Chapter Text
Mick rolled over in bed, the ringing waking him up. The one day he doesn’t have to work on the farm, and someone calls him. The one day.
Fucking really.
He jerked the phone close to his ear, slurring out a tired ‘what?’
“Mick?”
Mick’s eyes shot open, and he sat up immediately. “Len? That you?”
There was a cough at the other end of the line, and then a shaky breath.
“Yeah, I-Mick, I need you to pick up Lisa at the rink and take her back to my house.”
Mick blinked, silent.
“If-if you can’t, that’s okay, I’ll figure something out, I just-shit, sorry-”
“Lenny, hey, it’s okay. I’ll go get her. What’s going on?” Mick frowned. “Are you safe?”
“I’m…mostly safe, yeah. My dad decided to bring me on this job he’s doing and he didn’t give me any warning. Gave me a black eye, but not a warning.”
Mick felt a cold burst of anger at that.
“Mick? I’m sorry, I know-”
“No, Lenny, don’t apologize, I know. I’ll go get Lisa, don’t worry about it.”
“Thank you, Mick, I-I have to go.”
The phone clicked and Mick set it down. He sighed, standing and pulling on his jeans, looking out his window at the rain. He hoped Lisa wouldn’t be too disappointed to see him instead of her brother.
—–
Lisa was ecstatic about Mick picking her up.
Which he should have anticipated; Lisa had loved riding in the truck since the first time she had tagged along with him and Len one night that Lewis had been particularly awful. And Lisa just seemed to like Mick.
Mick arrived at the rink a little early, annoyance at the rain disappearing at the sight of Lisa happily twirling and racing around the ice. She was a hell of a skater, and he and Len were both hoping she stuck with it. Mick had once told her she was gonna ‘kick ass at the Olympics.” Lisa had jumped onto him and hugged him, and Len had gotten this odd look on his face-both fond and contemplative.
Lisa spotted him where he was standing, and skated over to him.
“Mick!”
Mick kneeled in time to catch her, the momentum throwing him back a bit. “Hey kiddo. You have a good practice?”
Lisa nodded, smiling, before looking around. The smile faded, and Mick couldn’t stop his own face from falling.
“Where’s Lenny?”
Mick cleared his throat. “He, uh…y’all’s dad needed his help.”
Lisa understood, and Mick hated that a kid her age ever had to look like that. She shouldn’t have to know what her father did to her brother, because it shouldn’t be happening.
Mick took a deep breath; no getting mad around her, that was the rule. “So what do you wanna do today?”
Lisa grinned, and Mick knew he was in for a hell of a day.
——
Len unlocked the door, heavy sigh moving past his lips. He winced, the pain in his ribs sharp and persistent. Lewis wasn’t going to be home for a few days, having left the city to assist in selling the goods they’d stolen that night. Len was looking forward to some down time; he needed to heal.
The TV was on, he could hear it. Sounded like The Simpsons.
Len rolled his eyes, but smiled. Mick loved that show, and Lisa liked that she shared a name with one of the characters. It was one of their favorite things to watch together, all three of them.
Len walked slowly, hand putting pressure on his ribcage. He walked through the hall into the living room, trying to keep his breathing steady.
When he looked up, his breathing stopped.
Lisa was sitting on the floor, eating from a bowl of soup on the coffee table, all of her attention on the screen.
Mick was half-laying, half-sitting on the couch, limbs spread out, and his face wascovered in makeup. Bright red blush dotted his cheekbones, dark mascara (that…didn’t actually look half bad, it brought out the color in his eyes), and the most garish bright orange lipstick Len had ever seen. His nails were painted, surprisingly well, with a mix of bright red, glittery orange, and gold.
Possibly the most ridiculous thing was the hat resting on his head, which Len recognized as one of his grandmother’s old church hats, a rich, royal blue monstrosity that Len couldn’t believe they still owned.
He was still staring at Mick, not believing his eyes, when Lisa noticed him.
“LENNY!”
She ran to him, wrapping her arms around him tight. He ignored the sting and hugged her back. Mick looked over at him and smiled, not the wild grin or smug smirk that Mick showed most people, but an honest, genuine little smile.
“Hey.”
“What-Lisa, did you give Mick a makeover?”
Lisa nodded happily, two perfect braids bouncing with the motion. Mick was the only one allowed to do her hair.
“Did a damn good job too. I look fantastic.”
Len let out a sharp, sudden laugh, doubling over and holding onto his side tighter. He knew laughing would only aggravate the pain, but as Mick stood up and started doing exaggerated poses, Lisa pretending to take pictures of him and saying what a good model he is, Len couldn’t stop.
Len sat on the couch, wiping tears out of his eyes. Mick dropped next to him, grinning wide and bumping his shoulder.
“Lisa, it’s getting late. Go on upstairs and get ready for bed.”
Lisa pouted, until Mick promised to tell her the story about the dragon and the princess. Len remembered the story well; it was all about how a beautiful princess spent her whole life being protected by a fearsome, fire-breathing dragon, until the dragon was hurt, and the warriors came to kill it, only to be met by the princess wielding a shield and sword, promising to protect the dragon no matter what.
Lisa had told him one night that she thought Len was the princess and Mick was the dragon. Len had never told Mick her theory, in part because he hadn’t figured out his own feelings about it.
Thinking about it now, watching Mick clean up the living room, ridiculous makeup still on, happily humming and putting up dishes, Len thought that maybe he did finally figure out what he felt.
Mick had been protecting him, and Lisa, for a long time now. He had never once denied Len a request, even sacrificing one of his few, treasured days off to help. From the first day they met, Mick had been his dragon.
Len looked down at his hands, cut up and bruised from the job and his father.
He loved Mick, and he promised to himself that he would get better, get stronger, would become the best damn thief in the city, would learn how to fight and stand up for himself so that if he ever had to, he could stand up for Mick. No one would ever hurt Mick, not if Len could stop it.
“Hey, Lenny, you okay?”
It had been at least twenty minutes, Len realized. Mick had already been upstairs and gotten back. His face was freshly washed, some mascara still stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes, his hair was sticking up in random spots and sitting flat in others from being under the hat.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“Been favorin’ your left side. What happened?”
“The usual.”
Mick’s face darkened, Len could tell he was furious.
“If you don’t, I’m gonna kill him one of these days, Len. Won’t even give him the honor of burnin’ him. Bastard doesn’t deserve fire and he sure as shit doesn’t deserve you.”
“Mick….”
“Yeah, I know, I know.”
Len smiled, shyly ducking his head down. “Do you know you don’t have to go along with every little thing Lisa says?”
Mick laughed, loud and quick, and Len’s smile grew.
“Yeah, I know. But then she’d give me that look, and I’d feel like an asshole. ’Sides, I like doing stuff for your guys.”
“You don’t have to go along with everything I say, either.”
Mick was quiet for a second, and Len held his breath. Mick turned to face him fully, leaning in, slowly reaching out to grip Len’s hand.
“Think I’m gonna always wanna do what you say, Lenny. You and me, always. I gotta be by your side to keep you safe, and…shit, I should do a better job. You know I’d never touch a lighter or a match or anything ever again if it meant you’d be alright.”
Len inhaled quickly. Yes, this was his dragon. His ridiculous, strong, wonderful dragon, who he’d protect until the day he died.