Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Recap

“What—You’re back again? Don’t you have your own fucking life to live or something? Why are you so obsessed with us?” Lip flicked away his cigarette and scrunched up his nose. “No, I’m not gonna tell you what happened last time on Shameless! It was three years ago! Look, just get inside and catch up as we go, alright? Fucking moron…”

***

Fiona

The air was crisp and cold. Frost clung to the grass and trees, covering everything in a thin layer of ice. Grey clouds covered the sky in a way where it was impossible to tell whether rain was about to come down or if snow would grace the city of Chicago. The first wasn’t very festive, but the latter would eventually cover everything in brown slush and make it hard to get anywhere without slipping. Janky cars drove past the tall metal fence and the L screeched on the rails further away, echoing between buildings. A homeless man was asleep on a bench just down the pathway. Well, hopefully he was asleep. If not, he was in the right place, at least.

Gravestones of all shapes and sizes were scattered on the neatly kept lawn. Despite the neighborhood the cemetery was located in, somebody didn’t neglect the place, it seemed. The same couldn’t exactly be said for the rest of the city, or the man buried there. Fiona stared at the name carved into the gravestone. Francis “Frank” Gallagher, 1954-2021.

“How are you feeling?” Mike asked after a long moment of silence.

“Fine,” She responded, still watching the headstone. “He was a piece of shit.”

Mike chuckled lightly. “Yeah. So, I’ve heard. Numerous times.” He rubbed a hand against the back of her coat. “How is it seeing the grave?”

Fiona shrugged vaguely. “Like I thought it would. Nothing. He’s dead, gone, and the world is better off for it. Seeing the hole they threw him into doesn’t change anything.”

“Didn’t really splurge on the words, either.” He nodded to the lack of words of sentiment or wishes or any of the sort on the otherwise bare stone.

“No one had too much to add.” She sighed, shoving her hands deeper into her coat pockets. “Not something that we could put onto a headstone, at least. Just writing the obituary was a bitch to scramble enough of a word count. I was so close to just tell them to write ‘Frank’s dead. Beers at The Alibi’, but…” Mike exhaled a quiet laugh. “Liam had wanted something a little more tasteful, so we went about the motion of something semi-proper to let the neighborhood drunks know that one of their own had fallen.”

“How thoughtful,” He teased.

“It was a great cash-grab of a night for the Alibi, though, apparently.”

He looked over at her, still continuing to rub her back. “Do you regret not going? To the funeral, I mean?”

Fiona shook her head a little. “No. Coming back would have meant just another thing Frank would have left for me to handle. I was done fixing everything.”

Mike put an arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. Fiona leaned against him, unable to tear her eyes away from the only marker of her father’s resting place. There were so many emotions tied to the sight that she didn’t even know how to start. So, Fiona clung to the one thing she could allow herself to feel; nothing. Frank was gone and the hell he had usually riled up had seized with him. She didn’t want to dwell on it. He didn’t deserve it. Lord knows, Frank never gave them a second thought, anyway. Fiona didn’t feel particularly inclined to give him the satisfaction of caring.

Everyone

2119 North Wallace Street looked more or less exactly like it always had. However, the blue paint was chipped from some years of neglect, the steps to the porch looked more worn down from frequent use, the shrubs had become a little overgrown, and the light bulb in the little lamp post in the front yard had died. Otherwise, it looked the same. The rest of the street shared the same look. Everything was the same, but different in the small details. A home that wasn’t really home anymore, but that you couldn’t shake no matter how hard you tried. Fiona had tried – really.

“Hey,” Lip greeted as he came down the stairs while Fiona and Mike entered. “How was it paying tribute?”

She sighed. “Well, he didn’t pop out a hand like a zombie or anything, so I guess he’s actually good and dead.” She shook her coat off her shoulders and flung it over the back of the armchair. “You know, I’m half-expecting him to suddenly show up out of the blue and for everything to just have been a part of some huge insurance fraud or something.”

“Don’t worry, I checked his pulse and everything,” Lip assured her while he placed some papers from the coffee table into a backpack. “Though, I guess we really can’t put anything passed Frank and his ingenuity for scamming the government.”

“Don’t even bring it up.” Fiona shook her head tiredly despite the early hours of the morning. “It’s not the first time we’ve put him in a coffin and for him to come out alive again.”

“What?” Mike exclaimed surprised.

She waved a hand. “Tell ‘ya later.”

“Yo,” Carl called out as he came down the stairs, all dressed in his police uniform. “Not to bitch or anything, but how long are you guys planning on staying? I was sort of getting used to having my own pad down in the basement.”

“What—you don’t like sharing a room with Liam anymore?” Lip teased and ruffled his younger brother’s hair which Carl swatted away.

“It’s just getting cramped around here, s’all,” He responded as the group followed him into the kitchen. That was the only room which had really changed, Fiona had noticed. “With everyone back, it’s starting to feel like I’m back in military school.”

“If you wanna talk about cramped, try squeezing back into your old room with your eight-year-old daughter,” Debbie complained by the kitchen counter where she was assembling a bowl of cereal.

“First of all, my room,” Liam corrected from the kitchen table with his own bowl of colorful cereal. “Second, weren’t you the one who refused to let Franny have her own room until, like, two years ago?”

“Yeah, and now I’m used to having my own personal space, Liam,” She responded sharply.

“At least you don’t have to share with two people,” Carl pointed out, grabbing juice out of the fridge.

“Freddie is here every other week,” Debbie pointed out. “You’ll live.”

Lip quickly checked his phone. “Speaking of, I should—”

“What are we talking about?” Ian asked as he came down the stairs with Mickey right behind him.

“There are too many people and not enough rooms,” The young sister explained.

Mickey scoffed on his way to the coffeemaker. “Tell me about it.”

“You two have always shared a room,” Liam pointed out.

“We went from having a whole-ass apartment to ourselves to sharing one shower with now nine other people,” Ian responded, accepting a cup from Mickey. “Trust me, we feel the walls closing in, too.”

“Rent-controlled my ass,” Mickey grumbled sourly. “Even prison was less over-crowded than this.”

“You could just move out again,” Carl chimed in from his seat next to Liam.

Ian sighed. “With Covid going away, prices have skyrocketed. Besides, everything we earn goes straight back into keeping the company afloat. There’s no way we could get something like the old apartment again.”

“Why not get something cheaper?” Fiona questioned.

“We’ve gotten spoiled,” He admitted. “A heated pool and on-call maintenance does that to ‘ya.”

“Speak for yourself, man,” Mickey said while searching for clean spoons.

Ian rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you and the Westside don’t click, I know.”

“Nah—Well, yeah, but I’d live in a rundown shack with you, anyway. Westside, Southside, don’t really matter.”

“Ugh,” Debbie groaned. “Stop being so damn adorable, alright? We’re trying to eat here.”

Mickey flipped her off as a grinning Ian wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck from behind, placing a kiss against Mickey’s neck.

“There’s still too many people around,” Carl said.

The comment sparked a rush of agreements, complaints, and comparing of who had it the worst: Debbie having to go back to sharing a room with Franny, Liam and Carl sharing with Freddy every other week, Ian and Mickey being forced to move back in, Lip having to live behind the accordion door with his daughter every other week, or Fiona and Mike having to occupy the dank basement.

“Okay, alright, alright!” Lip yelled out while holding up his palms, bringing silence to the increasingly heated debate “No one is happy with the current living arrangements, but…” He placed a hand onto his older sister’s shoulder. “We have Fiona back, for now, so let’s enjoy that, shall we?”

A murmur of agreement went through the room.

“Wow, don’t all rush to show your excitement,” Fiona teased.

The agreement got a little bit louder, but not to the point of being over-whelming, by a long shot.

Lip patted her shoulder comfortingly before addressing the family again. “We’ve lived like this before, even with Frank and Monica. We can do it again. Remember when Frank barricaded himself upstairs? Or when Monica started her home-renovation projects? We’ve got this.” He glanced at his phone again. “Okay, I gotta go and pick up Freddie and Kimmie from Tami. See you guys later.”

“Franny!” Debbie called out into the house. “Time for school!”

“She’s left already,” Liam imparted as he flung his backpack over his shoulder.

The redheaded girl instantly looked confused. “What?”

Liam shrugged. “Said something about a guidance counselor or something.”

“I’ve gotta go, too,” Carl announced and added a sigh. “Another day of paperwork.”

“They’re still keeping you benched?” Fiona asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. Until they deem me fit to enter the field again, I’m stuck filling out and sending in forms all day.” He shook his head. “Who would have thought there’s a limit on how much you can charge people on parking tickets?”

“Well, at least your safe,” Fiona offered, but it didn’t seem to lift her little brother’s spirit.

“We should go, too, Mick,” Ian said. “Russell’s gotten into it with the Hemp Trail people again.”

Mickey sighed. “Can’t we just fire him? The fucker’s gonna cost us customers at this rate.”

“No, he’s a good worker and—and…” Ian appeared to be lost for any more descriptive words. “He’s cheap, alright? Well just try talking to him.”

“Okay, but one more misstep and I might just get into it with him.”

Ian squeezed Mickey’s neck gently as they exited the room, leaving Fiona and Mike on their own. The eldest Gallagher sibling exhaled a long breath as she sat down at the kitchen counter. Mike smiled at her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the sink.

“Good to be home?”

“It’s like I never even left,” She replied with a tired smile.

Lip

The house Lip was approaching fit one descriptive word perfectly: cute. It was a cute, white house with a fence around the property and a small garden at the front filled with dormant flower bushes and little trees. There were even decorative shudders on the windows like the house had been yanked out of an Architectural Digest magazine. It was very unlike the Gallagher house, but it was very Tami Tamietti.

Lip straightened his jacket before he knocked on the front door and waited. He looked around the little front porch, feeling very out of place like he always did whenever he stood there – like an intruder. His attention was brought back when the door opened.

“Hey,” Tami greeted. She always looked surprised to see him, for some reason.

“Hi,” He responded and cleared his throat.

“Daddy,” Kimmie spoke and waved her little hand.

To disguise the otherwise awkwardness of the weekly exchange, Lip chose to focus on his three-year-old daughter on his ex-girlfriend’s hip. “Hey, Kimmie. Come here. You been good?”

“Yeah,” The little curly haired girl responded as she was handed over to her father.

Lip kissed her head before turning his attention back to Tami. “Uh, how are you?”

“Good.” She nodded. “We—”

“Daddy!” Freddy called out excitedly.

Lip’s attention was instantly stolen by his son who was reaching out grabby hands towards his father. He even managed to ignore the man who came to the door carrying the four-year-old little boy. “Hey, bud,” Lip greeted heartily as he got Freddy on his other arm. “Hey, Fred. How are you doing, little man?”

“I have dinosaur,” Freddie imparted, pointing to the dinosaur beanie on his head.

“Yeah, I see that. Super cool, huh?” Lip looked to the man standing at Tami’s side and gave him a nod. “Darren.”

“Hey,” Darren greeted with a friendly enough smile.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Lip managed to push out, “The house looks good.”

“Yeah, it’s getting there,” The man responded and smacked a hand against the doorframe like he’d built the thing himself. Lip knew for a fact that the guy had just smacked a coat of paint on the fucker. “We’re just waiting on a few things and it’ll be decent.”

“It’ll be perfect,” Tami corrected her boyfriend with a big smile up at him. The couple stared lovingly at each other in a way which definitely made Lip feel like he was intruding.

“Right,” Lip spoke. “Well, we should get going. Gotta open up The Vault, and Fiona’s back in town. She’ll probably want to meet Freddie and Kimmie.” He straightened his son’s jacket as he spoke, just to have something else to look at other than the happy couple.

“How is it?” Tami asked with what Lip could only describe as concerned interest. “Having her back?”

“Cramped,” Lip settled on. “But good. It’s been a while since everyone’s been under the same roof. Feels like old times.”

“Right, well, say hello to everyone for me.”

Lip nodded. “Yeah. Will do.” After exchanging their kisses and goodbyes with Freddie and Kimmie, Tami and Darren started closing the door as Lip descended the porch with his kids in his arms. “Alright, kiddos. Ready for your first proper Gallagher family week?”

Freddie and Kimmie paid more attention to the cars passing them on the street than the semi-warning from their father.

Debbie

As she tried to navigate through the elementary school hallways, Debbie realized that she really didn’t know the place too well. It was more like a maze than a school, really, in her opinion. Everything looked the same; just rows of doors and identical halls. Luckily, someone had had enough foresight to put up a sign that pointed her in the direction of the office.

“Hi,” Debbie greeted as she entered the room where a woman was seated behind a desk looking at a computer screen. “I’m looking for my daughter.”

“Name?” The woman questioned.

Before Debbie could give the lady what she asked, another door opened and a head of familiar red hair came wandering out. “Franny!” Debbie exclaimed in relief. “Why did you leave? You even forgot your lunch.”

Franny didn’t reply and she kept her eyes focused down on the floor while her mother ran a hand over her head.

“You must be Deborah Gallagher.” Debbie looked up and finally noticed the woman standing in the doorway. The lady smiled kindly, adding to her beauty, which was making it difficult for Debbie to really focus on much else.

“Uh, yeah, hi—Debbie, but yes, hi” She fumbled.

“I’ve just had a little chat with Franny and since you’re already here, maybe I could talk to you, too?” She gestured into what Debbie assumed to be her office. “You can go back to class, Franny.”

Franny nodded and snapped the brown paper bag out of her mother’s fingers before she quickly walked out of the office. Debbie looked in the direction of her daughter, torn between running after her and entering the office of the woman who had ‘Guidance Counselor’ written on her door. In the end, going with the woman seemed to be the best option. She wasn’t sure she could locate Franny’s classroom before school ended for the day.

“Please, have a seat,” The counselor offered with a gesture towards the chairs in front of her desk.

“Is she in trouble or something?” Debbie questioned hesitatingly as she sat down. “Because she’s usually a really good kid and I don’t—"

“Oh, no,” She responded quickly. Carmen Juarez was the name on the little plaque on the desk. “No, Franny is doing very well in school. It’s got nothing to do with that.” She sat down in her chair behind the desk and looked at a folder. “She’s doing her work and she does it well. She never causes any trouble for her teacher, she pays attention, and does what she’s told, but…”

“But what?” Debbie questioned anxiously.

Carmen looked at her. “But we’re concerned about her in general. Are you aware of her lack of friends?”

Debbie’s brows furrowed. “She…she doesn’t have friends?”

“When she’s in class, her teacher has noted that she doesn’t interact with the other kids. She never raises her hand, either. In recess, she does sometimes play ball games with the boys, but a lot of the time, she sits on the sidelines and watches. Do any of the kids visit Franny at home? Or does she visit them?”

“Uhm, I…” She started. “I’m not really sure. I—I work a lot. I’m a single mom, but maybe some of her uncles know. They’re usually around.”

“Yes, she mentioned that you were gone a lot.” Carmen leaned forward with her arms on the desk. “Has Franny talked to you about this? At all?”

Debbie shook her head. “No.”

“Hmm.” The guidance counselor nodded vaguely before she glanced back down at the folder in front of her. “There’s another thing, too.”

“What?” The redhead could feel her anxiety spike.

“When the kids were asked to draw what they want to be when they grow up, Franny drew this.” Carmen pulled out a drawing and handed it over. “It’s a picture of a man with the name ‘Frankie’. I asked her what she meant by that and all she would tell me was that it was about her grandfather. Am I correct that Franny lost her grandfather a few years back?”

Debbie stared down at the drawing by her eight-year-old. “Yeah. Yeah, Frank. He…he passed away during the pandemic.”

Carmen leaned forward again with professional concern clear as day in her expression. “Look, Ms. Gallagher, I strongly advice you to talk to you daughter about this. Loss can be an impactful thing on young minds. Have you and your family discussed the passing?”

“No,” Debbie responded with an exhaled laugh. “We were all too ready to put him six feet under and behind us.”

“Well, maybe it’s something you should talk about with Franny, at least.”

Debbie continued to stare at the drawing in her hand; her head whirring with all kinds of thoughts.

Carl

Paperwork would be the death of him, Carl swore. As he sat by his desk, stapling papers together and smashing a stamp on them completely on auto-pilot, his brain was somewhere far away with guns and action. That wasn’t reality, though. Instead, he was more or less chained to stale coffee and constant chatter from other officers around him that for some reason or another were not in the field.

“Gallagher,” Officer Stanton called out and smacked another stack of files onto Carl’s already crowded desk. “Last week’s arrests need filing.”

“Great,” Carl mumbled sarcastically. He was one stack away from using the stapler on his own head, so he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Yo, Stanton! I’m going on my lunchbreak!”

Leaving the precinct felt like escaping prison – wasn’t that just ironic? He zipped up his jacket, careful to cover up his uniform. It felt like blasphemy to wear the name tag and blue shirt when all he did all day was sit on his ass. Wearing it on full display in public was false advertising. Carl fished his phone out of his pocket and pressed a contact number to get this mind off of his monotonously life.

“Hello!” The voice on the other side greeted cheerily.

“Hey, Arthur. How’s The Alibi doing?”

“Oh, you know,” Arthur Tipping spoke. “Same old. The day drunks have just arrived. Kermit says hi.”

“That’s all?”

There was a pause on the line. “Do you want him to say more?”

“No, I mean, is that all who’s there? The day drunks? What about the hipsters and yoga bitches?”

“No one in sight, I’m afraid.”

Carl sighed. “So, we came up with that whole menu for nothing? Who the hell even drinks IPA?”

“Well, it’s still early, Carl. Most people don’t usually start drinking in the middle of the day.”

“Do you think more will come later?”

There was another pause. “Maybe?” Carl’s frustrated groan was cut short by Arthur’s talking. “Look, I had Lip look over the books and we’re still in the green. We’re floating right above the bankruptcy line, so that’s something, right? We just have to stay positive.”

Carl shook his head as he pushed the door open to the Kash’n Grab. “I bet your starting to regret taking on the bar full-time, huh?”

“No!” The man protested. “No, I—I enjoy being my own boss. It’s…It’s freedom, is what it is.”

“Yeah, right.” He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and a packet of Slim Jims.

“And how is the station?”

“I’ve got more papercuts than skin left on my fingers.”

Arthur said something else, but the quietness of the corner store was abruptly disturbed by a man who ran inside. Carl noticed very quickly that the guy was holding a gun which he pointed at the girl sat behind the counter. “All your money, now!”

The girl’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t move.

“Didn’t you fucking hear me? Give me all the money, bitch!”

“I—I don’t—”, She stuttered. “There’s—There’s barely anything in there!”

“Did I ask you to count it? Just hand over all you’ve got, moron!”

Carl hung up the phone and pushed it back into his pocket very discreetly. While the girl, now crying, started to rummage through the register, the guy looked frantically around the store and his eyes landed on Carl. The gun changed direction for a moment towards the Gallagher man.

