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Mickey's still getting used to being open with Ian in public.
It's been a while since he came out, but what with Ian dealing with his new diagnosis, there wasn't a whole lot of time to just go out and be themselves. So now that they finally could, it was still relatively new to Mickey.
As weird as it was, though, Mickey kind of loved it. Going up to the Northside, where no one would give them aggressive looks if they held hands or whatever. Ian acted all nonchalant about it, even though the grin on his face was easy to read through. Mickey, on the other hand, couldn't hide his surprise at the lack of a reaction, but he was appreciative of it, pulling Ian even closer to him every time they passed someone on the street who didn't give them a second glance.
So when Ian suggests they go grab 'a quick coffee' 30 minutes away, Mickey doesn't question him - he just smirks and grabs his wallet.
"Man, I'm fucking starving." Mickey grumbles, as they finally jump off the L-train.
"We can grab some lunch if you want." Ian says, the smile already beginning to form on his face.
"Thought you wanted coffee." Mickey shoots him a sideways look, and Ian shrugs.
"Don't really care." he says, looking away from Mickey, who grins widely at the implication of Ian's statement.
"Alright then." he says, grabbing Ian's hand. "Let's get some fuckin' food."
So they head out of the station, looking for the nearest restaurant. Ian's eyes are trying to scout out the cheapest place, but Mickey yanks him in the direction of an Olive Garden.
"Mick, what are you doing?" Ian asks, half-heartedly, knowing he's going to give in to whatever Mickey says, but still wanting to keep some of his pride.
"Weren't you the one who wanted to go somewhere and eat with fuckin' utensils?" Mickey responds, raising his eyebrows.
Ian presses his lips together, trying to suppress a smile, because fuck, Mickey is actually trying to take him on a date right now.
"It's expensive." Ian says, instead.
"Shut the fuck up, it's on me. Plus, you know you love their fucking breadsticks, man."
Ian grins, because yes, he does like their breadsticks, but he especially likes that Mickey knows he likes their breadsticks.
So he let's Mickey pull him into the restaurant.
"Welcome to Olive Garden, how many will it be?" the perky hostess asks.
"Two." Ian replies, confidently.
"Okay, it'll be about a 15-minute wait for your table, but you're welcome to have a seat at the bar while you wait." she offers.
Ian and Mickey both look at each other for confirmation - and after a brief pause, Mickey rolls his eyes.
"Yeah, let's do that." he says, and pulls Ian towards the bar. Ian doesn't even mind, he's in too good of a mood to even complain about Mickey dragging him around.
"Thought you were hungry." Ian says with a little smirk, as they take two seats at the bar.
"I am." Mickey responds, shrugging, and flags the bartender down.
Ian doesn't say anymore, but grins to himself and squeezes Mickey's thigh with his large hand, letting it rest there.
"What'll you have, gentlemen?" the bartender asks, walking towards them.
"Beer." they both chant, and then grin at each other.
The bartender smiles as well. "On tap?"
"Yeah, and keep it on." Mickey says, shooting a look at Ian, who gets up out of his chair.
"Bathroom." He says, and then grins, cockily. "Be right back. Try not to miss me too much."
Mickey snorts. "Yeah, right. Go on, get lost."
He shoves Ian away playfully, and turns back to the bar.
It's little over a minute before Mickey feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around grinning, thinking it's Ian, but instead he finds an unfamiliar blonde.
"What?" he asks, his eyebrows shooting upwards. The man is undeterred by Mickey's apparent rudeness.
"Buy you a drink?" he offers, with a casual smile on his face.
"Already got one comin', pal." Mickey responds, turning back to the bar.
Right on time, the bartender sets two beers down in front of him. The blonde guy jumps up into the seat next to Mickey, recently vacated by Ian.
"Yeah, looks like you got one for me too." The guy grins and Mickey shoots him a glare.
"'Ey, hands off." Mickey snaps - the guy just chuckles.
"Keeping it all to yourself? Alright, alright, I get it."
"What the fuck do you want, man?" Mickey asks, the irritation bubbling up inside of him.
"I was thinking your number, actually."
Mickey is so thrown by this that he doesn't even realize that Ian's back.
"Can I help you?" Ian narrows his eyes at the guy in his seat.
"Hey, back off, Red. I got here first." The man says, nodding his head at Mickey.
Mickey snorts into his cup and almost chokes on his beer, but neither of the other men glance at him.
"Yeah?" Ian smirks, raising his eyebrows. "Well, if that's how you wanna do this, I 'got here' three fuckin' years ago."
The blonde looks from Ian to Mickey, understanding slowly crossing his face.
"Oh."
"Yeah." Ian sneers at him. "So fuck off."
The guy complies, leaving Ian's chair and heading away with only a final glance back at them.
"Dickhead." Ian mutters angrily, sitting back down next to Mickey and taking a large gulp out of his beer.
Mickey chuckles softly and shoots Ian a sideways look.
"What's so fucking funny?" Ian grumbles.
"You, man." Mickey grins and when Ian looks up at him, he reaches a hand over to ruffle up Ian's red hair. "Jealous, much?"
"Fuck you." Ian ducks away from him and Mickey laughs.
"Excuse me? Your table is ready, you can just follow me." the hostess approaches them smiling, and immediately turns to lead them away.
"Come on, man." Mickey says, smiling at Ian. "Let's get you some fucking breadsticks."
Begrudgingly, Ian gets up to follow the hostess, but before he can start walking, Mickey grabs his arm and hitches himself upwards to murmur in Ian's ear, "Also, you're fucking hot when you're worked up."
Ian's face breaks into a grin, and he shoves Mickey gently before they finally hurry after the hostess, because damn, Mickey's starving, and Ian really wants those fucking breadsticks.