”
“I get to pick?” he asked, sounding surprised. It was fine with him, but he didn’t expect that. “I always liked the red best.”
"If you're threading, you get to pick." December said, smirking faintly at the surprise in his tone. "And red. Good choice." she added. She'd liked all the ribbons he'd gotten for her, but she was partial to the color red in general.
“Points for me then.” He stretched his free arm, careful not to move the shoulder she was working on, but needing to loosen his muscles slightly. “How’s it looking back there?”
"Well, I think it looks kick ass." she told him. "Won't be too much longer." she added, just so he'd have a timeframe on things. At that, she switched to orange, to blend in with the reds. "Then you'll be marked forever and ever by something I came up with while drinking with you. Remember--you agreed."
“Well kick ass is better than something that has you giggling because you just drew a dick on me or whatever,” Mickey said flexing his free hand idly. “I trust you. I’m sure it’s awesome.” Probably something that didn’t quite fit the person wearing it, but he was taking her word on that part too.
She laughed. "I did actually threaten to do that to a guy once." December said. "He came in late, I think he was drunk, and he was being a dick. Like, he called me 'baby', which I'm sure you'd know wouldn't fly for even two seconds with me." She smirked. "So I told him if he called me that again, he was going to wake up from a blunt force trauma induced coma with a dick tattooed on his cheek and the words 'I love cock' across his forehead."
Mickey chuckled a little. “That’s my girl,” he said, finding solace in that he would expect as much out of her. “I think I would have known that was your handiwork without knowing the story. Just walk up to him and be like ‘December?’ because I already knew the answer.”
She smiled. "Yeah. He stormed out not long after, but man. What a dickhead. I haven't seen him since, so that's good." she added. "But yeah. He just came off like on of those misogynistic assholes who thinks they're awesome and therefore can say whatever they want to anyone. He learned he was wrong. Or, well. Probably not. People like that don't learn. He probably left just thinking I was a massive bitch."
“He was here?” Mickey asked, surprised, but he supposed not completely. “I doubt he’ll try and cross paths with you. A lot of people can toss out threats, but yours seem far more convincing than others. Probably because you would follow through with them.”
"Probably." December said. She fell quiet as she concentrated on putting in just a few gold tones in edging the orange, getting the finishing touches on the design.
He knew she was concentrating, so he stayed quiet too, letting his mind wander to what she’d challenged him to think on, trying to let his fantasies drift away from normal to something else, but as usual he was hitting a block beyond whatever he’d already experienced.
It took her a good fifteen minutes longer to really finish up til she was satisfied. Then she took the time to clean it up. She rubbed ointment on the design, then sat up, stretching as her joints popped and cracked. She got her gloves off, then grabbed a large hand mirror. She had a big, full length mirror in the corner, and she walked to that, holding out the mirror for him to take so he could get a good look at the design she'd done.
It was a phoenix. It was also pretty large, really, with swirling, fiery feathers down his shoulder, and a wingspan that spread out. She had the bird looking down instead of up into the sky.
He took his time getting up, body stiff and sore from where he’d been laying and the work she’d done on him. He stretched as well as he could, wincing as it tugged at raw skin, but eventually joined her, taking the mirror. “Your back makes too much noise for me to be comfortable with,” he pointed out before turning to get a good look at his shoulder, first just looking over it and slowing all his motions. Her artwork was stunning, perfect detail despite the beer in her system, but above that it was huge, and not at all what he expected. “A phoenix...” he said, slightly puzzled, pleased he recognized the fiery bird, but that was more from cars than from literature.
December waited, not speaking til he sounded like he was asking a question. At least it didn't look like he hated it or anything. That was a huge plus. "Yeah." she answered, looking at the design there. "So far, I know you've been through a lot in your life. But, you keep going. It isn't that it doesn't kill you, though. It does. You get devastated, brought down. You just don't stay down. You rise back up. But you don't forget where it was you rose from, either. So..." she trailed off, figuring that was as good an explanation as she was able to give. It had been her motivation for the design, and why she'd had the bird looking down instead of the traditional skyward.
Mickey studied it more, failing miserably at working the mirror, but the explanation had him setting the hand mirror down all together. How? How did she just get him completely? Didn’t she see that? “It’s perfect,” he settled on finally. “Absolutely perfect.” He had fallen and risen again and again and he had died a little each time.
