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Mickey Bolitar is starting to realize he’s a really selfish person.
Like by the strict definition of doing shit for himself without thinking of others and that impact. Part of him thinks he's always been that way, since he was a kid. Like a kid kid. He just never got much of a chance to show it.
Until now that is. Right here on an old couch with his only three friends right after a night from hell and heaven.
But his parents definitely did not need a selfish kid around, so he hid it.
Saying him and his family moved around a lot might conjure up thoughts of them traveling every couple of years at the most. With plans and houses and new schools set up and waiting but Mickey’s earliest memory was sleeping in his parents arms, he was around six he thought, while they all shared the same bed in a foreign hotel. His mom told him later that they were in El Salvador, the first place they moved to when they left the states, and they stayed in that hotel room for a couple of months.
Mickey remembers enjoying it enough. It was like a long vacation, he ordered room service and swam in the pools and got to watch as much TV as he wanted. He just stupidly thought it meant that they’d go home eventually. So yeah, he was six.
After that, they bounced around the country, never really settling down. When it edged closer to Mickey’s seventh birthday he remembered seeing his mom cry for the first time. On the edge of another shared bed and her face was in her hands. Mickey cuddled up with his mom and told her everything was gonna be okay even if he had no idea what was going on. His mom just kissed him and said that Mickey would be going back to school soon. Mickey missed having kids around him but his mom taught him things just fine, and what if she got sad again? But that seemed like the wrong response so he just agreed and said he couldn’t wait. That seemed like what he needed to do.
It was just easier to do what people needed instead of what he wanted. That was when he got selfish.
Like when he was nine and freaked out that his dad missed his birthday because of one of his “special work trips”. He didn’t talk to either of his parents for a week. He asked his dad if work was more important than Mickey. Mickey told his dad to his face that he hated him. And then he cried. They got over it. Mickey can’t really how they did it but his next memory is all of them smiling on a beach in a new country somewhere (Ecuador), enjoying the sun.
The three of them were a unit. A team. His parents loved him so much and each other, he never doubted it. With all that love and attention, it just got easier to leave anything else behind. Leave his new schools, his new friends, his new favorite restaurants, his new crushes. It got easier because he knew there would be new ones and those things didn’t matter if he could just get new ones anyway. Mickey was charmingly social from a young age, able to adapt and blend with any group he found himself in (he truly thanked his parents for). Teachers thought he was smart for his age and kids thought all his stories were cool. Their faces would blur if he tried to remember them too hard but it is what it is.
But through all the changes, the one other constant beside his family was basketball. He was on a court before he could even walk. Mickey heard stories of his famous basketball player uncle Myron, who he has never met, and his dad’s eyes would sparkle when talked about him (Mickey learned early he shouldn’t bring up his aunt because that just made his dad sad). So when Mickey played, it was like he was even more connected to his family. But over time, he got big enough to play with other kids, it became a love all his own. Something he had for himself. That he could just exist in and get lost in the quick movements of the other players and not have to think more than a few minutes ahead.
Mickey had his family. And he had basketball. A hell of alot more than other kids get. All he needed. When his heart ached for more, he would just fall into what he had. There were other countries. But they stayed in Brazil the longest, a full three years, and then miraculously his family announced they were going back to America. Mickey knew he should be happy because they were happy but all he felt was fear. Were they just doing this for him? Mickey didn’t want to be selfish. His dad assured him otherwise when they were on that beach in L.A. He still had that gnawing hole inside of him that whenever he felt they were lying to him but he ignored it like always. He had basketball and his parents, all he needed.
And then he lost everything.
He woke up in a white hospital room with bandages everywhere being told his arm was fractured and his father didn’t make it. His mom had a major depressive episode a couple weeks afterwards (or maybe immediately and Mickey was too dumb to see it).
Mickey had to move again and this time it was alone.
Kasselton was too quiet. His aunt tried too hard and somehow at the same time not enough. And…and Mickey had no one left that needed him. So he let himself be selfish. He yelled at Shira without letting her defend herself. Holed himself up in his basement bedroom for days. Threw things at the wall. Refused to go back to his therapist. Ignored his grandparents' offerings of visiting them.
