Hiya! Thanks for those lovelies who reviewed and are giving this a chance! You won't be disappointed, I have serious plans for this fic. It's mostly going to be Mickey's POV, with a bit of Brooklyn's and maybe Mandy's here and there. Ian too, when he comes in. Unbeta'd as always, sorry! So here's chapter two! I couldn't even get the first two pages written for the last week or so and then this lengthy monster just kind happened. Song inspiration is from 'Jesus Christ' by Brand New. You may have noticed I take the parts I want to out of the songs and ignore the ones that don't fit. =]
Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face
The kind you'd find on someone I could save
If they don't put me away
Well, it'll be a miracle
Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again
So what did you do those three days you were dead?
'cause this problem's gonna last more than the weekend
The front door slammed so violently the lamp beside his bed was fucking shaking.
That was the first thing Mickey's mind could register when his blurry eyes opened to focus as much as they could in the dim, bluish lighting of early dawn. The second thing he noticed was the girl fast asleep in his bed, her miniscule form curled into an almost ball and one arm thrown under the pillow to support her head. No one had been in his bed since Lana died, and he almost pinched himself to make sure this wasn't an odd dream before the events of the previous night came back to him. Right. Poor lost little girls, he needed a cover for a little while, yada yada it all made sense again.
Before he had time to think on that any more -or hell try to fall back asleep considering the alarm clock across the room was obnoxiously blinking 7:45 am at him- the sound of heavy footsteps leading towards his room echoed in the silent halls. His eyes rolled due to his never ending annoyance. Fuck having the only bathroom in the house connected to his room. Seriously, who fucking does that? He'd really like to have a word or two with the architect of the house. And by a word or two, he meant 'FUCK U-UP'. His tattooed knuckles always spoke better for him than any words ever could.
Only one person would be stomping through the house this early. He considered pretending to be sleeping and staying where he was. Brooklyn was still asleep with her back to him and Terry had seen nothing but that any time he'd come through the room for this exact reason previously, despite his attempt at forcing domesticity on Mickey. Gritting his teeth as his will bent to the will of his fathers, he seethed silently over the fact that he had to bend to anyone's will. Then his daughter's scrunchy little face appeared in his mind's eye and fuck, he was doing this for her more than anyone. Taking a breath and hoping the girl wouldn't sock him he rolled over, throwing his arm over Brooklyn's tiny waist and tugged her flush against his front. Mickey's chin tucked into her shoulder as he tried to prevent every muscle in his body from tensing, burying his nose in her dark hair.
It smelled like fucking berries and Creamsicles.
He didn't have time to question who in the god damn world had hair that smelled like Creamsicles, Terry shoved the door to his room open and entered. The stench of stale beer, meth, sweat and just filth radiated off of him and Mickey had to suppress a snort. And people thought he was repulsing. Terry stood there for a moment seeming to suddenly realize Mickey wasn't alone in the bed and he seemed ready to strike and pound faces in before he noticed the long, dark hair that was thankfully covering Mickey's face from view. Brooklyn stirred and forced him to move his head as she lifted her neck while bleary sapphire eyes took in the man standing a few feet from them.
It was a whole two seconds before she lost interest and instead turned to face Mickey and snuggled in closer, throwing a leg over his and making it look even better than it already did. He squeezed the arms he had around her, head falling to rest on hers as Terry made a noise of approval and continued on his quest.
They both lay silent and still until the bedroom door closed behind Terry. Mickey breathed out a sigh of relief, his arms loosening around the brunette as he murmured to her. "Nice touch."
He was just about to pull away from the girl, too much flesh on flesh contact for him, when it hit him that she hadn't answered him and he glanced down. She was out again.
A scoff of disbelief accompanied his headshake. Great, now he had to sleep all smooshed up against her. He grumbled to himself, before settling down to try to fall into sleep again.
And if he enjoyed the contact a little bit, well no one could fucking prove that.
"Mommy, mommy!"
That was the only warning he had, his eyes flicking open just in time to see a flash of a blue and purple nightgown before a tiny little body was wedging between them, jostling him to the side a bit.
Brooklyn woke up, stretching a bit before taking her daughter into her arms. "What did I tell you about jumping on people especially when they're sleeping?" She scolded, but with the soft smile on her face she might as well have not bothered. Mickey
Marley was now perched on Brooklyn's ribs, chewing on her hair and staring thoughtfully down at Mickey who was attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Hi Mickey!"
