summary: after a hard day of work, mickey comes home to a very unwelcome and unexpected guest: his little brother.
word count: 4.5k
a/n: mickey and his brother goodness! as briefly discussed, kevin’s face claim is pete davidson (: and if you’re curious, here is another discussion of mickey’s parents. i hope you enjoy and if you do, i’d love to hear it (:
Although Mickey had been out from under his parents order for years now, he never seemed to shake the responsibilities they had assigned him.
When Mickey was old enough, with a high school diploma under his belt and not much else, he escaped two towns over to flee his parents and their needs. To, at the time, do his best to escape their overbearing asks and assumptions of him. He took very little when he fled in the night; a few articles of well worn clothing; his box of drugs and corresponding paraphernalia; an envelope of mementos of his relationship with you; and you, as well. You both escaped your grim situations with wild eyes and hearts, between flurried kisses and giggles, you made your way to your new lives.
Now, all these years later, you both were still shacked up in your cozy ground floor apartment, with it’s warped tiles and shag carpets, and Mickey had never been happier. Sure, he worked a demanding manual labor job and he had few future prospects, but he was on his own and living with the woman he loved. To Mickey, there truly wasn’t anything better than that. He suspected he could be forsaken to any living conditions, demands or labor, but as long as he had you by his side, he would be happy as a clam.
You were the one who kept him sane. The one who taught him how to float instead of thrashing in the water. The one who taught him the gentle caress of love. The one who was the only salve for any and all problems that were thrown his way.
And when it came to his chaotic life, he needed your healing touch more often than he would like to admit.
Because while the distance between him and his turbulent family offered excuses for why he couldn’t invariably swoop in and save the day, the milage didn’t often deter his parents from calling on Mickey whenever they needed something. Their expectations still held true no matter the separation.
Mickey was expected to come over and soothe tensions when their fights reached a volume to where the neighbors got involved.
Mickey was expected to drop everything, no matter the circumstance, to help wrangle their old mutt whenever he escaped and began to terrorize the neighborhood kids.
Mickey was expected to drive the hour to their trailer whenever there was an appliance that needed fixing. Usually after his father had stormed off in frustration when he couldn’t do it himself.
Mickey was also expected to fix a litany of other things that his parents refused to call in an expert about, but had no problem pawning it off on their son (even if he was no more qualified to fix things then they were).
But above all, Mickey was expected to look out for his little brother. To watch out for him, and to take care of him when he couldn’t take care of himself. This had always been his most fervently requested task, and possibly the one he resented the most.
And when he came home to find his fuck to of a little brother with his back against the brick siding of Mickey’s apartment building, a joint between his lips and his head angled toward the sun, he knew his everlasting duty to care for the kid was about to rear its ugly head once more.
Today was just an exceptionally bad day for this to happen.
Because before he even saw Kevin’s face, it had been a day where he had just wanted to come home, lay his head on your lap as you pressed delicate kisses to his skin. He needed to be enveloped in your soothing smell and coaxed into relaxation by your voice. He just needed you, because today had been awful. The last thing he needed was to deal with any member of his fucking family.
The day started off with the buddy he carpooled with burning a hole in his brand new seat cover on the way to work. Then it was announced that OSHA would be monitoring their site they were at for the morning, which meant nothing got done and the crew was way behind schedule. When lunch rolled around, Mickey dropped his sandwich on the ground, which caused his coworkers to start an uproar of teasing and laughter whenever he was around. And, of course, after he was already in their crosshairs, his drill decided to stop working, which only fueled the other mens mocking.
And to make it all worse, his mother had been calling on a loop since noon. He refused to answer, not wanting to deal with her drunk ramblings or vicious criticisms, which just meant that the calls kept coming. Now that he thought of it, he was sure the sudden vibration in his pocket had been the reason he had dropped his sandwich in the first place.
Thanks mom. Fuck you.
“The fuck are you doing here, Kev?” Mickey grunted from around his cigarette as he approached his front door.
“Didn't Ma call?”
