Mars - Aid ; Mick Mars X Reader

vodka ; 1

Mick was having a hard fucking day.
Fresh off stage, in his heels and overwhelmed. All Mick knew was he wanted to go home, and drink through another flare up, he was done. Had quite enough for one day. Of his stupid bandmates, blondes with fake tits and his poor, broken back. Fans with snarky comments and the use of 'old man'

Mick took a risk on the skirts of the stage, bee-lining to a stand to get a brand new chilled bottle of vodka.
He fucking knew he'd need it after a day like this.
He slightly wobbled on his feet, damning his hips in his heels for hurting even worse then they normally would.

- right after paying, he offered a small smile as he stepped away.
He could go home momentarily and just fucking - forget.
That was, until Tommy zipped by, with Nikki right on his tail.
Knocking the new bottle right out of Mick's hand. The bottle fell to the floor, shattering everywhere.
He spent way too much for that bottle and now he didn't have the pocket money for a new one.
Mick gritted his teeth as he went tense - his back immediately seizing up.
"Sorry old man!" Nikki shouted as the two made a loop around the stands.

Mick stormed off, turning on his heel and walking in long strides, straight to his Corvette to go home and fucking rest.
Nobody would ask about him.
"Where's your guitar player?" Could just be a figment of the bands imagination.
Nobody cared for Mick.

Mick forced himself through people as fast as he could, hating his height difference and not being able to see the end of the people. He hated himself. His age, his absence with his own children, his back, the way he looked, everything.
And once again, now he found himself running away, using his pain as a excuse to go hide away.
He could never compare to Tommy and Nikki.

-

You'd just seen Mick, at the stand when he dropped his new bottle of alcohol.
He looked out of it.
The most sour expression was on his face as he stormed away, looked so broken down..
You could've sworn you'd seen the tears in his eyes. All the chicks here had such strong passion for Vince, Tommy and Nikki, but not you. You too had snuck in along with the others swarming the backstage area, just trying to get ahold of Mick.
You where attracted slightly to his calm charisma, his private nature, and how he could play the damn guitar.

So you chose the most sensible thing that came to mind and bought Mick a new bottle of vodka, the same kind n' all.
And then you had to find him.
You'd kept close watch on Mick all night long, and did what he had done.
You where cursed at as you seemed to push through a sea of fans and chicks, but you didn't care.

Your heart ached for Mick.
You didn't want him to feel this way. He was your hero, your biggest inspiration, and getting this to him would mean the world to you. He deserved better. You had to show some gratitude.
As you finally got through, you saw him leave the back door, and that's when you almost ran.
Stop that fucking guitarist!

You cursed under your breath at how someone could ever walk so fast, and you caught a glimpse of him turning around a corner before you went directly for him.

"Mick!" You called. "What?!" Mick spat. His feet stopping in uncertainty before he kept walking. You gritted your teeth, he was definitely upset. "You're not getting in my pants so fuck off!" Mick spoke, just barely louder than the loud music. Your heart started racing as you thought of what to do, what to say-

And you reached out, grabbing the back of Mick's shirt.

"Wait! Please wait -" you pleaded.

His head snapped in your direction, and you flinched back inside your skin when you locked eyes with him. He was pissed off, the most annoyed, irritated scowl on his face before he growled -
"Let go of me."