And the real kicker, he didn’t even cry at his father’s funeral.
But even doing all that just became too much for him. So he stayed quiet until his first day of school. He didn’t have any globe-trotting stories lined up to tell people, he swore at Shira for even mentioning basketball tryouts and the quiet of Kasselton started to seem barely tolerable.
Until he met Arthur.
Spoon.
He…Christ he was just so much too Mickey.
Mickey could act like the whirlwind of his first day of junior year started with all the Bat Lady shit or Ashley going missing or getting fucking arrested. But no, it started his Spoon. Mickey has had friends before, a lot of them, but none of them ever neighed at him during their first meeting or hugged him just because they thought he was dad (he was but that’s not important) or wore grandpa cardigans. He forgot the kids name and he still tried with Mickey. Got him laughing. Stood up for him. Was willing to get arrested with him. Was willing to follow him on this crazy adventure.
And now he had a whole mess of needs to worry about on top of that. Finding Ashley. Figuring out the Dylan disappearance. Making sure his mom knew everything would still be okay. Not worrying Shira too much. Not getting killed by a dude with an octopus on his face.
And finding out the truth about his dad. Even the half of a percent of a chance he was still alive sent Mickey into a painful fantasy of his family (his team, his unit, his everything) being back together on a beach somewhere with everything going back to normal crushed all his logic over the situation. He couldn’t move on. He just had to know.
As much as he liked Spoon, Mickey realized he was his at his most selfish around him. And with him specifically.
Ema was a good friend to him too, no matter what she thought, one that he didn’t think he really deserved. She was brave and smart and truly kind when you got under her armor. And an all around badass. She knew how to question Mickey and be the voice of reason when he needed it. And Rachel. She was an enigma of an ally to him at first but burst through the friendship (bestie) territory pretty fast when clearly her only flaw was her taste in boyfriends. She was a powerhouse and protected Ashley simply because it was right.
Mickey could be insistent and even pushy around them but he didn’t feel it quite matched up with him and Spoon.
Spoon gave him so much and Mickey just took and took and took without thinking about it. Friendship. Advice. His jokes. His shoulder. His smile. What did Mickey do in return? Nothing that matched up. Defending him against one bully and giving him a barely thought out nickname was incomparable to all the Mickey got from Spoon.
Spoon would just let Mickey talk to him. About everything and nothing, Mickey sometimes purposefully steered their conversations back to the conspiracy out of fear he would spill too much but God it was just so easy with him. When he explained his mother’s attempt to his friends, all he wanted was to sink into Spoon’s hand on his shoulder. He wanted to…not cry really but just be sad and tell Spoon about how hard he tried for his mom and how scared he was. Mickey has lost count how many times he has wanted Spoon’s hugs and not asked because he knew he’d hold on too tight.
Spoon was too much for him to want. Too much warmth. Too much of other stuff he wanted and didn’t realize he wanted until he met him. It made his heart hurt and his mind blank just trying to dissect it. So he just kept taking whatever he could at the times he let himself.
He let Spoon send him paragraphs of texts and risk his safety for him on a daily basis and tell Mickey that he wasn’t alone and hold him without a reason. Spoon made him remember to love basketball just by calling him on his shit. It was all new. It was all a mess. Mickey was selfish and wanted everything without thinking about what Spoon wanted.
Because Mickey was near certain Spoon didn’t want a friend who disappeared on him randomly to go on suicide missions that gave him heart attacks, or a friend that never asked about him or a friend that expected to be on his side at all times because Mickey didn’t know how to really attach to people he didn’t expect to leave in a year and he was too scared too learn and too eager to not want it anyway.
If he had to pinpoint when all that turned into a crush, Mickey wasn’t sure where to start. He thought the guy was impossibly adorable when he stitched his nickname into his shirt like thirty minutes after Mickey gave it to him. He fell for everything else about him pretty fast. Those feelings were just thrown into the big pot of I don’t know how to deal with this so I won’t bucket in his brain.