"Yo."
So he wasn't a fucking ball of sunshine in the morning. As far as he was concerned, the little girl should be honored to have gotten anything but an irate grunt.
Seeming totally unfazed by his disinterest, the toddler turned to her mother again. "I'm hungry!"
Gently moving Marley's weight to the bed instead of crushing her middle, Brooklyn sat up at the waist and rubbed her eyes. "Okay." Her spine popped as she stretched out again, before remembering where she was and looking at Mickey.
Groaning, he threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Alright, alright. I'll get you food but don't fuckin' get used to it."
He didn't see Brooklyn's smile as he trudged towards the kitchen, detouring momentarily to check on his girl. Satisfied she was still sound asleep, he began banging around in the cabinets trying to find something Marley could eat. All they had was pretzels, pork grinds and a can of questionable little balls that once could have been almond clusters or something. Annoyed at the lack of options, he ripped the fridge door open and pulled out the eggs. Quickly scrambling them and cooking them, he grabbed a fork before making his way back to his room.
"Here. Better like eggs."
The way those radiant eyes beamed at him told him she did, and he waved her away when she went to jump on him in thanks. He flopped back onto the bed, face in his pillows.
"I would've gotten it if you'd just told me where." Brooklyn informed him, curling her knees up to her chest and an amused smile flickering onto her lips as Marley shoveled the eggs into her mouth. "Child, chew your food!"
Marley snickered and opened her mouth to show her mother her half chewed eggs. "SEAFOOD!"
"It's too early for this shit, is this what I have to look forward to?" The dark haired boy groaned, dreading when his girl grew into her terrible twos.
The little girl only giggled, finishing her food and handing Brooklyn her plate. "Potty!" The brunette pointed in the direction of the bathroom, and Marley scampered in to do her business. Brooklyn leaned over, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Thanks for making her breakfast."
Mickey grunted in response, shrugging his shoulder a bit to knock her off. "Whatever."
Brooklyn just gave him that smile again, like she thought his sour demeanor was endearing. Instead of commenting though, she just shifted away from him to give him his space.
Mentally calculating, he figured he had about an hour or so before he had to go to work. Mandy was probably at school, she had taken up going to beauty school full time so she was there from nine to four every week day and she'd gotten a part time job at a salon in the North Side as a shampoo girl or something so she wouldn't be home until much later. Ever since Ian had disappeared, she obsessively kept herself busy. After she'd graduated from high school (the first Milkovich to ever do so), she'd gotten a job at a fast food restaurant for about two weeks before some pissy customer got mouthy with her and she'd dumped his soda over his head and flung his food on the floor before storming out. Mandy had come home ranting about how she wasn't dealing with shit jobs for the rest of her life and was going to actually do something with it.
He was kind of proud, though he'd never tell her that.
His sister hadn't really forgiven him for the whole Ian thing. Not for fucking him behind her back, but rather chasing him away with his lack of whatever it had been Gallagher was searching for.
And that was enough emo thoughts of the MIA redhead for one day, so Mickey rolled out of his bed and told Brooklyn he was going to shower.
Right before he was getting ready to walk out the door, he heard a cry from his girls' room and detoured there. He lifted the squirming baby into his arms, bouncing her instinctively. "Hey now, knock that shit off."
The fat tears rolling down her cheeks stopped at his reprimand, and she fussed about grabbing onto his face. "Da!"
A little smile tugged at his lips. Her first intelligent forming of words had been her attempt at calling him "Daddy" a few weeks ago, and it warmed him a bit every time.
"Go ahead, I'll feed her." Brooklyn told him, walking into the room to take the baby out of his arms. He hesitated; the only person other than himself that had ever held her was Mandy. Telling himself to stop being such a pussy, he gently handed her over to the girl.
"Formula's in the cabinet above the stove, baby food too." He stated, figuring that she didn't need a low down on the rest since she had a child of her own. The brunette nodded at him, a bright smile lighting up her face as she murmured down at the giggling baby in her arms.
"Got it."
