"What's the fuckin' point?" Mickey grumbled. You'd finally convinced Mickey to go on a real date, for the first time in your whole relationship. He'd actually put on a decent black button-up, his pimp rings glittering in the sunlight.

"We're just gonna stuff our faces and then you'll fuck me in the bathroom. 'S just like every day with you at home," he bitched. His fingers twitched, grazing yours. Like he wanted to hold your hand but was scared to.