“I don’t answer her calls sober,” he shoved his key into the lock and pushed the door open with his shoulder.
As the door opened, Mickey cringed as Kevin quickly sprang to his feet and pushed past him into his home. He had expected it, but it still made his stomach drop as it happened. When Kevin planted himself somewhere, he was often hard to peel back up. Last time Kevin had come over to beg for money, he didn’t leave for four days, leaving a permanent lanky body print in Mickey’s couch.
“Can’t really blame you for that,” Kevin chuckled as he collapsed onto the living room couch in a huff, “we didn’t invent The Scale for nothin’.”
The Scale referred to the made up increment system the two invented in middle school on how high they had to be to pleasantly deal with their parents. Their mother was usually a Bill and Ted and their father was always at very least Cheech and Chong. The brothers sometimes would still refer to The Scale when they were going through a spurt of getting along. But this was not one of those times.
Mickey hadn’t seen Kevin on an unencumbered social call in over two years. Kevin used to visit every weekend; to party, play video games or just spend time with his older brother; but now it was only under the guise of extorting money (that Mickey really didn’t have to give) or in a search of a place to crash while he was on the outs with their parents or whatever girl he was currently seeing.
Because of his mother’s incessant calls and Kevin’s mention of her, he assumed it was the latter this time.
“Yeah, well clearly you’ve already started,” Mickey grouched, as he tilted his head to the blunt that was still between his brother’s lips.
Mickey was anything but a prude, but when his deadbeat brother came swaggering into his home with no humility or shame, smoking pot and bogarting his couch, Mickey suddenly turned into a stuffy Christian mother, sticking his nose up and huffing at the mention of any illicit substance.
“Oh, I’m sorry man, you wanna hit?” Kevin asked, completely oblivious to his brother’s annoyance.
“What are you doing here, Kev?”
Kevin’s eyebrows raised at Mickey’s bluntness and whistled low under his breath, before settling back against the couch.
“Take the stick out of you ass, Jesus Mick,”
“I’m serious, Kev. What is it? Spit it out, I had a long fucking day. I don’t have the patience to deal with this.”
“You sound like dad,” Kevin chuckled, smoke billowed from his mouth as he propped long legs onto the coffee table.
His tolerance for Kevin running thin already, Mickey marched over to the couch and shoved his legs from the coffee table with haste. Kevin’s eyes grew wide with surprise and slight betrayal when he looked at his brother again.
“I’m not fucking around, Kevin! (Y/N) is gonna be home any minute and I want you gone when she gets here,” Mickey raked a hand through his tousled locks and went in search of his work coat to find a new cigarette.
“(Y/N) loves me,”
“Yeah, because you prey on her kindness. Now tell me what it is or I’m calling dad to pick you up.”
That seemed to scare him enough to reveal the reason for his visit.
“I need a job.”
And there it was. Mickey let out an encompassing sigh as he turned his back to his baby brother. This wasn’t the first time Kevin had asked for a job, and Mickey doubted it would be the last.
Others might applaud his brother’s initiative to better himself and search for personal contacts to find him work, but Mickey knew better. He had tried to help him get a job more times than he could count, and Kevin always did something to fuck it up.
Whether it be never showing up, being high on the clock, failing drug tests or fighting with customers and coworkers, something always went wrong. Mickey had burned many a bridge to defend his brother from these employers, because no matter how insane Kevin made him, he was still his brother and he would be damned if anyone said a bad word about him. Other than him, of course.
“Yeah? And what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” Mickey challenged.
“Talk to Stephen,” Kevin replied simply.
“Fuck no!” Mickey almost laughed, “Man, I need this job, I can’t have you fucking it up for me.”
“I won’t! I won’t fuck it up!”
“Yeah, ok. Whatever you say, Kev.”
“I’m being serious!”
