Ian looked up as Mickey finally walked into the Kash and Grab, 15 minutes late for his shift. He looked slightly more pissed than usual.
"Hey …" Ian said, testing the waters.
"What?" Mickey snapped, as if Ian had better have a damn good reason for talking to him.
Ian shrugged, giving him a look.
Mickey ignored the look, grabbed a magazine from the rack, and leaned on his usual spot on the deli display.
Several moments of silence passed.
A few customers came in and out, which seemed to ease the tension a little, and make the silence less awkward.
Ian watched Mickey a bit. He could tell he wasn't really reading the magazine-he was still glaring at the same page he turned to when he first grabbed it.
Finally Ian took a deep breath, reached under the counter, and grabbed a package of five full-sized snicker's bars.
"By the way," he said, dropping them on the counter, close to Mickey, "happy birthday."
Mickey looked down at the candy. "The fuck's this?"
"Uh, well … can you read?" Ian said sarcastically.
"Why're you buying me shit?"
He shrugged, "'Cause it's your birthday …"
"How'd you know it was my birthday?" he asked, accusingly.
Ian looked at him like he asked him a dumb question. "You've told me when your birthday is before."
"Yeah? When?"
He sighed. "Like a few weeks ago,-I don't know. You were really high. Just take the fucking candy, Jesus."
"I didn't ask for any fucking candy." Mickey didn't look pissed-not even annoyed. He seemed more confused and surprised.
Ian then wondered if Mickey's ever gotten a birthday present before.
"Look do you want them, or not?"
Mickey looked back down and stared at them.
"Fine," Ian sighed, reaching out to grab the Snickers, "I'll just eat them, then."
"No, fuck off, they're mine!" Mickey reached for the candy bars, that were now in Ian's hand.
Ian pulled them away. "No! You didn't want them!"
"I didn't say that, dumbass!" Mickey grabbed his arm and tried pulling it closer to him. They were acting like children.
Ian switched the candy into the hand that Mickey wasn't holding onto.
"I'll fucking spit on you!" Mickey made a noise in the back of his throat like he was gathering a huge wad of phlegm.
Ian made a face. "Fine! Have them!" He tossed them to Mickey.
Mickey caught the package, grinned, and flipped Ian off.
"You're an eight year old, you know that?"
Mickey just smirked. "Guess that makes you a pedophile."
"Fuck off."
"Suck my dick."
Ian looked at Mickey for a moment before grabbing a piece of paper, a pen, and writing "Back in 15" on it.
He went over, taped it to the door, locked it, and headed for the walk-in freezer. "I guess since it is your birthday …"