She smiled at that. "Well, good that you think so, because you aren't getting rid of it now." she said. "C'mon. Let me get a bandage on it." she said, starting to head back to her work station, to get the bandages in question. Deep down, however, she was really pleased with his reaction. She felt like she'd done right, there.
“Wouldn’t want to,” Mickey said, looking it over once more before he followed after her and sat back in the chair so she could reach his shoulder.
December put the bandage in place, being gentle about it, then she went to wash her hands. "I'm glad you like it." she said, after starting to dry them. "Just seemed to make sense in my head."
“Makes total sense. Like I said, you know me better than I do.” Mickey smiled. He stretched his arms and then got up, looking around to pick up his shirt but not put it on yet. “Ribbons?”
"Maybe I do." December agreed. Then she shrugged, and headed for her bathroom. She'd left the ribbons in there, in the medicine cabinet. Flipping on the light, she opened it up, and took out the red spool. Then she held it out to him. "Where do you want me to sit?" she asked.
When she started away, Mickey followed after her, blocking the doorway to the bathroom, more by sheer size than any real intent. Taking the spool he patted the counter of her sink. “Counter works fine.” She’d be the right height for him to get to her back without having to bend over much.
Pushing herself up onto the counter, December curled one leg beneath her, and let the other swing freely against the cabinet underneath. Then she reached up to tug her shirt off, tossing it by the hamper. Then she reached back to unclasp the black bra she was wearing, since he'd want that out of the way to get the lacing done properly.
Mickey was unwinding the ribbon as she climbed up onto the counter, not thinking of much, at least not until her shirt came off. Then his eyes were on her in time to see her unhook her bra and suddenly the expanse of bare skin was all he was thinking about. Yes, it made perfect sense. She’d need to lose the shirt and yeah, the bra would probably get in the way, but he couldn’t help it. Nor could he help the fact that he was reaching out to graze his knuckles along her spine for a moment. That was the booze. Or maybe the adrenaline from the tattoo. Something.
She had almost expected it, but not quite. Still, the light brush of contact had a little shiver going down her spine. Yep. This had been a terrible idea. And yet she didn't call it off, still curious what he was going to do here. Maybe that was all he was going to allow himself. She'd have to see.
The shiver felt like an invitation and Mickey had to force himself to not get caught in it, in just touching her and not doing what he’d set out to do for her. Forcing or not, he still drew his fingers across her skin again before focusing on the ribbon and unwinding it so he could start the lacing. He was going to ask if there was a preference, but didn’t want to spoil things, so he charged forward, vaguely remembering something that looked like a laced shoe and working that way, starting at the two rings at the bottom. There was an effort not to tug at them, but he did inevitably, even if it was just a light bit of pressure as he slipped the ribbon through.
December let her eyes fall shut at that second touch. She said nothing, though, just letting this play out for now. When he did tug, she didn't think it was on purpose, but she did make a slightly heavier exhale. There wasn't quite sound to it, but it was a reaction of some description none the less.
Mickey’s eyes ticked up to her at that, even if he was mostly looking at the back of her head from where he was. That was different. Not drastically, but different. He pushed forward, lacing the next set and pulling the ribbons a tiny bit so the lacing would be secure, but also curious if that would do something. It was alarming, realizing he was hurting her with what he was doing, but for the instant, Mickey didn’t let himself think on it. He was focusing in the red ribbon in his hand and moving on to the next set of rings once the second was set.
There was another exhale there, and she didn't re-open her eyes at all. She nibbled slightly at her lower lip, just liking the feel of this. Even if it wasn't quite hard enough to really hit her, it was pleasant. She was liking it, that was evident.
He’d shifted slightly to see her face, catching that look, her lip between her teeth, all of it. Had he ever seen her look that way? Probably not, and almost definitely not because of something he’d done. He worked through the next pair of rings then gave the whole thing a tiny tug to straighten it. Not terribly hard, but more than before and definitely there.
That did get a soft sound from her. Just a little bit. And really, there it was. That? Was him testing. It was a harder pull than necessary, even if it was just barely beyond it. And at the moment, she appreciated the hell out of it, even if she knew she should be worried about the complications all of this would inevitably kick up.