“No, no way, dude. No, Kev. I can’t lose this job. I got bills and shit, now! Did you know you have to pay for garbage pick up at a place like this? Because I sure as shit didn’t! We can’t even bury it like dad did,” Mickey lectured, “and y’know what? I got a girl, one I’d really like to fucking keep. Which means actually keeping this stupid construction job to keep paying for fucking garbage. I can’t have you gettin’ us both canned.”
“I’ve changed, Mick. I have!” Kevin reinforced when his brother rolled his eyes, “I’m twenty four now. I got like, perspective on stuff, and shit.”
“Kev, -“ Mickey started, but didn’t continue as he heard a key in the front lock.
Seconds later you appeared, hair piled high on your head and still adorning your work uniform. Even with his brother pissing him off and the weight of an awful day on his shoulders, Mickey couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread over his face when he saw you. Worn from a hard day and in your boxy hotel maid get up, you were still the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on.
“Hey, baby,” Mickey said as he crossed the living room quickly to greet you.
“Hi, baby,” you looked up at him, a similar lovesick smile on your lips as Mickey wrapped you in a crushing embrace.
You craned your head back to capture his pouted lips in a kiss. They will tinged with more nicotine than usual, and you knew something was off before you pulled apart. Your hands had begun to inch toward Mickey’s nape when you heard movement on the couch. When you pulled away, you saw him
“Oh, hey, Kev. I didn’t see you there, honey,” you offered him a kind smile as you moved to rest your cheek on Mickey’s chest.
Mickey tried to keep the scowl off his face as his brother grinned at you.
“How ya been, (Y/N/N)? Man, it feels like it’s been ages!” his brother charmed, pushing up from the couch to come meet you for a hug.
When you pulled away from Mickey to do so, Mickey swore you were taking a part of his resolve with you.
“It has, you don’t come ‘round like you used to,” you said, parting from Kevin to smoothe your hands over his broad, boney shoulders. As you inspected Mickey’s baby brother, you spied something new, “this a new addition?”
You poked the ridge of black ink peeking out of his t-shirt, just below his collar bone.
“Awh, yeah. Yeah it is,” Kevin pulled down the collar of his shirt enough for you to see the tattoo that joined the ranks of his many others, “it’s the Brooklyn Bridge.”
“Oh,” you said, a little surprised by the choice, but admiried it nonetheless, “I like it. It’s nice linework. Can’t say the same for the rest of ‘em, though.”
“Yeah, yeah, very funny!”
You winked up at him before you removed yourself from his orbit to return to Mickey’s. Though, on your way back to your man, you saw the firm look of displeasure on his face, and that face was directed firmly at his brother. You stopped in your tracks and traded glances between the two boys, one angry and one bashful, before you spoke.
“Alright, what’s goin’ on?”
“What do you think is goin’ on?” “Nothin’.” the brothers spoke in unison.
You turned your gaze hard at Mickey. He let silence hang in the air for a long beat before he spoke.
“Kev is lookin’ for a hand out. But what’s new?” Mickey scoffed. He planted a swift kiss to the crown of your head before he walked past the both of you to the kitchen.
“Hey, fuck you man! All I was asking for was help!” Kevin shot back, he turned quickly on his heel to face his brother.
“I can’t give you any fuckin’ help, Kev! Look what I got,” Mickey waved widley, “there ain’t shit here to give!”
“You could give me your contacts, I could start sellin’ the shit you have left from -”
“You aren’t taking my contacts and you’re not touching the shit I got from Georgia. That’s mine to do what I please with,” Mickey bellowed, yelling louder than you’d ever heard before, “I don’t need you fucking up the relationship I have with my clients, either.”
“Clients,” Kevin said in a mocking, posh accent, “their fucking drug addicts!”
“Yeah? And what the fuck are you, again?”
“What the fuck am I? What the fuck are you, man?”
The two had slowly begun to advance toward each other in their squabble, and now were only a pace apart. You knew if they were to get any closer, fists would be thrown. It wouldn’t be a good fight, neither boy had ever been good in physical altercations. The fight would likely consist of misthrown punches and cheap shot kicks, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want either to get hurt or take anything too far.
