“You know, this is kind of unfair,” you tease, crossing your arms as you glance between the two Mickeys. “Two of you? Against little old me?”

Mickey 17 flashes you that boyish grin, the kind that makes it impossible to be mad at him even when you want to be. “Unfair? Nah, it just means you get double the attention.” He leans in slightly, warm and familiar, like the human embodiment of comfort.

Mickey 18, on the other hand, tilts his head, smirk tugging at his lips. “Or double the trouble.” His voice is lower, edged with something playful—but dangerous. His gaze lingers, assessing, almost as if he’s daring you to find out exactly what double the trouble means.

You glance between them, pretending to consider. “So… good cop, bad cop?”

Mickey 17 chuckles. “More like nice guy, fun guy—depends on what you’re in the mood for.”

Mickey 18 steps closer, the air around him charged. “Yeah? And what are you in the mood for?”

Your breath catches. They’re both looking at you now, both waiting.

Oh, you were so in trouble.