ellieet: (Simon and Mickey)
[personal profile] ellieet
Title: Parents
Fandom: Beautiful People
Pairing: Simon/Mickey
Rating: Light PG-13 (one naughty reference)


‘Nicky? Nicky, my love?’

Looking up from the chain on his bike, Mickey blinked as he saw Simon’s mum hurrying towards him, impressively steady on her heels and he looked around before he stood uncertainly, one hand lingering over the seat.

‘Nicky,’ she smiled at him as she approached, holding out her hand, ‘how are you, my love?’

Mickey took the hand hesitantly, gesturing to himself feebly. ‘It’s – it’s Mickey, Mrs Doonan.’

‘Oh, call me Debbie, lover,’ she told him with a flourish, ‘or better yet, call me Debs. You know, all the kids at school used to call me Dumbo Deborah – not because I was fat and I was not fat,’ she threw up an index finger with a swiftness that made Mickey jump, ‘but because they thought I had big ears.’ She pushed back her blonde locks to show him. ‘What d’you think?’

‘Er... they’re... fine... Mrs Doonan?’ Mickey tried meekly, just because there was a certain something, like a sting, underneath the honey tones of her voice. He felt his shoulders sink a little in relief as her lips curled into a beam at him and she let her hair drop.

‘Oh, aren’t you sweet. Now, Mario,’ she clasped her hands together and continued, ‘I want to talk to you about our Simon.’

Just like that, Mickey froze; he could just see it in his mind’s eye, the warm river of his bloodstream a solid mass of white-blue icicles. Mrs Doonan had found out somehow that he had bullied Simon and any second now the ongoing internal battle of whether to send a photo of himself to Jason Orange would be solved for him because she would leave him with the same enormous black eye that she had left Jayeson.

‘... I wanted to thank you.’

Poised, tense, ready for the hit, at those words Mickey felt his fingers gently unclasp themselves from where they had been pressing into his palm; he raised his eyebrows quizzically up at her, almost hopeful.

‘...Thank me?’

She nodded. ‘Oh, it’s so nice that you’re mates with him, lover. He’s told me all about you-’ Mickey immediately felt his spine stiffen again, because surely that had to stretch to how he had treated Simon and Kylie ‘ – said as ‘ow you’re good to him and you look after him.’ She smiled down at him, looking oddly touched as a pleased little grin twitched at Mickey’s mouth.

‘The thing is, Maximus,’ Mrs Doonan added and his grin promptly dropped, ‘he needs someone, does Simon. Oh, he’s a doll, my little boy. Not just ‘cause he’s dressed up as one before – he borrowed his Aunt Hayley’s plaited wig and everything, can you imagine?’ she giggled.

Mickey could, extremely vividly.

‘Anyway, Malachy-Mason, I just want you to know that you’re welcome round ours anytime, darling,’ she beamed at him for a moment before something seemed to occur to her. ‘Although, if you come every third Wednesday morning, wear sunglasses ‘cause me and Hayley, we have a monthly nylon disco, you understand?’

In all honesty, Mickey didn’t but, still a little frightened at the potential chance of her fist meeting his eye and just a little frightened of her in general, he just smiled weakly. ‘S’pose.’

‘Maybe you and Simon could join us one day,’ she nudged him with her hand, ‘Oh, he really can move, can my Simon.’

‘Yeah... I know,’ Mickey eyed the ground, biting down on his lower lip. It was occurring to him that if he was like the majority of other boys at their school and if he hadn’t seen Mrs Doonan punching Jayeson (which he wouldn’t have missed for either the world or a Take That concert ... yeah, maybe he’d have to think about that last one) then to be stopped by her for a conversation on the street just might seem like a wild hormone-driven dream come true. He had been at the school long enough to hear the murmurs and read the chicken-scratch of ‘Simon Doonan’s Mum is FIT!’ on the toilet walls. He supposed he could sort of see their point.

‘Aw,’ Mrs Doonan reached out and pushed back a couple of stray curls from his forehead. ‘You really are sweet, Malcom-Makana.’

Then again, maybe not.

‘My Simon is so lucky to have you. And you know what I think?’

Mickey shrugged, waiting for an answer; she raised her eyebrows back at him, as though she was expecting him to reply.

‘I... isn’t the question rhetorical?’ he asked finally.

‘Come again?’ she screwed up her eyes at him.

‘... I mean... aren’t you supposed to say...’ his fingers made nervous circles in the air between them before he dropped his arm. ‘No, Mrs Doonan,’ he wrapped a hand around one of his bike-handles for security more than anything else, ‘I don’t know what you’re thinking.’