Mickey still didn't move. Something didn't sit right with him about just leaving Brooklyn here when his dad's loud snores were filling the house. He didn't know how Terry would react to her presence, but figured fuck it, he'd seemed pacified by her being in his bed so he'd probably just be happy she didn't have a dick and call it a day. And he'd already told her about Mandy, so she wouldn't be surprised if Mandy came home before he did. Hoping he wasn't leaving her in danger, he moved to the hallway by the door as Brooklyn followed close behind.
"I'm done at six. You got my number in case-"
"Yes! Go to work!" Brooklyn growled, looking down at his girl and talking with that annoying tone people always used with babies that he wouldn't be caught using in a million years. "Say, Daddy needs to stop being so worried and go to work right meow! Right meow!"
Had she really just…? Mickey shook his head, calling her a freak and heading out the door to work.
Brooklyn dutifully fed the baby girl, burping her over her shoulder as she handed Marley her phone to play angry birds to keep her occupied while she changed the baby's diaper and found a cute little pastel green onesie to put her in that made the ice of her eyes stand out like crazy. The little girl was just too damn cute, and though she predominantly saw Mickey in her she wondered about her mother.
She had not been kidding about her gaydar, she'd just always been able to tell with one glance someone's sexuality. But Mickey seemed pretty touchy about it, so she didn't want to push. Figured she'd find out eventually. Glancing around the girls room, she took in the barren walls and general lack of life. Well she'd have to change that. Since she was going to be around indefinitely, she thought the least she could do was to brighten up the place since she already knew Mickey sure as hell wouldn't. Not for the first time since the previous night, she wondered just what it was that made Mickey take her in because he did not seem like the type to help…well, anyone really. Not out of the goodness of his heart, anyways.
The brunette busied herself for an hour or two grabbing the few boxes from the trunk of her car that contained her and Marley's belongings, leaving hers and most of Marley's in a corner in Mickey's room and bring a box or two or Marley's entertainment in his daughters. She wasn't sure if that was where Marley would be staying, but it got most of the boxes out of the way for now Marley immediately dug in one of them, ripping out her coloring books and beginning to scribble furiously.
Around noon, the two older girls began getting hungry and Brooklyn went into the kitchen to find some food. She felt a little awkward just helping herself, but she'd already decided that when Mickey got home she was going to make him go grocery shopping and she was going to pick it all up. The last thing she was, was a freeloader. And he'd done her a favor beyond any favor anyone had ever done by allowing her into his home, so she figured it was the least she could do.
Upon opening the fridge, her jaw dropped a little. Didn't four people – even if one was a baby who didn't eat too much solid food yet- live here? How was it even remotely possible that all these people survived on was Pabst Blue Ribbon, some eggs, a carton of milk that smelled like a dead body was in it and some rotten apples? The freezer wasn't much better, holding only a lonesome Hot Pocket and some ice cubes. She checked the cabinets, only coming across some chips, a box of Cheerio's with 'MY KIDS- DON'T FUCKING TOUCH' labeled in big black letters across the whole front – that made her smile- and a box of what maybe once was nuts but she wasn't going to touch with a ten foot pole. Sighing, she gave up and decided that she'd just go shopping while Mickey was at work. Calling out to her daughter and telling her to put her coat on, she crept past the sleeping form of Terry Milkovich to Mickey's room and dug through her clothes. She changed her undergarments quickly, throwing the soiled clothes back into the box and yanking on a pair of clean dark denim shorts and an army green camouflage tank top quickly, pulling on her Doc Marten spiked sandals as she headed back to the baby Milkovich's room. Cradling the baby in her arms, she grabbed her purse and the car seat that was in the corner of the room and headed quietly out the door with Marley on her heels.
Since it was the middle of June, the sun beat down a little bit more than comfortably as Brooklyn quickly unloaded all the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter and Marley helped by carrying a few of the lighter ones. She placed the baby in a little walker by her feet so she wouldn't cry about being alone in her room, and Marley sat cross legged next to the little girl and began sticking her fingers into her own mouth and pulling her face at odd angles to make distorted expressions at her. The baby thought it was hilarious to reach out and tug on Marley's hair, the older child's protests and whines only fueling her amusement.
