Lip takes a drag from his cigarette and closes his book. Bio-chem is just going to have to wait. He can't concentrate on it anyway. Who the hell cares about nucleic acids and monosaccharaides when his little brother is having a Monica-style melt down? And really, does Ian have to pick now of all times to pull this shit?

It's always been him and Ian. They are practically Irish twins and were pretty much inseparable growing up. Ian isn't just his brother, he's his best friend. They've always told each other everything and it always felt like they could deal with anything together.

That is up until Mickey's wedding. He never expected Ian to take it so hard, still finds it unbelievable that his quiet, easy going brother would fall so hard for Mickey Milkovich, one of the most hardened street thugs of the south side. Mickey: who terrorized the high school and streets alike, who broke the fingers of anyone who owed him money, who lied and cheated and stole to get what he wanted. He just didn't get it. What did Ian see in him? Not that Lip hasn't had some colossal relationship fuck-ups of his own.

But Ian did fall for the Mickey, against Lip's best advice. He pined away for delinquent no matter how many times Mickey had pushed him away. Lip had told him to forget about Milkovich, told him to find someone new (preferably not someone twice his age and married this time). He was sure Mickey would always hurt his brother. And if Mickey didn't, there was always Terry, who was downright deadly.

He should have known Ian wouldn't listen to him. His brother is such a damn optimist, always seeing the best in people. This is the kid who believed that Mickey loved him through the fists, who loved Monica through all of her insanity, who attended that ridiculous farce of a wedding for Frank and Sheila knowing full well Frank isn't even his dad. Ian's got way too much heart for his own good.

And then there was Mickey's wedding. Something snapped in Ian at that wedding. Something changed. That was the first time he noticed it. Ian had spent days barely functioning after Mickey married that whore. Fuck! He could kick himself now for not seeing it sooner. Was that Ian's first dip into depression? At the time it just seemed like typical jilted lover bullshit. But looking back… always the 20/20 hindsight. Ian had given Carl his favorite knife, told Lip he was over Mickey, and just up and fucked off to the Army. It wasn't like Ian at all.

And between all of Fiona's incarcerations, Liam's near death experience, Frank's transplant, and fucking midterms he hadn't done anything about Ian's crazy behavior since he got back either. And that shit should have been the real red flag. He'd been running eight miles on two hours of sleep, spewing out crazy ideas, constantly writing fuck only knows what in that torn up notebook, and Mickey said he had been doing drugs at the club. It was Monica all over again.

Monica.

Sitting at his dorm room desk he stares blankly at the window, cigarette burning between his fingers, the ashen end getting longer and longer. He can still feel the crippling disgust and fear from that day. Just the idea that his brothers and sisters had to see their mother there on the kitchen floor, blood pooling in macabre puddles at her sides, it made him furious.

But he got through it, they all did. They cleaned up after hurricane Monica and soon life barreled on. But this is different. This is Ian. Fuck! The thought of Ian hurting himself - there would be no getting over that!

The anger seethes under his skin. No matter how many times they get away from Monica she just keeps haunting them. Even gone, her crazy fucking DNA stays behind and hurts his family. Lip stands up, slams his fists down on his desk and screams in frustration, swiping everything off the desktop onto the floor.

He puts out his cigarette, grabs his coat and storms out the door. He wants someone to blame, someone to punch, someone to scream at, to bleed his venomous fury into before it consumes him from the inside. So he waits outside of the Alibi, knowing he'll be out soon enough.

Mickey comes out of the red door, lighting a cigarette and pulling his coat closer around his shoulders and doesn't notice Lip in the shadows. Lip takes just a few steps behind him before he grabs the shorter man by the shoulder, whips him around and slams his fist hard into the man's face.

"What the fuck?!" Mickey yells before lunging back at Lip.

But Lip is ready and the two men are lost in a fury of fists. Lip knows Mickey is a scrapper and too late thinks he should have brought a bat with him. He can feel pain in his knuckles and in his face where Mickey has split his skin and it feels good. It feels real, visceral. At least this is something he can do. He can punch and kick and draw blood from human flesh. It's the antidote to the untouchable phantom that haunts his brother's mind that he is so powerless against.

Mickey may be shorter but he's fought everyone on south side and he quickly gets Lip on his back and pins his arms painfully under his knees and hands. A quick shift has him pulling a small gun out of the back of his jeans, pointing it an inch from Lip's face.

"You wanna fuckin' die, Gallagher?"

"You fucking broke him! He loved you and you married that whore, you fucking pussy!" Lip is struggling under Mickey, wanting to hurt the man not just with fists but with the words he spits and he can see the second his punch lands.

Mickey's face falls, he breaks eye contact and lowers the gun, looks away and bites his lip as he releases a sharp ragged breath. He can see the pure raw pain on Mickey's face but somehow it doesn't give him the satisfaction he was hoping for. Not at all. Because that's when he sees it. Holy shit! Mickey Milkovich is totally and completely in love with his brother!

He had known something changed between the two since Ian had gotten back. Mickey was just barely hiding the fact that they were banging, staying at their house, going to work with Ian at a gay bar. And he knew that Mickey had been outed last week at the Alibi (news travels fast in the south side). He hadn't been there to see what happened and Ian had crashed two days later so he didn't know who had outed him, only that it ended with Terry and his brother fighting Ian and Mickey.

But what he didn't realize until now, until this very moment, was that Ian wasn't just a fuck for Mickey. No, the pain on his face is much too real. Mickey loves Ian. Lip has just attacked the one guy that he's going to need on his side to help Ian get through this.