“No fucking hero shit, alright?” The guy commanded.

“No worries, man.” Carl didn’t move, but kept himself glued to the linoleum floor.

The girl whimpered, grabbing the man’s attention back towards her along with the barrel of the gun. “Today, you cow!”

“I—I’m sorry—”

That’s when Carl seized his opportunity. It was instinct and military drills working together inside his body, forcing his adrenaline to act. Without a second thought, Carl flung himself at the robber. The gun went off with a loud bang and the girl yelped as the two men went straight down on the floor. A wrestling matched ensued for the weapon, but Carl had years of practice under his belt and managed to steal it out of the guy’s hand.

Carl clicked on the safety and glared at the man he had pinned beneath him. “I’m not a hero. I’m a cop, motherfucker.”

He chuckled breathlessly. “You don’t look like a fucking cop.”

The Gallagher unzipped his jacket to flaunt his name tag and blue shirt with a victorious smile. Whatever humor the robber had shown quickly evaporated. He didn’t need to know that Carl technically wasn’t allowed out in the field.

“Hey—uh, what’s your name?” He called out to the girl behind the counter who was staring at him with wide eyes.

“Hannah.”

“Hannah, do you have any zip ties?”

“You don’t have handcuffs?” She questioned nervously.

“Uh…left ‘em in the car.”

She was about to move when the doors to the Kash’n Grab flew open again, but this time it wasn’t a robber. A group of cops entered and all looked immediately shocked at the scene in front of them.

“Gallagher?” A man Carl recognized as Officer Lincoln. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Just doing my duties, sir.”

“Did you run out of papers to file?” Officer Markson teased, making the other officers chuckle lightly.

The other officers, who all had handcuffs on them, went to grab the robber. “Let’s go, Milkovich.”

Carl’s brows pushed together. “Milkovich?” He repeated under his breath.

“Well, Gallagher,” Officer Lincoln spoke and held out a hand to help him off of the perpetrator. “Looks like you’re half-decent, after all. We’ve been chasing this one for the last two hours through his little string of heists. Good work.”

“Thank you, sir,” Carl responded.

The officer patted him on the shoulder. “Next time, stick to the action of the filing cabinet and leave the arrests to the professionals, huh?”

Carl’s smile and satisfaction disappeared at the comment, leaving him frozen as he watched the group of cops escort the robber out of the store. Silence fell over the shop again like a divide between his current life and the police life he dreamt of occurring outside the glass windows. A divide which felt as big as the Grand Canyon – not that Carl knew how big the Grand Canyon was. Big, probably.

“I thought you did good,” Hannah spoke from behind the counter, alerting Carl to her presence which he had forgotten about.

“Thanks.” He sighed and grabbed his items back up from the floor.

“Oh, no.” She waved her hands when he placed the Gatorade and Slim Jims on the counter. “Keep your money, you know, as thanks for potentially saving my life.”

Carl’s brows pushed together. “Linda won’t be mad?”

“She’s got cameras everywhere.” Hannah gestured to the one camera above the counter. “Besides, I think the bullet now lodged in the wall is great evidence of what happened. I think she’ll understand.”

“Okay, well, thanks.”

He was about to walk out when she asked a question. “What’s your name?”

“Carl. Carl Gallagher.”

She smiled which was a stark contrast to her pink-rimmed eyes as a result from her previous crying. “I guess I’ll see you around, then, Carl Gallagher.”

Carl smiled back. “Yeah, I guess.”

As he left the store, a warm fuzzy feeling spread inside his chest, but it went away rather quickly at the sight of the police cruiser still parked outside. Officer Lincoln raised his hand in greeting while speaking into his radio and smiled almost condescendingly. Carl zipped his jacket back up against the cold winter air and dragged his feet back to the station.

Ian & Mickey

“He’s getting on my last fuckin’ nerves,” Mickey complained as he dropped two boxes of weed products into the back of the renovated van. “All he needs to do is go inside, grab the damn product, and get the fuck out. What’s the fuckin’ issue?”

Ian sighed and smacked the back doors shut. “I know, but he’s cheap labor and there’s not a whole lot of that going around. Let’s just keep him on. For now, at least. We’ll take him off the route for the Hemp Trail and let Olivia deal with them.”

“Impossible to live as an entrepreneur in this shithole,” Mickey grumbled as the couple climbed back inside the van.

The redhead looked over at his husband in the driver’s seat, mulling over his words for a moment. “Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“About it not mattering where we live as long as we’re together?”

Mickey looked doubtingly over at him. “You were the one who got rock-hard about the Westside, man. Not me.”

“Yeah, but… It was nice, right? Living there, I mean?”

“Sure,” He admitted. “Took some gettin’ used to, but…it was alright. Havin’ a pool was cool.”

“So, finding our own place here on the Southside isn’t a problem for you?”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Gallagher, right now I live with you, all your siblings, our nieces and nephew, and your sister’s boyfriend. I’d move into a crack house if it meant you and me havin’ some peace and quiet.”

Ian smiled amused at him and placed a hand on Mickey’s thigh. “Crack house, huh? And this comes from the man who complains about water pressure every single day.”

“Oh, excuse me for likin’ more than a drizzle when I shower.”

The redhead laughed. “You fifteen years ago would never have said that sentence.”

“Well, what can I say?” Mickey responded with a vague shrug. “Had a guy I wanted to impress.”

Ian smiled warmly and caressed his husband’s cheek for a moment. “Alright, then I guess we should start looking around for a place. Preferably not a crack house, but with this market we probably can’t afford a whole lot else.”

“Ay, if the junkies are good for it, why not let ‘em stay?”

“Nah ah,” Ian protested as he pulled out his phone. “We’ve already established no more other people in our relationship. We’re way too jealous for it to work.”

“I meant, good for rent, dumbass,” Mickey corrected as he started the van. “If they’re payin’, they can squat in the basement or somethin’. Become our own landlords.”

Ian scrunched his nose at the idea of homeless people bunking it in their potential basement. “I think we can survive without drug money, Mick.”

Mickey shrugged a shoulder. “Eh, your loss, man.”

“We should definitely look for something with a yard, though. Kinda missed that on the Westside,” The redhead spoke as he scrolled through houses on the market on his phone. “And more than one bedroom.”

“You just shot down my landlord idea. The fuck do we need more than one bedroom for?”

“You know,” Ian started. “For visitors.”

The Milkovich scoffed. “Who? We had two bedrooms on the Westside and besides switchin’ it up when fucking, it got used one week by Lip when he and Tami got into it, and that one weekend Debbie took off with that crazy chick and leaving us with Franny.”

“Well, maybe they’ll visit now that we’ll be closer to home.”

“Ain’t nobody comin’ to visit, lover, but if they do, a pull-out couch works just as good.”

“Or maybe, you know…” Ian hesitated, throwing quick glances in his husband’s direction. “If we decide to have ki—”

“Ay, how long d’you think Fiona and that Mike guy is gonna stay, anyway?” Mickey interrupted without taking his eyes off the road.

Ian exhaled quietly and leaned back in his seat. “Don’t know.”

“You think she’s comin’ back?”

“After five years away without visiting? I doubt she’s been dying to take over as the head of the Gallagher house again. They’ll probably skip town soon enough.”

Mickey glanced over at him. “And how you feelin’ about that?”

“What is there to feel? We’ve done okay without her and she’s done good without us. When she leaves, it’ll just go back to have it normally is.”

“Yeah, well…” Mickey sent his husband a smile. “Maybe she’ll visit more.”

Ian sent him a quick smile back, but it didn’t last too long. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Mickey reached a hand over and caressed Ian’s cheek with his thumb. The redhead leaned against the touch for a moment; a silent comfort because Mickey knew his husband very, very well.

Liam

“Here.”

Liam skeptically eyed the joint Marcus was holding out. It was poorly rolled; that much the fourteen-year-old knew from living in the Gallagher house his entire life. If there was one thing he’d learned from his father, it was the art of good rolling. However, Liam accepted the lit joint and took a drag.

“Where’d you even get this?” Isaac asked as Liam passed the weed on. He nervously looked around the deserted area behind the school as if he was expecting someone to jump out of a bush and bust them.

“Snatched it from my sister,” Marcus explained casually. “She’s got this boyfriend who practically grows this stuff in his yard.”

“Does he sell it?” Liam questioned.

“Yeah. To his buddies, I think.”

“How much?”

“Like, three bucks a pop.”

Liam shook his head. “Amateur.”

Isaac looked doubtingly at him. “You don’t even sell.”

“No, but I know a bad business when I see one.” And boy, had Liam seen a lot of buying and selling in his life. “He could easily hike up the price to the right crowd. The hipsters will throw their cash at anything labelled vegan and sativa.”

“Ay yo,” Shawn greeted as he rounded the corner. The boy had a big smile on his face and walked like he’d just won the lottery or something. “Check what I’ve got.” The boys leaned in closer to look at the gold watch hanging on the kid’s wrist.

“Woah!” Isaac exclaimed and gripped Shawn’s wrist to maneuver it around for a three-sixty view.

“Is that real?” Liam questioned doubtfully.

“Real as can be, motherfuckers,” Shawn declared proudly. “18kt gold Rolex Cosmograph Daytona with an Oysterflex bracelet. Retail price on about two-hundred dollars. Nice, right?”

“Where the hell did you get it?” Marcus asked with wide-eyed fascination.

He shrugged casually. “My cousin works at this high-end spa near the Loop where all these rich bitches and stuck-up husbands go. Getting their resident info is so fucking simple, it’s like they’re asking to be robbed.”

“You robbed somebody’s house?” Liam asked in disbelief.

“Does it count as robbery when the door is unlocked?”

Liam’s eyes went wide. “Yes!”

Shawn huffed. “S’not like they’re gonna miss it. You should have seen all the shit they had. It was like walking into a fucking Macy’s or something.”

“And you’re just going to keep it?” Marcus questioned.”

“No, I’m gonna knock on their door and apologize,” Shawn responded sarcastically. “Don’t be stupid. It looks cool. though, right?” He flexed the watch, letting the gold catch the daylight from the grey clouds above.

Before any of the boys could say anything, a new pair of footsteps came rushing around the corner of the building. “Hey! Mr. Krew is coming!” Charles Rigby warned.

Liam quickly stubbed out the joint and threw it into the bushes. Shawn rolled down the sleeve of his hoodie to cover the watch while the young Gallagher looked warily between his wrist and the boy’s smug expression.

Everybody

“I don’t think I can remember this house ever being this quiet,” Fiona spoke thoughtfully, stretching her legs over Mike’s lap on the couch. “No Frank causing mayhem, no homeless people from the street, no crazy half-siblings, no Hurricane Monica, no…problems, really.”

“Well, now you’ve jinxed it, so hell is about to break loose,” Mike joked.

“More hell than every Gallagher under the same roof?” She replied doubtingly. “Hopefully, the only issues we’ll be having is enough hot water and seats around the dinner table.”

“Who knows? Maybe Frank haunts the house.”

Fiona scoffed. “The only place he would haunt is The Alibi, trust me.” She reached out a hand and ran her fingers through her boyfriend’s blond hair. “You okay with spending Christmas here? We could go to your parents, if you want. They don’t like me, but…”

Mike smiled. “I would rather take your family’s hell over mine any day. With Jane in the middle of her divorce and Robbie being in prison, you could cut the tension with a chainsaw. Last year was bad enough.”

“Yeah, I guess my presence wasn’t exactly what your parents wanted for Christmas.”

“They’ll get over it,” Mike assured her, placing a hand against her cheek.

The front door suddenly opened, grabbing their attention. “Hey,” Fiona greeted the married couple.

“Hey,” Ian responded and looked around the room as he shrugged off his coat. “Anyone else home yet?”

“No.”

“Fuck yeah,” Mickey spoke happily. “We’re callin’ dibs on the shower.”

Before the husbands could hurry upstairs, Fiona twisted in her seat. “What happened to the kitchen? It looks a little…”

“Halfway done?” Ian finished. “Yeah.”

“Red, here, ain’t the only one who can suddenly turn into a home renovation show,” Mickey said with a nudge against his husband’s side. Ian gave him a look, but didn’t appear to take any offense to the teasing. He knew Mickey never meant anything mean-spirited about it.

“Lip had some big plans a few years back while he was still with Tami,” Ian explained. “It didn’t pan out.”

Fiona’s forehead creased. “Like what?”

“Hey!” Lip called out as he entered through the backdoor. “Got somebody who wants to see you!”

A pair of small footsteps ran across the first floor at full speed before the little human collided with Ian’s leg. Freddie gripped into Ian’s army pants with tiny fists and stared wide-eyed up at Fiona who was staring right back down at him from over the back of the couch.

“Hi, Fred,” Fiona greeted sweetly, if not very much colored in disbelief.

Ian hoisted his nephew up into his arms. “Do you recognize your aunt Fiona, Fred?”

Freddie nodded before he smiled shyly and hid his face into Ian’s shoulder.

“He’s a little shy,” Lip explained as he entered the living room with his daughter on his hip. “This one not so much, though.”

“Hi!” Kimmie called out and waved both hands in small grabby motions to everybody in the room. She suddenly pointed a finger at Fiona and wriggled her body in her father’s arms. “Aunt Fifi!”

“Yeah, hi, Kimmie!” The eldest Gallagher sibling greeted and got handed the little girl. “Wow, you’re both so big! Can’t really see that on Facetime.” She ran a finger down her niece’s puffy cheek. “Jesus, Lip, they look just like you.”

“Yeah, should hope so,” Lip responded before he turned to Ian and Mickey. “Hey, d’you mind being babysitters? I got some bikes I need to get finished down at The Vault and there’s only so much I can do with two rascals running around messing with stuff.”

“No can do, Bob the Builder,” Mickey responded.

“Uncle Mickey, I like Bob the Builder,” Fred imparted, reaching out a hand to his uncle.

“I know, kid.”

The front door opened once again, letting in a grumpy looking Carl to practically stomp inside. “I’m quitting the force,” He announced.

A collective “What?” went through the room.

“Why?” Ian questioned?

“Took down a robber at the Kash’n Grab, but somebody else took the glory,” He explained and fell down into an armchair. “And I basically saved a woman’s life! The robber was a Milkovich, by the way.”

“Ay, maybe cops are good for somethin’, huh?” Mickey spoke, clearly happy with the news.

“Don’t quit the force, Carl,” Lip said, but turned back to his redheaded brother and his husband. “Why can’t you babysit?”

“It’s Friday,” Ian said as if it was self-explanatory.

“And?”

“Date night.”

“Jesus,” Lip muttered. “You spend more or less every waking hour together. Babysit and practice being daddies or something.”

Ian looked over at Mickey who was suddenly very interested in Fred playing with the Velcro pocket of his army jacket.

“Hey, what did you do to the kitchen?” Fiona suddenly asked her brother.

“What?” Lip responded confused.

“It looks like you’ve just mashed it together. Was there something wrong with it? A leak or something?”

“No, s’just…just a failed project.”

“What project?”

“Lip’s project about selling the house,” Carl explained.

Fiona’s eyebrows raised high on her face. “What?”

“It’s not a big deal, alright?” Lip quickly said. “It didn’t go anywhere. It’s fine.”

“You tried selling the house?” Fiona exclaimed, handing Kimmie over to Carl without looking away from her oldest sibling. “Without even asking me? Why?”

“Because—”

The front door opened again and Debbie came inside, hauling her welding gear after her. “Do any of you know if Franny has any friends?”

“What?”

“Apparently, my kid doesn’t have any friends and what she wants to be when she grows up, is Frank.” Debbie held up the picture which Franny had drawn for everyone in the room to see. “Has she brought anyone home or—or gone to somebody else’s home?”

“How should we know that, Debs?” Lip questioned tiredly.

“One of you is always home!”

“Well, maybe if you started taking some fucking responsibility for your kid, Debbie, maybe you would know,” Ian chimed in, lightly bouncing Fred on his arm.

Debbie’s eyebrows flew up. “Responsibility? I have to work, Ian! Unless you and Mickey decide to cover my share of the bills around here, I have to take the jobs I can get.”

“Right, like how you were at work when you took off with that prison chick for a whole entire weekend,” Mickey pointed out sarcastically.

“That was three years ago!”

“Why the hell did you try to sell the house, Lip?” Fiona questioned, bringing the conversation back.

Lip threw his palms out. “It seemed like the right thing at the time!”

Debbie scoffed. “For you.”

“Fuck off, Debbie,” Lip retorted. “Maybe if you hadn’t spent all the Fiona money, we wouldn’t have had to sell in the first place.”

Fiona’s shock turned to her sister. “You what?”

“I didn’t spend it! Frank stole it!” Debbie protested. “And I got it back! …most of it, anyway.”

“That money was to keep everything going around here, Debbie!” Fiona yelled. “I trusted that money with you because I thought you could handle it!”

“No, you put me in charge of the family without even asking me if I wanted it! You just handed all the responsibility over to me without even consulting me!”

“You’ve begged your entire life to be treated as an adult and when I do you don’t want it?” Fiona responded.

“I wanted freedom, Fiona!” Debbie yelled. “I didn’t want to become you!”

“You could have let somebody else been in charge, Debbie,” Ian spoke. “We all wanted a say about the money, but you wanted it for yourself.”

“Yeah, right, should she have left it with you, then?” Debbie questioned sarcastically. “The two of you were in fucking prison!”

“Ignoring how you managed to lose fifty-thousand dollars, your solution was to sell the fucking house?” Fiona asked.

“No! Tami and I had Fred and Kimmie on the way, so we needed more space where Frank didn’t live. Ian and Mickey wanted their own place, Carl can live pretty much anywhere, and Debbie can take care of herself!”

“And Liam?” She demanded. “You were just gonna leave him with Frank?”

“We were going to take him with us!” Lip yelled. “Something you didn’t do, even though you’re his guardian!”

“He wanted to stay!” Fiona argued. “And you can’t just sell my fucking house, Lip!”

“It’s not your house, Fiona! You don’t fucking live here anymore!” He chuckled in disbelief. “You haven’t even visited in five years! You missed Carl’s graduation from the academy and his first arrest, you missed Ian and Mickey’s wedding, Franny’s first day of school and her first loose tooth, Freddie’s and Kimmie’s births—You missed fucking everything!”

“You told me to go!” Fiona protested. Her eyes were welling up with tears. “None of you wanted me here—needed me here and you told me to go!”

“I didn’t,” Debbie said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Me neither,” Carl added who had been silent for the entire argument.

“We told you to leave, Fiona,” Lip spoke more calmly and shook his head just barely. “Not to disappear.”

Fiona exhaled a laugh. “Oh, fuck you. All of you wanted me gone. You all fucking said it.” She pointed a finger against Lip’s chest. “This house is still all under my name. You couldn’t have sold it even if you had wanted to, you arrogant shit.”

