Chapter Text
Mickey eased off his black-rimmed glasses and rubbed between his eyes. With a weary sigh, he sat upright in his ergonomic leather chair and stretched out his stiff back. It was probably the room he spent most of his time in, his home office, a thought that sometimes made him feel a little guilty. As much as Ray was understanding and independent, with his own demanding career, Mickey accepted that he was still a neglectful husband at times.
The soft sound of the waves lapping against the shore started to lull him towards sleep, so he switched off his desk lamp and laptop, before padding down the hall. It was nearing midnight and Ray was rolled over on his side, his low snores confirming what Mickey had expected to find. After taking a quick shower and pulling on clean boxer shorts, he slipped in next to him, sidling up close, arm draped over him like usual.
Ray was nearing forty but still a strikingly handsome man, with his tall and broad frame, dark eyes and brown hair that was peppered with lightly greying streaks. Even his trimmed neat beard had that salt and pepper look and it was surprisingly attractive.
Although his football career had been cut short, due to an unexpected severe knee injury, he still took care of himself, usually in the home gym of their modest Malibu home. Least, it was “modest” in the sense that it was “only” a three-bedroom house with a standard sized pool, as opposed to some of the neighboring properties which were more akin to sprawling palatial style villas.
Ray had sold some of the surrounding properties in fact, so they knew that they had a handful of celebrities living nearby. It still caught him by surprise sometimes, made him blink or pinch himself, to confirm that this really was his actual life now and not some drug induced crazy dream he had conjured up. Or the result of another concussion or worse, the result of a coma. That was where Mickey used to see himself ending up in life, another hospital bed, another stint in prison, then eventually, the morgue.
But here he was, married for seven years and to a guy no less. Residing in an exclusive neighborhood, in a stylish beach front property that he co-owned with his husband. Long gone are the cold and bitter Chicago winters, replaced with sun and sea and sand. It had been the scariest thing he had ever had to do, leaving, but he had eventually come to realise that it was also the bravest. Because starting over was never easy but for Mickey, it had been necessary, necessary for his survival. And he hadn't just survived but thrived.
He hummed sleepily against Ray’s warm neck, who stirred faintly and took his hand in his, were it rested against his belly.
“Mmm, get some sleep babe, you work too hard,” Ray mumbled, before he exhaled and was once again releasing gentle snores.
His husbands words tugged at his heart, Mickey agreeing silently. He did work too hard and struggled to balance his time between the office and home. But his role at the firm wasn't just a job, it was more like an obsessive love, it was where he felt the most relaxed and the most alive. When his mind was busy with a project, with plans and drawings and models, he didn't have room for anything else. No room for overthinking, for looking back, for thinking about his past or worrying about the future.
It felt like this was always where he was supposed to be, building things, creating things, instead of destroying them. But then that also meant that he had less room for Ray, for his relationship. Sometimes he wondered if it wasn't simply an unfortunate side-effect of doing something he truly loved for a living but rather a subconscious choice.
As he started to feel his body and mind drifting off, lulled now by the steady breathing of his partner instead of the ocean, he held him tighter. Promising to make more of an effort, promising to be more present and available. But even in his hazy state, a part of his brain scoffed, mocking him, laughing because it knew that Mickey would never be able to fully commit to that empty promise.
----
“Fucks sake,” he grumbled, once again stuck in Monday morning traffic.
Maybe he should invest in one of those electric bikes, he thought grumpily, the ones that were favored by hipsters and eco-warriors. At least then he wouldn't be so flustered in his haste to travel across town. It was one of the reasons Mickey preferred to leave the house extra early and was usually one of the first employees to arrive, beating the worst of the rush hour traffic. The only sore spot was barely having any time with Ray each morning, just a few minutes to grab a few sips of coffee on their patio and a bite of toast, if he was lucky.
Having parked in his designated spot out front, a perk of being one of the companies lead architects, Mickey took the glass elevator to the top floor, where his first act of the day was to pour himself a large cup of black coffee. Despite the fancy, modern and expensive looking coffee machine, Mickey still preferred it straight up, piping hot and so strong it instantly roused his sluggish brain. While he had mostly adapted to the LA way of life, in eating healthier than he ever had, in exercising regularly and generally spending any free time outside, Mickey still clung to some old habits. The less of his old habits the better however, less reminders of his previous life, the one that belonged to Mickey Milkovich.
