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They don't normally go to places like this when they do decide to step out into the world for a date or just to get away from Ian's noisy ass family. Typically going out meant drinks at the Alibi, or dinner at somewhere that wasn't gonna cost them an arm and a leg, where the seats were those sticky booths and they tried to not order the most expensive thing on the menu -- but they always splurged on dessert at the end. Which they shared, bickering over who gets the last bite (usually Ian). They're not really homebodies, either, but there are just as many nights where they curl up together in bed with Netflix going over their laptop (which they acquired legally, through their hard earned legal money from their jobs -- thank you very much) until one or both get bored over whatever movie or show that they're watching and wind up fucking with the program forgotten in the background.
The place that Ian manages to convince Mickey to come out with him is a club, music pulsing and pounding in the walls and a large swath of people in the center of the room all dancing and drinking. His husband is not a typical club type goer, and Ian's alcohol tolerance is shit on his meds, so he'll be exhausted and drunk by the time they leave tonight, hanging over Mickey as they weave their way back home to collapse into bed and have some very clumsy sex before passing out. But they both have the day off tomorrow so, fuck it they can sleep in if they want to.
Ian sticks around the bar with Mickey for a drink or two, before deciding that he wants to go dance. Usually he leaves his boyfriend to it because he doesn't much care for joining the throng of strangers, deciding to stay and nurse his drinks, glowering at anyone who gets too friendly and ignoring most attempts at small talk. Tonight's more or less the same, Ian leaves his half finished drink and after a failed attempt at dragging Mickey onto the floor, he finds himself on the edge of the crowd, moving to the music. It's fun, he's having fun. Ian is aware of Mickey watching him from his seat at the bar and he looks over to meet his eyes, trying to get him to join him. Sometimes he will, other times no such luck.
It's fun, all in good fun really. The music is loud and easy to get lost in, he manages to drag Mick on to the floor with him for two songs so he considers it a victory. It's as they're leaving does the world seems to tilt on an axis. Ian staggers slightly as a man's hand finds it's way on his chest.
"Hey gorgeous, doing alright?" Ian blinks and the man has dropped his hand but is still looking at him like a piece of meat and he's a hungry lion.
"Um, sorry. I have to go. Excuse me." He hurries around him and doesn't even bother to wait and see if Mickey is behind him before hurrying outside. The night air is cool but he still feels too hot, skin too tight, the slimy gazes of hungry club goers watching him and their hands touching all over -- he leans against the wall, pulling out a cigarette with shaking hands and inhales deeply, willing his pulse to slow.
The place that Ian manages to convince Mickey to come out with him is a club, music pulsing and pounding in the walls and a large swath of people in the center of the room all dancing and drinking. His husband is not a typical club type goer, and Ian's alcohol tolerance is shit on his meds, so he'll be exhausted and drunk by the time they leave tonight, hanging over Mickey as they weave their way back home to collapse into bed and have some very clumsy sex before passing out. But they both have the day off tomorrow so, fuck it they can sleep in if they want to.
Ian sticks around the bar with Mickey for a drink or two, before deciding that he wants to go dance. Usually he leaves his boyfriend to it because he doesn't much care for joining the throng of strangers, deciding to stay and nurse his drinks, glowering at anyone who gets too friendly and ignoring most attempts at small talk. Tonight's more or less the same, Ian leaves his half finished drink and after a failed attempt at dragging Mickey onto the floor, he finds himself on the edge of the crowd, moving to the music. It's fun, he's having fun. Ian is aware of Mickey watching him from his seat at the bar and he looks over to meet his eyes, trying to get him to join him. Sometimes he will, other times no such luck.
It's fun, all in good fun really. The music is loud and easy to get lost in, he manages to drag Mick on to the floor with him for two songs so he considers it a victory. It's as they're leaving does the world seems to tilt on an axis. Ian staggers slightly as a man's hand finds it's way on his chest.
"Hey gorgeous, doing alright?" Ian blinks and the man has dropped his hand but is still looking at him like a piece of meat and he's a hungry lion.
"Um, sorry. I have to go. Excuse me." He hurries around him and doesn't even bother to wait and see if Mickey is behind him before hurrying outside. The night air is cool but he still feels too hot, skin too tight, the slimy gazes of hungry club goers watching him and their hands touching all over -- he leans against the wall, pulling out a cigarette with shaking hands and inhales deeply, willing his pulse to slow.