She rolled her eyes playfully. ‘Well, of course you don’t know, Malven, I ‘aven’t told you, have I? I think you’re lucky, too,’ she jabbed him in the chest and he rubbed the spot, wincing; oblivious to this, she grinned at him, hands clasped. ‘It’s so nice, isn’t it, when someone as special as Simon picks you for a friend? Aw, he really is a love.’

Mickey could only nod mutely as Mrs Doonan looked at her watch.

‘Oh and look at me! Chattin’ away while there’s lobster to pick up. I tell you, Manuel, I dunno how I do it sometimes; forget everything around me.’ She shrugged her shoulders at him playfully and Mickey could only shrug back; now that, he could readily agree with.

‘Right then, Marcus, I’ll be on my way. Need to get down and raid the Chinese takeaway's tank. Drop in on us later, lover.’ Another smile and a pat on the shoulder (Mickey just managed to stop himself flinching) and she walked past him, heels clicking against the pavement before she turned back and waved.

Mickey waved back dumbly, the tips of his fingers wriggling before he leaned back against his bike, wondering what the hell had just happened.



His open mouth shuddering with outrage, Simon stared at his mother, who simply shrugged with the slightest flourish.

‘I ‘ad a word with him, lover.’

He shook his head incomprehensibly. ‘But why? What the bloody hell for?’ Somewhere outside in the late afternoon, cats took their cue from his high indignation to begin their midnight yowling several hours early as Debbie put a hand to her hips, standing her ground.

‘I wanted to see for myself if he was the nice young man you made him out to be.’

He threw a hand up at her. ‘But what the hell were you thinking? I told you not to worry and not to bother us; in fact, if I remember correctly, weren’t my exact words to you not to go within fifty feet of him?!’ He clutched the air with clawed hands as his mother shook her head at him.

‘Oh Simon, it’s all about being friendly; stop showing off.’

He spluttered at her. ‘Friendly? From the women whose idea of “being friendly”,’ he made air-quotes with his fingers, ‘is to send a box of Quality Street to the neighbours after eating all the ones without nuts?’

‘We got plenty nuts here, son; right Debbie?’ Andy piped up from the sofa, slapping her backside; Simon physically recoiled as he watched his parents chuckle over each other, his dad pulling his mum into his lap.

‘If I manage to get even a scrap of Mickey’s respect back,’ he snarled at them, watching them continue to coo at each other and trying to fight down the slight nausea that came with witnessing such a spectacle, ‘then maybe I’ll feel just a little less depressed, scarred and humiliated than I do right now! I mean, how would you like it, Dad, if I told Mum about what really happened with the peanut butter and the feather boa?’

Debbie stopped laughing promptly and turned to stare down at Andy, who had suddenly become very interested in his knees. ‘What about the peanut butter and the feather-boa? Andy?’ She straightened up on his lap, glaring down at him as the bell rang. ‘What’s all that about?’

Simon left his dad to his mum’s mercy with feeble mutters of ‘tweezers’ and ‘tribute bands’ and went to get the door. Pulling it open, he blinked; Mickey stood there, the last tint of the late afternoon sun adding a glowing edge to his already devastatingly gorgeous features. He smiled, a little shyly, back at Simon.


‘Hi...’ Simon gripped the door, one ear catching the escalating argument between his parents in the lounge and he bit his lip guiltily. ‘Sorry - do you want to come in?’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey said smoothly, stepping inside; clearing his throat, Simon he led him through, past the danger zone – Debbie, in the middle of hurling the fake flowers from the dinner table in her husband’s direction, stopped to throw a bright smile and a ‘Hello, Melville, my love!’ at them – and out into the garden. As soon as they were outside, he spun around to Mickey and held his hands out pleadingly like a man in cuffs.

‘I am so sorry,’ he told him, ‘my Mum’s – well...’

He threw a thumb in the direction of the house, wincing as his mother’s shrieking surpassed the walls and was surprised to see Mickey chuckling.

‘What?’ he blinked at him; folding his arms, Mickey just smiled, his full lips shaped in a perfect grin.

‘Nothing,’ he shrugged, ‘guess I just...’ he broke off into a giggle, leaving Simon to roll his eyes towards the sky.

‘I knew it,’ he muttered, turning away to collapse on one of the chairs, crossing his arms and legs in an extremely pouting fashion. ‘She always does this, every single bloody time.’ He sighed up at Mickey. ‘First H from Steps and now this.’

‘Look, Simon, Simon...’ Dragging the other chair over, Mickey sat down next to him and leaned in close. ‘It’s fine. Really.’

