Chapter Text
So, theoretically Spoon going on a date should not make Mickey want to crawl out of his skin and his blood burn. But his life follows anything but the normal script.
He should feel happy for his friend, prideful even, but when Spoon walked into the Spindell Spot one day and announced that Brian Wyatt, from his algebra class, asked him out it was like every sensible and positive emotion inside Mickey drain the fuck out.
He watched Rachel and Ema congratulate and hype him up about it. Asking question after question about the when and where (tonight and a movie downtown) and how apparently Spoon could pull because Brian was a well known hottie. He sat frozen on the couch trying to digest this very simple situation and failing miserably. His three friends finally noticed their missing fourth from all the excitement. They all look at him expectantly. Rachel looks confused, Ema seems curious about his muteness and Spoon looks worried.
“Mickey?” Spoon spoke softly making full eye contact and Mickey finally had a coherent thought.
Why are you going on a date? You don’t need to.
“Um, yeah that’s cool. Who is this guy?” He buries the anger as far down as he can but his voice still sounds clipped. Rachel pulls up his uDOu account and shows him. Short curly blonde hair, green eyes and an easy smile. Basic photos. Pan flag in his bio along with a quote Mickey doesn’t care to read.
“He’s head of the student council, total nerd chic, half the cheer girls have a thing for him. Good going Spoon!” Rachel says.
“Can’t take all the credit, apparently Ema is a great wingwoman.” Spoon commented, wrapping his arms around the goth girl. Mickey looks at her like a traitor before closing his eyes and shaking it off.
“We are in art class together and he just asked me if you were single, that’s all. I guess he saw your musical audition and had a thing for you ever since.” Ema said with a wry smile, wiggling out of Spoon’s grip. Spoon’s ears tinted pink at that. Mickey’s heart was hammering.
“You are the best friend a guy could ask for Ema Winslow.” Spoon said and that’s when Mickey broke.
Why did you say yes? Ema’s your best friend. So what am I? I’m right here.
Rachel and Ema float away into a corner somewhere and Mickey feels the couch dip beside him. Spoon appraised him with an all too knowing care. Mickey rolls his shoulders and keeps his hands gripped on the armchair, resisting the urge to hold Spoon’s cheek and ask all these questions in his head.
“You good?” Spoon asks and Mickey nods. “It’s just that you are sitting here looking very much not good and y’know, is something wrong? Do you need a patented Spoon Spindell chat?” Spoon unleashes his positivity and even pulls dorky finger guns at him. Mickey could hear the faintest amount of desperation, a need for Mickey to be good about this, coming through and it’s all he wants to focus on.
“I’m good.” Mickey says. “He seems nice. Do you– I mean have you two been talking for long?” Mickey doesn’t want to think in the uncommon moments Spoon wasn’t around him he was with someone Mickey has already forgotten the face of.
“Well no, I mean I know of him but we haven’t talked talked until now. We have gone to school together since middle school but ran in different circles. But he’s a good guy, I’m pretty sure, no need to be all protective.”
“I’m not! I’m just curious.” Mickey spoke defensively and loud enough for the girls to turn their head at them. Spoon flinches a little and Mickey hates that he’s the reason for it. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Spoon would need protection from his date but now that thoughts are in his head and it isn’t leaving anytime soon.
One conversation in years and that’s it? It took a week of knowing you before I spoiled my guts to you. I’ve saved your life and you saved mine in a month.
“I’m happy for you.” Mickey tries and they both know he’s lying. Spoon sighs and gives him a long look of something close to what Mickey wants before sighing and crossing his arms in annoyance. His blue eyes are dimming.
“You're impossible sometimes. I don’t know why you're getting all stubborn but you're clearly not in the mood to talk so I’m not gonna push it.” Spoon says.
Mickey wants to apologize but he also wants to know exactly what he means by that. He wants to know how often Spoon thinks about him and his moods and why he always forgives Mickey and lets things go. It’s so petty but Mickey almost wants to turn this into a fight so they can keep talking about it.
“I’m sorry, I just haven’t been sleeping much and I didn’t mean to be a dick about it.” Mickey checks his phone and starts to gather his things. “I have practice soon, are you coming?”
It should be a rhetorical question. Spoon always comes to Mickey’s basketball practices, sitting at his commenter table doing homework and not paying attention at all unless Mickey does something mildly impressive. Hearing Spoon’s smooth and spirited voice as he plays has become a needed backdrop in the chaos of the game.
“Sorry, I’ve been procrastinating the hell out of this history paper and I need to get it done before tomorrow.” Spoon stays seated, pulling out a notebook and textbook, and brushing strands of his hair out from under the stems of his glasses before looking up at his friend.
