Work Text:
"So this is a felon themed coffee shop?"
Trevor rolled his eyes at the man looking confused next to him. Ian was hot, so hot, but he was really dumb sometimes.
"It's not a theme." Trevor's patronizing tone pulled Ian from his confused wonder, his own eyes now rolling.
"They exclusively employ ex-cons."
Ian pulled open the door to Criminally Good Coffee, revealing yet another hipster coffee shop his friend Trevor had dragged him to.
"Why can't they just hire parolees and not make it their theme?" Ian asked as they joined the line. Even with five siblings Ian wouldn't have to wait this long for the coffee he makes at home, plus his wallet wouldn't be so light if Trevor didn't insist on dropping $6 for coffee every other day. Still, Ian wanted more queer friends and if waiting too long to buy overpriced coffee was the way to do it he'd bite his tongue.
"Ian, imagine if you didn't know the person making your coffee had been to jail. Or worse, your child's teacher, your doctor, your‐"
"Jesus Christ, Trev!" Ian interrupted his friend's attempt to put his entire foot in his mouth.
"They don't have to advertise their criminal record just so you feel safe. If they're good at their job, who cares?"
Trevor opened his mouth to respond when he realized they were at the front of the line and a pissed off looking ex-con was giving him the crazy eyes undera accusatory eyebrows.
Ian had noticed too, though he wasn't eating his words like Trevor was. No, he was eating up the sight in front of him. The man was shorter than him but in no way did that make him less of a force. His dark hair was slicked back on top, dropping into a fade down his head. His arched brows were raised high, crinkling his forehead, the two barbells in the left brow catching the light. His eyes, currently drilling a judgemental hole into Trevor, were a gorgeous robin's egg blue. Rounding out his face was a pair of full pink lips adorned with a hoop right in the center of his bottom lip. Below his chin Ian admired the trio of skulls stacked on top of each other down the column of his throat.
"You gonna order somethin' or just insult me to my face?" The man, Mickey according to his name tag, bit out behind gritted teeth.
Trevor opened his mouth, but all that came out was a sound like someone was slowly letting air leak out of a balloon.
A tall blond snaked his way between Mickey and the counter, glossed lips pulled in a sultry smirk.
"What can I get you? Besides my number?" He, Cole on the nametag, asked Ian and Ian only.
Behind him Mickey finally eased up on his mental murder of Trevor. His eyes met Ian's over Cole's shoulder, face shifting from cold, calculated anger to something open and intrigued that made Ian shiver.
"Uh, black coffee?" Ian finally ordered, handing over a ten dollar bill and tossing the few dollars and change into the tip jar. Cole wrote quite a bit on his cup before passing it over to Mickey who rolled his eyes and worked on Ian's drink. He left Cole and Trevor at the register, sent away with a wink and wave from the blond.
"One black coffee for…Hottie with the Body-ody-ody?" Mickey read, voice shifting from bored to amused as he read the name. Ian raised his hand and reached for the hot cup.
"It's Ian actually."
Ian's hands were grazing the cup when it was snatched back, held by fingers reading F-U-C-K. Ian watched Mickey uncap a marker with his teeth and scribble something before sliding Ian's order back over.
"Take your pick, tough guy."
–
"I'm pretty sure he spit in my drink." Trevor grimaced as he took a sip of his americano. Ian grinned at his friend's discomfort. The whole experience had been enjoyable for him and he was walking away with a spit-free coffee and two phone numbers on his cup, hidden from his friend by his large hand. He didn't need Trevor to shit all over his excitement right now, and he knew the man would go hard.
Friend-zoning Trevor was a constant battle. Ian liked him at first, thought he was cute and funny, but the more he got to know Trevor the more incompatible he knew they'd be. Ian knew from the moment Trevor told him he was a top they could never work, but the more Ian saw how much their different upbringings shaped their world perspectives the more solid he was in his resistance to giving their relationship a chance.
"Well, this is my stop." Trevor pulled Ian from his thoughts as they stopped outside of Trevor's building. "Wanna come up?" He offered, face full of hope that this time Ian would say yes. The numbers burning themselves into his fingers and palm had him turning Trevor down once again.
–
"Well, well, well." Cole purred when he opened the door for Ian. The redhead paused, hand still raised to knock.
"I-"
"You're here for Mickey, I know." Cole heaved a dramatic sigh and turned on his heel, leaving the door open for Ian to follow.
"It's a shame we have the same taste in men." Cole bemoaned as he sank onto the couch. Ian stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking around for the man who sent him to this address. Instead he found a rather elaborate photo wall, and curiosity brought him to stand in full view.