“That’s enough!” you shouted over their bickering, “Mick, c’mon. Come talk to me in the bedroom, please.”
Mickey’s angry expression faltered the moment he looked over Kevin’s shoulder at you, “Baby, I can handle this.”
“Mickey. Bedroom. Now.” you had already started to head that way, and Mickey knew if he wasn’t right behind you, he’d be in deep shit.
With a petulant sigh, he followed you down the hall to the bedroom and shut the door behind him when he entered. You had sat on the edge of the bed and Mickey found his place to slouch against the opposite wall.
“I can’t deal with him, baby. I can’t deal with his bullshit anymore,” he said, defeated.
“He’s your brother, Mick. You love him. And sometimes the people you love need more help than you do.”
“But that’s the thing, he needs so much more. He takes and he takes and he takes, and somehow, he still needs more. I can’t give him anything else. No one can. He’s more of a fuck up than I am, and that’s saying something,” Mickey puffed.
“You’re not a fuck up, Mick,” you frowned, your brows peaking with heartache.
Mickey gave you a pointed look, “I kinda am. You don’t gotta sugar coat it.”
You stood from the bed and crossed the short space between you two. When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and nestled close to his chest. Mickey accepted your embrace easily and gratefully.
“You are not a fuck up, baby. You have a good job, you have a good life. You provide for me, for our little two person family. And you make me happier than I ever thought possible... you simply aren’t a fuck up because no man I love could be,” you smiled at the tail end of your sentence.
You propped your chin on his chest like you had minutes earlier and looked deep into his green eyes, both soft and brimming with adoration.
“I fucking love you so much, you know that?” he smiled, little crow's feet growing by his eyes as he did.
“I do. And I love you, too.”
Mickey sighed, relaxation soothing his muscles at the sound of your confession. He gently pressed your cheek back to his chest and reveled in the feeling of your body against his.
“But really, baby, what are we gonna do about Kev?” you asked after a moment of calm.
Mickey’s brows furrowed, the pressure behind them intense and blaring.
“He’s not our problems, baby. He’s an adult.”
“He is. But he’s also a sweet kid with a good heart, and he just needs some extra help. And I think we should try to help, at least the best we can.”
Mickey’s head made a thud as he collapsed to the wall behind him, “baby, we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep bailing him out. We can’t keep bailing them out.”
The image of his parents popped behind his eyes, both fragile and gray and somehow even crueler than ever. He didn’t want to spend his life being their eternal whipping boy, cleaning up their messes when they couldn’t. And that included the mess they had made in his brother.
“This isn’t about them, alright? Fuck them, you know precisely what I think of your parents,” you frowned, and Mickey felt his heart pick up with pride at your protectiveness, “but you also know what I think about Kevin. He really is a good kid deep down. He’s talented. He just needs a little more support before he’s gonna feel comfortable jumping out on his own.”
“He still drives me fucking insane…” Mickey retorted.
“He’s your little brother, of course he does.”
“Baby, he really does. You have no idea how much that little shit gets under my skin.”
“Oh, c’mon! You love him! He’s like, sad, high, tattooed Big Bird,” you giggled as you heard a grumble vibrate in Mickey’s chest.
“Yeah? Well, then what am I?”
You pulled away from him once more, but only far enough to look him in the eyes.
“You’re like, strong, sexy, smart Big Bird,” you said, your voice a seductive purr as you placed a few chaste kisses to his jaw, “or Snuffleupagus.”
Mickey’s face twisted in confusion and slight disgust, “why?”
“Because he was always my favorite when I was a kid.”
And his expression instantly extinguished into one of warmth and tenderness. Emerald eyes bathing you in liquid love.
“You just never stop being cute, do you?” he grinned.
“Nope,” you said, letting the work pop from your lips.
He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and took a deep breath of your pheromones; your sun bathed skin and your sweet smelling hair. And as he let his lips stay perched on your skull, he realized that he would do anything for you, no matter the request. He had had this feeling many times before; of his overwhelming and striking devotion to you; though it never ceased to rattle his swelling heart in his chest, and remind him the exact reason he was put on this earth: to make you happy.