Without another word, the eldest Gallagher sibling headed for the front door, ripping her coat off the back of the armchair, and exited the house. Mike quickly followed his girlfriend out into the burgeoning winter cold. The group in the living room had all fallen silent except for the small coos from Kimmie on Carl’s lap. No one really had much to say.

Liam came in through the door, casting confused looks over his shoulder after his angry big sister who had just left, with Franny in tow. “What did I miss?”

Ian sighed and placed Freddie down on the couch. “Let’s go,” He mumbled to Mickey.

“Where the hell are you going?” Lip questioned.

“To get my husband a fucking steak,” The redhead snapped and practically dragged Mickey after him upstairs.

Lip dragged his hands over his face, shaking his head, as he sat down heavily next to his son on the couch.

Yup, the Gallaghers were back.

Chapter Text

Recap

“Jesus Christ, do you have some kind of memory issues or somethin’? You can’t remember what the fuck happened last chapter?” Mickey rolled his eyes and slammed the backdoors of the van shut. “Well, that ain’t my problem, fuckhead, so either catch up or click out. I don’t have time to hold your hand through this shit.”

Ian opened the door on the driver’s side. “The only hand you’re holding is mine.”

Mickey tried to hold back a smile, but was failing quite spectacularly. “Needy bastard.”

Lip

The Bike Vault was a small motorcycle repair shop which was considerably smaller than Born Free, but it did the trick. It fit what they needed for the small clientele Lip and Brad had acquired. The shop was empty and quiet except for the sound of Lip furiously putting together the brakes on the motorcycle he was fixing up. He had almost gotten it properly in place when he dropped his tool on the floor with a loud metal bang. It had just turned into one of those days where the smallest inconvenience felt like the biggest problem in the world, making him groan out loud.

“Practicing your bike sounds?” Brad teased as he came wandering back to his own project bike with a cup of coffee in his hand.

Lip sighed, shaking his head. “More like about to let one run over me.”

“Uh oh. Trouble in Fort Gallagher?”

“When is there not?” Lip mumbled as he continued working a little more calmly. “It’s a full house for the first time in… Fuck, I can’t even remember. We’re short on parents, but that was never really something we ever had, anyway.”

“Plus, you’ve got little ones running around now,” Brad added, sitting down heavily next to his bike. “That’s added chaos right there. How’d the meeting with their Aunt Fiona go?”

“Started out good. Fred was shy, but Kimmie is Kimmie. She could talk to an acorn and get it to be her friend.” He smiled a little and looked over at his business partner. “You know, she reminds me of Fiona sometimes. How she’s so unafraid and straightforward. I mean, all the women in our family are tough as nails, but Fiona especially, you know? The bossy attitude, too, for better or worse.”

Brad shrugged a shoulder. “Well, that temper of hers, that’s all you, buddy.”

“Fuck no, that’s a thousand percent Tami,” Lip protested. “If Fred touches one of her toys, fucking World War three breaks loose.”

“Kids, man.” He sighed and turned to his bike.

Lip hesitated for a moment while he stared at the blank chrome of the motorcycle. “Hey, do you remember when I was trying to sell the house? Do you think it was a good idea?”

“Why? You planning on trying it again?”

“I think I’d actually get stabbed to death if I did.” He shook his head and exhaled a long breath. “Also, I don’t exactly have any other places to go at the moment. Sorta stuck in that house forever, apparently.”

“And is that a bad thing?”

Lip sighed with a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. The kids having one parent here, one parent there isn’t exactly optimal, but…”

Brad suddenly tossed an oily rag at him from across the small repair shop. “You did what you thought was right at the time. Maybe it didn’t work out the way you planned, but hey, you’ve at least got a roof over your head and not in a court settlement about assets and mortgage loans.”

“Yeah, right, thanks for the brightside,” He replied sarcastically.

“Any time.”

Fiona

The motel room was not high-end by any standards, but it was the closest that could take them in on such short notice and didn’t break the bank in the process. Fiona wouldn’t have shone a blacklight on any surfaces to save her life. Just sitting on the bedding, much less sleep under it, was something she didn’t really want to think about doing. Not that she had much brainpower to spare on it, anyway. There were a lot of things floating inside her brain which occupied her attention.

“Can you believe him?” She ranted on. “He was just going to sell the house! Without even talking to me about it! The fucking nerve on that guy!”

“Yeah,” Mike responded while trying to get the ancient TV to show something else than static. “But he couldn’t have even if had wanted to, right? It’s still under your name. None of them could have sold it.”

“No, but that was probably his plan, you know? Get them all on his side to outnumber me and so I wouldn’t have a choice but to agree.” She huffed and dragged her fingers through her curls. “He knows I wouldn’t have had a foot to stand on if all of them were on the same page. Fucking unbeliev—And Debbie!” She abruptly exclaimed. “All that money—money which was supposed to help them, she completely managed to screw up! And—and none of them told me any of it! Nothing!”

“They probably didn’t want to worry you.”

She scoffed. “More like icing me out.”

“Well,” Mike spoke and turned around to face her, leaning his back against the dresser where the TV was placed. “Can you blame them?”

Fiona’s forehead creased. “What?”

“Five years is a long time, Fiona.”

“But—”

“And didn’t you leave for exactly this? To not have to be in charge of everything around here?”

“Yeah, like raising kids, cooking, keeping the peace, Frank,” She argued. “Not be excluded completely in decisions that actually matter.”

Mike looked confused at her. “Why does this bother you so much? You don’t live in that house anymore.”

Fiona opened her mouth to continue down the path of feeling excluded and the principle of it all, but she stopped herself. It was a part of it, yes, but not the whole truth. “I spent my entire life trying to keep that roof over our heads. I put so much effort into that house, raised all the kids in that house. Since I was nine, I’ve kept our lives going there, and they want to get rid of it like it doesn’t mean a thing to any of them. And yeah, maybe I would have said yes to sell it, but they didn’t even tell me about it, like everything I’ve done didn’t give me a right to at least cast my vote.” She pulled her knees up to her chest. “I can go as far away as I want, but it’s still home, you know?”

Mike put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side and kissed the top of her head. “Shouldn’t you be telling Lip all this?”

Fiona scoffed. “Hell no. He can burn right now for all I care,” She responded before she fell silent for a few seconds. “His kids are adorable, though. Fuck… Lip has kids. Lip. The boy who hung his underwear out the window to airdry in the middle of winter.”

“Industrious.”

She exhaled a laugh and nudged her boyfriend in his side. “And Franny is eight now, and Liam? He’s a man! Carl’s a cop. Ian’s married. Debbie… Well, Debbie is still Debbie, I guess. They’ve all grown up so much.”

“Yeah. It tends to happen.”

As Fiona snuggled into Mike’s side, she realized how long five years really was.

Liam, Debbie, & Carl

“I can’t believe nobody ever told her about the house and the money,” Liam said as he heated up leftovers in the microwave.

“It was none of her business anymore,” Debbie stated while folding laundry out of the dryer. “She made that very clear when she left us all behind.”

“She did call,” Carl pointed out.

“I not like peas,” Kimmie stated grumpily and tried to twist away from the spoonful her Uncle Carl was trying to get into her. “Yucky!”

“You have to eat your peas, Kim,” He tried to coax her. “Don’t you wanna grow to be big and strong like me?”

Debbie huffed, earning a glare from her younger brother. “You hate peas.”

“She doesn’t know that.”

“Where did aunt Fifi go?” Fred questioned from his seat on the other side of his sister. The little boy was much less fussy and picky about his food as he quietly shoved spoon after spoon into his mouth.

“Probably back to whatever country she was gracious enough to take a break from,” Debbie responded.

Liam gave her a look. “She’ll come back. She wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Debbie sighed quietly. “She did last time,” She mumbled and slammed down a shirt a little too harshly onto the pile.

“What are you planning on doing about this?” The youngest Gallagher sibling questioned, holding up Franny’s drawing. “Hang it up on the fridge?”

“I can’t believe she wants to be like Frank,” Carl chimed in, clearly finding the idea funny.

“The guidance counsellor said I should talk to Franny about it,” Debbie imparted and sighed. “That Frank’s death might’ve had an impact on her or something. She did like him, I guess, and he had that weird thing about being good with his grandkids.”

“He wasn’t all bad all the time,” Liam stated.

Both Carl and Debbie scoffed at that. They had enough memories of Frank to the contrary.

Debbie

Although Debbie had fought tooth and nail to keep the Gallagher house all those years ago, even she had to admit that she missed the ability to have personal space. The current living arrangements, no matter how temporary they might be, reminded her of when she had to share a room with Liam. She’d protested loudly against that, too. Now, though, she had to share the same room with her own creation.

“Knock, knock.” Debbie opened the door to their shared bedroom. Franny looked up from the floor where she was doing her homework. “Hey.”

“Hi,” The redheaded girl responded.

“Mind if I come in?”

Franny didn’t respond, but didn’t protest either as Debbie sat down on the floor across from her. It was hard to believe sometimes that the little girl she had given birth to on the kitchen table was growing up so fast. The hard part about Franny growing up was that Debbie was realizing that she had no idea how to parent. Not when it came to talking about stuff that really mattered. The only parenting she had ever known was keeping everyone alive – not so much emotional intelligence. When feelings started getting involved in the conversation, yelling usually followed in the Gallagher house.

But Debbie had to try. “You wanna tell me what you talked about with your guidance counsellor?”

“Nothing,” Franny mumbled, twirling a pencil between her fingers.

“Nothing?” She repeated. “Fran, she told me she thought you didn’t have any friends at school. Is that true?”

Franny just shrugged.

Debbie reached out a hand to lay on her daughter’s knee. “Baby, you know you can talk to me—”

“No, I can’t,” She stated.

“Of course, you can—”

“No, I can’t,” Franny repeated. The frustration in the girl’s voice and face was clear as the sky outside was darkening. “You’re never home.”

Debbie stifled a sigh. She’d heard that enough times for one day. “Franny, I have to work.”

“All the time? Other parents don’t have to.”

“That’s because I’m doing this on my own—”

“Uncle Lip is alone too, but he’s home,” Franny pointed out.

“Uncle Lip has his own business—”

“So do you.”

“And a business partner. I run everything by myself!”

“What about when you don’t work?” The girl questioned angrily. “When you just don’t come home one night? Can I talk to you then, too?”

“Franny, you can always talk to—"

“No, I can’t!” Suddenly, Franny pushed her homework off her lap and got to her feet. “I can’t because you’re never home, mama! You’re never here! If you are, you’re always tired, or busy with a new girlfriend, or helping somebody with something! You don’t even know anything about me!”

Debbie looked horrified up at her daughter. “Franny, I—”

“I wish Uncle Mickey and Uncle Ian were my parents,” Franny grumbled and stomped out of the room.

The bedroom door slammed shut after her, leaving Debbie alone and in shock.

Ian & Mickey

The day wasn’t over yet, but the sky was already dark and the streetlights had turned on to light up the road in uneven yellow light. It was cold again that evening, making small clouds appear with every exhale. The neighborhood was quiet except for the occasional car passing or dog barking. On any other night that might’ve been a nice evening for a stroll, but as the married couple walked hand in hand down the sidewalk, one was stuck in his thoughts and the other was stuck on the outside watching.

“Alright, that’s it,” Mickey spoke and stopped.

Ian blinked himself to the present. “What?”

“You’ve been mute all night, man. It’s freakin’ me the fuck out.”

That only made the redhead confused. “What?”

“Usually after a fight with any of your siblings, you’ll talk and rant until I get your tongue busy doin’ somethin’ else, but this…” Mickey motioned a hand towards Ian. “You all silent and thoughtful is givin’ me fuckin’ anxiety.”

“I’m fine,” Ian responded.

“Oh, so we’re lyin’, too, now.”

“It’s nothing to talk about.”

Mickey scoffed. “When do you have nothin’ to talk about?”

Ian shook his head and sighed as they started walking again. “It’s such an old issue, but it’s all being dug up again because no one told Fiona anything. We all thought she wouldn’t care one way or another. I mean, she did leave. That doesn’t really scream that she gave a shit about the house.”

“Well, it is her house. Legally, at the very least.”

“Yeah, but she wasn’t around. That sorta changes things, right?”

“Yeah, if Fiona was around then maybe she could’ve talked your smartass brother out of sellin’ in the first place.”

The redhead abruptly stopped in his tracks. “What? You agreed to sell!”

Mickey shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, but only after you got all excited about movin’ to the fuckin’ Westside. My vote against wasn’t gonna stop anything.”

“That’s not true.”

“’Course, it is!”

“If you had said no, I would have, too,” Ian stated.

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “I did say no.”

“You said no to the Westside.”

He waved a hand. “Same shit.”

“You called the house a shithole!”

“All the places around here are shitholes.”

Ian looked confused at his husband. “I don’t get it. Why are you so determined to stay here? And don’t say it’s because of pressure and shit because you did so well when we settled in on the Westside.”

Mickey paused and chewed on his lips for a second as if to consider his words. “It’s home, alright?”

“Mick, this will always be home—”

“No, see, you don’t get it,” He interrupted. “Not just the Southside. I don’t know if you remember, big guy, but my house wasn’t exactly out of a ninety’s sit-com. Your house was the first home I ever had. Those weeks I stayed with you back in the day, I felt fuckin’…safe or whatever. When we got back out of prison, that house was our home. When you skipped out in the courthouse, I had to find the best option with a place to stay because I had no other place to go. Back to my house was never a fuckin’ option, so Barry it was.”

“Byron,” Ian corrected silently.

Mickey gave him a look. “Point is, the house, yeah, it means somethin’, but if we didn’t have that, then we at least could still have been on the Southside, you know? It could still be the same, but we could swing the Westside at the time and shit started changing.”

Ian shook his head vaguely. “Nothing changed, Mick.”

He scoffed and started walking again. “Right, like you didn’t walk around with yoga mats and other life-altering plans in that brain of yours.”

“You mean kids,” Ian stated, staring at his husband’s reaction. Mickey didn’t even glance back. “We talked about this!”

“No, you talked about this. I said what I thought.”

“That you’d be a shitty dad? That’s bullshit and you know it!” Ian protested. “You’re great with Liam and Franny, and Kimmie and Fred!”

“Well, they’re not my fuckin’ kids, are they?”

Ian stopped walking again to stare at Mickey. “Tell me, if we hadn’t gotten busy with the business, would you have agreed to have kids?”

Mickey stared right back at his husband, but his eyes flickered away first from Ian’s expectant gaze. Before Ian could either argue more or stomp away angrily, somebody else stepped in as if heaven sent to defuse the situation.

“Woah, have you been married for four years or forty?” The men tore their eyes away from each other to meet the sight of Mandy. The blonde smiled at them from where she stood outside the gate of the Gallagher house.

“Holy shit!” Ian exclaimed. He was the first to move and almost knocked his best friend down as he practically threw himself to hug her.

Chapter Text

Recap

“You’re gonna have to start writing shit down, pal,” Carl while pouring milk into his cereal. “Next time, if you can’t remember what happened last chapter, I’m gonna find your family, plant false evidence in their house, and frame them for fucking murder. Got that?”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed wholeheartedly, crossing his arms over his chest next to his uncle.

“But, this time, we’ll go easy on ‘ya,” Carl continued. “Just keep reading. See if anything sticks.”

Ian, Carl, Debbie, Mickey, Mandy, & Lip

“And that’s when I ended up in Manhattan for, like, a week in this huge hotel room with a view over the city and a Cartier bracelet,” Mandy concluded to her captivated audience around the kitchen table.

“Wow,” Carl responded, borderline amazed. “You get paid to hang out with people and fuck them?”

Mandy shifted a little in her chair. “Well…something like that.”

He turned to Debbie. “And you do that for free?”

The redheaded sister reached over and smacked him in the head. “You’re so not funny, asshole.”

“Yeah, can we not talk about the details of your little business venture?” Mickey chimed in. “I’d rather not have those fuckin’ mental pictures, thanks.” He was much less comfortable hearing about his sister’s private life than the others who were not blood-related to the woman.

Mandy scoffed. “Like I don’t have enough trauma from back in the day with you two on the other side of the wall.”

Debbie huffed along with Carl. “We’re right there with you.”

Ian and Mickey rolled their eyes, but couldn’t actually deny it. They knew who they were and what they did. Volume control was a big enough issue for them without the paper-thin walls of the Gallagher house.

“You’re not gonna have to arrest me or anything, are you?” Mandy questioned Carl hesitatingly. The way she earned her money wasn’t exactly the ways of an upstanding citizen.

“Nah,” He responded. “I’m on desk-duty, anyway. Speaking of, I should probably head to bed. Have to get ready for yet another exciting day of stapling and filing.” His sarcasm was very clear, but waved good night to his family before heading up.

“Yeah, I should probably do the same,” Debbie spoke, getting to her feet. “If Franny let’s me in the room, that is.”

“You tried talking to her?” Ian questioned.

“Yup, turns out I’m impossible to talk to and she wishes you and Mickey were her parents.”

“What?” Mickey and Ian exclaimed collectively.

Debbie raised her chin at the couple. “You must feel so proud, don’t you? Being a better parent to my kid? Forget how I carried her for nine months, gave birth right on this table…” Mickey instantly removed his hands from the surface with a scrunched-up expression on his face. “Fed her, clothed her, bathed her, work my ass of for her. Nope, you’re just the golden duo. Hey, why don’t I just print out the adoption papers right now? We can have it done by morning!”

Ian gave his sarcastic and annoyed sister a look. “Debbie, it’s not our fault that—”

“No, it’s just my fault like it always is,” Debbie muttered. “Good night.”

The remaining group watched the mother stomp up the stairs. “What was that all about?” Mandy questioned.

Ian waved a hand dismissively. “Generational bad parenting.”

“Yeah, we know all about that,” She responded, sharing a look with her brother.

Before Ian could even begin to move into that territory with his husband, Mickey stood up. “I’m gonna crash, too. Been a long day.”

The redhead stared after him as Mickey ventured upstairs. He had to stop himself from sighing out loud at the obvious topic avoidance.

“You guys okay?” Mandy asked.

“Yeah,” Ian exhaled and nodded. “Yeah, just…kids.”

“What about them?”

“I want ‘em. He doesn’t.”

“Oh.” Mandy pursed her lips. “Tried talking to him about it?”

Ian breathed out a laugh. “Mickey’s not exactly the guy who willingly sits down to talk about his feelings. Getting him to say what he actually thinks is like prying open a car door with a Twizzler.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” She responded. “How is it? Being married? You’ve managed four years, so there’s gotta be something between you, right?”

“It’s got its ups and downs.” He smiled, but it faded a little while his eyes locked onto his hands on the table. “For about the first year and a half, I didn’t think we were actually going make it much longer. We were constantly fighting, we never agreed on anything. We hadn’t actually discussed what our marriage was going to look like before we did it. It was sorta figured out on the fly which resulted in some…dumb decisions.”

“Like what?”

“Like bringing other men into the mix.”