Brooklyn chuckled at the interaction, noting that the baby was already a little trouble maker. Marley was a big girl, she'd be three in October and even though she complained the baby wasn't really hurting her more so just getting on her nerves so the brunette went about her business trying to quickly put away the groceries so she could hang up the decorations she'd bought for the baby's room before Mickey got home. It was already close to five and Mickey was due back shortly after six so time was of the essence. She snickered, remembering the text she'd gotten about an ten minutes ago, 'just to make sure his kid was still alive and she wasn't some psychopath that took off with his baby.' So she'd sent him a picture of the adorable scene of Marley sitting Indian style on the kitchen floor, helping the baby shove little shapes through the correct slots in her walker and figured that was answer enough. She clicked 'save', because that picture was too cute..
Lost in her mission of stocking the Milkovich house with actual food –she hadn't gotten anything fancy, just some snacks, fruit and vegetables and a few key ingredients to make dinner for the next few nights- she didn't notice the large figure standing a few feet behind her. She was bent at the waist, putting boxes of noodles and various sauces to eat them with in a cupboard next to the stove when a rough voice behind her made her jump to attention.
"What are you doing, girl?"
Spinning to face the speaker, Brooklyn looked up into the cold eyes of Terry Milkovich. He towered over her from about five feet away, clad in only a grimy gray wife beater and his boxers. Her skin prickled at the sight of him, an uneasy feeling settling into her bones. She'd been too out of it this morning to notice the air of pure hatred and danger that exuded from him, and he'd been asleep when she was at her full consciousness earlier.
She sure as shit felt it now and fought back a shudder, choosing to smile at him. Kill 'em with kindness, right? "I um, went food shopping." Her eyes flickered to Marley, shooting her a warning with her eyes to remain still and quiet. Terry obviously would have seen her, but she didn't want any of the man's attention drawn to the children except that which was strictly necessary.
The way his eyes took in every inch of her body as he fully assessed her in the light of day was insanely creepy and made gooseflesh rise, but she forced the fake smile to stay firmly planted on her lips and the syrupy sweetness to remain in her voice. "I was going to start dinner soon if you're hungry, Mickey should be home soon."
His eyebrow quirked as he reached a hand into his waistband to scratch his balls. "Hope you don't expect any fucking money for that crap." The man grabbed a warm, unopened beer that was on the counter and popped it, chugging it almost in one big gulp.
Fighting the urge to curl her lip in disgust or roll her eyes she waved a hand in a way that said 'yeah right' and went back to putting things away, opening the freezer to place the meat and frozen foods she'd purchased in there neatly. The brunette made a mental note to get some better beer. She expected Terry to lose interest in her, but still felt his presence behind her.
"You fucking my son?"
She spun around again, slowly this time, and crossed her arms across her chest. "Yup." She answered, locking eyes with him and her voice unwavering even through her lie. Despite the vibes she was sure he constantly gave off, she was afraid of no one. There was a difference between being aware, and being afraid.
Terry grunted, nodding and muttering 'good' under his breath before going back to the couch and throwing his weight onto it to crash once more. Quickly finishing putting all the food away, she shooed Marley into the baby's bedroom and picked the little rascal up, bouncing her on her hip and pulling the other large bags in with her. She snatched a banana too, in case Marley or the baby got hungry. Easy smooshable for the infant, swallow-whole-able for the toddler.
Throwing some pieces of construction paper, safety scissors and glue at her daughter to keep her occupied, she closed the door behind her as she laid the baby down in her crib. Brooklyn pulled her phone out of her back pocket, turning on some music to drown out the obnoxious snores coming from the living room before pulling out her purchases and setting to work.
Mickey made it home five minutes faster than his usual time. For the last few hours, anxiety had been churning in his gut and no matter how many cigarettes he smoked it didn't lessen. The picture of the two little girls playing Brooklyn had sent him had calmed it for about ten minutes, but it had come rushing right back full force after not too long.
He didn't like being away from his girl for so long, even if he knew she was in good hands. As much as she little one was a constant reminder of how his life had changed, she was also a distraction from the thoughts of green eyes and freckles that inevitably plagued his mind no matter how he tried to expel them. Visions of pale skin and hard muscles, haunting sounds of "Don't do this,.." and passion filled moans filling up his mind. That frustrating ache bubbling in him when he had nothing to focus on, the yearning sometimes hitting him so powerfully it hurt when he had to step into the freezer.
His feet led up the steps, turning his neck to the side to crack it swiftly before pushing the front door open. Ice blue surveyed the scene in front of him, and when he saw no one but his dad assed out on the couch his heart sped up a bit. Brooklyn's car was out front, so they had to be here. That was when the music floating from his daughter's room made itself apparent, and he let out the tense breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. As he made his way to the fridge to grab a beer to calm his still slightly frayed nerves he berated himself for being such a pussy all day when he froze.