Mickey wants to go back to five minutes ago where he didn’t think Spoon saying this was a punishment. Where he didn’t want to be selfish about his friends' time. Where he did not know Brian, whatever his last name was, existed.
But here they were. Now Spoon wasn’t looking at him and the moment he stepped into the hallways he felt sick with guilt about what just happened. But he still had enough residual anger not to turn back. He sent Spoon an im sorry text before running down to the gym.
They were friends, but apparently not best friends. And now Spoon was going on dates. He thinks Mickey is impossible when he’s the one not making any sense. What was Mickey to him anyway?
It’s all could think about and his practice went fucking miserably. He missed every shot, to the joy of Troy and Buck, and nearly fell over his feet five times trying to keep up. The adrenaline of all the exercise did little to quiet the mess in his head.
“Everyone has an off day, Mickey.” His coach tried to pep talk him after she blew the whistle, signaling the boys to head to the locker rooms, and Mickey just walked away ashamed.
The locker room was a sea of axe body spray, steam, sweat and loud posturing. Buck was having a great time pronouncing Bolitar and one game wonder after that shitty practice and Mickey just ignored him. Most of the guys on the team Mickey did actually get along with and they defended him while patting his shoulder out of solidarity. It devolved into ten different conversations at once, a few revolving around a party happening in a couple weeks.
Mickey checked his phone as soon as he was out of the gym and he could see Spoon read his text thirty minutes ago and sent back nothing.
–
im sorry
I really am, practice was boring w/o u
hope u have fun 2nite
do you wanna come over later?
During his entire date, Spoon had pulled out his phone and read those texts over and over. Once before Brian picked him up, twice when he took bathroom breaks during the movie and he even took a fake phone call at some point to read them again. It was rare for him to not reply to his texts within a minute and completely out of character to leave someone on read. He never thought he would do it to Mickey of people but it was getting maddening trying to always be there for him when he could be so out of pocket.
All the while trying to ignore the part of himself that wouldn’t stop thinking about kissing him. And all the tiny freckles on his nose and jawline. Maybe re should respond?
“That any good?” Brian asked him, motioning to Spoon’s melting strawberry ice cream in a cup, taking another bite of his own caramel drizzled vanilla. Spoon pocketed his phone in the denim jacket Rachel helped him pick out hours ago, completely feeling like shit for ignoring him.
“Yeah, yes, very tasty. My lactose intolerant stomach will definitely be enjoying this tonight.” Spoon dug his plastic fork into the sweetness while his date’s eyes went wide.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you couldn’t have dairy, I would have offered to take you somewhere else–”
“No! Sorry I’m not–well I am lactose intolerant but I also have no self control. Plus, my funny tummy gets a new food it can’t have every week so I choose to live in the moment and deal with it later.” Spoon jokes and Brian just gives an awkward forced laugh.
Fuck. Don’t talk about your shitty digestive system on a date you weirdo.
“So how is preparing for the musical going?” Brian asked. “It’s definitely gonna be the best thing ever made at Kastleton.”
“Good, great even! Ema is like the perfect phantom, and I am a not too shabby Raoul if I do say so myself. And Buck is like fifteen percent less annoying when we are on stage so that’s a plus.”
“God, what is that guy’s problem?”
“Probably dropped on his head as a baby. Several times.” This time Brian does laugh but it's not the one he’s used to. Not the one he hears in his dreams.
Focus. Stop it.
They finish their ice cream and Brian drives him home with the windows down. The October air is crisp and the stars are out, Brian called him cute at some point and Spoon likes the way his cheeks flush all shy when he does it. Spoon dips in and out of the conversation more times than he thinks because they're already at his house.
“I had a lot of fun Arthur.”
Brian thought calling him Spoon was a joke and Spoon didn’t have the heart to push for it. It’s been a while since he’s heard his real name said so much, not the one Mickey gave him.
“Me too, I’m always down for a good action flick with homoerotic undertones.” Spoon unclips his seatbelt, ready to hop out. He feels Brian's hand on his arm, stopping him.
“Do you wanna do something again next week?” Brian asks earnestly and Spoon can feel his brain flip flop.
Wasn’t this a bad date? Why the hell would you wanna do this again? I don’t even remember anything you’ve said to me. I think you're boring. Sorry. And I don’t think you think I’m funny. Which I’m fucking hilarious, so that’s an issue. I like the way you look at me but I want you to stop now.
“Yeah, that sounds great. Friday?” Spoon says.