If she didn't want to complicate things that noise probably shouldn't have happened. Because that was massively distracting. For a moment his fingers just stayed on her skin, taking it in slowly. Then he remembered what he was doing and finished the last rings quickly, which put slightly more pressure on her than the first ones. "How tight do you want it tied?”
Her breathing was definitely just a bit off. "That's good." she told him, knowing that it would loosen up slightly over time and just in the tying process. She rolled her neck a little and cracked it again, trying to un-distract herself. Which wasn't as easy as it should have been.
For a moment Mickey considered pulling it tighter anyway, but beyond a slight pull, he refrained. For a moment he struggled with the bow, but once it was set he told himself to pull away. That didn't happen though, not with her popping her neck like that. Instead he was reaching for her shoulders, fingers working the muscles to relieve the tension.
She should have stopped him there, but she didn't. Because damn, all that felt good. The tugs to her ribbons, the massage, it was nice. She made a soft exhale that articulated that for her, and she let her head drop forward to let him continue.
He didn't have a reason to stop, so he didn't. His fingers worked her neck, then down her shoulders towards the tops of the ribbons again. He hesitated, but then wondered if he'd ever get another chance. Not seeing one in his future he went for it,one finger hooking in them and pulling back slightly.
The reaction was immediate. She sucked in a sharp gasp, and a moan escaped her in the exhale. She gripped the edge of the counter she could reach, and it was all she could do not to tell him to do it again. Even if higher parts of her brain shut down with the spike of pain there, and she just wanted another pull. From her reaction, it was a whole lot like if he’d touched her somewhere else entirely.
Mickey pulled his hand back, surprised at the intensity of the reaction to something seemingly small. He watched her for a long moment, not sure what to think. He wanted to touch her again. That much he was sure of, but could he hurt her like that? Maybe. If she kept reacting like that. He inched closer, thumb pushing hard to massage the muscle that ran along one side of her piercings. His fingers hesitated at the ribbons again, but he didn't pull yet. "When was the last time..." He started but didn't quite finish, too distracted by her skin. Taking a leap of faith he found himself kissing her shoulder as his fingers traced the ribbons, not pulling but testing their current tension.
Internally, there was a growl of frustration when he pulled back so fast. She managed to bite it back, but it was very much there. She was about to hop down off of the counter, saying something along the lines of 'see?' when he was doing something else. And speaking. Which she needed to concentrate on. He didn't have to finish, she didn't think. At least she figured he was asking when the last time she'd been intimate was. Or the last time someone'd done this for her. "Before the zombies." she answered him, voice a little rougher than usual. When he kissed her shoulder, she let her head fall to the side, giving him a little better access.
Mickey heard that as too damn long. And he'd thought he'd waited forever, but December had him beat. She was giving him more access to her neck and honestly he didn't want to stop, so he kept going, kissing more of her shoulder. His teeth grazed skin, remembering the part about liking to be bit, and his fingers tugged lightly at the ribbons, not sure about it yet, but wanting to see that reaction again.
He got another sound out of her, and she didn't want him to stop either. She arched her back, and leaned forward slightly to get a little bit better tension there. It just wasn't far enough out of the way to get away from him. She didn't want that. She liked him kissing her shoulder there.
Mickey was massively torn, though it was hard to notice. He kept kissing her skin, mixing in a tiny nip here or there, working towards her neck then up it. That part he was fine with. What he was struggling with was the ribbons on her back. Her reactions were incredible, noises he'd wanted to hear from her for ages, but he also knew he was hurting her and that didn't sit well. The problem expanded when he thought about the fact that she seemed to want it. He almost begged her to tell him if it was too much, but stopped himself short. There wasn't too much with her was there? Hadn't he been frustrated with her enough to want it hard just a few hours earlier? Was this really that far removed? The debate warred in his mind, but desire was taking over his hands, one finding her hip to hold her steady as the other moved towards the middle of the corset lacing and pulled there. It was still a tentative pull, but the intent was evident.
December wasn't quite sure what he was doing. But then he was pulling at the middle of the ribbons, and she shivered, and gave a little cry. A good one. She wanted to turn around and drag him in, scratch him up and kiss him til he was bruised, but she didn't, forcing herself not to make the move even if she wanted to. That didn't mean she wasn't turned on like a live wire, though. And ‘don’t stop’ was on the tip of her tongue, even if she didn’t manage to say it.