Mandy’s eyebrows flew up. “Mickey said yes to fuck other people? The man who lost his shit when other guys even just looked at you back in your club dancing days?”

“Yeah.” Ian nodded vaguely. “Yeah, I think I kinda planted the idea in his head that it was what I wanted and he went along with it. I mean, it worked for a little while, but…” He smiled at his best friend across the table. “He’s all mine, you know? And he’s not the only one to get jealous, either. I waited so long to finally have him. Watching him be with other people is like having run a marathon and then have to share first place with a bunch of fucking twinks who barely even crossed the starting line.”

She smiled back at him. “So, no more dudes?”

“No more dudes,” He confirmed. “Just us.”

“And how is it now?”

“Better than ever.” Ian smiled even bigger. “I mean, a minor setback was having to move back in here, but Mickey is happier on the Southside, so if he’s good, I’m good. We’ve always just worked and we figure shit out eventually. Marriage is no different.”

Mandy reached across the table and took his hand in hers. “Sorry I missed your wedding, Ian.”

“Yeah, sorta difficult to send out an invitation when you don’t have an address,” He joked quietly and squeezed her hand. “It’s fine. We have tons of pictures. The first anniversary is paper, so we got a scrapbook of wedding photos from the family as a present.”

“I wonder what the fifth anniversary is.”

“Wood,” Ian replied immediately. He shrugged a shoulder at Mandy’s amused expression. “Okay, so I might be excited, alright? Sue me.”

She giggled and fell back into her seat, overlooking the lay of the land that was the Gallagher kitchen. “A lot’s changed around here.”

“Yeah,” He agreed as he stretched his legs out in front of him. “But for some reason, everything is kinda like it always has been at the same time.”

“Only we’re not the kids anymore,” She remarked. Her eyes flickered down to the table for a moment. “Lip’s kids, huh?”

“Yup.” Ian nodded slowly, observing the woman’s reaction.

“They’re cute.” She shot him another smile. “They clearly like you.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I’m pretty sure Kimmie likes Mickey better, but I’ve got Fred and Franny on my side, I think. That’s what’s frustrating, though. Mickey can’t see how great he is with all of them. Franny was obsessed with him when she was younger.”

“And their mom?” Mandy asked out of nowhere.

Ian paused as he attempted to catch up on her question. “Split up. Tami lives with another guy now. Lip has the kids every other week.”

“That’s too bad,” She responded without sounding super remorseful.

“Yeah, well, they’re very different. They tried to make it work, but…there’s only so much you can bend and stretch until something snap—”

The backdoor opened, letting in a cold breeze along with Lip’s arrival. The second oldest Gallagher sibling entered, but hesitated in his movements when his gaze fell upon Mandy at the kitchen table. Mandy, equally as frozen as the man, stared right back at him. Ian, however, looked knowingly and uncomfortably between the two as the silence stretched out.

“Good day at work?” The redhead eventually spoke to break the silence, if not to just get Lip moving and finally shut the cold out.

Lip blinked himself out of the staring contest. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

“How’s Brad doing?”

“Good,” He replied absentmindedly. His eyes were still fastened to the blonde. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mandy answered with a small smile.

Ian pursed his lips and stood up. “Right, good talk. I’m gonna go up and sleep next to my passive aggressive husband. Oh, have you heard from Fiona?”

“Uh, no,” Lip responded and finally looked at his brother. “Nothing.”

“Then, Mandy, you can take the basement if you wanna stay,” Ian offered.

“Fiona won’t mind?” She asked.

Ian waved a hand. “Nah, I think that’s the smallest thing she’d be mad about with us right now. Good night.”

He hugged his best friend tightly before he more or less pushed Lip ahead of him up the stairs. Ian was sure if he had left them to it, the ex-couple could have stood there and stared at each other in complete silence for hours.

“Alright, alright, I can walk on my own,” Lip protested and shrugged Ian’s hands off of him when they reached the second floor.

“Can you?” Ian half-teased and half-challenged.

Lip only gave him a middle finger before the separated into their own rooms. The older brother poked his head into the boys room to make sure Fred was asleep in Liam’s old bed. Tucked into his racecar sheets, Freddie had his eyes closed and an arm wrapped around the neck of his teddy bear. Liam was fast asleep in the bunk bed and Carl was tangled in the sheets of Ian’s old bed. All was quiet and calm. Lip went to his own room, sliding the accordion door open as silently as possible, and found his daughter curled up against the wall with her own teddy bear – well, teddy deer as it was a plush of Bambi – in her arms. The nightlight on the dresser bathed the room in a soft yellow light which Lip hated, but had to tolerate for the sake of Kimmie. With a sigh, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. There was too much going on, and Mandy Milkovich was two floors below him.

Ian entered his and Mickey’s (hopefully) temporary bedroom. It was pitch black in there. He had to do everything to not to bang his limbs on anything while trying to get undressed. After having succeeded without gaining any bruises, he climbed into bed behind his husband. Ian stared at the back of Mickey’s head, contemplating on just turning his own back and let that be it for the day. He was still annoyed with Mickey’s avoidance and ignorance of his own childcare abilities. However, Ian was a sucker for his husband and they could fight again tomorrow.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss against Mickey’s neck. “Bitch,” He whispered.

Mickey scoffed, causing Ian to smile as he settled on his back and closed his eyes.

Liam

As soon as Lip had closed the door to the boys’ room, Liam looked at his phone again underneath the covers.

Shawn: It’s really easy

Liam: Doesn’t mean we should do it

Shawn: Where’s your sense of adventure???

Marcus: Probably where your sense of danger is

Isaac: I don’t know. Sounds kinda fun

Liam: Stealing from people’s homes sounds fun?

Isaac: The having expensive shit part, yeah

Shawn: That’s the spirit! Nobody’s gonna know we were even there, alright?

Liam: How do you know?

Shawn: I’ve cased the joint. I know the perfect spot for you beginners

Liam: How many of these places have you done?!

Shawn: Let’s just say I’ve got more than one Rolex

Isaac: Come on, guys, don’t be such pussies

Marcus: And if we get caught?

Shawn: We won’t get caught

Marcus: Said every person in prison for robbery ever

Shawn: Liam, you in?

Liam looked at the screen before he turned it off and stared up at the ceiling.

Everybody

The Gallagher house was in full swing the following morning with a familiar sense of chaos embracing them all. Everyone was trying to get everywhere while attempting to not knock somebody over or step on anybody’s toes. People had things to do and places to be and not a whole lot of time.

“Fred, granola or muesli?” Lip asked his son over the chatter of the room. The little boy, however, was more fascinated by the toy cars he droved across the kitchen table along with Franny and Mandy.

Mickey scrunched his nose by the coffeemaker. “The fuck you feedin’ the kid sawdust for?”

“Tami’s on a health kick,” He explained with a small sigh. “Supposed to be good for people, I guess.”

“Huh, maybe we should hook these two up,” Mickey responded and gave Ian a pat on the shoulder while the redhead rummaged through the fridge. “He’s constantly on about vegetables and shit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I wanna live a long and healthy life with you, Mickey,” Ian spoke sarcastically as he pulled out the jug of milk. “Having to bury you in the next few years isn’t exactly on my agenda.”

“Ay, we grew up on beer, cigarettes, and artificial coloring,” Mickey argued. “Nobody’s gonna croak ‘cause of some Lucky Charms.”

“Fuck it,” Lip mumbled and grabbed the forementioned pack of Lucky Charms to pour into two bowls for his kids.

“Hey, Mickey,” Liam spoke while retrieving his toast from the toaster. “How long is the prison sentence for breaking and entering?”

“Five years. Tops,” He responded instantly.

Ian gave his husband a look. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned about how fast you recall shit like this.”

Mickey just shrugged, turning back to his brother-in-law. “Why the interest?”

“No reason,” Liam quickly answered and hurried away.

Debbie came down the stairs with a laundry basket in her arms. “For the last time, I’m not your maid.” A hoodie was promptly tossed at Ian. “Do you own washing or pay up.”

“We can pay you to do our laundry?” Carl questioned upon entering from the living room.

“No!”

“There’s only two laundry baskets, Debs,” Ian responded. “You can’t claim one in a house of currently eleven people.”

“I can when my name is on it.” Debbie twisted the basket to show her name in faded Sharpie markings.

“Fiona should have kept the laundromat,” Liam chimed in from the counter.

“Fiona had a laundromat?” Mandy asked.

“Wendell’s. Briefly,” Carl answered as he sat down next to Liam and stole a forkful of his younger brother’s eggs. Liam only grimaced at the invasion of his food.

A clang abruptly sounded through the room as Kimmie managed to send her bowl of Lucky Charms to the floor, but not without most of the content ending up on herself. It only put a beat of silence over the large group, however, before talking resumed.

“Oupsi,” The little girl spoke, waving her plastic spoon in her fist.

“Shhhh….shoot, Kim,” Lip corrected himself as he quickly came to his daughter’s aid. He grabbed her from her seat, milk and cereal spilling from her clothes, and handed her over to the closest person available which just happened to be Mickey “Here. Hold her for a sec.”

“Ah—for fuck’s—my shirt, man,” Mickey complained. Still, he held his niece on one arm and replaced the coffee cup in his other hand for the paper towels Ian handed him.

“Icky,” The little girl said, patting a hand onto her soaked clothes.

“That’s why we put our food in our mouths, tiny tot,” Mickey said. While he tried to dry off both Kimmie and himself, he couldn’t help but notice the staring eyes of his husband. “Not a fuckin’ word.”

Ian didn’t say anything as he sipped his own coffee, but he didn’t stop staring at his husband in childcare mode.

Fiona entered the kitchen as she pulled off her hat and gloves. “Woah, full house. Just like old times.”

“You back to yell at us some more?” Debbie questioned while she stuffed clothes into the washer.

“No, Debbie, I’m not,” The oldest sibling responded as a matter of fact. “I’m sure you all know the extent of your own dumb decisions and don’t need me to tell you. You’re all adults now. I’m just here to spend some time with Liam, my nieces, and nephew. Unless I’m barred from being included with them, too.”

Lip and Debbie shared a look, but didn’t say anything.

Liam jumped down from his seat. “I’m going to meet some friends, but you can walk with me if you want, I guess.”

“Great!” Fiona replied. “Franny?”

The youngest redhead took her plate and headed for the sink. “I can show you what I’ve been working on in art class for the exhibition.”

“Absolutely,” She agreed before meeting Lip’s eyes, tilting her head to the side. “Lip.” It was maybe more of a soft plea than anything.

Lip stared at her for a moment before he nodded vaguely.

Fiona & Liam

Bundled up Freddie and Kimmie were walking ahead down the street with Franny while Fiona and Liam trailed after them. The gray clouds were separating just a little above to give the blue sky a peak down. However, no snow and no rain were in sight.

“When did Mandy Milkovich come here?”

“Last night,” Liam explained. “Something about wanting to visit the newlyweds. They’re not really newlywed, though. They sound like they’ve been married for decades.”

Fiona nodded. “Yeah, they’ve always kinda been like that, from what I can remember. Never really thought they’d actually tie the knot, though. That was surprising.”

Liam shrugged. “Not really. Who else would be able to handle the two of them?”

“Good point.” She chuckled lightly. “How do you think marriage has been treating them?”

“Don’t know. They’re not divorced yet, so…”

“And how is Lip and Tami doing with all this co-parenting stuff?”

“Okay, I think.”

“And is Debbie’s business—"

He gave his big sister a look. “Shouldn’t you be asking them about this?”

Fiona smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. “You don’t wanna be my spy into all their lives?”

“I could, but I can’t give you better answers than they could themselves.”

She sighed, shaking her head a little. “I don’t really feel like going over everything with them right now. I doubt they’d be in the mood, either.”

“You’re all just angry because you all think you’re right,” He pointed out casually.

“We’re not?” Fiona asked amused.

“Yes. And no. It’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” She exhaled. “Tell me about it.” The sister looked down at her brother, a crease appearing between her brows. “Why didn’t you tell me about everything that was going on?”

“Was kinda busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“School, finding a place to live, Frank,” Liam recounted.

That only seemed to make Fiona more confused. “Finding a place to live?”

“Yeah, I didn’t really know where I would fit into the picture if we did sell the house. Lip told me I’d live with him and Tami, though, but…we never got that far.”

“Oh.” She was quiet for a second before she asked her second question. “Frank?”

Liam shrugged again. “Somebody had to take care of him. Nobody else cared.”

“They put that on you?” She questioned in surprise.

“They didn’t put it on me, but someone had to,” He answered. “He was starting to get really bad at the end. Lip was focused on trying to fix up the house, Ian and Mickey were moving, Debbie had Franny and a girlfriend or something, and Carl was working. I know none of them really cared about what Frank did, but I couldn’t just leave him on his own.”

“You could have,” Fiona said gently.

“You didn’t see him before he died, Fiona.” Liam looked up at his sister. “He was losing it, and, you know…he was still my dad, in a way.”

Fiona smiled softly down at her brother and pulled him against her side while they walked. “Yeah. I get it,” She spoke before kissing the top of his head. And if anyone got it, it was Fiona.

Lip & Mandy

“So,” Mandy spoke as the lights flickered on in the room. “This is where the magic happens.”

The Bike Vault was desolate that morning except for the few motorcycles waiting to be fixed.

“Yep,” Lip responded. “It pays the bills. Keeps me busy.”

“And this?” She nudged a small, blue tricycle with the toe of her boot. “What you ride in your spare time?”

He exhaled a laugh. “No, that’s uh…that’s Fred’s. Sometimes, I gotta take ‘em with if nobody can babysit. If I don’t keep them occupied, they’ll get bored and start playing with things they shouldn’t.”

“Hmm, reminds me of someone,” She teased with a smile over her shoulder as she walked further into the room. “It’s surprising, though.”

“What—me having kids?”

She huffed. “Oh, no. I think you were always destined to be a dad at some point. The question to that was always just who you would eventually knock up.”

Lip ran a hand down his face as he sat down his repair stool next to his current bike project. “Yeah, at one point I was sure it would be you.” He watched Mandy’s gaze move to the dirty floor while she leaned against a tool drawer. “But uh… But if not that, what’s so surprising?”

“This.” She waved a hand in a vague gesture to the room. “Working here. It isn’t exactly the path you were headed down the last time we saw each other.”

“No,” He admitted. “No, it just sorta…happened. Well, that’s not true, actually. There are a lot of reasons on how I ended up here, but…I like it, you know? I’ve always been good at this. Not bikes, specifically, but working with my hands, being on the floor and not behind some corporate desk, building shit. Remember the robot we put together that one summer?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“Well, it’s that only bigger, less breaking into university labs, and no lasers.” He smiled at her laughing. “Though, I’m pretty sure I could figure out how to put a laser on one of these if I wanted to.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” She agreed and tilted her head a little. “You did good, Lip. Really.”

“Thanks,” He responded, eyes flickering down to his intertwined hands for a moment. “Look, Mandy, I’m sorry. I took a lot of things for granted back then, and you were definitely one of those things. You didn’t deserve it. Any of it. I wish I could say I had a reason for—for acting how I did, but I don’t. I was just too caught up in…”

“Karen?” She finished.

He nodded slowly. “That’s one of them, yeah.”

“It’s fine, Lip,” Mandy assured him. “It’s hard getting over your first love. Trust me, I know.” Their eyes met for a brief moment, both of them knowing who her first love was, before she looked away. “And it wasn’t like I went about everything the right way, either. We just…did what we thought was right, I guess.”

“Still…I’m sorry,” Lip repeated.

She smiled softly at him. “Yeah, me too.”

A sudden metallic bang made the two of them jump and immediately look to where Brad was trying to sneak his way into the room. “Morning,” He greeted casually, trying to disguise how he had tried to enter unnoticed. “Don’t let me disturb ‘ya.”

Lip gestured with a hand. “Brad, this is Mandy, Mickey’s sister. Mandy, this is Brad, my business partner and Tami’s brother-in-law.”

Brad huffed. “That’s my introduction?” He shook his head at his friend before he saluted the blonde. “Hey, Mandy. Your brother’s a cool guy.”

Mandy’s expression turned into a mix of amusement and confusion. “Thanks.”

Lip just shook his head as Brad walked away, but winked at Lip as soon as he had gotten out of Mandy’s line of sight.

Chapter Text

Recap

“I’ve been gone eight years and even I know what happened on Shameless last chapter,” Mandy said from her seat on the Gallagher porch staircase and flicked away her cigarette. “You’d better get your head out of your ass and take some fucking reading classes. I’m definitely not going to tell you what happened, so sit down and figure it out as you go, loser.”

Carl

He had never imagined that there was a lot of paperwork in policing. Like, in the movies, everything was fast cars, big guns, bad guys, and sexy women. Never did they show the officers by a desk on their third cup of coffee that morning where the most excitement came from putting in new staples in the stapler. But that was where Carl was. Desk duty. Maybe Mickey and Ian could give him a job. Then, at least, Carl would be able to have a gun.

“Hey, Gallagher! What’s with the long face, huh?”

Carl sighed, keeping his eyes fastened on the computer screen. “Mind your own business, Beatrice.”

“Is that any way of talking to your colleague?”

“When the colleague steals the last donut in the box that was meant for me and never puts more sheets of paper in the copier, then yeah.”

The middle-aged woman huffed at the desk a few steps away from Carl’s. “Is that attitude the reason for your banishment to the land of the desks?”

Carl ignored her and continued typing furiously on the keyboard. He didn’t mind most of his coworkers. Most of them were fine and didn’t bother him too much. Then there were just some assholes that he couldn’t seem to shake no matter what he did. One of them was Officer Markson who loved to tease him about his downgrade to be everyone’s bitch-boy at a desk. The other was Beatrice; fifty-two-years-old, mother of three, Hot Yoga on the weekends, and an addiction to Nicotine gum. Maybe it was wrong to have beef with a woman more than twice his age, but he couldn’t help it. She got on his nerves. Her bitterness of being off the field matched his own, but at least Carl didn’t take it out on her on purpose.

She reached over and slapped him lightly in the shoulder. “Lighten up, kid. It’s a joke. Look at it this way…” The woman leaned back in her chair with a content expression. “We’re in here, safe and sound, and with all the coffee and donuts you can stomach. Let the cocky bastards run around on the streets and get shot in the head. Not that it would do ‘em much damage.” She snorted out a laugh.

“When I signed up for the force, I wasn’t planning on copying and filing all day,” Carl grumbled, slamming a file into the ‘finished’-pile. “This is bullshit.”

“So, you’d rather get shot in the head?”

“If it was in the line of duty to protect a fellow citizen, then yes.”

Beatrice whistled. “Determination, kid. That’s the shit that gives you the key to the goddamn city.” He looked mildly surprised over at the graying brunette at the sort of compliment. She shrugged. “Or an early grave where your body looks so bad, they’ll have to cremate ‘ya.”

