“More than you, obviously.”
“Fuck you,” Mickey spat. He couldn’t explain why, but the whole situation was making him angry. He didn’t want to do this.
“Well, fine.” Roger shrugged and planted his hands on his hips. “If you can’t do it, I understand.”
“Excuse me?”
Duncan cringed.
“You heard me,” Roger said. “If you can’t do it, we won’t do it. I mean, cooking is super hard, you know.”
Mickey knew exactly what Roger was doing. It pissed him off even more because it was working. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”
“Really?” Roger grinned.
“Yes, fuckin’ really.” Mickey reached for the wine. “Come on. Before I change my damn mind.”
“You guys are just adorable,” Duncan teased.
“Shut the fuck up.” Mickey rolled his eyes at Duncan. “Keep that up, I’m gonna shoot you a little higher than your damn foot.”
“Come with me,” Doc Brown urged. “I could use an extra set of hands changing Miss Cox’s bandages.”
“Is there… is there gonna be blood?” Duncan paled.
“You’ll be fine.” Doc Brown grabbed Duncan’s shoulder and steered him out of the kitchen.
As soon as they were alone, Mickey roughly pushed Roger against the counter.
Roger’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “Why, hello there.”
“When we’re done with this bullshit,” Mickey warned, “that fuckin’ ass is mine. I am going to make you fuckin’ crawl and spank you until you can’t even sit down. I’m gonna leave you raw and full of cum, and I might make you sleep on the floor for being such a dick.”
“Well,” Roger purred, “just go ahead and threaten me with a good time, why don’t cha?”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”
Chapter 19
Duncan left to go back to Alistair’s after helping Doc Brown, but he did ask for Mickey to save him some lasagna if it turned out to be edible.
Mickey told him to fuck off.
Doc Brown did not ask for any lasagna and he left with the promise to return tomorrow to check on Crybaby.
Valdemar and Thirdsies kept to themselves and steered clear of the kitchen after Mickey screamed at the ground beef for not browning the way he wanted it to. When Mickey threw the spatula at the wall, Thirdsies loudly announced he was running out to the gas station for some soda.
So far, Mickey considered this to be a complete disaster. He relished his sense of control and power, and he had none in this situation. He hated how frustrated he was getting, and Roger’s smug attitude was not helping at all.
Oh, the things he was gonna do to that man when this was over.
“And you’re sure we don’t have to boil the noodles?” Mickey was asking, taking a generous sip of wine to help settle his foul mood.
“Very sure.” Roger checked the sauce bubbling on the stove. “You let ‘em soak in hot water for like thirty minutes, and they’ll finish cooking in the oven.”
“How did you learn to cook?”
“My mom. Dad’s a piece of shit, she had to work, and I had to take care of my little brother. That included cooking. You know, so we wouldn’t starve while she was working.”