He was thankful that Salvador Bahia, the part of Brazil Mickey spent a big part of puberty in, was pretty queer friendly. When he told his parents, the only people he deemed important enough to come out to, of his crush on Eddie–a kid in his class with sweet hazel eyes and calloused hands–they embraced him wholeheartedly. There were still plenty of assholes, his dad taught him how to fight after that. But no matter who he got a crush on, Mickey knew it wouldn’t last longer than awkward confessions and even more awkward first dates. He’s never stayed anywhere longer for a second so maybe it’s all awkward.
So Mickey should not be having the crisis but everytime Spoon looks at him he still feels thrown into a tornado. And it’s made worse by the fact that Spoon might–well probably–like him back. And somehow made it even worse when Mickey tried to kiss him.
Thanks for staying.
Mickey had said. And Spoon said he always would and that made Mickey’s heart seize.
And he tried. He really did. He pulled Spoon in, held his cheek and was so close. But then Spoon shut his eyes and Mickey felt his trust and expectation and it threw him off.
If Mickey did this, it would mean facing up to his neediness and selfishness and just taking more than he deserved. His stomach tightened and his breathing picked up an ungodly pace. How do you tell your best friend who you are about to kiss that you're having a panic attack about it and not let it be weird? If there is a way, Mickey did the opposite and just ducked his head back.
Sorry.
We’re good Mickey Bear.
They shouldn’t be good. Spoon shouldn’t forgive him. He gave a half assed apology and turned away from Spoon’s disappointed eyes too easily. He wants Spoon to break up with him. Which is hard since they aren’t even dating but the thought of Spoon ending their friendship made him truly want to cry so he just wants Spoon to reject him and draw a boundary so Mickey learns to hold back.
Spoon could so easily challenge Mickey’s stubbornness and paranoia. Tease him about the smallest of his habits (apparently he was on the road to being deaf at 40 if he didn’t lower the volume on his Airpods). And unashamedly fight for Mickey even against himself. He vaguely remembered Spoon whispering in his ear in the ambulance after he was found at the river bank that if Mickey died, Spoon would bring him back and kill him himself. Spoon could do all of that except the one thing that was obvious.
They saved Ashley, she was on her way to a better life. His dad’s “special work trips” were Abeona and he would save kids like Ashely all the time. It didn’t make Mickey feel much better, but he understood it better.
Binging Twilight movies actually sounds pretty fun, he never watched them before. He should really call his aunt and tell her that he’s not dead. And that his dad is dead and gone forever and Mickey’s old normal is never coming back.
Rachel leaves first. And Ema moves Mickey’s arm off of her eventually and says she needs to go as well. She asks him and Spoon if they want a ride and Mickey nods his head no on Spoon’s shoulder and to his surprise so does Spoon.
There alone again. He’s brought back to that moment he failed. There are a million and one things he should be focused on right now but he chooses to say this:
“You look nice.” He mumbles. Still slumped against his shoulder but taking a glance at Spoon’s outfit. The black denim works on him. Mickey choeses to ignore the blood stains.
“I know.” Spoon jokes. “You know, you could have at least made an effort to dress for the occasion Mick. I mean, I love your all hoodie and flannel wardrobe as much as the next guy but it’s hardly fit for criminal espionage.” His face is still pale and grief stricken but he looks at Mickey like he’s willing to forget it too.
“You can’t take me anywhere, I guess.” It would be so easy to fall back into their banter. It is what he needs. It’s what he should do.
“Except for a hospital, where you should still be by the way.”
“I’m fine.”
“No you are not.” Spoon says sharply.
“No I’m not.” Mickey agrees. “Couldn’t let you guys get hurt though.”
“We did get hurt. But we are still okay Mickey. We’re still here though. I mean either those are some really shitty criminals or we’re awesome but we still won.”
Mickey finally lifts his head off of Spoon and looks at Spoon fully. His glasses are askew and hair is a mess but he’s still his Spoon. Mickey lifts his hand to his cheek and Spoon watches the motion but doesn’t stop it. He shakes his head in exasperation.