Carl rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the computer. He tuned out Beatrice as well as he could and tried to focus on the report he had to file, but his brain was screaming for some action. Any kind. You’d think in a city as crime-ridden as Chicago, they’d want every willing participant out on the streets. Carl knew he could do so much better things in the field than be the fucking desk boy.

He downed the last of his third cup of coffee that day just to have an excuse to go to the breakroom. However, as he pushed himself from his desk and was about to escape his desk neighbor for a few minutes, something caught his attention.

“Cooper, what the hell is the matter with you?” A blonde woman chided a younger boy over by the reception area. She hit him in the shoulder, but it couldn’t have been too hard as they boy just sat there with a pouty expression on his face.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” He responded sullenly.

“Spray painting the fucking bank wasn’t on purpose?” She asked sarcastically. “Get up. We’re going, come on.”

The woman gripped the boy by the arm and hauled him up, and that’s when Carl saw her properly. His heart felt like it stopped mid-beat and his jaw fell open in surprise. His eyes were probably as wide as cueballs. The best part was that when she turned her head, she looked straight at him, too, and her face did the same.

“Bonnie?”

Ian & Mickey

“How ‘bout this?”

Ian looked over at his husband holding up an autobiography of some politician. “For who?” He asked confused.

Mickey shrugged. “Whoever the fuck reads in the house.”

“No one reads in the house,” Ian responded and continued browsing the shelves while pushing the empty cart.

He sighed, dumping the book back on the pile. “Fuckin’ hate Christmas shopping. Everything’s either too expensive or everybody’s too hard to find shit for.”

“You’re complaining? You always find shit for the kids. All you do is pick out something that’s shiny and makes sounds, and they go feral,” Ian complained as he eyed a rolling pin. Debbie hadn’t baked in a long while, but maybe they could coax her to start again. “I, on the other hand, have to figure out what to get for the rest. You just sign your name on the cards.”

“Hey, they’re your siblings, man. Ain’t my responsibility,” Mickey pointed out. “But the kids are our nieces and nephew. Plus, you just sign their cards, too, so you really don’t have a leg to stand on here, Santa Claus.”

“Technically, they’re your siblings, as well.”

Mickey gave his husband a look. “In-laws.”

“Speaking of siblings,” Ian started as he looked at a new coffeemaker. It would be a nice present that everyone could use, but the redhead immediately put it back once he saw the price tag. “D’you think Mandy’s staying for Christmas?”

He shrugged. “Fuck should I know?”

“She’s your sister.”

“Your in-law,” Mickey countered. “I don’t know, man. With how she’s ogling Mr. Fix-It, I wouldn’t exactly be shocked if what we get for Christmas is another pair of grabby hands to find presents for next year.”

Ian’s brows creased together. “If they got together, would that make us in-laws?”

“Fuck no,” He replied instantly. “We got married first. They’d be the fuckin’ weird ones.”

The redhead smiled at his husband, but it faded once another thought struck him. “Do you really think they’d have kids?”

Mickey shrugged a shoulder while twisting around a teakettle in his hands. “Knowing Lip, it wouldn’t exactly be a planned-out thing.”

“So, he’d have three and we’d have none.”

“Ay, what about giving Liam that fancy-ass calculator we saw?” Mickey spoke, completely ignoring Ian’s statement. “The kid’s a nerd, but someone in the family needs to keep their brains in the right spot.”

“Mickey.”

“Yeah.”

Ian gave him a look. “Stop avoiding the topic.”

He exhaled a laugh, scratching his eyebrow which Ian knew he did when he felt uncomfortable. “I ain’t avoiding shit, carrot top.”

“Every time ‘kids’ is brought up, you switch the subject or ignore it completely!”

“’Cause there ain’t nothin’ to talk about.”

He started walking away, but Ian followed. “Yeah, well, I say there is. Actually, I have a lot of shit to say.”

Mickey finally faced him, eyebrows raised. “Then can we not talk about this at the fuckin’ Target?”

“Fine—No. No, let’s talk about this at the fucking Target,” Ian responded.

“Oh, you wanna get on the loudspeaker, too? How ‘bout gatherin’ up the masses and do a fuckin’ poll while we’re at it?”

“No, but you can’t run off from me here because I’ve got the car keys.”

Mickey shook his head and started walking away again. “Fuck you, Gallagher.”

Ian followed with the cart. “Tell me why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you don’t want kids. You’d be a shitty dad? Fuck that, that’s not true.” He ignored the looks from an old lady coming down the opposite direction. If she had dared to say anything offensive, Ian could not have been responsible for his actions in that moment. “There’s a reason why you’re the one who always picks out Christmas and birthday presents for the kids, and why Franny always shows you her art first, and why Fred loves to show you his toys, and why whenever Kimmie falls and scrapes her knees when Lip’s not around, she wants you to help her.”

“Yeah, why’s that?” Mickey responded without turning.

“Because you’re fucking great with kids and you know it.”

Mickey scoffed. “Ever think that it’s ‘cause they’ve already got shitty parents? The standards ain’t sky-high, Ian.”

“Fuck you. Even if that was true, it doesn’t change the fact that you’d be an amazing dad, Mickey. Being a good parent is difficult. It’s a skill. A skill that you already have.”

“Why the fuck are you so hellbent on havin’ your own damn screamer, huh? There ain’t enough of ‘em runnin’ around at home already?”

“Because I want a family, Mick!” Ian argued. “My own! And since I married you, that sorta has to include you!”

“You gonna divorce me if I say no?”

“Don’t even fucking joke about that,” Ian responded, growing increasingly angrier, but took a breath to calm himself. “Mickey, we can do this. We’ll get our own place and—"

He stopped and turned around again to look at Ian. “What pink fuckin’ cloud are you living on? Decent parenting isn’t exactly a Milkovich family trait!”

Ian scoffed. “And it’s a Gallagher one?”

“No, shut up and listen.” Mickey stepped closer to his husband and lowered his voice, but not the intensity. “We’ve been down this road before, remember? We did have a kid and it was a fuckin’ trainwreck.” He noticed Ian’s eyes flicker to the floor. Mickey sighed. “Look, I know you don’t like talkin’ about it—”

“I can talk about it, s’just… I don’t remember too much about that time,” Ian spoke quietly, but met his husband’s eyes again. “But you did okay with Yevgeny, Mickey—”

“Fuck that, I barely gave the kid the time of day,” Mickey interrupted.

“You were nineteen—You didn’t ask for him, for any of that! No one would blame you.”

“I know, but that’s not the point.” Mickey locked eyes with Ian. “I’d be a crap dad for a lot of reasons, but the biggest being that never in this fuckin’ life will I ever put anything or anyone above you. I will always take care of you first and everyone else comes second. I didn’t do that properly for you back in the day during your episodes. I tried to do everything all at fuckin’ once when I should have been focusing on you completely and you can’t do that shit when you’ve got a fuckin’ kid depending on you for everything. Livin’ with kids that ain’t even ours is fuckin’ exhausting as it is, but we can hand ‘em back when the day is over. That ain’t an option if we have our own.”

Ian stared at him. “So, it’s my fault. The fucking bipolar—”

“It’s not a damn fault, Ian, and it’s definitely not yours!” Mickey interjected. “Look, I love you. I love you and you will always come first to me. I fucked up for you back then and I won’t do it again.”

Ian shook his head and pushed the cart away. “Fuck this.”

“Ian—” Mickey started, but the man was already walking away. He dragged a hand across his face. “Fuck…”

Liam

“Are you sure about this?” Marcus questioned carefully.

The group of four boys stood on the sidewalk on the other side of the house, staring at the big windows and tall gate. They were definitely not on the Southside anymore. Every house had a yard and fences that stretched as long as Liam’s block back home. It reminded him of the house that Frank had broken into that had belonged to that psycho chick with the Rolls Royce. Only, now it wasn’t his father that was about to commit something criminal. It was Liam.

“If you’re scared, Mac, you know the way home,” Shawn said, slapping a hand down onto his friend’s shoulder.

“This is a dumb idea,” Liam said, shaking his head.

“Aren’t you Frank’s kid?” Isaac teased. “This should be in your blood, right?”

Shawn chuckled. “Liam should be an expert on this shit by now.”

“I haven’t been too involved in the family business,” Liam responded.

“Wasn’t your brother in prison?” Marcus asked.

“Not for robbery.”

“Come on, don’t be such pussies,” Shawn said and nodded his head for the group to follow.

Isaac was one step behind while Marcus and Liam hesitated. Surprisingly, Marcus followed as well, leaving Liam to hesitate. He knew this was stupid. Of course, he did. Liam had seen enough family members in jail and prison to last him a lifetime and it probably should have put the fear of the law in him by now. Carl never shut up about how fun it was to lock criminals in the cells overnight. Still, Carl also spoke very fondly of his time in juvie, too, so…

“Liam! You coming?” Isaac called.

Liam shook his head and crossed the road towards them.

Shawn punched in the code, the numbers giving small beeps with every press, until a buzzing noise sounded. The gate began to roll open. “Voila.”

Together, the group quickly entered onto the property. The lawn was neatly trimmed all the way up to the front door. Liam did have a hope that the people who lived there had enough sense of self-preservation to have locked the door, but as soon as Isaac pushed down the doorhandle, the door opened.

“Told you,” Shawn said, clearly happy. “Rich assholes never lock their doors.”

Confidently, the boy strode in and the rest followed into the modern house. Liam’s stomach was in knots as he walked inside. It felt very wrong to be there, but it wasn’t like he was the first Gallagher to have done something illegal. He couldn’t point to a single one of his siblings that hadn’t done something that could have potentially landed them in jail. All of them were equally as bad, if not worse, than Liam.

“Hey! Check this out!” Isaac called out in a hushed voice. He was holding up a small statue of a golden lion. “How much d’you think this one’s worth?”

Marcus grabbed it and turned it upside down. “Made in China, dipshit.”

“Might be old and valuable.”

“Produced in 2020.”

Isaac gave his friend a look and placed the object down again.

“Nah, fellas, this is old and valuable.” Shawn held up a bottle of wine of some kind. “We can sell this for a lot of money to the guy on Halsted.”

“Didn’t he shut down ‘cause of rats?” Liam questioned skeptically.

“Re-opened,” He responded casually.

“And the rats?”

“Still there.”

Liam grimaced. “Okay, fine. Can we go now?”

“Why? Scared?” Isaac teased.

“Fuck off, okay?” Marcus chimed in. “I agree with Liam. We should go.”

“Relax, alright?” Shawn spoke. “I told you. The people who live here are out of town, so no one’s—”

“Hey!” A loud voice called out, echoing in the big room. The boys immediately turned to stand face to face with a tall man with a very angry expression.

As a series of Spanish words were being spewed rapidly and furiously at them, Liam knew they had fucked up.

Debbie

The front door opened and closed, but no one shouted out any sort of greeting. That’s how Debbie knew it was her daughter who had come home. Only she could hold a grudge like Debbie herself and give the entire world the silent treatment. Well, maybe not the entire world, but at least her mother.

“Hey,” Debbie greeted from the kitchen table as the little redhead who came shuffling into the room.

Franny only looked at her mom as she dumped her art folder onto the counter, then headed for the fridge.

“You can’t even say hi to me?”

“Hi,” She mumbled, pulling out the jug of juice.

“How was art class?”

No response.

“Did you learn anything new?”

Nothing. Instead, Franny poured juice into a cup and downed the liquid before she placed the jug back into the fridge and headed upstairs. Debbie sighed and pushed her paperwork away from herself. Her first instinct was to get angry and give the silent treatment right back to the girl, but she had to remind herself of something. She was Franny’s mom. Now, Debbie had no clue what that really meant. Monica hadn’t exactly given her any good pointers on that role, but…

The backdoor suddenly opened and in came Debbie’s niece and nephew. “Hi, aunt Debbie,” Fred said.

“Hey, Freddie.” She glanced up at Fiona who came in right behind them. There was no real warmth exchanged in the brief eye contact. “Did you have fun with aunt Fiona?”

“Yeah,” The boy answered, trying to unzip his jacket with his gloves still on.

“Where daddy?” Kimmie questioned while looking around the room.

“He’s not home yet, Kim.”

“Okay, monkeys,” Fiona spoke and lowered herself onto her knees. “Let’s get you out of all of these clothes, huh?”

Debbie watched Fiona with the small children out of the corner of her eye. The woman spoke so easily and expertly to them like she had a degree in childcare. She probably did, after all these years. If anyone knew how to handle something, it was Fiona. Well, for the most part, maybe. Monica might not have been a mother, but Fiona had. Not willingly, but she had.

“There you are,” Fiona said and freed Kimmie from her last shoe. “Off you go.”

The little girl didn’t need much else to take off sprinting after her brother into the next room where all the toys were located.

“Hey, Fiona?” Debbie spoke hesitatingly.

“Yeah?”

“How do you do that?”

The oldest sister looked over on her way to the sink. “Do what?”

“Just, you know, handle kids. Talk to them.”

“What?”

Debbie sighed. “You’re just so natural with it! I don’t get it!”

She smiled at her younger sister. “Try raising five kids and, trust me, you’ll pick up on a thing or two.”

“But I have raised a kid! And I ran a daycare!”

“What we did, Debs, is not the same. I was the captain of our ship and you’re only manning one canon,” Fiona pointed out. “Where is this coming from, anyway?”

The redhead slumped in her seat. “Franny’s pissed and won’t talk to me. She’s giving me the silent treatment.”

“Like mother, like daughter,” She spoke before sipping a glass of water and Debbie gave her a look. “Have you tried talking to her?”

“She doesn’t want to listen.” Debbie suddenly sat up straight again. “Can you talk to her for me?”

“What? No.”

Her forehead creased. “Why not? You clearly know what you’re doing.”

Fiona gave her a small smile. “She doesn’t know who I am, Debs.” There was a layer of sadness in her tone. “Whatever it is she doesn’t want to talk about, she wants to talk about it with you. Trust me, I can’t fill that spot.”

Debbie watched her big sister walk out of the room before she looked at the staircase. With a sigh, she got to her feet and headed to the second floor. She couldn’t get Fiona to do this, but she could channel Fiona. God knows, all of the siblings had watched Fiona enough to know how she parents, both the good and bad. All Debbie needed to do was act like Fiona. She could do that. Right?

“Knock, knock.”

“Go away,” Franny mumbled as Debbie entered their shared bedroom. The girl was flung onto her stomach on her bed, arms wrapped around the pillow under her head.

“Come on, Fran,” Debbie coaxed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Just talk to me.”

“No.”

“I’ll listen to you, I promise, okay?” She rubbed the silent girl’s shin. “Why do your teacher say you don’t have any friends?”

There was a moment of silence before Franny answered. “Because I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I like being on my own.” Franny sniffed and sat up on the bed to look down at her hands in her lap.

Debbie pushed back her daughter’s hair behind her ear. “No one likes being on their own, Fran. Why aren’t you with your classmates?”

“I’m not like them,” She spoke very quietly.

“What do you mean?” Debbie asked confused. Franny didn’t answer, so she switched to a new subject and grabbed the drawing the girl had made from the top of the dresser. “What about this? Is this about Grandpa Frank? Do you miss him?”

Franny shrugged. “I don’t really remember him, but…he was nice.”

“Yeah,” Debbie spoke quietly. “He could be, but Franny, you shouldn’t want to become like Grandpa Frank. He…he wasn’t a good person all the time.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you draw this?”

Franny didn’t respond, but continued to keep her eyes locked onto her hands in her lap. Debbie waited for an answer. Nothing came. Again, she was at a loss. She suddenly had a little more understanding about what Fiona had gone through during the times where Debbie had refused to talk to her about what bothered her.

Debbie sighed quietly and stood up, about to give Franny her space when the girl spoke again.

“Grandpa Frank didn’t care,” She said. “That’s why it’s Frankie.”

“Frank didn’t care about what?”

She finally looked at her mother. “That I’m a boy.”

Debbie’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

Franny shrugged a shoulder. “Mama, I’m Frankie.”

Fiona, Mickey, & Mandy

Mickey dragged smoke into his lungs from the cigarette between his lips. He thanked the heaven’s that no snow or rain had started to fall, so he could sit on the porch steps at the front of the house to smoke without getting soaked. The cold was bothersome, though, but it was nothing compared to the cold shoulder of his husband. Ian had stormed inside as soon as the engine of the van had been shut off. Mickey knew him well enough to know that trying to talk to the man right now would be a lost cause. The ginger needed time to think and Mickey needed time to kick himself for being so brutally honest.

“Hey,” Lip greeted as he and Mandy came strolling through the gate. “Where’s your other half?”

“Drawin’ up divorce papers.”

He chuckled. “What d’you do now? Spoil his Christmas present?”

Mickey flipped him off as the man passed by up the stairs. “Don’t you have Tasmanian Devils to handle?”

Instead of following Lip inside, Mandy sat down next to her brother on the staircase. She held out her hand and Mickey, rolling his eyes, handed the cigarette over to her. “Ian wants to know if you’re stayin’ for Christmas.”

“I don’t know,” She replied, blowing out smoke. “Maybe.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah, I know what you said, but ‘just visitin’ is a crap excuse after eight years of more or less radio silence.”

She shot him a weak smile. “Is this your way of avoiding talking about what you and Ian argued about?”

“I’m just askin’, blondie,” Mickey replied, snapping the cigarette back. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re a fully-booked bed’n breakfast right now. The fuck happened after you left?”

Mandy sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “Dumped Kenyatta as soon as we got to Indiana and hauled ass to New York—”

“Started being a high-end whore,” Mickey finished. “Yeah, got that part. Seems like you were livin’ good. Why come back to this shithole?”

“You’ve been to prison. Mexico. You know how lonely it gets on your own,” She spoke. “I’ve thought about coming home loads of times, but I didn’t know what I would come home to. I didn’t even know you and Ian had been in prison until I heard you had gotten married. Then I heard about Terry and…” She shook her head a little. “I went to the house first when I got back, but it’s falling apart.”

“Yup,” Mickey said. “Hope they bring a fuckin’ wrecking ball to the dump.”

“Yeah,” She agreed. “I don’t know. It just felt like it was time to come home.”

He nodded, blowing out smoke. “Should’ve done it while we had the apartment. Would’ve actually had some space.”

“Right, in the room that didn’t become a nursery.”

Mickey rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He told you.”

“Mhm. No kids, huh?”

He huffed. “Do you want any?”

“Do you?”

“Does nobody think two fuckin’ steps ahead around here? There’s too much shit to consider—”

“I didn’t ask you about the logistics of it, I asked if you wanted any,” Mandy clarified.

Mickey shut his mouth while he twirled the cigarette between his fingers. Before his sister could ask anything else or Mickey could continue down the path of deflecting, the front door opened behind them.

“Hey,” Fiona greeted, pulling her winter coat tighter around herself. “Mind if I join you?”