So, if you wanted him to try and help Kevin, then he would. It was the least he could do for all the happiness and love you brought to him.
But, if he was being honest with himself, there was always going to be a part of him that wanted to nurture his baby brother in any way he could.
Somewhere in his mind and his heart, Kevin would always be the small blushing bundle handed off to him in a dingy hospital room. It was one of his first formative memories, his little brother wrapped in a white blanket as his mother’s groggy eyes looked upon both of them. Mickey had never held a baby, let alone a newborn, and the tiny writhing creature looked very strange to him, red and angry and crying.
A month before Mickey’s mother would give birth to Kevin, their father had stormed out of the house, and by the time her water had broken he had still yet to turn. So pained and afraid, his mother had piled Mickey in the car after her and drove them both to the hospital. A cigarette in one hand, while her other gave the steering wheel a death grip. As she groaned with contractions and cursed at the traffic, she said something to him that he never forgot:
“You are the real man of the house, Mickey-honey,” she said in her graveled voice, “this little boy is always gonna look up to you. You gotta live up to that.”
And that message had bounced around between his ears as his mother, alone and in extraordinary agony, gave birth to his brother. Who as he had held him in his tiny spindly arms, Mickey knew that he would keep him safe forever. No matter what.
A part of that soul promise to his blood now seemed to be finding Kevin a job to keep him afloat. To keep him out of trouble and away from falling down the path their parents had. He honored past his past self in that moment, continuing on with the pledge to keep his brother safe.
“Fine,” Mickey muttered to your skin, “we’ll help ‘im.”
“Really?”
Mickey simply shrugged.
You moved your hands from where they had been secured behind his waist to come and cradle his cheeks, “you’re a good man, Mick.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he played off, eyelids fluttering.
“The best man I know,” and you kissed him tenderly, the soft feeling of your lips electrifying him.
He hummed when you pulled away, but with more anguish than pleasure.
“Let’s get this over with,” Mickey said. He quickly untangled himself from you and exited the bedroom before you could even process your post kiss haze.
“Kev,” Mickey called, finding his brother laying down on the couch now, the television remote in his hand as he flipped channels, “get the fuck up.”
“Hey, woah, listen Mickey, alright? I’m sorry! I am, I’m sorry,” Kevin began, stammering nervously.
Mickey could tell that his brother was trying to save face. That he was trying to bargain for his help, and that he believed that Mickey was coming back to tell him to leave and never come back. But he didn’t stop him, Mickey thought Kevin deserved to squirm a bit.
“I know I’ve fucked up, like really fucked up over and over again. But I got this this time, ok? I’m like, I’m ready for, I don’t know, a fresh start. I’m ready to do better.”
Mickey simply crossed his arms as his brother stared up at him with heavy set brown eyes. They were flickering around the room, scared to look at his older brother who loomed over him. Mickey was sure he was searching for you, knowing he could always grovel at your feet for sympathy.
“Fuck! What am I supposed to say, stop being such a-“ but Kevin stopped himself before he finished, knowing it likely wasn’t smart to start name calling the person he was asking a favor of.
“No, no, continue. What am I being? Hm?” Mickey raised an eyebrow.
Kevin’s jaw tightened, “.... a really, good guy.”
His pained voice would have made Mickey laugh if he wasn’t wearing a stoic persona. It reminded him of when Kevin was forced to apologize as a child, their dad’s hand pulling up his ear as he spat out an apology.
“Imma ask around, alright? Been hearing about some landscape work a buddy of mine has been talking about. I’ll call you tomorrow.” he finally said, putting his anxious brother out of his misery.
“No shit?” Kevin asked with a suspicious lilt.
“No shit. And if you get the fuck out of my house in the next five seconds, I might even put in a good word for you.”
