#throwing this at you through the portal along with a platter of your favorite snacks

[squidyyy23]

nosho @creepkinginc my ultimate goblin love! 💚 i found out through a little birdy yesterday that TODAY IS YOUR BIRTHDAY!!!! 🎉🎉🎉 happy birthday, you absolute treasure! you are seriously such a light in this space. no one hypes like a nosho hypes. you own my heart and soul a dozen times over.

a bit quick and dirty here, but i couldn’t let your day go by without a little somethin’ somethin’. so let’s throw it back to some DAD content. a little juice pov moment just for you. 💀

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Juice lets out a sigh of relief the moment Mickey walks into the room. The last time he saw him, back in January, the guy looked terrible. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Hard to place exactly, but he’s known him long enough to know when something isn’t right. And something wasn’t right.

But today, he’s practically glowing. All the guys gather around a round metal table in the visiting area of the prison discussing sales and alliances and cash flow, but Mickey’s not even here. Gazing off into space somewhere with hearts in his eyes. He’s lucky the rest of the guys are oblivious idiots because if anyone actually took one look at him they’d know they’re looking at the face of a man who’s madly, deeply, hopelessly in love. 

Juice has to kick him under the table when the meeting starts wrapping up. When some of the guys start heading out, a few staying behind and splitting off into multiple side conversations. He and Mickey are nothing new. Every one of the dudes is full of secrets. Some just better kept than others.

Juice shoots Mickey a nod across the table, face serious, somber, like he’s got something important to discuss. Something much more serious than his need to pry into what has his best friend looking like he could shit rainbows.

He leads them to a more private corner. At least private as you get in a prison visitation room. But he ain’t worried about the guards. Everyone who needs to has been paid. 

“What you been smokin’ and where do I get some?” Juice asks, all seriousness dropped as soon as he’s got his back to the room. He punches Mickey in the arm across the table like a baby brother.

“Fuck you talkin’ about?” Mickey grumbles, all put-upon grumpiness.

“Uh-huh, okay. Ope mentioned you ducked out for a couple days. What’s that about?” 

Mickey scans the room. Clocks the guard against the far wall. Opie and Jax in the opposite corner scrolling through photos of Jax’s kids on Opie’s contraband phone that no one gives a shit about. Then finally answers, quietly, “Took a little trip with Ian.” 

Juice’s feet dance with excitement under the table. He knew there was gossip to be had. And yeah, Mickey’s his best friend, he’d be interested in his life regardless, but especially now, he’s low on entertainment. There’s only so much whining about who’s whose bitch or who’s gonna get fucked first when they get out that a man can take. Makes Juice want to scream. He knows he won’t. Knows he’ll keep playing along. Keep keeping his own secrets. But fuck he could use something different to obsess over.

“Knew that smile had something to do with—” Juice lowers his voice to a whisper “—him.”

They’ve known each other for years. Done all their adult growing up together. Gone through all sorts of shit together, club related and otherwise. But Juice has never seen him this happy. This light. 

The guy has always had his demons. Never talked about them. They’ve all got their own shit. But Mickey’s haunted him differently than most. Darker. Deeper. 

Until now. Until this Ian dude showed up. Juice doesn’t know this kid yet, but he’s already so, so grateful for what he’s doing for Mickey.

“Nothin’ like a good weekend of fucking to cheer a guy up,” Mickey says, rolling his eyes like Juice is an idiot. 

“That smile ain’t just fucking.” Mickey isn’t getting off that easy. “Somethin’ else happened.”

Mickey rolls those eyes yet again and sighs. “Nothing happened, we just…” He trails off, reaching into his pocket. Seems confused for half a second when he remembers all his shit’s stored outside the security gates. Then continues on all flustered, cheeks blushing a burning red, “We just had a good time. I—fuck—I…”

“Come on. Don’t hold out on me now. I gotta go sleep in a cell tonight. A cell, bro. Gimme something,” Juice pleads.

“I fucking love the guy, okay?” It comes out quick, a hushed, annoyed whisper shot directly at Juice and Juice alone. “Spent a weekend away from those asshats with someone I love.”

Juice physically slaps a hand over his mouth to contain his would-be embarrassing squeals.

“Hate you so fucking much.” 

Mickey’s boot kicks him hard under the table. Juice jumps. The metal bench clatters. A guard looks over, faux threatening hand on his holster. Like the fucker has the authority to do shit around here.

“Happy for ya, brother.” “Yeah, yeah.” Mickey brushes him off but there’s still no hiding that smile. That look. Juice hopes one day he’s able to wear that look around everyone, not just here. Some day. Some place.

“Anyway, I uh—” Mickey clears his throat, letting his voice rise louder as he pulls an envelope from his pocket “—brought you a letter from your girl. One out in Stockton.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks.” Juice knows he isn’t winning acting awards but whatever. “Yeah. Miss that bitch.” 

He pulls out the folder paper and takes a brief peek. It’s a sketch of an unknown yet familiar woman, naked from the waist up. The strokes are in Mandy’s familiar style, the edge of the page roughly torn. Years ago, she’d taken a figure drawing class. Mickey had snaked her sketchbook from the course and has been slipping Juice drawings of this same model every now and then any time he’s locked up.

Little bits of something to tape up to his wall beside his bunk. Something to point at when some dude starts looking at him like that and say “Nah man, sorry, but my girl would kill me”.

Just one of the small ways they’ve looked out for each other. And now Mickey’s got one more person looking out for him, too.

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