“No Brady Bunch moments to enjoy in there?” Mickey asked as the oldest Gallagher sibling sat down on the top step.

She huffed and held out her hand for the cigarette. Again, Mickey complied with an eyeroll. “I don’t think it’s a great idea for all of us to be in the same room without a buffer right now.”

“Where’s the boyfriend?”

“Helping out his sister with her divorce papers,” She answered and took a drag of the cigarette. “The Gallaghers aren’t the only ones going through something right now. Speaking of, what’s up with Ian? He stomped up the stairs.”

“Uneven baby fever,” Mandy informed. Mickey flipped his sister off.

“Ah,” Fiona responded knowingly. “The age-old question. Well, maybe not in this family. Kids just seem to happen no matter what.”

“For them, children being accidental isn’t really possible no matter how hard they might try,” Mandy teased.

“Okay, fuck you,” Mickey spoke. “Can we not talk about this shit? I’ve already had this conversation today.”

Fiona sighed, tapping ash off the cigarette. “Right there with ‘ya. Kids aren’t on my plan, either.”

“Never?”

“You see all those people in there? I’ve had my fill of parenting.”

“But it’s gotta be different when it’s your own, right?”

She shrugged. “Sure. Maybe, but I’m not planning on finding out. After five kids in my care, I don’t really have a need for more. I guess, it’s different doing it on your own and with somebody, though. Things were easier when I had someone helping.” Her brown eyes flickered down to her shoes as if she was remembering something. Or someone.

Mandy suddenly placed a hand on her brother’s knee. “You’d make a good dad, Mick.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Somebody’s gotta change out that fuckin’ tune.”

The front door opened once again, but this time it wasn’t only one person coming out. The whole entire Gallagher clan poured through the doorway. “We gotta go,” Lip announced.

“What—Why?” Fiona asked confused as the trio rose to their feet.

“Liam’s been arrested."

Chapter Text

Recap

Debbie pushed up her wielding mask. “Where have you been? I’m a single mom with my own business and sharing a house with ten other people, and even I managed to read the last chapter of Shameless Season 12. What’s your excuse?” She held up a hand. “No, I don’t wanna hear it. Start reading and get out of my sight, okay? God.”

Everybody

Nerves were strung high inside the police station. The entire Gallagher clan was practically shaking in nervous anticipation for one of its youngest members. Fiona was anxiously bouncing her knee in a plastic chair. Lip had a half-awake Freddie on his lap while Ian had a fully asleep Kimmie on his. Mickey sat between his husband and sister, though not nearly experiencing as much tension as the rest of his extended family about the current situation. Debbie had Franny—or was it Frankie now? She hadn’t had time to think yet – in the chair beside her; both participating in the waiting game.

Fiona sighed. “What’s taking so long?”

“Processing takes forever,” Lip responded, stroking his son’s back. “Carl said he was with his friends, so they’re probably taking individual statements, too.”

“Are they going to send him to juvie?” Debbie asked.

“Depends whether the fucker who owns the house is gonna press charges or not,” Mickey answered. “They’re kids, so might go easy on ‘em.”

Ian looked skeptically at his husband. “Who the hell drops charges for breaking and entering?”

He shrugged. “Rich assholes with too much money and don’t know how to spend it. Remember? You and I’ve been down that road before, too, for that geriatric viagroid you were seein’ back in the day. Didn’t get charged with shit.”

“No, you just got fucking shot,” Ian countered.

“And Liam didn’t, so the kid’s already better off than us.”

“Well, that’s comforting,” Fiona said sarcastically, dragging her fingers through her hair. “Who the hell are these friends, anyway?”

“Some boys from his class,” Debbie informed. “They hang out all the time.”

“And you just let him do that?”

Lip’s brows pushed together. “What do you mean?”

“Clearly, these guys are a bad influence on Liam.”

He exhaled a disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna lecture us on bad influences?”

“I’m not lecturing you! I’m asking you how the hell this could have happened!”

“Oh, I’m sorry we don’t monitor Liam twenty-four-seven, Fiona,” Debbie shot in, sarcasm dripping off her tone. “I guess, we’re just not like you who feels the need to control every fucking thing we do.”

She glared at her little sister from across the little waiting area. “I didn’t try to control you. It’s called being a family—acting in your best interests! Keeping an eye on what Liam is doing is the bare minimum of what you should be doing!”

“If you hadn’t noticed, we kinda have our hands full around here, Fiona!” Lip spoke with annoyance. “Liam’s fourteen! He can handle himself!”

“Obviously, he can’t!”

“We could’ve kept a better eye on him,” Ian conceded quietly.

Lip looked to his little brother. “What—you’re taking her side?”

“No! I’m just saying…” Ian started and shrugged a shoulder. “We should’ve…done something.”

“Right, well, come back when you’ve got two toddlers on your fucking hands, okay? Some of us actually has parental responsibilities and don’t neglect their guardianship.”

“I didn’t neglect my guardianship! Liam wanted to stay!” Fiona argued, but was overshadowed by their younger brother.

Although the comment was pointedly directed at Fiona, Ian glared at his brother. The remark hit a nerve in the redhead. “You only have them every other week, asshole. Why don’t you come back when you actually get a relationship that you don’t fuck up?”

“Fuck you,” Lip muttered, shaking his head.

Ian stood up and was about to hand Kimmie over to Mickey, but stopped. “Oh, sorry, forgot you’re horrible with kids,” He said sarcastically. Instead, he let Mandy take the little curly-haired girl, ignoring Mickey’s annoyed look, before Ian stomped away down the hallway.

Debbie huffed. “Nice going.”

“Shut up, Debbie,” Lip shot back.

“No, I won’t shut up, Philip. God, why do you always have to act like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like your shit is so much more important than all of ours!”

“I don’t!” He argued.

“Fuck you, you do,” Mickey agreed.

“When?” Lip challenged. “When do I do that?”

“The house, for starters,” Debbie responded instantly. “You wanted to move, so everybody had to move—”

“Jesus—enough about the damn house already! We all fucking voted on that!”

Fiona scoffed. “I didn’t.”

“You weren’t there!” Lip yelled.

“That doesn’t matter—”

“Hey, guys?” Carl spoke as he entered the waiting area, still fully dressed in his uniform, and garnered his family’s attention. “Can you maybe not fight in my workplace? Being Frank’s kid is a bad enough rep around here already.”

The older siblings mumbled their apologies and sunk back in their seats. This was also when they noticed the looks being thrown in their direction from other people in the waiting area and officers at their desks.

“How’s Liam?” Fiona asked in a much more peaceful manner.

“He’s next up to give a statement,” Carl informed. “They won’t really let me see him since we’re family.”

“Is he okay?” Debbie asked.

Carl nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

“That’s good,” Lip spoke. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Please,” He started on his way out of the waiting area. “If you’re going to fight, do it outside and not in front of my colleagues.”

“Sorry,” Fiona mumbled along with her siblings.

A brief silence fell over the group again, all of them keeping their eyes to themselves, until another member of the clan came down the hall. “Hey!” Mike greeted, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I got here as soon as I could. How is he?”

Fiona rose to her feet and hugged her boyfriend just as Mickey got up and disappeared down the same hall as Ian had gone. While Fiona filled Mike in on Liam’s status, Lip headed down the opposite hallway to the coffee machine with Freddie on his arm.

Lip & Mandy

The coffee machine brewed and hummed as it prepared the coffee. A familiar itch in his palms and a little whisper in the back of his head were starting to nibble on the edges of Lip’s self-control. Coffee burning down his throat would have to do – no matter how crappy the coffee at the precinct was.

“Daddy?” Fred spoke, rubbing a fist against his tired eye. “We go home now?”

“Not yet, bud. We gotta wait for Uncle Liam first,” He answered while rubbing soothing circles against the boy’s back and placing a kiss against his head. “Try to sleep, Fred, yeah?”

Fred gave a little whine in protest, but snuggled up against his father’s shoulder.

“You’re really going to drink that?” Mandy questioned doubtingly as she approached. Kimmie was still asleep in her arms.

Lip grabbed the paper cup with a sigh. “Yeah.”

The blonde scrunched her nose. “Unless they’ve changed it since the last time I bailed one of my brothers out, I remember it tasting like absolute crap.”

He dared a sip and grimaced at the taste. “Mhm, still horrible. Here.”

“Thanks,” She responded with a little laugh, accepting the cup to let Lip punch the button for another one. “Legal poison.”

“Beats the alternative, I guess.”

“Which is?”

“The entire sixpack in the fridge at home.” He met her eyes briefly before he explained. “I don’t know how much Ian has told you…”

“A little.” She looked down at Kimmie. “Though, maybe not eight years’ worth.”

“Apparently, Ian isn’t the only one who’s inherited a dominant gene from our parents, but mine isn’t something that can be controlled through prescription meds.” He grabbed the new cup of coffee and swirled the liquid around. “Courtesy of Frank, alcohol and I don’t really mix too well.”

Her forehead creased. “How bad?”

“Uh…I’ve been good. For a while.” Lip nodded vaguely, though more to himself than to her. “For two years, actually. After Tami and I split, I had a, uh…a relapse, but I knew I couldn’t fall in deep again like I had before. Not when I had two kids depending on me. So, I checked myself into rehab and got stable.”

She exhaled a quiet laugh. “S’better than what our parents ever did.”

“Yeah,” He agreed before his brows pushed together slightly. “Sorry about Terry, I guess.”

“I’m not,” She said determinedly. “The world’s a better place without the son of a bitch breathing—Oups!” Her eyes flickered between the two kids sleeping in their arms. “Sorry.”

Lip smiled. “Don’t worry, they’ve heard worse living in the Gallagher house. Colorful language sorta comes with the legacy. Mickey’s their uncle, too, so the Milkovich repertoire is very much present on the daily. I’m just relieved their first word wasn’t ‘fuck’.”

“Well,” She started and looked down at Kimmie asleep against her shoulder. “From the little I’ve seen, they’re great. You’ve done good, Lip.”

“I’m just trying to keep them alive and…” He sighed. “Better than the rest of us.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” She joked. Mandy stared at him for a moment before she smiled softly and raised her paper cup. “To shitty coffee and sobriety, then.”

Lip couldn’t help but smile in return, raising his own cup. “To losing bets and stacked odds.”

Debbie

As her family dispersed in all directions, Debbie sighed and put her head in her hands. The day seemed to never end and so much had happened which needed more careful consideration than what she had the energy to muster at the moment. Going home and crawling into bed seemed like heaven, but that wasn’t an option. No, another Gallagher was in trouble, so leaving wasn’t a possibility. Not with a sense of guilt and probably a stream of shit from her siblings.

“Why do you always fight when you’re together?”

Debbie looked at Franny in the chair next to her. “What?”

“Whenever you and Aunt Fiona, Uncle Lip, and Uncle Ian are together, you always fight,” She pointed out. “Only Uncle Carl, Uncle Mickey, and Uncle Liam don’t fight.”

“That’s because your uncles can’t pick a side even if their lives depended on it.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy that Aunt Fiona is here?”

“No,” Debbie stated. “All she does is think she’s right and better than us. Even if she is the oldest, that’s not fair. Not when we’ve done perfectly fine without her.”

Franny rested her chin on her knees while watching the eldest Gallagher sibling stand further away with Mike. “I think that’s why Aunt Fiona’s sad.”

Debbie’s brows furrowed. “Fiona’s sad?” She repeated skeptically. “What does she have to be sad about? She’s been free and solo wherever the hell she’s been.”

“I don’t know.” The little redhead shrugged. “But I’d be pretty sad if all of you were completely okay without me around, I think.” Debbie looked at her child who was still watching Fiona. “And if you had sold the house while I was away without telling me, I think that also would’ve made me very sad.”

“She left us, Fran,” Debbie spoke softly.

“But she’s back, mama.”

“She might leave again very soon.”

Franny leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest with a determined look on her face. “Then I want to be happy while she’s here.”

Debbie looked from her child and over to her big sister, letting Fran’s words spin around in her head.

Ian & Mickey

If there was one thing about the Gallagher family that was blaringly obvious, it was that they argued like fucking champions. Still, that was what families tended to do without any severe consequences, but it didn’t mean that they were exempt from getting really pissed off. For Ian, a lot was just accumulating into a snowball of annoyance and frustration to the point where he had gone to the bathroom for a time-out. However, as the redhead leaned over the sink in the men’s room, his husband strode in to disrupt his break from the family.

“Hidin’ in the bathroom now?”

Ian didn’t look over at him. “I’m not hiding.”

“Fine, avoidin’, then.”

“I’m not…” He said quietly.

Mickey crossed his arms over his chest. “Uh huh, ‘cause you’re sure as shit not talkin’.”

“Well, you were the one who said there was nothing to talk about.”

“Jesus Christ, Ian,” He said exasperated. “You asked me why and I fuckin’ told you—"

Ian finally turned to face his husband, anger boiling up to the surface again. “That I’m the fucking problem? That it’s because of my disease that we can’t—”

“It’s not because of you!” Mickey argued. “Gallagher, I’m the fuckin’ problem, alright? I am! If shit starts goin’ sideways, I will be there to get you back on your damn feet again! Screw everybody else!”

“Exactly!” Ian yelled, throwing his palms out like there was some obvious clue in the space between them. “You taking care of me which means I’m the fucking problem! Me! But that’s not fair, Mick! I’m not some fucking ticking timebomb anymore, okay? I’ve been stable for years!”

“I know that—” Another man opened the door to the bathroom, but Mickey barely even glanced at him before telling him, “Occupied. Fuck off.”

Ian continued. “And, yeah, I know having kids is stressful and a lot, but I’m not like how I was when we had Yevgeny! When I start leaning too far one way or another, we know how to deal with this shit now! I know how to handle myself!”

“Ian, I know!”

“Do you?” Ian questioned, taking a step closer to his husband. “Because it sounds to me like you don’t trust me to be able to do this, Mickey!”

“For fuck’s s—” Mickey shook his head and stared right into Ian’s eyes. “I fuckin’ told you this, how shit hit the fan last time! I didn’t do what I was supposed to which was to take care of you and make sure you were ok—”

“I am okay, Mickey!” Ian insisted.

“Do you even remember how it all ended last time?” He countered instantly, raising his eyebrows. “You left me. Not just dumped me, but left me in a fuckin’ cell for nearly two damn years without even visitin’ unless you got paid for it!”

“Because I couldn’t see you there because of me! It killed me!” Ian argued loudly. “Knowing I was the reason you were even in there—”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point!” Mickey interrupted. “If I had done a better job at helpin’ you—gotten you actual help earlier, maybe all of that bullshit could have been avoided! No takin’ the baby, no running off with Monica, no tryin’ to kill that bitch of a half-sister of yours, no prison! But I didn’t and I fuckin’ lost you! I’m not doin’ that again!”

“It’s not the same now!”

“Right, but what happens this time? Huh?” He watched his husband with raised eyebrows. “Even forget about the fucking bipolar! What happens if we do get a kid and shit just doesn’t work? If it all isn’t this generic family-comedy movie you’re picturin’ in that head of yours? What do we do? We get a divorce?”

“Yeah—I don’t know, maybe!” The response fell out of Ian’s mouth faster than his brain could send the signal to shut up or think about his words.

Mickey exhaled a clipped laugh. “Right.”

“Mick, I didn’t—” Ian attempted to grab his husband’s arm, but Mickey shook him off and turned to exit the room. “Mickey! Come on, I—"

Everybody

“Hey! Juvenile delinquent coming through!” Carl called out as he escorted Liam into the waiting area.

The entire family came rushing over to the fourteen-year-old who gave his siblings a weak smile as they hugged him and ran their hands over him to make sure he was okay. Had it been any other family, the yelling would probably have started back up again right away, but it wasn’t the Gallaghers first rodeo. All lecturing would come.

“Are you okay?” Fiona questioned while he held her baby brother’s face between her palms.

“Yeah,” Liam responded quietly.

“You getting charged with anything?” Lip asked.

“Might get off with some community service hours,” Carl informed. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

Lip patted Liam’s shoulder. “Been there, bud. Welcome to the club.”

“Yeah, guess you’re really a Gallagher, after all,” Debbie said. “I knew you couldn’t be all brains.”

The relief of seeing Liam in good shape despite the current situation was quickly interrupted by Mickey walking past the group with an angry look on his face.

“What happened?” Mandy asked, but her brother didn’t stop.

“Mickey, I didn’t mean that, okay?” Ian called after him. “I love you!”

“And there’s your answer,” Lip spoke.

The Gallaghers shook their heads at the couple who was disappearing quickly out of the station and followed after them, guiding their new criminal along between them.

Chapter Text

Recap

“It’s been three years and you still just can’t get enough of us, huh?” Fiona questioned as she dried her wet hair in the bathroom. “Well, let me tell you this, miss another chapter of Shameless Season 12 and you’ll know how it feels to miss us again. Consider it a warning.” She opened the bathroom door and called out, “Last hot water! Snooze, you lose!”

Everybody

The front door had barely been closed behind the Gallagher clan before the interrogation of Liam began. The youngest didn’t know what to really expect since he had never gotten in trouble like this before. His older siblings had, but there were different attitudes to their fuck ups than to Liam’s. Also, Fiona was back which meant an additional disciplinarian to Lip. He had never been scolded by his oldest sister before, but he could see it coming. The rest of his family, however, looked a little preoccupied as they moved around the living room.

“Okay, why the hell did you do that?” Fiona questioned as soon as she had seated her younger brother on the coffee table. She sat down on the couch in front of him.

Liam shrugged sheepishly. “Wrong house?” He tried.

She didn’t buy it, of course. “Something could have gone seriously wrong, Liam! You could have been shot or—or gotten attacked by dogs—"

“You could have been killed,” Debbie pointed out, taking a seat in the armchair.

“How did you get in there in the first place?” Carl asked as he dumped himself next to Fiona on the couch. “The crib had seriously tall fences and an electric gate.”

“We had the code.”

“Where the hell did you get the code?” Lip asked, putting his kids down in the playpen to sleep.

“Doesn’t matter,” Liam replied and looked to Fiona. “Am I in trouble?”

“Oh, trouble doesn’t begin to cover it,” She responded.

Lip sat down on the other side of Fiona to look at his youngest brother. “Why did you break into somebody’s house, Liam?”

Liam shrugged, eyes flickering down to his hands. “They wanted to do it, so…figured I should come along to make sure things didn’t go wrong. They’re really not the smoothest people walking, and I am Frank’s son, but I guess not entirely.”

The sadness in the boy’s tone wasn’t lost on his older siblings. Fiona took his hands in hers. “Liam, you don’t want to be like him, alright? Not this part. It’s what got him into so many dumb situations and why he was never here.”

“I know,” Liam spoke quietly.

“And you are Frank’s son,” Lip chimed in. “You’ve gotten his brains which was lost from years of alcohol and substance abuse. You’re just smart enough to know what to do with all this potential that you’ve got.”