The fridge was full of food. Real food, not the cheap generic shit that filled the shelves when it was actually there.
His whole life he didn't think he'd ever seen that much food in his house. Incredulous, he yanked open all the cabinets and peered inside only to be met with the same sight.
Gritting his teeth against the flush of anger that coursed through him, he stomped over to his girls room and all but threw the door open. Opening his mouth to ask her just what the fuck she was playing at, his jaw dropped open in shock as he took in the sight of the room.
It had previously been Iggy's, and when Iggy got locked up for 5 years minimum a few months ago he'd moved the crib from his room to there. She was too young to be bothered by the cigarette burns in the carpet or the holes in the walls, the flickering overhead light.
If he didn't know any better he'd be sure he wasn't even standing in that same room. The walls were splattered in big colorful stick ons, butterflies and fairies and flowers and all that girly stuff. Conveniently placed to covered aforementioned holes, a large roll up lavender rug thrown over the floor to do the same to it. There was a bunch of toys on the floor that hadn't been there before, and new mural to replace the old worn out one hung above the crib. There was more, but his brain short circuited as he looked at the brunette, furious.
"What the hell are you doing?! We're not a fucking charity case!" He snarled, stalking over to stand beside her. He couldn't help that his eyes flickered down to his girl, looking away when he was satisfied that she was exactly how he'd left her except he was pretty sure the cute little outfit she was wearing was new but his brain couldn't even handle that right now.
"Calm your tits! I know that, but I wanted to repay you for letting me stay here and her room was just so blah I just-"
"Not all of us can afford nor need this shit," He snapped, hostility tainting his voice. It pissed him off severely, her spending money on all this shit. How did she even have money like that, he wondered?
"Will you chill out? It's not an issue for me and I was trying to not only do something nice for you, but for her too! Ya prick!" She retorted, rolling her eyes and placing her hands on her hips in such a cliché vision of a pissy woman it was almost comical. "Besides, other than this I just got food! Jesus. Get over it. Do you fucking feed yourself at all or just your kid?"
Mickey scoffed, looking her up and down and using his hand to motion at all of her. "Have you looked in a mirror lately, Twiggy?!"
"Hey! I'm a small person okay?! I was much smaller before Marley, I just look unhealthy now because my hips and tits got bigger so when I lose a bit of weight it's more noticeable." She shot back, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.
Right. He was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that her appetite had disappeared when she'd been left behind. Like his had. Shaking that thought right the fuck out of his head, he growled at her. "Whatever! You shouldn't have done this!"
"It's keeping my mind off shit, okay?!" She burst out, her wide cerulean eyes glaring daggers at him before turning away to stomp over to the crib. All she did was readjust the thankfully still sleeping baby's blankets just to keep her hands busy so he didn't notice them shaking.
Which he did, anyways.
And try as he might to hold onto his previous anger, he felt it dissipate little by little until it completely disappeared. He could understand that. So instead of responding, he told her to come to his room when she was done. He wanted to hold his daughter for a little since he'd missed her all day, but didn't want to wake her. Once in his room, he pulled out the box under his bed and began rolling up a joint.
At least he could do that for her, if she was going to go all Oprah on him even if he was still a little pissed about it. A few minutes later, Brooklyn entered his room and hesitantly sat beside him on the bed. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"I just don't take well to people doing shit for me, okay?" Mickey told her, licking the paper and closing the joint. Twisting one end and popping it in his mouth, he effortlessly lit it and took a deep drag before passing it to her.
"We're gonna have some problems then because I'm a giving type of gal." She teased, taking the offered joint.
He smirked, opening his mouth to tell her that they sure as hell were when he realized what she was wearing and he froze. The camo shirt was an eyesore, and he clenched his jaw against the earlier thoughts that were trying to flood his mind again. "Change your shirt."
Brows furrowing in confusion, she tilted her head and seemed like she wanted to question him as to why but decided against it and simply handed him back the joint and moved to a corner of his room. Reaching down, she grabbed a simple electric blue wife beater and changed. He didn't bother looking away, it wasn't like he was checking her out and it wasn't like she was making an attempt to hide herself from him so as far as he was concerned it didn't matter. She joined him once more, taking the joint back.