Mickey gives Lip's shoulders a shove and his head bounces painfully off of the snow covered sidewalk. He gets off of him and turns his back to Lip, who scrambles to his feet immediately, still breathing heavily, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"I didn't… I couldn't… fuck," Mickey growls out under shaky breath.

"Shit! Mickey, sorry, man. This isn't your fault."

Mickey whips around, pointing at Lip and snaps, "No, you were right the first fuckin' time. I messed this shit up but I'm gonna fucking fix it."

"No really," Lip argues. "This hammer's been just waiting to fall. Our genes? He's probably lucky it's just bipolar. Our DNA is like a fuckin' cocktail of mental disorders just waiting to explode."

Lip lights a cigarette and offers one to Mickey, who accepts and takes a long drag of the satisfying smoke.

"Jesus, and I thought my family was a freak show." Mickey wipes some blood off of his mouth where he had been punched and adjusts his jaw.

Lip huffs a laugh, "Welcome to the big time, Mickey. Gallaghers specialize in crazy."

Mickey gestures towards the sidewalk. "C'mon, you should see him" he tells Lip and the two head to the Milkovich home.

"So… what has Ian told you about our mother?"

"I dunno. He was pretty freaked out when she first showed up and I knew about her Thanksgiving day bullshit."

"Yeah, well, she's bipolar. She'll be manic one week and practically comatose the next. She's impulsive and irresponsible and a pretty big fucking mess. And I'm not saying Ian's going to end up like her but you need to be prepared. So let me ask you," Lip stops walking to look directly at Mickey. "Do you love him? 'Cause… this isn't easy. It can get downright ugly."

"What kind of fucking question is that?! I'm fucking here aren't I? I dragged his tweaked out ass out of the fuckin' Fairy Tale. I didn't kill Frank or your weak ass back there at the Alibi. And oh yeah, and I came out in front of half the goddamn south side and sent my own dad back to prison. Shit's already ugly. Don't worry about me."

Lip just raises his eyebrows and does his best not to smile because, yeah, Mickey totally loves his brother.

Mickey takes another drag of his cigarette and asks, "So what the fuck to do we do for him?"

"Well, meds? Therapy? Probably the place to start."

"No way, man! Fiona already tried to get me to send him to the nut house. Now you want him all drugged out?! Ain't happening!"

"There's outpatient," Lip continues cautiously before blowing a hit of smoke out, "and the meds, well they've gotta be better than where he is now, right?"

Mickey shifts back and forth uncomfortably, breathing heavily as he considers Lip's suggestion. "So what meds?"

"Well, Monica would sometimes do OK on Lithium… when she'd take it, that is."

"Oh, he'll fuckin' take it if we gotta hold him down and shove it down his throat."

"That's the spirit," Lip deadpans as they reach the Milkovich home and make their way up the front steps.

Lip heads towards the bedroom that Ian hasn't left in days to find his brother curled on his side, blankets pulled up to his chin.

"Hey man, how you feeling?" He says softly, shaking his brother's shoulder.

"'m tired, Lip," Ian mumbles.

"I know, man. We're going to get you straightened out, m'K?" Lip lights another cigarette.

Ian gets a far-away look in his eyes and whispers, "I don't care. I know I'm like Monica. I'll destroy everyone like she did."

"No way, man. Monica's a selfish bitch who left her kids. That's not you."

"I left too. What if I'm always going to be like her?" The question hangs in the air heavy, neither man wanting to think about the answer.

"We'll get you help. You'll be OK. You know… Monica only had Frank. You've got me and Fiona, Deb and Carl and Liam. We'll get you through this."

Lip sits on the bed next to Ian, leans his head back on the headboard and takes a deep hit of his cigarette offering it to Ian, who shakes his head and looks away before pulling the blankets tighter around his neck.

"I knew something was wrong in the Army," Ian breathes out, barely a whisper. "And I couldn't control it. What kind of person knows they are fucking up and can't even control it? And now I messed up everything."

Tears are flowing freely down his face now and Lip has to look away.

"All I wanted was to be an officer but I'm not smart like you. They didn't want me. And now I even screwed up being enlisted, too. It was all for nothing. I don't have anything. And now I dragged Mickey into my shit."

Lip scoffs, "So you know how I was always telling you that Mickey was a bad idea?"

"Don't-" Ian starts but is cut off by Lip.

"No, I want to let you know I was wrong. Pretty sure he loves you. You know that, right?"

"No. Now that he came out he'll move on. Look at me. I'm a mess. Why would he stay with me?"

"You dumb-ass," Lip chides affectionately, "The only reason he's out is for you. So don't tell me you don't have anything. I don't think he's going anywhere."

"What if I'm like Monica? I don't want to do that to him or anyone else," Ian says, wiping another tear from his eye. "I've made such a mess."

"You know the thing about messes?" Lip asks and rests his hand on his brother's shoulder, "You can always clean 'em up."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading and for your kudos and comments. I really appreciate the feedback.

In season 4, I really missed the close friendship that Lip and Ian shared previously. It's one of my favorite relationships on Shameless. So I would definitely like to have seen more of Lip realizing there was something wrong with Ian and dealing with his illness. I also think Lip has some pretty major anger issues and wouldn't know how else to deal with Ian's condition than with his usual method of punching whomever he sees as the cause of the problem. I loved trying to dig a bit into his psyche and I hope that you enjoy my little take on Lip Gallagher.