“You literally have the world’s word timing.” Spoon says.
“What?”
“Are you thinking about kissing me right now?”
“Um, a little. Kind of a lot.” Mickey really needs to shut up right now.
“And do you think that’s a good idea? Like considering the last 48 hours and all the traumatizing crap that just happened to us, do you think that’s a sane thing to do?” Spoon says slowly, clearly annoyed, but not moving Mickey’s hand away.
“Sorry I just, I’ve wanted to for a while.” That’s as much of the truth as he knows how to say. Subconsciously, he knows Spoon is right. That this is a horrible time to try and change things between him. But Spoon’s cheek was soft.
“Wow, you really know how to woo a guy.” Spoon takes Mickey’s hand off his face but then bundles it into his own. “You’ve had other chances. Plenty of them. What? Are you just looking for some comfort right now because–”
“No Spoon, you mean way too much to me for that! I…I don’t know how to tell you how much I like you.” Spoon can be many things to Mickey, but not an enabler.
He won’t let Mickey just do something that could end awfully. Mickey knows that but he needs his friend to know everything he feels. He just needs to find the words.
“I’m sorry about what happened. I’m sorry you had to see Candy–”
“Don’t.” Spoon stops him. Voice quivering and eyes stern. Bad words. Bad timing. Shit, he’s bad about this.
“I’m just so sorry about everything and I know you chose to be a part of this but I had no idea how bad everything would get. With Abeona and the traffickers and…it’s all fucked and I know that. I do. I know I need to grieve and process but you are one of the first people who didn’t expect me to know how to. You talked me through it and just stood by me. And I’m not trying to replace you for anyone or use you or anything…fuck I…I’m screwing this up right now. But I see you Spoon. I see every cute smile and all you’ve done for your friends and how passionate you are for life and musicals and everything you think I don’t because I’m too chicken shit to tell you.”
Mickey can’t breathe. Not in a bad way. He thinks he sounds pretty selfish right now. He just finally found some words and wants to get them out before his courage is gone.
“I want whatever you want. I’ll be your best friend if you want and be a better one because I know I’ve been shitty. But I want to try harder. I want you, Ema, Rachel and Shira to be my new normal. You know, if you want to. I want to be your normal too."
Spoon stays quiet for a while and it's like torture. He let Mickey speak though and he didn't immediately leave like he should so Mickey chose to be patient.
"You can also tell me to fuck off if you want." Mickey said, failing to be patient.
"I'm well aware I can do that Mickey Bear. Free will remember?" Spoon finally said, stretching his lips into a grin.
He should have said less but enough a lot sooner to Spoon. He should have taken him on some dates and called him his boyfriend and held his hand and been his first kiss.
"If I kiss you now, will you think differently about me tomorrow?" Spoon asked.
"Well, I might question your taste boys a little." Mickey has no idea how he has the emotional bandwidth to joke right now.
"I put a tracker on your phone before I knew your middle name, clearly my relationship habits aren't that stellar either. Which by the way, I should probably delete right? Like that would be creepy for a boyfriend to still have. Should probably delete Ema's too. And I just downloaded one on Rachel's phone too."
"How do you keep doing that?" Mickey zoned out when Spoon said the word boyfriend but willed himself back.
"I have my ways."
"I'm sure you do." Their hands were still clasped together in Spoon's lap. It's the closest Mickey has felt to peace. This is all he needs.
And then Spoon surprises him. He suddenly closes the gap between them and kisses Mickey's cheek. And did it again and again. Slowly moving to Mickey's lips. Mickey reclaimed Spoon's cheek because he was losing himself in all the tough and had to do something. Spoon finally grazed the corner of Mickey's lower lip and Mickey kissed him with everything he had. Whatever he had left. Fully greedy. And needy.
Just once. Spoon playfully pushed him away and said they were gonna have a long talk before anything else. After they both got ten hours of sleep, probably more, and Mickey let his head drop back into Spoon's shoulder.
"I'm looking forward to it." Mickey sighs. He'll probably suck at the talking.
But he wants and needs to try.