"That all your shit?" He questioned, motioning to the boxes.
"Yeah…I just wanted to get it out of my car. It's all Marley's stuff, too. I know she's sleeping in your daughters room but I didn't want to put her stuff in there. We'll figure out a living situation soon, I was looking at apartment listings today and-"
Mickey had quirked an eyebrow at first, finding it amusing that she would go buy all that stuff but feel like she wasn't entitled to putting her own daughters stuff in there. And fuck, he was already starting to get a soft spot for her and Marley because when he pictured them getting their own place in shitty Southside he shook his head and cut her off. "Move Marley's stuff into my girls room. We'll get her a bed soon. Those drawers are empty, feel free." Gesturing to the dresser across from the bed with his free hand, he sucked the last of the life out of the joint before putting it in the ash tray and lighting two cigarettes, handing one her to which she willingly took.
She didn't say anything, lowering her eyes and reaching over to squeeze his knee gently but he didn't miss the tears of gratitude that shone in her eyes. Even if she could afford it and could take care of herself, he had a powerful gut feeling that she didn't want to be alone.
The next two months passed in a comfortable routine of Mickey working and Brooklyn staying home with the kids. It was nice, because he got more work done when he didn't have to constantly soothe his daughter, and Linda bitched less. Brook didn't push for information as to why Mickey was the way he was, but she was a smart, creepily observant girl and put some pieces together with the way he reacted to certain things. Like the camo shirt he'd told her to take off, which she hadn't worn again since then. He could see a light go on in her eyes when she gathered another piece, but she rarely said anything. One night when they were extra drunk, she'd managed to get out of him a little about Ian, like how he'd left and was in fact a soldier but that was all Mickey would share. When she asked him how long they'd been together, he shrugged and told her they weren't really together but they fucked like rabbits on and off for about two and a half years. She just rolled her eyes at his attempt of making it seem like no big deal, like she saw right through him.
He also learned more about her. Like she'd grown up bouncing back and forth between Los Angeles and Seattle, and her mother was a fucking cunt but she adored her father. . She would speak about her husband, Marik, here and there when she wasn't sober but other than that she liked to keep it locked up tight inside of her for the most part. He couldn't blame her, he more than anyone understood the brutal pain that shone in her eyes whenever it got brought up. One night he'd asked her why the fuck she wasn't in Seattle anyways, since she'd spoken of a brother that was basically a best friend and some friends he could see the fondness she held for expressed in her face. She'd shut down emotionally, but had told him that everyone had just gotten sick of her being unable to shake the funk she was in since Marik had left. He didn't bring it up again, not liking that he'd unintentionally stirred those negative thoughts in her.
She enjoyed doing hair and makeup- and a whole shit ton of other crafty, creative stuff- even if she didn't have any need to work. She wouldn't go into detail about it, but he gathered that she came from a bit of money though you never expect it from her personality. She was the farthest thing from a spoiled princess. He also thought that her husband had some money too, and had left a big chunk of it to her and Marley after he'd taken off. She bought stuff so he didn't have to, like baby food and diapers and clothes since the little Milkovich was growing so quickly Mickey could barely believe it. She also got cartons of cigarettes for them to split – they both smoked Marlboro Reds, fittingly enough- and when their stash of alcohol diminished, she'd just replace it. She continued to decorate the girls' room, getting childish paintings for the walls, a TV for them to watch cartoons in the mornings and these real bright paper lanterns in all different colors. She hung them from the ceiling, and had a step stool stashed in the closet that she'd pull out every night when they tucked the girls in and would ask them, "What color do you want tonight?" since the glow would cast different hues depending on the color of the lantern lit. She even got a king sized bed for Mickey's room for the nights he was extra moody and wanted space to himself. Mickey still had his pride and didn't take handouts, but he wasn't going to complain about it when his daughter was better for it. And the bed, smokes and liquor didn't count as far as he was concerned since it benefitted Brooklyn too.
The girl fit right into their household, with her combat boots and no bullshit attitude. She was sweet and good to her core, but she wasn't one to take other peoples shit either and they butted heads quite often because of it because she especially didn't take any of Mickey's shit. Terry seemed to like her well enough from the interactions they'd had, but Brooklyn didn't like the way Terry treated others, especially Mickey, so she avoided him when she could like the rest of them did.