Simon raised an eyebrow at him; defeated, Mickey held his hands up.

‘Alright then... it did make me wonder what’d been in the Sprite I’d been drinking before, but...’ he shrugged and clasped his hands together in his lap, ‘it’s fine.’

Wondering privately if Mickey’s good looks made up for some sort of serious mental disorder that he simply hadn’t seen him exert yet, Simon raised an eyebrow cautiously at him.

‘So... you still want to be friends, then?’ he asked.

‘It’s gonna take more than that to scare me away,’ Mickey smiled even as his hand crept up to rub the back of his neck as his dark pupils wandered while Simon’s gaze dropped to his own hands, his fingers tying and untying themselves around each other in his lap.

‘Thanks,’ he told him finally, looking back up at him, ‘for understanding; I mean...’ He gestured bashfully back at the house.

‘It’s fine,’ Mickey repeated and really, Simon couldn’t see where that insecure, easily-led boy from the early days had disappeared off to; in cutting himself off from the bullying, Mickey just seemed incredibly mature and certain of himself, more than that old, fake hoodie-wearing Mickey had ever been. It was something that Simon found comforting and... and strangely delicious.

‘I’d better go,’ Mickey stood, stretching his arms, ‘I promised Mum I’d be home for tea. See you at school, yeah?’

‘Do you want to come over tomorrow?’ The words stumbled out of Simon’s mouth before he had time to really think about it. ‘Kylie and I are going to rewrite all the lyrics to Les Miserable to reflect our childhood situation here in Reading so we can turn it into a musical later when we’re living amongst the beautiful people in London. We could... really use your help.’

Mickey nodded, interested. ‘Yeah, love to.’

A beam shone across Simon’s face. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey grinned down at him. ‘I’ll be round after breakfast. Take care.’ He put a friendly hand on Simon’s shoulder and then turned to leave.

‘Bybes,’ Simon croaked; the stupidity of what he had just said caught up with him as Mickey swivelled around, trainers skidding softly on gravel, brow furrowed curiously.

‘Aaargh, Kylie...’ he rolled his eyes to the sky. ‘I meant “bye”,’ he explained quickly to Mickey. ‘Not “bye babes.” Not that,’ his palm hit the air anxiously as Mickey tilted his head at him, ‘not that I’d call you “babes” or anything – well not that you’re not, you know, nice, because you are – and that doesn’t mean to say that I wouldn’t, not if you didn’t – but what I meant was...’

Mickey’s shoulders rose with a chuckle as Simon got himself into more and more of a state by the second and unfolding his arms, he reached down, took both sides of Simon’s face between his thumbs and stifled his gasp with his smile.

The kiss wasn’t perfect, but they were getting better at it. It was still a little weird, a little bit frightening, but it was Mickey and his promise never to hurt him or Kylie again and so it was okay. For Simon, who had avoided all the local boys with the sole exception of Kylie like the plague before Mickey had come along, it was enough to make any fourteen year old with his own Bette Midler VHS collection feel hopeful about... well. Just hopeful.
They came apart from air, Simon’s heart drumming and singing even like any London orchestra and Mickey straightened up and winked at him.

‘Picked that up from the telly,’ he said, sounding oddly proud and satisfied. ‘See you tomorrow.’


Date: 2010-07-29 12:14 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] openxthexbox.livejournal.com
Awesome, awesome, AWESOME!

There was Debbie (who was made of absolute win) and boys being boys and the most awesome dialogue ever. There were lines that made me laugh out loud, when I wasn't busy revelling in the utter in-characterness of absolutley everyone (because it's so rare to find fic that's characterised properly.).

So, yes. Made of complete win, as usual.

Date: 2010-07-29 04:25 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ellieet.livejournal.com
Thankyou! I thought it was about time I added Debbie and I stole the idea took my cue from the hilarious convo she had with Kathy in "How I Got My Nose" which is one of my favourite scenes from the first series. I went online and looked up a whole list of random names beginning with M and went from them. Plus, Mickey didn't really get a chance to speak to any of Simon's family even though he turned up at the house and I wanted to change that, plus show how much I feel he developed since he stopped bullying Simon.

I'm really glad some parts made you laugh; that's really heartening to hear! Thanks again! :D

Date: 2010-08-11 05:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] celemie.livejournal.com
Debbie was perfect!! All her dialogue sounded just like her, I could hear her voice!
And the boys are adorable as always!!!!

Date: 2010-08-12 08:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ellieet.livejournal.com
Thankyou! I had a lot of fun writing Debbie. :) Glad you liked it. :)


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