In the center of the mass of photos were two mugshots, one for the man on the couch and one for his date. Cole's hair in the picture was dark, most likely his natural color, but his lips were still glossy and artificially plumped. He was pouting into the camera, puppy dog eyes looking just above the lense. Mickey's mugshot was a little more typical: dead eyes, relaxed face, but there was no throat tattoo or holes in his face where peircings would to be. Surrounding the mugshots were dozens of pictures of the roommates, some of both, some of just one and probably taken by the other. Ian smiled at a photo near the bottom of the pair with their tongues out, flipping off the camera.
"Ey." Mickey offered gently in greeting. Ian hadn't noticed him join them in the living room. Mickey stepped closer, eyes moving across the wall with a nostalgic smile.
"So, uh, what were you in for?" Ian asked, then winced at how insensitive the question was. The roommates took it in stride.
"Credit card fraud." Cole said from the couch. "Totally lame."
Mickey shot an amused look to the harassed looking blond before facing Ian with the same look.
"Would you believe me if I told you the same?"
Ian scrunched his nose and shook his head, Mickey's face shifted into a put upon expression before he dropped the playful edge.
"Attempted murder. Sentenced to fifteen, out in eight."
He watched Ian behind veiled eyes, probably waiting for him to make an excuse to bail. Instead Ian swallowed his concern.
"Did they deserve it?"
Mickey's face split into a wide grin and Ian's heart fluttered at the sight. He knew in that moment whatever Mickey had done didn't matter, Ian just wanted to keep making him smile like that.
–
Two Months Later
"Ian!" Mickey yelped, his boyfriend having yanked him back onto the couch.
"I gotta get ready for my shift." He reminded the redhead currently nuzzling into his neck.
Ian took a deep inhale against Mickey's warm skin. It had been an amazing two months of dates and sex and happiness. Ian had even been added to the mugshot collage in a candid photo or two which he considered a badge of honor.
"You've got time." Ian pressed his lips to the skin he was nuzzling, then added a nip of teeth. Mickey groaned in annoyance but still tilted his head to give Ian more room.
"Don't send me to work with a hickey, dumbass."
Ian smirked and grabbed Mickey by the hips, dragging the man into his lap. Looking up into his blue eyes Ian knew Mickey's words did not match his expectations.
“You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”
Mickey's tattooed arms wrapped around the back of Ian's head and pulled him into the crook of his neck. Ian went willing, mouth sucking at the feast of sensitive flesh. Mickey sighed as Ian marked him, grinding their clothed dicks together. Blood was warming a trail down to Ian's crotch, making him hard. That's just what it was like with Mickey, his dick at the ready with just a touch or even a look. It was so easy for them. They were so compatible.
Ian pulled back to admire his work on one side of Mickey's neck. The skin was shiny with spit and angry red, the broken blood vessels already coloring a deep purple. Mickey's grinding was slowing down the longer Ian looked, the stimulation not enough, so Ian reached under his boyfriend's shirt and flicked his thumbnail over pierced nubs. Mickey's head fell back and his hips resumed their thrusting.
"Ian, fuck." Mickey's voice shook as Ian turned his head and face planted into the other side of his neck. Between his biting kisses, the nails grazing his pierced nipples, and the friction on his cock, Mickey was going to cum in his pants like a damn teenager.
It took less than a minute from there for Mickey to cum, making those aborted, huffy groans Ian loved as he did so. Leaning back the redhead admired his handwork, both sides of Mickey's neck bitten into a patchwork of red and purple.
"Beautiful." Ian whispered, looking directly into Mickey's eyes. The man smiled, that wide grin that made Ian's heart flutter the first day and every day since.
"Damn."
They turned in the direction of the voice. Cole was leant against his doorframe, dumbfounded. Mickey shuffled off of Ian's lap and raised his middle finger at his roommate.
"Next time buy a ticket to the show, eh?" Mickey told his roommate, face shuttered back into his hard ex-con exterior that phased neither of the people in front of him. He stalked off to his bedroom to finally get ready for work.
"If only you had called me instead." Cole lamented, making Ian grin. They had done this charade many times in the last two months.
"Should have called dibs." He replied with a what-can-ya-do shrug.
Cole huffed and put on an exasperated face of contemplation before coming to a light bulb moment.
"You wouldn't happen to have a brother would you?'
Ian laughed from deep in his gut, holding his stomach as his body heaved. He settled down and seeing Cole was still awaiting an answer he shrugged.
"Sure, I'll give you his number."