Mickey had grown to absolutely adore Marley, though he worried that her natural mischievousness and sometimes cocky attitude was going to get her and his daughter into trouble but he was kidding himself if he thought his kid would be any different.
Brooklyn and Mandy got along so well it was scary, since she was a licensed cosmetologist and helped Mandy out with school. He'd come home from work and they'd be engrossed in looking at pictures on the computer Mandy had saved up and bought for school, sharing thoughts and opinions on who knows what and the floor covered in cosmetics and hair shit as they took turns doing each other up.
Mickey was relieved Mandy had found a new friend, and that she didn't seem to be so distant from him anymore either. Sometimes, they'd lock themselves in the bathroom and the stench of hair color would over power the usual musky Milkovich house scent for hours while they did crazy things to each others hair. Mandy had decided she wanted to be a redhead and colored her hair an intense burgundy, and even Mickey had to admit it looked wonderful. Brooklyn had coaxed Mandy out of her fear of using hair bleach (apparently the shit was really complicated) and had her bleach the bottom half of her chocolate hair and the put electric blue fading into teal in it in some technique they'd called 'ombre'. While they did this, Mickey watched The Nightmare Before Christmas with the kids to keep them out of the ladies' hair, no pun intended.. Mickey thought that looked pretty fucking cool, too and had thanked her quietly that night for helping his sister. She brushed it off like it was nothing, which he'd come to learn with her that it truly was just in her nature.
That same night, they sat down facing each other on the bed with their lists and a six pack of beer. His daughter still remained nameless, and it was getting a bit ridiculous at this point considering she would be a year old next week. They'd thrown a few ideas back and forth over the weeks but nothing had seemed right. He wanted something unique and different but still meaningful. He was leaning towards bad ass chicks from anything he'd ever liked but was trying to not make it obvious, and she seemed to be doing the same but not really caring about being obvious..
With a cigarette dangling from her mouth, Brook reached up and tied her mess of dark brown and blue hair into a messy bun on the top of her head before taking the butt between her fingers and holding a pen in her other hand in ready. "How about Lizbeth?"
"What is that from?" He asked, brow furrowing as he tried to recall.
"What! The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo! She's a total bad ass, you'd love her!"
"Nah. Too plain," Mickey answered, though made a mental note to watch it as he saw her cross it off. "Lora?"
"As in Lora Croft?" She exhaled smoke with her words, and Mickey nodded. "No way, she's a whore. There was that cheat code where you could make her naked the whole game, you want your daughter associated with that? How about Trinity?"
Mickey tilted his head to the side and nodded a bit in consent to her first question, hell no he didn't want his daughter having any kind of predisposition to becoming promiscuous. He was sure he was going to end up in jail at some point from beating some douche bags face in inevitably, but the less provocation the better. Then the latter of her words hit him and his eyes rolled. "This isn't the fucking Matrix, Brook. Rogue?"
"Do you want her to get terrorized her whole life?"
"Right, like she wouldn't with Trinity?!"
"Ugh," Brooklyn groaned, snuffing her cigarette in the ash tray right as he lit one. "Buffy?"
"Why don't we just fucking name her Xena The Warrior Princess?" Mickey retorted, scoffing incredulously.
Brooklyn opened her mouth like she was going to argue, but then paused and nodded. "Point taken. Willow?"
That name actually wasn't all that bad, he sort of liked it but he just couldn't do it. "What am I, a billionare celebrity? I'm not naming her after a tree, or a fruit, or any shit like that. Also, pussy power names much?" He remember some idiot had named their kid Apple. Cause that poor child wasn't going to get bullied to hell, or anything. "How about Maryjane or Gwen?"
"You wanted something out of the ordinary and kick ass, shithead. No, no fucking Spiderman names! Comic nerd names much?!"
"Hey, Spiderman is the shit, you bitch."
Undeterred, Brooklyn looked at the next on her list after sipping from her beer. "Faye?"
"What the fuck kind of name is that? Hell no!"
"Cowboy Bebop reference, duh!" As if him not knowing what she was talking about was absurd she shook her head in disappointment. "Isabella?"
"No way. Not naming my daughter after some prissy ass sparkling vampire." He hated that he even knew that.
He still wanted to strangle Mandy and Brook for forcing him to watch that movie.
