by; ghettoassenglishman
Summary:
Happily married for five-or-six-years, Ian and Mickey really should of done background checks on each-other. Ian and Mickey are both Assassins for competing agencies, and they both get assigned to kill each-other. The end result is better than expected.
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"Mickey, we really should talk about this!" Ian yelled, ducking as a knife darted past his head.
Mickey's hiding behind the wall, yelling back in rage. "You fucking shot me!"
Ian crouches by the door, trying to load his gun back up. "It was an accident, I already told you that!" He winces as his gun clicks, hissing through his teeth when his bloodied arm brushes against the frame of the door.
"Bullshit, Gallagher!" Mickey seethed, clicking his own gun into place. "You hit me with your car!"
Ian finally pops up from the door, scowling at his husband. "Excuse me, you tried to put fucking bleach into my cocktail, and it's not like you were any more truthful about your job than me!"
Mickey growls, clenching his teeth together, bringing his gun up. Ian dives to the side, dodging the line of bullets that followed his movements, spraying across the living room wall.
"You know, I'm starting to think you're trying to kill me." Ian coughs out, offhandedly, before stepping up. A vase beside him, that he fucking paid for smashed next to his head, he yelps ducking low before bringing his own weapon up and beginning to fire.
The living room was destroyed, nothing but holes in the walls left from it's perfected décor. Neither of them had actually laid hands on eachother yet – It wasn't that bad, Ian might had even thought that this was sexy, that seeing Mickey all fired up and fiery made his pants tight.
But then the wall next to his head exploded out, Mickey's shotgun shooting through the wall as Ian ran past it.
Ian couldn't have guessed when he had woken up that morning that this would be how the day would end. That he'd come back from his job to find out that the other spy, that he had been trained to kill, was his own husband. Mickey. To find out that they were on separate sides, different teams, and brainwashed into killing each-other.
That day he had to realise that they were supposed to kill each-other not love each-other.
Ian follows Mickey's light footsteps into the kitchen, shooting at the fridge as Mickey swings it open to protect himself. Fruit, greens and all sorts fired out, splatting against the floor ruining the home that they had created together. Ian keeps shooting, and Mickey ducks behind the counter. He pulls out the drawer, and pulls out a butchers knife, chucking it into Ian's direction.
The knife stops just at the door frame, skimming Ian's face, he turns away from the door, shielding himself behind the wall in a wait for Mickey to move.
Mickey puts his hand up into the open oven, pulling out the gas cable and puts it onto the counter top. Ian runs in, firing his gun in all places, grit in his teeth from all the strength he still had left. Then he hears the gas and the whole kitchen explodes outwards, metal flying towards him as he slammed to the rumble-covered floor.
Ian searches for his gun, but suddenly Mickey runs out of the fire sending a swift knee to Ian's face, reeling him back into a gasp. Ian growled, and gripped to Mickey's legs, sweeping him under his feet and sending him crashing to the floor.
They both jump up, Mickey charging towards Ian, his elbow flying into the wall as the redhead ducked from his blow. Ian comes back with a sharp hit into Mickey's back, sending him forward a little without room to breathe. Ian grips to his shirt pulling him towards a table full of glass and shoves him against it, cutting his skin. He then turns, grabbing a glass vase and hits it against Mickey's shielding arms, but he loses his grip.