“Fuck,” Kevin exhaled, his body deflated like a balloon against the cushion, “you have no idea-“
“Nope, I don’t,” Mickey interjected, “and I don’t want to. Now fuck off, dude. My lady is home and I don’t need you here.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright!” Kevin said as he was shooed off the couch and to the door, “thank you, (Y/N/N), you hear me, babe?”
You heard the commotion from the bedroom and popped your head out to watch Mickey escorting Kevin out. Stripped down from your uniform and now bundled in a pair of Mickey’s thread bear sweatpants and his favorite Scorpions t-shirt.
“You look gorgeous, by the way! So good, does Mickey tell you enough?” Kevin had widened his gangly limbs in the door frame to keep his brother, who was shoving him quite hard, to stop him from leaving.
“He does, Kev. I promise,” you grinned at the brotherly exchange as they threw jabs at each other, “I’ll see you soon, honey.”
“Bye, (Y/N/N)!” was the last thing Kevin got out before Mickey slammed the door in his face, not worrying about if there were stray fingers left behind.
“That fucking kid…” Mickey said under his breath, locking the deadbolt with a resound click.
You pushed away from where you had leant against the wall and walked toward him, “my man… my sweet, strong man who has such a big heart and helps out his family.”
You plastered yourself to his back, bringing your hands down to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, “my man who provides for me,” you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “for the people he loves,” one to his trap, “who is the best person I’ve ever known,” one to his neck.
Mickey whimpered under your ministrations, caught up in the whispered pleasure of your lips and nimble fingers that greedily took inventory of his torso.
“You’re really tryin’ to start something, huh?” he chuckled as you began to suck on his pulse point.
“And if I was?”
As soon as the last syllable left your mouth, Mickey had twisted around to take handfuls of your thighs to hitch you up around his waist.
You couldn’t hold in the excited giggle that bubbled from your chest as he marched you both back toward your room in quick succession. His long strides getting you both back between the sheets in no time. All thoughts of dropped sandwiches and burn holes and faulty equipment and pesky little brothers, gone. Now, there was only you, and that was just the way Mickey liked it.
if you follow me you know that i have been going through a major writing block and a creativity dry spell, so while i don’t think this is my best work, it is fun and silly and soft and nice to write (:
if you enjoyed, i would really love it hear it <3 ‘til next time!
MIckey glaring at you and the man who was sitting across from you, making you smile and laugh. His hands turned into fists as he thought that only he can make you laugh like that. Only him.
He had no control over his feet as he started to walk his way towards you but then he stopped.
You weren’t his anymore.
You hadn’t since a year ago when you both broke up.
Anger, guilt and sadness. That’s what he was feeling right now.
He wanted to hold on to you like before. He gritted his teeth as he turned around, his back facing you and he walked away. He didn’t turn back. He knew that if he did then he would steal you away from everyone in this world.
He stopped for a second to catch his breath but he suddenly punched a brink wall, feeling pain and blood on his fist. He couldn’t stop the pain in his chest. It ache so much. He wanted it to stop. So badly.
Meanest thing to a subby boy would be slow methodical stretching. Sub being laid out on a gynecologist chair, legs held open and naked body barely covered by a thin sheet. His tight pussy slowly being fingered open with no hope of orgasm. Sometimes his examiner will quietly comment about how swollen his clit is, or make note whenever she manages to slip another finger in. Eventually she gets an entire hand inside, now pushing further to tease his cervix. Painfully opened wide and ready for insemenation.
oh my god yes 🤤 bonus points if he’s strapped down and blindfolded! poor baby can feel a lot of uncomfortable sensations but doesn’t know what’s happening, just told he would be examined. but oh dear, why does it feel so cold down there? something is stretching, ah, now it’s hot, he doesn’t know what’s happening! meanwhile they’ve inserted a jumbo speculum, nearly a foot long, deep into his tummy and are pulling it open. he’s whimpering and moaning as they open up his cervix so wide they can clearly see the soft cavern in him, inviting the other doctors to come take a look!
source: mickeyimagines.tumblr.com archive on the wayback machine