"HEY! That's my daughters middle name, fuckwad!" Brooklyn glared at him and man, if looks could kill.
"Shut up. That was before that shit so it doesn't count."
"Fair enough." Brooklyn relented, her glare letting up as she flopped onto her back on the bed. "Dammit! We've gotta figure this out or at least think of something to call her in the mean time!"
They discussed it for a little while, debating over nicknames that were either too faggy or too bland for his tastes. Brooklyn suggested 'Firecracker' as a joke since his daughter was exactly that, stubborn fiery little thing, but he immediately shot that down because that was just too close to Firecrotch for his liking. They sat in silence for a bit before Brooklyn sat up. "Have you ever heard of Kali the Destroyer?"
"No." He snorted, looking at her like why in the hell would he ever have?
"She's this bad ass goddess that always reminds me of karma and life and death and shit. And baby Milkovich does like to destroy things. The Little Destroyer!" She suggested, grinning happily.
"This would be so much easier if she was a dude," He complained, and when Brook wouldn't stop bitching in his ear for ten minutes about how she'd finally come up with something halfway decent, he relented figuring it would be temporary anyways. "FINE! Her birthday is next week, we gotta figure something out by then regardless so you fucking win."
She punched his should triumphantly, before bringing her knees up a bit and resting her elbows on them. The black and white art on her knees drew his attention, and the question he'd been wanting to ask was on the tip of his tongue. He'd seen every tattoo she had, and had gotten an explanation for every one except the two on her thighs. There was a giant Tree of Life on her left side, winding from under her breasts and down her ribs to end at the dip in her lower back with the lyircs "Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds." He'd teased her mercilessly, repeatedly asking her if she liked Bob Marley or not until she finally snapped and told him to shut the fuck up, her daughters name was awesome and he obviously liked him too if he recognized the lyrics.
That shut him up real fast.
The half sleeve on her right shoulder was the one that stood out the most, something she called Nightmares In Wonderland. It was an Alice in Wonderland scene, with all the bright trippy colors but they'd been replaced with Nightmare Before Christmas characters and even Mickey had to admit it was insanely awesome. Dainty half cursive words ran across her left collarbone, spelling out 'It can't rain all the time'; when he'd questioned it, because he knew it was a quote from the Crow but wondered what it's significance to her was, she'd told him in was her best friend Kylie's handwriting. It had been their motto, and she'd never been happier that she'd gotten it than she was when Kylie passed away when she was eighteen. She wouldn't share anymore than that on the subject.
"What are those for?" He asked, motioning to the large greyscale pieces on each of her thighs. One her left, there was a portrait of Cinderella from the waist up in a large frame with vines wrapping around it. A banner went across the bottom, saying 'A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes' as Cinderella was half beautiful princess, half zombie and held her own heart in her hand, blood dripping from her mouth. The other was essentially the same, only it was Ariel and instead of vines wrapping around the frame it was hands that looked like they belonged on corpses reaching out and the banner across the bottom read 'Poor Unfortunate Souls'.
Obviously, the brunette had a thing for Disney,
She sighed, as really not wanting to talk about it but squared her shoulders and answered him. "I got the Cinderella after Marley was born, for her. I always wanted a daughter, and as it turns out I can't have anymore kids so she was like my dream come true." She paused, hesitating as she lit up another cigarette and sucked on it desperately.
"And the mermaid?" He pushed gently, not wanting her to close off.
Her lips tightened before she spoke. "I got that after Marik left."
That was really all the explanation he needed, and he nodded and accepted the cigarette when she handed it to him to hop onto the floor and starting packing the bong. All this talk about tattoos recently had made him start itching for a new one, but he wasn't sure what he'd get so he didn't bring it up. They sat in comfortable silence, just enjoying not being totally alone as the marijuana smoke burned their lungs, reminding them that they were still alive despite how empty they sometimes felt. As they'd both learned over the last two months, living in the murky waters of misery was a little bit easier when you have someone wallowing next to you, keeping you just barely above the surface.
Do I divide and fall apart?
'cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark
And the ship went down in sight of land
I know you're coming in the night like a thief
But I've had some time to hone my lying technique
I know you think that I'm someone you can trust
But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear I'll try to nail you back up
So do you think that we could work out a sign
So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try
Whew, that was a long one! Feedback is always appreciated, I love to know what you guys are thinking! =]