“God knows, we didn’t,” Carl added.

“Yeah,” Mandy agreed from the other armchair. “We could have all probably have done better had we been a little smarter.”

“And not looked to Frank as an example to follow,” Debbie said.

Fiona smiled at her youngest brother. “You don’t need to do these types of things, Liam. You don’t need to prove that you’re Frank’s son.”

“We’ve already got the paternity test somewhere in the attic,” Lip half-joked.

“You’ve all done these types of things,” Liam pointed out.

“And we all want better for you,” Fiona spoke.

“Yeah, we just want you to be safe and happy, okay?” Lip agreed. “No more breaking and entering. Nothing that can get you sent in juvie or prison.”

“Yeah, we’ve already had too many Gallaghers behind bars,” The oldest said before she looked over to man by the window. “You wanna add something, Ian?”

“What?” The redhead said, snapping out of his deep thoughts as he stared out onto the street.

Lip rolled his eyes. “Jesus—Just go and look for him.”

“Say you’re sorry and bang it out,” Debbie said.

Ian looked over all his family members, like he was actually deliberating on staying, but – to no one’s surprise – quickly headed for the front door and disappeared. The rest of the group only shook their heads.

“So,” Liam said. “What’s my punishment?”

“Depends on your court hearing,” Lip spoke.

“But no TV,” Fiona said.

Debbie nodded. “For, at least, a week.”

“No phone, too,” Lip added.

“You can sweep the chimney,” Carl shot in, earning strange looks from his siblings. “What?”

“When have we ever swept the chimney?” Debbie asked confused.

He shrugged. “Don’t know, but that only proves we should. Fire hazards are no joke.” Lip reached around Fiona to nudge him playfully in the head.

Liam nodded and stood up, a small smile playing on his face. “This is nice.”

“What is?” Fiona asked, leaning back into the couch. “A potential criminal record?”

“You all not fighting, but actually agreeing,” He responded. “Even if it is on my punishments.”

The siblings looked at each other and realized that it was the first time in a long while that they had just sat and talked. No screaming had ensued. They had just talked.

Lip & Fiona

The sky had darkened, though without any clouds. Still, there were no stars. The light pollution swallowed any possibility for a pretty night sky. Cold air hung over the city, creating visible breaths every time Fiona exhaled on the steps of the porch. Huddled in her big winter coat, she looked out over her street and listened to the sounds of home.

The front door opened and Lip stepped outside, allowing the sounds of the Gallagher house to escape through for a moment. “Here,” He said as he handed her a beer.

Fiona gave him a look. “You’re not having one of these, too, are ‘ya?”

Lip held up a Coke as he sat down next to her. The siblings shared a smile, opening up their bottles. “Escaping the circus inside?”

“After Freddie wanted to play Hungry Hungry Hippos for the fourth time, I tapped out,” Fiona explained. “I let Mike take over. He loves it.”

“Big Hippo fan?”

She exhaled a laugh. “Kids,” Fiona clarified.

Lip nodded thoughtfully while he swallowed his pop. “Thinking of joining the club? Give Debbie her dream of you raising kids together?”

“Oh, no,” She quickly responded. “No, I’m done with that route. That’s not for me anymore.”

“And what does Mr. Worldwide Cup think of that?”

“He says he’s onboard. He’s seen how badly parenting can go. Besides, he’s got nephews and I’ve got all of you.” She smiled at her brother. “If we feel the need to babysit, we know where to find you.”

“Right,” He replied with a small laugh. “How’d you bag him, anyhow? I thought that train had been lost once and for after the whole cheating thing.”

“Me too.” Fiona nodded in agreement, looking out over the street. “God, I was so sure that door had been closed. That I had fucked up the one good relationship I’ve ever had, to ever be able to salvage it. Then, I’m in New York very briefly and…there he was.” She smiled at the memory. “At a conference. Selling cups. I thought he’d be angry at me and, you know, attack me or something, but…he didn’t. He smiled.”

“Wow. He really is the ultimate bigger person.”

“Yeah.” She looked down at the bottle in her hands. “I don’t deserve him. I know I don’t. What I did to him was…horrible, and awful, and…” Fiona sighed. “But I work really hard, every day, to prove that I do deserve him. Not just to him, but to myself. I’m not doomed to not have good things in my life.”

“Where’d you learn that? Self-help guide?” Lip teased.

She playfully nudged him with her shoulder. “Shut up, don’t trash it. I’ve worked really hard to start believing in that. Having Mike helps. Helps prove that I’m not destined to end up like Frank and Monica.”

Lip nodded, staring down at his Coke. “You know, I’ve spent my whole life trying to stay right here—to prove that I belonged right here on the Southside—so much so that I almost dropped out of high school, fucked up college, screwed up every good thing that came my way because that’s just how life is in this neighborhood. Nothing comes for free. Then, I had Fred. Selling the house, and going somewhere…better, became the one good thing I could provide him and Tami with. That was all I wanted, not to be the deadbeat dad who never got out of the Southside.”

“It isn’t this place, Lip, that does this shit to us,” Fiona said. “It’s us. All of it. It took me a long time to realize that. It isn’t an excuse, or an explanation, or a justification. The Southside is just a place.”

“A place you couldn’t wait to leave behind,” He pointed out.

“Just because I left it, doesn’t mean it’s not home to me, Lip.” She looked over at her younger brother. “I’ve missed this. So much. You wouldn’t even understand—”

“And that’s why you haven’t visited? Ever?”

“I know,” She responded calmly. “I know I haven’t. Coming back meant a lot of things. A lot of things I wasn’t ready for.”

He looked at his big sister. “Like what?”

Fiona sighed, releasing a big cloud of air with her breath. “The fear of coming back and discovering that I haven’t changed at all, falling back into bad habits. Facing the music of Frank’s funeral and the stress of all that. Seeing how much I’ve actually missed around here, in your lives. Realizing that all of you have managed perfectly fine without me.” She paused for a beat before she added, “That I wasn’t needed at all.”

“We’ll always need you, Fiona,” Lip responded softly and exhaled a laugh. “I don’t know how many times I’ve thought throughout the years that I wished you were here, to tell me what to do, to hold my fucking hand through all the bullshit that’s happened. We all have. Sure, we’ve managed, but we’ve always needed you.”

She dried away an escaped tear from her cheek. “You sure you’re not just saying that for free babysitting?”

He chuckled and placed an arm around his sister’s shoulder, pulling her against his side. “And you have changed, Fi. You’re not going to fall back into bad habits. Gallaghers don’t give up.”

Fiona sniffed, leaning her head on Lip’s shoulder. “Sorry I missed everything.”

“Sorry we made you feel like you had to.”

“Liam’s right,” She spoke. “This is nice. Not fighting.”

“Yeah. Maybe we should try it more often.”

The siblings chuckled.

Ian & Mickey

The Alibi was more or less dead at that time of night, though it was always more or less deserted. After Kev and V had left, so had many of the regular neighborhood drunks. Turns out, the couple was a large selling point in the bar’s popularity. Arthur Tipping didn’t own quite the same appeal. Ian had been told, however, that on the nights Carl worked, there tended to be an increase in female frequenters. Still, the redhead wasn’t there to help out his younger brother’s establishment. Nope, the dark-haired, brooding man by the counter was his target.

“Hey, I’m looking for my husband. You seen him?” Ian joked as he leaned against the bar. “Dark hair, tattoo of my name on his chest, short—”

“The fuck you callin’ short, you damn tree?” Mickey interrupted, not taking his eyes off the drink in his hand. “Also, according to you, might just have to put the word ‘ex’ in front of that.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Can we just talk about this?”

“I think we’ve done a lot of that lately. Never seems to work out too well, does it?”

“Okay, fine, then I’ll talk and you can listen. How ‘bout that?”

Mickey didn’t respond, taking a sip of his beer.

Ian tugged on his husband’s jacket. “Mickey.”

“Jesus Christ,” He exclaimed and got off his seat to follow Ian over to a booth. “Always with the fuckin’ naggin’.”

“I’m not—” Ian stopped himself and took a breath, sliding into the seat across from him. “It’s not important. Just listen to me, alright?”

Mickey shrugged a shoulder for Ian to spit out the words he wanted. “Won’t get a lick of peace until I do, so get to it, Chatty Cathy.”

“I love you,” Ian started, but Mickey opened his mouth to speak. “No, don’t. Just listen. I love you. Okay? I love you so much so that, sometimes, when I look at you, I can’t really breathe. Divorcing you isn’t an option for me. Ever.” He reached across the table and took Mickey’s hand. “I’ve fought for this too, you know, to have you forever, completely to myself. I’m not giving this up for anything.”

Mickey sighed. “Then why the fuck did you say it?”

“’Cause that’s what people do. They divorce and get remarried and shit.” Ian squeezed his hand. “But we’re not people. None of them have ever even come close to all the shit we’ve been through. This, you and me, is an ‘until death do us part’-deal, Mickey. That’s the only way you’re ever getting rid of me, is when we’re in a coffin as a result of old age or fucking lung cancer.” He smiled at his husband. “We should probably quit smoking.”

“Nah, we’ve all gotta go sometime,” He responded.

“That’s the only way you’re getting rid of me,” Ian repeated more intensely. “I won’t leave you. Baby or no baby, I’m right here with you, Mick. I know me having an episode in the future is a more or less guarantee, but we know how to deal with it. It won’t get as bad as before. We’re prepared, okay?”

Mickey licked his lips with a slight shake of his head. “I won’t fuck shit up again.”

“You didn’t fuck it up then, either,” Ian insisted. “You just didn’t know what to do—none of us did. We were kids playing adults. I don’t blame you. I never have.”

“Yeah, well, could’ve still done better.”

“You did good.” He interlaced their fingers on the table and leaned a little closer. “And you’ll be a great dad, Mickey. I know you will because I’ve seen it. I do see it, every day. Besides, we’ve got a hoard of a family who owe us big time in babysitting hours.”

He scoffed. “That’s for fuckin’ sure.” Mickey stared at his smiling husband for a long moment before he rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “For fuck’s sake… A kid, huh?”

“Or several.” Ian quickly backtracked at Mickey’s sudden look. “We’ll start with one.”

Mickey gripped his hand a little tighter. “I’ll take care of you first, alright? It ain’t something you can negotiate your way out of.”

Ian nodded. “Fine,” He conceded. “If shit gets really bad, we’ll do this; we hand the kid over to Lip or Debbie or Carl until we’re in control again. That goes both ways, by the way. If you get sick with the fucking flu or something, I’m taking care of you, too.”

“Fine,” Mickey agreed after a moment’s hesitation. “And if the thing starts screamin’ before seven in the mornin’, he’s your kid.”

The redhead gave him a look. “Fine.”

Mickey shook his head with a sighed. “How the fuck do you do that?”

“Do what?” Ian asked confused.

“Get me to do exactly what you want.”

Ian smiled brightly as he got out of the booth, dragging Micky out with him. “Oh, you know, it’s my superpower.” He captured Mickey’s face between his palms and kissed him softly. “But there’s one place where you get me to do exactly what you want.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows. “Uh huh, you know we can’t make a kid, right?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”

Mickey chuckled as Ian wrapped an arm around his shoulders to head back home.

Carl

For once, the Gallagher house was somewhat calm. Well, as calm as a house where eleven people currently lived, and where four of them were under the age of eighteen. The Gallagher residence was no stranger to a big population, but after a long time of only a handful of family members, the lack of space was noticeable. Still, it was not entirely unwelcome. Carl didn’t mind spending time with his family. He liked his role as Uncle Carl. Although he had his brothers to beat for the title of ‘favorite uncle’, Carl knew he had a fighting chance of becoming the most well-liked.

“Pretty princess,” Kimmie remarked in her three-year-old pronunciation as she placed a plastic crown on Carl’s head.

Franny burst into laughter on the carpet next to them. “Are you going to participate in Little Miss Southside, Uncle Carl?”

“Nah, I’d smoke all of ‘em,” Carl responded while Kimmie pushed a plastic bracelet onto his wrist. “Wouldn’t be fair to everyone else.”

Liam looked skeptically at his brother from the couch. “I think they’d be calling the cops if you showed up at the event.”

He shrugged. “I’d just flash my badge. Cop, remember?”

“Desk cop.”

Carl flipped him off to which Kimmie quickly slapped a hand over the gesture. “No! Bad!”

“Jesus. Sorry.” He twisted on his spot on the floor, posing for his nieces. “So? How’d I look?”

The front door opened and the two oldest siblings came back inside, shedding their winter layers on their way. Lip instantly laughed. “Wow. That’s the new look you’re gonna sport down at the station?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Carl responded sarcastically.

Kimmie shrugged her shoulders and flopped down onto her knees. “Me prettier.”

“Can’t argue against that logic,” Fiona agreed, patting her niece on her head.

“Where’s Fred?” Lip asked.

“Dragged Mike upstairs to play with the Legos,” Franny explained.

“He’s gonna be stuck there for a while, then.” The father of two settled down on the couch next to Liam with a sigh.

Again, the front door opened, letting the resident married couple enter with big smiles on their faces.

“Hey, you friends again?” Liam asked.

Ian gave him a look. “We’re always frie—Woah, good evening, Ms. Carol Gallagher,” He teased Carl all decked out in Kimmie’s plastic jewelry.

“Taken a break from the dreamhouse, Barbie?” Mickey joked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Carl responded with a dismissive wave.

“Uncle Mickey be pretty princess!” Kimmie squealed, running over to her uncles with another plastic crown in her hand.

“I’m good, shortstop,” Mickey replied as he hoisted the girl up. “Pretty up your dad, instead, huh? He looks like he needs it.” He placed her onto Lip’s lap on the couch where Kimmie immediately put the crown onto her father’s head.

“Are you and Uncle Ian back together again?” Franny asked from where she was sitting next to Carl on the carpet.

“We never broke up, Fran,” Ian assured her, placing a hand against the back of Mickey’s neck.

“Yeah, Uncle Ian never signed a prenup, so we gotta tough it out,” Mickey joked. “The paperwork would be a bitch.” Ian rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but kiss his husband, earning gagging noises from the rest of their family at their cuteness.

Fiona clapped her hands together. “Well, I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m starving.”

A flood of agreement went through the group as the unit moved to the kitchen, but knocking on the front door made Carl change course. Cold winter air hit him like a wall as soon as he opened the door, but he didn’t really notice it. No, Carl’s focus remained on the blonde woman on his porch.

“Hi,” Bonnie greeted. Her hands were deep into her pockets and a scarf was hugging her neck. Strands of hair poked out from beneath her hat, but Carl would have recognized her anywhere.

“Hey,” He managed to press out.

She nodded at him. “Nice crown.”

“Oh.” Carl quickly took the headpiece off with a sheepish smile. “My niece likes to play dress-up.”

“Yeah, I’ve got one of those, too.” Bonnie smiled. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time. My brother’s waiting in the car.” She nodded at the beige car parked by the car with somebody in the passenger seat.

“The one who got arrested?”

“Yup,” She responded before she quickly added. “He won’t do that anymore, though. I’ve talked to him. It’s just, after mom died, he’s been acting out. We’re working on it.”

“Oh,” He answered. “Sorry about your mom.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “It’s okay. I wanted to drop by and say sorry for rushing out of the station earlier. My boss is really strict about being on time for shifts and stuff. Also, I needed to make dinner for my siblings and everything before leaving.”

“You’re in charge of all of them?” Carl questioned, recalling the number of kids he had seen in the van all those years ago.

“Yeah,” Bonnie responded. “But I’ve got help. Our great-aunt lives here in Chicago, so we came back.”

Carl’s face lit up. “So, you’re going to stay in the city?”

She nodded, smiling brightly. “That’s the plan.”

“Cool.” And Carl really meant it.

“You know,” Bonnie started a little shyly. “I never forgot about you. What you did for me—for my family, it was really, really great, Carl. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” He managed to press out despite the surprise of seeing the girl he had once known on his porch.

She smiled again and Carl could swear his heart skipped a beat. “Well, I should go.”

“Hey,” He called out. “I’ll see you again, right? You’re not disappearing again?”

Bonnie shook her head. “I’ll see you later.”

Carl nodded. “Good.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her until the car disappeared down the street and out of sight.

Debbie, Mandy, & Franny

“Frankie, huh?”

Debbie dropped a cardboard box into Mandy’s waiting hands from the entrance to the attic. “Yup,” The redhead responded. “And it’s not like it’s a big shock. Not…entirely. I know my kid and she’s never been a girly girl, but…” Debbie paused. “It’s different hearing it out loud, I guess.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. I’ve known her her whole life in one type of way and now she’s not Franny anymore—Well, she is, but she’s not—It’s just…”

“Confusing?”

“Different,” Debbie concluded.

Mandy shrugged as she looked up at the younger woman. “Well, at least she’s not your half-sister who’s actually your half-brother, but thinks she has a girl-penis.”

“Right,” She recalled, starting to climb down the ladder. “That whole thing. Whatever happened to Molly, anyway?”

“Don’t know.” Mandy handed the box over to her again. “What are you going to do?”

Debbie raised her chin determinedly. “I’m going to do the right thing and be the best mom ever. Gotta show those assholes that they can’t parent my kid better than me.”

Mandy’s eyebrows pushed together. “Who?”

“Mickey and Ian.” Debbie sent a glare towards the staircase where the married couple were at the bottom of. “Them and their disgusting adorableness can go to hell.”

“They’ve talked about getting their own kid.”

“Ugh,” She said, scrunching up her nose. “They’re going to be insufferable.”

The blonde chuckled as the pair wandered downstairs to their family in the kitchen. It was mayhem already and not even everyone was accounted for. The volume was out of control as people talked over each other, trying to get to the places they wanted to get, and trying to keep the peace between the two toddlers. Debbie wouldn’t lie; she had missed a full house.

“Fran,” Debbie called, nodding for her child to follow her into the living room.

Dutifully, albeit hesitantly, the little redhead did as commanded and abandoned the conversation with her uncles and aunt. Debbie sat down on the couch and pushed the cardboard box across the coffee table towards her child which Franny eyed skeptically.

“If this is my Christmas present, you’ve forgotten wrapping paper.”

Debbie shook her head. “It’s not your Christmas present, but I guess I gotta go and find some new stuff.”

Fran poked at the box. “Why?”

“Because I’ve bought things for Franny, but I guess Frankie won’t have the same taste as her.”

The little redhead looked at Debbie with wide eyes.

Debbie slapped a hand on top of the box. “These are some of Liam and Carl’s old clothes. Probably some of Uncle Lip and Uncle Ian’s, too. Basically, heirlooms at this point. I thought you could wear them, if you wanted, until we get you something new. There might be holes in them, though, because your uncles did a whole bunch of stuff and never—”

All of a sudden, Debbie was attacked by a hug and red hair that matched her own. “Thank you, mama.”

