When someone knocked on the front door, Mickey swore under his breath and rolled out of bed. He knew Mandy would still be passed out and even if she wasn't she'd be far too hung over to bother answering the door. He kept his injured hand cradled against his stomach as he walked out of his room. He was only in his boxers and he knew he probably looked like crap since his hair stuck up at the back and he didn't smell all that great, but he wasn't really expecting it to be anybody important at the door.
And maybe it wasn't, because he couldn't remember, but something inside of him told him the person standing there was important.
He was tall, that was the first thing Mickey noticed. Maybe that was because Mickey was short, he didn't know. His red hair was cropped quite short in a way that was probably army regulation. He had a splattering of freckles across his nose and cheekbones and wide brown eyes that sort of made him think of a deer, but he didn't know why. He was hot, or maybe handsome was more accurate. Mickey didn't know, he wasn't that great with vocabulary. All he knew was that this guy was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and even without being able to remember everything he'd ever seen, Mickey knew that.
"Mandy's not awake yet," he blurted out because that was the first thing he could think to say and his brain was shutting down with this guy staring at him like he was. It was like he was cataloguing everything about Mickey at the same time as Mickey was doing the same to him.
A smile broke out across this guy's face – Ian, his name was Ian – and Mickey had to stop himself from smiling back because he remembered that he didn't do that. He sort of hated that he didn't do that.
"That's okay," the guy said, "I can wake her up if you like?"
Mickey just shrugged, figuring this guy might as well come in. Even if the old him was rude, he didn't want to be. Not to this guy. He didn't know why. The sound of his voice triggered something inside of Mickey's head, but he couldn't really think what. He couldn't remember. Typically, he couldn't remember.
What could he remember these days?
"How's the hand?" he asked as he stepped into the house behind Mickey.
Mickey shrugged, "Probably broken, but I'll live."
"You could go to the hospital and make sure."
He couldn't help it, he snorted. "We're only just getting close to paying off the last set of bills," he muttered and ran his good hand through his hair as he wandered through into the kitchen, hearing the front door shut behind him. Awkwardly he got a glass of water and a box of painkillers out of one of the kitchen cabinets and he knew that this guy was watching him as he went into Mandy's room.
She was flat out in bed, wearing one of his old shirts and he hoped to God underwear. The covers were kicked down towards the bottom of the bed and her hair was matted and tangled, like she'd been tossing about in her sleep. He smirked at the sight of dried drool on her cheek. His sister really wasn't attractive when she slept.
"Mandy."
He crouched down beside her bed and put the water on the floor. He brushed her hair back from her face and smiled when she mumbled and groaned, her eyes flickering open and then snapping back shut in response to the light in the room. "Take these," he said, keeping his voice quiet and handed her a couple of pills.
She put them in her mouth and reached blindly for the glass of water. He handed it to her.
"Thanks, Mick," she muttered and he cringed because her breath hit him in the face and it was disgusting.
"No problem," he replied, "You think you can stomach food?"
She was kind of a pasty colour, but he knew it would be better if she actually got some food down her. He didn't think she'd throw up. Mandy was more the type to throw up on the night and then just feel like crap the morning after. She pulled a face, still keeping her eyes closed, "Probably."
"I'll make you some toast," he said, standing up and wincing when his knees cracked, "By the way, your friend Ian's here." He was actually standing in the doorway to Mandy's room, frowning, but Mickey didn't think she needed to know those specifics. He shooed Ian out of his sister's room because he'd be damned if he was letting the guy watch his sister get up. Especially since he'd realised that no, she wasn't actually wearing any underwear.
"You want anything?" he asked Ian when he was aware that the guy was standing behind him, watching as he moved about the kitchen. It was kind of unnerving and sort of made Mickey wish he had some more clothes on, but he thought it would look even weirder if he ran off to put some clothes on.
From the look on Ian's face, he thought maybe him offering to make him food like that was strange, but he couldn't help it. The situation was turning awkward and he needed something to do with himself.
"Um, no, I'm fine thanks," he said, chewing his bottom lip and Mickey had to look away because the sight of those lips were making his mouth water. He didn't know why, he put it down to the fact that the guy was gorgeous.
He thought that Mandy needed to make friends more often.
He buttered Mandy's toast and left it on the side next to a cup of coffee, not really wanting to wander in and see her getting changed. She had no boundaries about walking into his room, but it didn't quite go both ways.
When he didn't have any other excuse not to, he turned around and settled against the counter with his coffee mug clasped in his good hand. Ian just stood there hovering in the doorway to the kitchen, the sunlight making his hair practically glow.
Mickey met his gaze and the guy just seemed to snap. "We're really fucking doing this?" he demanded, because his tone was too harsh for it to be a question, "You're really going to stand there and pretend?"
He frowned, he couldn't help it. He didn't have a clue what this guy was on about. "What?"
"You know what, fuck you!" Ian yelled at him and then turned around and stormed out rather abruptly.
When Mandy walked into the room, he just shrugged in the face of her frown, "Don't look at me, I have no clue what the hell that was all about." He took a sip of coffee and stared at the place where Ian had been standing not long before. "Did I do something to piss him off when I was, you know, still me?" he asked.
Mandy frowned a little and bit into her toast. The expression on her face said that she was far too hung over to be thinking too hard about anything. "No clue," she admitted, "I don't even think you two really talked, you only saw him when he was here with me or at work, but I don't think you ever did anything more than scowl at him at work."
"We worked together?"
"Yeah at the Kash and Grab," she said through a mouthful of toast, "The army probably just stressed him out a little bit, don't worry about it."
Mickey didn't too much, because he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to be worrying about. Still, there was the thought nagging at the back of his mind that maybe Mandy wasn't right about what she'd just told him. Maybe there was more to it than the war stressing Ian out. Maybe.