He closed over the office door, that proudly displayed his name and title, “Mickey Stone - Architect”, before scanning his emails, identifying the most urgent ones. The industry wasn't like it used to be, with computer aided technology becoming both a helpful tool but also a nuisance. Mickey created the majority of his plans and designs digitally now, like most architects, but deep down he still preferred to put his hand to crisp white paper. There was something more intimate and personal about it, in his opinion, romantic even. Though he had to admit that the tools had definitely helped reduce costs and time constraints, especially when he inevitably had to adapt his designs.
There was so much involved in architectural projects, particularly the ones his employer, “Horizon Designs”, tended to select. Currently, they were contracted to build a block of luxury condos, a high-rise structure which the client hoped would become one of the tallest in downtown LA. But the legal wrangling involved was still ongoing, with fights over air rights and ensuring they met all the local legislation requirements. Mickey was pretty sure the owner of the firm and his boss, Jack Harding, had some powerful friends in high places, most notably in judicial or political positions. Because he never failed to get what he wanted, rather what the client wanted, and the projects generally flowed without experiencing too many delays or obstacles.
It made Mickey’s job a hell of a lot easier, so he didn't question it too much, just kept his head down, buried in blueprints. People started to file into the surrounding offices now, as the time approached nine o'clock. Mickey had already been at his desk for an hour, reading and replying to emails, most of which were standard fare, until one caught his attention.
“What the fuck,” he groaned in annoyance, before rising to his feet and marching towards Jack’s office.
He probably should have knocked but was too ruffled and hopped up on caffeine, “The fuck Jack, what's this about the air rights?”
Luckily for Mickey, his boss appreciated his sharp tongue and abrupt nature because if he barked at anyone else like that, he wouldn't have been employed very long.
“Good morning to you too Mickey,” Jack replied with a faint smirk, “I only found out myself, there's nothing we can do, so we have to adapt the build”.
Mickey swept his hands down his face and only then did he notice the other man in the office, an unfamiliar red-head, sitting to his right. Although the firm was on the large side; Mickey interacted with all departments and never forgot a face. He certainly wouldn't be able to forget a face that looked like that, with those delicate freckles, that boyish grin and those piercing hazel-green eyes.
“Shit, sorry, didn't realise you had a meeting or whatever”.
Jack waved his hand causally, “It’s not a meeting as such, Ian here is starting with us today, was just helping him get settled in”.
Mickey caught how his boss’ eyes swept over the new guy, which was curious considering Jack was married and to a woman, not a man.
“Oh, right, well, guess I'll let you get back to that. There’s really nothing we can do, about the plans, I'll have to change so much it will be almost like starting over?”
He didn't like to complain but Mickey hated having to scrap a design, viewing each of them like an individual labor of love, a piece of art that deserved to be realised.
“Sorry Mickey, can't get around the zoning laws, tried all my contacts,” Jack confirmed, sounding as disappointed and as frustrated as he did, “gotta knock a few floors off the plans, the client is not going to be very happy. Won't be the skyscraper they had hoped for”.
He nodded and turned to leave, catching Ian watching him intently, a curious but confused look on his face, as if he was struggling to keep up with the conversation.
“Uh, you're calling them by the way Jack, you're the boss after all,” he added with a smug grin, tilting his head a little, in time to catch his boss roll his eyes and sigh.
“Don't I know it, gonna cost me and not just the earful I'm about to get, gonna have to butter him up, give him a discount or something”.
“Well as long as it doesn't come out of my pay,” he joked and Jack waved him off again.
“You just do what I pay you to do, which is design my damn building”.
Mickey chuckled and saluted him playfully, knowing it would annoy him even more. As he left the office, he noticed Ian still watching him, before Jack spoke again, “So Ian, where were we?”
----
“Mickey, right?”
Looking up, he found the red-head, Ian, smiling down at him, as they loitered next to the coffee machine.
“Yup, last time I checked”.
The guy appeared to smile even wider, unaffected by Mickey’s prickly demeanor. Ray had been moodier of late, while he spent even more hours on work, amending his previous plans.