Debbie hugged back, kissing the side of her kid’s head. “I love you, Fran, you know that, right? No matter what you are or who you are. You’re my kid.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Fran whispered again and again against Debbie’s shoulder. “You’re the best mom ever.”

“Tell your aunt and uncles that, too, alright?” Debbie half-joked, but was sort of serious. She kissed her child’s head once again – hugging Frankie, now, in her arms.

Lip & Mandy

“One more story,” Fred demanded, jumping slightly in his seat underneath the covers.

Lip sighed next to his son. “This is the third one, Freddie. You don’t wanna sleep?”

“No, I wanna play with Mike,” The boy responded determinedly.

“Well, Mike wants to be with Aunt Fiona for a little bit. You can see him tomorrow.”

Ian suddenly poked his head into the room. “Hey, have you seen Kimmie’s Bambi?”

“Found it!” Mandy called out further down the hall before she appeared next to her best friend, handing over the deer in question. “Laundry basket.”

“Won’t get a wink of fuckin’ sleep if she ain’t got it,” Lip heard Mickey say out of earshot.

Ian handed the plushy over to his husband. “Here, give it to her. Night, Freddie!”

“Night, Uncle Ian!” The four-year-old called out, waving a little hand at his uncle. “Mandy, can we play with Legos?”

“Okay,” Lip interrupted before the kid got any more ideas that would disrupt his bedtime. “We’ll all play with Legos tomorrow, alright? The faster you go to sleep, the faster it’ll be tomorrow.”

Fred, clearly not happy with the logic, pouted at his father. “What if I wanna play with something else tomorrow?”

“Then we’ll play with something else,” Lip responded and tucked in his son. “Go to sleep, okay? Love you, bud.”

“Love you, daddy,” Fred mumbled a little sourly, but settled down under the covers.

Lip exited the room into the hall, leaving the door slightly ajar to let the light from the hallway reach the boy. Even if both Liam and Carl shared the room with the four-year-old, the dark was still a scary thing for the young ones.

“Not one for sleep, I see,” Mandy commented.

“He’s just excited with all the people around,” Lip explained. “Usually, there’s only me, Carl, Liam, Debbie and Franny here—”

“Frankie.”

Lip looked at her confused. “What?”

“Never mind.” The blonde waved the correction away. “They’ll tell you later.”

He shook away his questioning look in favor of shifting the subject. “So, are you planning on staying in town or is this actually just a social visit?”

Mandy shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know.” She cast a nod down the hall towards where Ian and Mickey could be heard talking from their bedroom. “They seem to be planning some big things. Kinda wanna stick around for that. I’ve already missed a lot, so…”

“Gunning for the title of favorite aunt?” He teased.

She smiled. “Maybe. Also, gotta keep those douchebags in line. They’ve been through a lot. They deserve to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Lip agreed quietly. “There’s been a lot of drama going around for everybody. Some happiness would be great.”

The pair stared at each other for a beat before Mandy blinked herself back to reality. “So, I should probably go.”

“Go? Where?”

“A friend of mine offered me her spare bedroom,” She explained, shoving her hands into the back pocket of her jeans. “I should get there before it gets too late.”

Lip nodded. “Right.”

A warm smile spread across the blonde’s face. “Good night, Lip.”

“Yeah,” Lip responded with a small nod.

Mandy turned, but only managed to take one step before Lip grabbed her arm and spun her back around. Their lips met without hesitation and their hands held onto the other as if they magnetically snapped back in place. Was it the wrong move? Maybe. Maybe not. All Lip knew was that he’d let Mandy go so many times for many different reasons; reasons he no longer believed in and some he even regretted. Mandy was a good person. A beautiful person with a big heart. She deserved a lot. Lip knew this. Lip also knew he didn’t deserve Mandy, but his big sister’s words rang in his ears. He’s not doomed to not have good things in his life. His kids were already proof of that. Maybe it was time he started to work on really believing it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Mickey’s complaint made the pair pull apart to look at the Gallagher-Milkovich’s disgusted expression.

“What?” Ian questioned, poking his head out from their room.

“Your brother’s about to bang my sister right here in the hall, that’s what’s what.”

“We weren’t—” Lip started, but Ian interrupted.

The redhead shook his head. “Jesus, guys. You’re in-laws.”

“Hey, weren’t you on the verge of divorce or something?” Lip questioned, mostly to change the subject.

“We’re happily married, fuck you very much.” Ian glared at him as he put a hand on the back of Mickey’s neck to gently pull him back into their room.

“Yeah, I’m sure the thin walls are gonna provide ample evidence of that,” Lip shot back just as the door shot behind the couple. “Jesus Christ.”

Mandy smiled up at him. “I’ll see you later.”

He gently caressed her cheek. “Yeah.”

Fiona & Mike

Fiona let out a big sigh as she fell onto her back on the air mattress in the basement. The space looked way better than it had before, courtesy of Carl’s renovation project. Still, it was still a dank basement, at the end of the day. No number of posters of scantily clad women and an ungodly amount of AXE body spray could cover that up.

Mike sighed next to her as he fell onto the mattress, as well. “Long day.”

She exhaled a laugh. “Our family has the remarkable ability to make a day turn into a week. So much happens in the matter of hours.”

“You can admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“You’ve missed it.”

She chuckled. “Missed running from crisis to crisis? No, thanks.”

“I mean, the action,” He clarified. “Having something to do. Being…needed.”

She turned her head with raised eyebrows to look at her boyfriend. “You’re saying you don’t need me?”

Mike smiled at her. “Of course, I do,” He assured her before he shrugged. “But you like the way they need you. I know you didn’t choose to be their parent, but you are and, as a parent, it’s hard to put all that away.”

“You’re talking like you’ve got expertise in that area.”

“I’ve listened to Jane talk about her divorce and custody rights for hours,” He responded, making her laugh. “I think I can actually see the paperwork in 4K projected onto the back of my eyelids when I close my eyes.”

Fiona stretched with a yawn. “Family is one hell of a complication.”

“You don’t say.”

“But, yeah. I’ve missed it,” She spoke quietly, eyes locked onto the ceiling. “When I left, I thought there was nothing for me here anymore. All the kids were grown-up or, at least, well on their way. I had no idea what I was doing or what my place here was. Everything was a mess.”

“And now?”

She gave a vague shrug. “They’re my kids,” She responded. “And now they have kids. Kids I don’t really know, stories I haven’t heard, habits, preferences, ways to comfort them that I have no clue about. I’ve missed so much that I…”

“What?”

“I feel like Monica,” She finished very quietly. “She didn’t know those things, either.”

Mike grabbed her hand in the sliver of space between them. “You’re not her.”

“No, I know, but… Sort feels like it.”

He brought her hand up and kissed the back of it before staring at her profile. “You want to come back, don’t you?”

Fiona turned her head and gave him a small smile. “Yeah,” She whispered. “If you wanna run, there’s the do—”

“Marry me,” Mike abruptly said.

She froze for a moment. Her lips moved, but it took a second for any sounds to escape. “That’s a weird way of saying no.”

He smiled back at her. “Fiona, I’m serious.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” The brunette quickly sat up and Mike followed suit; the air mattress wobbling beneath them. “Are you sure?” Her voice was quiet and hesitant.

Mike reached down onto the floor and brought up his jacket. “I didn’t just stare at divorce papers. I also bought…” Out of one of the pockets, he pulled out a gold ring with a small white diamond on it. “This.”

Fiona inhaled sharply, but words were still being a bitch to produce.

“I had this whole thing planned out, I swear. There was going to be candlelight and maybe a string quartet of some kind, and not in a damp basement, but…” He held up the ring between his fingers and gestured with his other hand to the basement. “Your family means everything to you and this house is the heart of that. You are the heart of that, Fiona. That’s the woman I love; the woman who jumps into action, who knows what she wants, who fights for the people she loves, and cares beyond any measure. I trust you and I love you.” He took her hand while Fiona tried to blink away tears. “So, Fiona Gallagher, will you marry me?”

She only managed to nod profusely before she could actually say the words. “Yeah—Yes! Holy shit, yes!”

Mike didn’t even have the time to slide the ring onto her finger as Fiona more or less tackled him into a hug. However, the very bouncy surface of the mattress sent them both tumbling off the edge onto the cement floor; both in a fit of laughter.

Carl

It sometimes surprised Carl how bored he could actually get during his job. There wasn’t exactly a lack of paperwork to be done, but his brain could only handle so much typing. So, when he was well into building a tower out of pens on his desk, he was surprised by the sudden interruption from Beatrice.

“Gallagher, Captain wants to see us,” The lady announced as she put down her cup on her desk. Fittingly, the statement ‘Wine o’clock’ was written on it. If that wasn’t an indication of the type of woman Beatrice was…

“Us?” Carl repeated confused. “If it’s about who broke the handle on the water cooler, I know nothing about that. It’s always been that loose.”

She gave him a look. “I think we should be happy you’re on this side of the law, kid.” She nodded at him. “Come on.”

A confused Carl abandoned his tower of pens to follow his desk mate’s command. He looked around the office for any sort of indication as to why he was being called onto the carpet, but nothing looked out of place. Everyone else had their attention fixed on their tasks at hand. No big neon signs that said ‘you’re fired’ or ‘demoted to the person who cleans the cell toilets’. He had no idea what he was walking into as Beatrice knocked on the Captain’s door.

“Enter!”

Beatrice opened the door and Carl was one step behind. At the big desk in the room, Captain Grant sat with his glasses perched onto the tip of his nose and a file in his hands. He wasn’t an old man, by any means – just really shitty eyesight. The man couldn’t be more than fifty, at most.

“Pickton, Gallagher, take a seat.” He barely even spared them a second glance until they did as told. Only then did he put down the papers and settled back to fully look at the duo. “Gallagher, it has come to my attention that there was an incident at the Kash’n Grab a few blocks away not too long ago.”

“Sir, I—” Carl started.

“No, I’m not looking for excuses for why you meddled in a situation without being armed or without any back-up,” He interrupted. “It was stupid, unprofessional, and frankly reckless.”

“Yes, sir,” Carl responded quietly, dropping his eyes. He could feel the foot in his ass kicking him to the curb already.

“It was also remarkable and brave,” The Captain continued and Carl instantly looked back up in surprise. “A girl named Hannah came by to extend her gratitude and told me what had happened. I’m impressed, Gallagher.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Which is why I have decided to put you back onto the field—”

“What?” Carl exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement.

“For a trial period,” Captain Grant finished. “And a condition of this trial period is your partner. Officer Pickton.”

“What?” Both Carl and Beatrice exclaimed with much less enthusiasm.

“I think this pairing can be good,” He stated, leaning back in his chair as he eyed them. “One troublemaker and one that can bend the law as easily as a metal beam.”

Beatrice leaned forward a little. “Sir, that was a long time ago—”

“You refused to go above the speed limit in an active car chase, Pickton. You also refused to break down a door to not inconvenience the landlord during a raid.” Captain Grant gestured towards Carl. “Gallagher, on the other hand, needs discipline. A lot of it. You two, make this work or you’ll be desk-bound until you see your first pensions.”

Carl and Beatrice shared a look; both knowing that they really didn’t have a choice.

Everybody

“Eggs? Bacon? Both? Neither?” Lip asked across the busy and loud kitchen while trying not to burn or overcook anything.

“Eggs,” Liam replied back. “Sunnyside up.”

“You’re getting scrambled ‘cause that’s all we have.”

“Daddy, where’s Bambi?” Kimmie called out as she stomped around the kitchen in her search. “Can’t find Bambi!”

“Hey, where’s the iron?” Carl questioned and held up his uniform. “Need to make this look good for my first day back on the streets. Bonnie wants to take pictures.”

Debbie scoffed as she entered from the living room. “Back on the streetcorners?”

“At least, I made money on the streetcorners,” He shot back.

“Hey, hey, no fighting near sharp kitchen objects,” Fiona chided as she came up from the basement with Mike in tow. The younger siblings stuck their tongues out at each other. “Take it out on the lawn.”

“Daddy! Bambi!” Kimmie demanded, stomping her foot onto the linoleum.

“I don’t know, Kim,” Lip responded and held up a plate with scrambled eggs for Liam to get. “Where did you have it last?”

“Fiona, iron?” Carl asked, holding up his uniform.

“Uh, try the basement.”

“You need some help, man?” Mike offered and stepped in to help Lip who was bustling by the stovetop.

Lip handed him a spatula. “Can you cook?”

“Sure.”

“Can you cook for eleven people?”

Mike hesitated for a moment. “No problem.” He didn’t sound too convincing.

The backdoor opened and Mandy stepped in with two holders of coffee in her hands. “Morning,” She greeted. “They were out of mocha.”

“Ah, my savior,” Fiona said and grabbed one of the holders that the woman was balancing.

“Frankie!” Debbie yelled out loud enough for the rest of the people in the room to wince. “Come on! Let’s go!”

“Jeez, Debs,” Lip said, putting breakfast onto a plate for her. “Try going up the stairs, maybe?”

The redhead shook her head. “First he begs me to take art classes and then he’s late almost every time,” She muttered.

“Bambi!” Kimmie called out again with a big pout on her face and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Come on, Kim. Let’s go look, okay?” Mandy offered. The girl took her hand and followed, though not before Lip could plant a kiss onto his girlfriend’s lips as she passed.

A rumble of footsteps came down the stairs as the last people missing of the big tribe came down. “Ay, can somebody tell Mr. Dictionary here that Henry is not a cool name for a kid?” Mickey spoke with Fred on his arm.

Ian gave his husband a look. “It’s better than your fucking suggestions.”

“What’s your suggestion?” Liam asked.

“He wants to name them Shredder.”

Liam looked at the couple doubtingly. “For a boy?”

“For either,” Ian clarified disapprovingly.

“The kid can’t walk around with some pansy-ass name, alright? Gotta sound strong so nobody’s gonna mess with ‘em,” Mickey reasoned.

“Like Fred,” Freddie chimed in proudly.

Mickey nodded slowly. “Sure thing, buddy.”

“Well, it has to start with an F,” Debbie stated, earning questioning looks from her family. “You know, Francis, Fred…”

“Kimmie doesn’t start with an F,” Lip pointed out.

“No, but I named Frankie Francis and you named Fred. All F’s,” She responded. “The only reason Kimmie’s named Kimberly is because you let Tami name her.”

Carl emerged back out from the basement. “Found the iron,” He announced proudly, waving the object in the air.

“Have you even found out how you’re gonna get a kid?” Liam questioned the married couple. “Felons can’t adopt.”

“And I’m pretty sure human-trade is still illegal,” Lip chimed in.

Mickey waved a hand as he lowered his nephew to the floor. “The Milkovich family tree don’t exactly have a lack of unplanned pregnancies and grabby hands that’d do anythin’ for the right amount of money.”

“You’re not naming a kid Shredder, by the way,” Mandy spoke as she entered the kitchen with a happy Kimmie again who had Bambi in her arms.

Ian gestured towards his best friend with a pointed look at his husband. “Thank you.” Mickey just flipped him off.

“Hey, did you check out that apartment on Cermak?” Fiona asked.

Ian nodded. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure the landlord owns a meth lab.”

Her brows pulled together. “How d’you figure?”

“’Cause Terry used to buy off of him,” Mickey responded.

“Frankie!” Debbie shouted out again.

While the others spoke their complaints to the young Gallagher, Frankie came down the stairs with a backpack slung over his shoulder. “I heard you the first time.”

“Great, then I won’t have to invest in a hearing aid for you, after all.” Debbie kissed her son’s head as he passed. “Got everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Frankie, breakfast?” Lip offered and tossed him a bread roll as mother and son headed for the front door.

Fiona scooped Fred up into her arms and kissed his face while he giggled. “Okay, munchkin, time to get some food into ‘ya.”

“You, too, munchkin. Pop your drugs,” Mickey joked, though still carrying a straight face, and handed Ian his pill bottles from the kitchen cabinet. He never messed around with Ian’s medication times.

“How ‘bout Finn?” Ian said. “Or Flynn?”

Mickey gave him a look. “You’re really goin’ down the route of F’s?”

Ian shrugged. “Works well enough. Tradition, I guess.”

“What if you get a girl?” Carl asked from the iron board by the washer.

“Fiona is a very nice name,” Fiona spoke while wiping scrambled eggs off of Kimmie’s hand.

“Yeah, something else that works well is fuck off, we’re going to be late,” Mickey said. “Eat quick and we can discuss this shit in the van.”

As the rest of the Gallagher clan started to fight over the food on the stove, Lip managed to sneak out of the crowd and settled down next to his big sister at the kitchen table. “Good to be home, huh?” He spoke.

She smiled at him. “You have no idea.”

Fiona

The sky was filled with light, puffy clouds and the air was icy cold. Fiona’s breath was visible as she exhaled and her hands were pushed deeply into her pockets. Everything around her was silent. Well, as silent as the Southside could be.

She had come back to her home and found it in a different state than when she had left it. It was strange and a little sad, but also exciting and heartwarming. The kids she had raised had grown up and they weren’t half-bad, if she could say so herself. Things were looking good. They were happy. Fiona had been away for so long, had avoided so much, because she didn’t want to find out what would happen once she did return. Her peace had been made with her siblings, however, and she had found her spot in the family again – not as guardian, or parent, or primary caregiver, but as sister, aunt, and fiancé. It was nice. It was home.

Still, Fiona had more on her heart. She had one last stop.

“I’m not going to say ‘I miss you’ because, honestly, I don’t,” Fiona spoke to the frozen gravestone. “I don’t miss you, and I don’t love you, and I’m happy you’re gone.”

As the tears started to burn in her eyes, which was not caused by the cold winter air stinging in her eyes, she sniffed and tried to stop her lips from trembling.

“But I do hope you’re alright. I hope that, wherever you ended up, you found Monica and that you’re raising hell together like no one’s seen before. I hope you’re drinking beer and getting high, scamming devils or whatever.” She exhaled a laugh, blinking her eyes rapidly up at the sky for a moment, before she looked back down. “And we’ll be okay. We are okay, I think. Debbie is working on being a better mom. Franny is now Frankie, and I know you’re just lovin’ that. Lip is handling co-parenting and has roped Mandy Milkovich back into the mix. Ian and Mickey are still very much in love and are trying to get a kid of their own. We’ll see how that pans out, I guess. Carl’s head over heels in love and is back onto the streets as a police officer, and Liam has taken his first proper steps into the Gallagher family legacy with community service hours. He’s a smart kid, though. He’ll do better than the rest of us. I’m getting married. Hopefully this one sticks.” She smiled at the unresponsive headstone, but it faded quickly. “We’re doing it all, and you’re not here. Either of you. Some things just don’t change, huh?”

A gust of cold wind sent snowflakes flurrying all around, rustling through the naked trees and shrubs.

Fiona sniffed again and shook her head. “See you around, Frank.”

Turning her back, the firstborn Gallagher sibling walked away having finally said her peace.