So, I've recently become obsessed with Shameless, and this my first time publishing anything at all for this fandom. I've been working on this story for a while now and have it mostly all written out, it should be about ten to twelve chapters long.

I tried to make the story as clear as possible without giving too much background, but I realize it's still AU, so if anyone has any questions, feel free to ask. :)

He's been to this address thousands of times, but the house still comes as a shock.

He knocks on the door twice, raps it hard with his fingers, until it swings open.

"What the fuck, man?"

The soft, silky locks of Mickey's childhood are gone. Instead, his hair is short, buzzcut, matted. His eyes are lighter than Ian remembered, like they've been fading away inside this place. He's shirtless and holding a cigarette to his mouth, which he almost drops when he recognizes him.

"Ian?"

Ian doesn't know what to say, and Mickey isn't opening the door any wider.

"What are you doing here?"

There is no air conditioning inside the house. "Can't afford it," says Mickey with a shrug when he sees him sweating bullets. Ian doesn't say anything, let's Mickey think it's the heat that's making him sweat.

He pulls a beer out of the fridge and hands it to him. "Don't got nothing else," he grunts. Ian pretends to take a sip and sets it down on the floor.

Mickey has a seat on an old, wooden chair. He looks good, in jeans and barefoot, even with the dirt that's settled on the side of his face and hands. "So, boot camp, huh?"

Ian shrugs. "Clayton wanted to make sure every bit of the Southside was eradicated for good."

"Go figure. When do you have to go back?"

"I'm supposed to be there now, actually."

Mickey raises his eyebrows. "You ran away? From boot camp?"

"Is that pathetic?"

This Mickey doesn't smile. "Kind of. How did he even get you to agree to go in the first place?"

What Ian doesn't tell him is that they didn't have to ask him to go to Chicago twice.

"You know you can't stay here, right?"

Ian nods, even though he doesn't. "I know. But I can't stay at Frank's, that's the first place they'll look."

Mickey bites his lip. "You can stay over at my girlfriend's, if you want."

Oh.

"She lives a couple blocks down, with her mom. They have AC and a TV and food and all the shit you're used to."

"OK."

"Are you gonna call Fiona?"

"I don't know."

"You should."

"You think?"

"She's gonna find out eventually and I don't need anybody coming here and fucking-"

"All right. I'll call her."

Karen's mom seems to know who he is without introduction. "You're the gay kid. Frank's son."

"Uh, yeah."

Should he be flattered, that Mickey's mentioned him, or upset, that he's been reduced to a stereotype?

She nods. "Wouldn't go saying that around here if I were you. He told me because he knew it was the only way I'd let you stay. With Karen under my roof and everything."

"Thank you so much, Mrs.-"

"Sheila."

"Fiona?"

"Ian, where are you? I just got a call from Clayton, we've been worried sick-"

"It's fine, Fi. I'm at Mickey's."

"You are?"

"Yeah."

Fiona pauses. "Haven't seen him in a while. How is he?"

Different. "He's all right."

There is a pause. "Are you going back to camp?"

"I don't think so."

She sighs. "You want me to let Clayton know?"

"Yeah. And tell him I want to stay here for the summer."

"At Mickey's?"

"Yeah."

One of the things he's always loved about his sister is that she doesn't ask questions that don't need to be asked.

"All right. I'll tell him. Just... call if you need anything, OK?."

"I will. Thanks."

"Take care. And, Ian?"

"Yeah?"

"Come visit sometime."

They're sitting outside, in Mickey's front porch, because the heat of the summer is unbearable indoors, even after the sun's gone down. Mickey toys silently with a lighter.

"So, where is everybody?"

"If by everybody you mean Mandy, she's been staying at my aunt's."

"How come?"

"I asked her to go. She had to deal with Terry's bullshit while he was alive... no need for her to deal with his death, too."

"Your brothers?"

Mickey snorts. "Couldn't get out of the house fast enough."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Ian tries to look into Mickey's eyes, but he isn't having it, and he wonders how conversation used to come so easily when they were children.

"So, any plans for the summer?"

"Yeah. To stay out of jail."

"Seriously?"

"Mandy isn't here to bail me out anymore."

The concern in Ian's eyes makes him frown. "Don't worry. I'm keeping myself busy. Got a job at a construction site downtown."

Is that where the dirt under your fingernails comes from? "What do you do?"

"Scaffolding."

"Really?"

"Come on, man, don't tell me you're surprised. Climbing over fences was the only thing I was good at when we were kids."

Karen is tiny and blond; Mickey can probably throw her over his shoulder without a hitch. She is setting up a spare room for Ian, but not before giving him the once over.

"You don't really look gay."

"Uh, thanks?"

"I mean, you look straight enough for boot camp, at least."

Ian shrugs. "Well, I'm not. Maybe that's why I didn't fit in."

She looks at him coolly. "Maybe."

She finishes making the bed and glances around the frilly room, pleased. "Well, you should fit right in."

Why? Because it's pink and flowery and I'm gay?

"So, how long are you staying?"

"I... I don't know. Until I can save enough money to go back home. I thought I could get a job or something."

"Have you told Mickey?"

"No. Why?"

"Well, he can't exactly get you a job at the construction site, can he?"

"Why not?"

Karen just rolls her eyes at him.

Mickey comes in without knocking, and the gesture strikes Ian as oddly familiar. "So, the best thing I found-"

He sticks his nose up in the air, sniffs. "Jesus, it smells like shit in here."

"It's not that bad."

Mickey glances around the room, at the flowered curtains and bedspread. "It isn't usually like this."

"They were trying make me feel at home."

"Being gay means you like men, you'd think they'd know better than to make the room smell like a fucking whorehouse."

Ian smiles, for the first time since he got here, and Mickey looks away quickly. "So, I asked around and they need someone at the warehouse on Fifth."

"All right."

"But you're gonna be lugging around furniture and shit."

"That's fine."

"You sure you up for it?"

"Wouldn't have been any different at boot camp."

Mickey nods, in that quiet way of his. "I guess you're right."