They had argued that morning, Mickey still bleary-eyed and barely able to function at that ungodly hour, never mind engage in a deep conversation about the state of their marriage. He had eventually stormed out to what sounded like Ray shouting “fuck you” at the top of his lungs. Being distracted and on edge, he had made a rookie mistake on a section of the building design and even though it was minor, Mickey was still extremely stressed out.
So seeing the new guy attempting to befriend him by chatting cheerily and beaming at him like he was high; well, it just ruffled his feathers further.
“I’m Ian, which I think you already know, but just wanted to remind you, seen as we’re gonna be getting to know each other a lot better”.
Mickey raised his head, noticing a shift in the guy, he was smirking now, not smiling, his body leaning in closer, his voice lowered.
“huh?”
“Working together, gonna be seeing a lot of each other, hopefully”.
Ian picked up his coffee cup and took a careful sip, his big green eyes peering out over the rim. His tone was unexpectedly self-assured, cocky even and confusingly, it was bordering on flirtatious.
“Yeah; well I’m in my office mostly so,” he shrugged, quickly pouring black coffee into his own mug, the one that said “ I’m not gay but my husband is”.
Ian gestured to it, a soft chuckle leaving his distracting lips, “cute cup”.
“Was a gift, bit of an inside joke”.
“Damn, was hoping I was wrong about the ring and was hoping you were straight, make it easier”.
Mickey quirked his eyebrow as he made to leave, entirely thrown by this guys boldness. “Make what easier?”
Ian leaned in closer, his mouth hovering near his ear, “the crush I have on you”.
Mickey caught his eye and swallowed, before shaking his head, “Jesus man, you aint even here a week and you’re hitting on a superior, got some balls on you”.
Ian laughed, his face lighting up in mischief, his lips curved up into a salacious grin once more.
“Oh you have no idea, Mickey,” he replied coolly before turning on his heels, “see you around, boss ”.
“The fuck,” he whispered to himself before wandering back to his office, still somewhat dazed from the strange encounter. Even stranger than the new interns behavior however, was Mickey’s reaction to it. His skin felt warm and flushed. There was a slight flutter in his stomach and a twitch of interest in his pants.
Ian was obviously attractive, above average, no gay man would react any different, he reasoned. He had a natural air about him, an alluring charisma. And sure, he was a little on the young side, barely in his twenties, but he held himself with the confidence of a much older man. Those big green eyes sparkled when he spoke, his lips twitched and curved in the most hypnotizing of ways and even his smell was hard to ignore, a heady mix of something sweet and something earthy.
But it was his body that had truly captured Mickey’s attention, his height; his broad strong shoulders; his muscular forearms; his big hands and that tight pert ass. Mickey’s thoughts started to drift; wondering if Ian was a top or a bottom, wondering why it was Mickey who caught his eye, wondering if he had some ulterior motive or was simply playing a game.
It had been a significant amount of time since someone had hit on him, considering he now wore a ring on his finger and usually ventured out in public with his husband. So, it had caught him off guard and he felt unexpectedly flattered and a little turned on. It was exciting, to be reminded that he was attractive, to be admired and wanted. He was only human after all and positive attention like that was flattering and provided a welcome ego boost.
He knew Ray still desired him, but they were in a long established and comfortable relationship. They were lucky if they had sex once a week now and flirting was more of a spontaneous act than a regular occurrence. As he thought longer on it, he started to realise they were like two passing ships in the night and more akin to friends or roommates for the most part. He frowned and wondered when this had happened, was it gradual, a decline over months or years or was it a more recent development.
He picked up his mobile phone off the desk, quickly typing out a simple text to Ray, “ I’ll be home early, miss you”. And then shook his head out, followed by his shoulders and then his arms. Breathing deeply and slowly, he readied himself for a hectic and productive afternoon. But then his eyes were drawn away from his desk and towards the glass partition of his office. Towards the desk situated outside his door, towards the spot where the new intern sat.
Ian looked up, as if reacting on instinct. He caught Mickey’s gaze, eyes locked on, lips curving up at the corners. A dangerous and determined expression there and still, he held his gaze until Mickey felt his cheeks flush with colour and was forced to look away.
Fuck. This was going to be a problem, he could feel it.