And Brian lights up, and he starts leaning over the console. Slow enough that Spoon could easily stop him but he doesn’t. He wants a real kiss and maybe it’ll fix him. Maybe it’ll make Brian more interesting and he can start daydreaming about him instead of Mickey. It’ll be Brian who’s name constantly rings out in his head and texts he’s thrilled to receive and it’ll all be normal. Spoon can do normal and he can kiss Brian and it’ll be the normal version of great.
It isn’t. Brian’s lips were chapped and he tasted too sweet and his nose bumped against Spoon’s glasses and Spoon kept his eyes open the whole time.
Spoon walked into his dad and saw his dad on the couch watching Law & Order reruns with a beer in hand and he doesn’t even look over when Spoon sits beside him.
“Did you have fun?” His dad asks when a commercial comes on.
It went awful. I’m a mess. I think you and mom completely fucked me about relationships because I didn’t like kissing a sweet guy with nice arms because all I could think about was my friend who is most certainly straight and is being weird and who has no issue forgetting my name a ditching me for suicide missions in night clubs but loses it when I have a life of my own. By the way, I almost died last month and I now know how hard blood is to wash off.
Is this a gay thing? Having shitty and obsessive taste. I wish I could ask you.
“Yeah it was a blast, that new Mission Impossible movie was cool. I’m seeing him again next week.”
“I’m glad you're getting out more. It’s good for you, want some popcorn?”
Spoon ate a lot of popcorn at the movies but he accepted more out of the bowl his dad offered him. Laughing inside thinking about if his dad knew everything that happened the last couple of months, he’d lock Spoon in his room until graduation.
His phone vibrated and Spoon told himself not to look at it.
window is unlocked if ur coming by.
Mickey’s text, along with his other four, lit up his screen. He shouldn’t go. He should at least respond but he can’t think of anything to say. He should say he had a good date and then send the middle finger emoji. That just seems mean. He shouldn’t go. Mickey probably expects him to come anyway and he can be the cool aloof one for a change.
“Dad, Ema needs help with her Algebra, I’ll be back in an hour.”
-
Spoon is at Mickey’s basement window within twenty minutes and as promised, it was unlocked. He stared at the light coming through and the warmth teasing him inside before stepping through. Mickey laid on his bed, head turning to the boy entering his room, in sweats and a muscle tee.
“This is starting to feel less fun.” Spoon groaned as he flopped onto the bar and he heard the laugh he always wanted to hear as Mickey walked over to help.
“I’m glad you came.” Mickey said, keeping his hands on Spoon’s shoulders as he stood between Spoon’s legs as he sat on the bar stool.
“Always.” Spoon hates that it’s true. He loves how Mickey’s eyes sparked when he said it.
“So you’re not mad anymore?”
“You were the angry one this afternoon Mickey Bear, not me.”
“I know, I’m sorry, I really am.” Mickey sighs and Spoon grins. “So how was it?”
“Good.”
“Just good? You usually have more to say than that.”
He wasn’t you. Happy?
“Maybe I’ll have more to say next week.”
"You're seeing him again?" Irritation springs up in Mickey's voice again. Spoon rolls his eyes and hops off the stool to plop on Mickey's bed and he feels Mickey's eyes on him the whole time.
"Why did you ask me to come over?"
"I don't know." Mickey says honestly walking over in front of him again. How can a basement stay so warm? Their knees knocked together and Spoon can feel a whimper catch in his throat. He wanted to bury his face in Mickey's t-shirt and make him give him a proper answer. "I'm just happy to see you."
Mickey sat next to him, shoulders pressed together, and tipped his head into Spoon's shoulder. Mickey's curls pressed into his cheek and the smell of whatever conditioner or products he used made Spoon dizzy. Spoon can't look at him because he'll never want to look away. Because Mickey is the best view of his life, he finds something new to love in his face everyday, and he's had daydreams during class about mapping all his loves with his fingers. A hand crept to his lower back and rose higher, fingers brushing against the base of his neck and Spoon does make almost melts. The ache just gets deeper the more he gets.
"Mickey." Spoon warns him, half hoping he is ignored but the hand drops. He can’t be everything to me, Spoon yells at himself, he can't be a friend and everything else.
Why does he always have to be the sorta responsible one?
"Sorry. Do you need to go home soon?" Mickey asks while lying back down on his bed. "We could watch a movie, if you want."
I already did. And I do need to leave.
"Sounds good." Spoon says, settling on the other side of Mickey and sending a text to his dad. Brian texted him too and Spoon doesn't feel as bad as he should by not even reading it. Mickey smiles, not trying to touch him again the whole night, but sending shivers down Spoon spine as if he did.