Mickey Milkovich took a deep drag of his cigarette as he kept his eyes focused on the Kash and Grab convenience store across the street. He and his brothers, Iggy and Colin, had been staking the place out for nearly two hours, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. The brothers had been ordered by their father to do the job, and there was no other way around it but to get it done. If their father wanted something to happen, they made it happen, no questions asked, or they risked facing their father's unrelenting wrath.

Mickey didn't know much about Ian Gallagher. All he knew was that the kid was sixteen, with freckles and stupid red hair, and Ian's dad Frank Gallagher owed his dad Terry Milkovich a whole lot of money. For months, Frank had skirted around the issue, always finding typical and nonsensical Frank Gallagher excuses to get out of paying up, and Terry Milkovich was sick of playing Gallagher's games. It was time to collect.

"Come on, man, it's fuckin' cold out here. I'm freezing my nuts off," Iggy whined from behind Mickey, his breath coming out in puffs in the frigid night air. "Can't we just go in, grab the little shit, and call it a fucking night?"

"Hold your fuckin' horses," Mickey snapped. "We can't go in for the kid with fuckin' towelhead in the way. We gotta do this right. We gotta wait for shithead to leave, so we can get him from behind when he's alone."

"Why can't we just go in, knock towelhead the fuck out, then snatch the little fucker?" Iggy groused. "It could be hours before he leaves!"

"Security cameras, fuckhead! We can't risk it," Mickey exclaimed. "Just calm the fuck down and chill, alright? You're givin' me a goddamn headache."

Iggy sighed in exasperation and huddled deeper into his bulky coat. "I don't get this shit, anyway. Why go after the asshole's kid? Why not just go after Frank?"

"Because no one gives a shit about Frank Gallagher, that's why. We kidnap Frank, no one would bat an eyelash, let alone give us the money," Mickey snapped. "Quit asking stupid fuckin' questions!" He sighed and glanced back towards the store. He chewed on his lower lip as he contemplated his next move. "Fuck it, wait here. I'm gonna go inside and scope this shithead out. Plus, I need alcohol in my system to put up with you fuckin' morons."

Despite his brothers' bitter protests, Mickey left his crouched position from behind the garbage cans and swaggered across the street, eager to get inside the warm store to thaw out a little. He flicked his cigarette away, opened the door, and narrowly missed running into an elderly woman on her way out.

"Watch where the fuck you're going!"

The woman, whose kind smile quickly faded, looked away and hurried past him.

After sneering at the woman's retreating form, Mickey entered the small store and looked around. The place was empty, and there was no one behind the counter. Mickey decided to take full advantage of the opportunity and made his way over to the coolers. He shoved a forty-ounce bottle of beer inside his coat and a handful of Slim Jims into his pocket. He normally robbed the Get 'n' Go over on 89th and State Street. He thought maybe the Kash and Grab could be his new spot. The security was absolute shit.

"You gonna pay for that?"

Mickey spun around and was immediately faced with his target. Sure enough, Ian Gallagher was just as Terry had described…tall, freckles, stupid red hair. Mickey'd expected someone who looked like the character from MAD Magazine or some shit. The kid certainly wasn't that.

"The fuck you gonna do if I say no?" Mickey snapped.

"I'll call the cops," the kid retorted, crossing his toned arms over his broad chest.

Mickey scoffed and eyed him up from head to toe, secretly admiring his take-no-shit attitude. Mickey also had a strange feeling he'd met the asshole before, but he couldn't recall where or when.

The kid continued to look Mickey up and down, his eyes inevitably lingering on Mickey's knuckle tattoos. "You're Mickey Milkovich."

"How the fuck do you know my name?" Mickey shot back, taken completely off guard by the kid.

Ian dropped his arms to his sides and smirked knowingly with a tilt of his head. "We've lived in the same neighborhood our whole lives. And you're two grades higher than me at school…or were, but didn't you flunk a buncha times?"

"Fuck you," Mickey snarled, not liking that the fuckhead had the upper hand and knew so much about him. The whole kidnapping thing would go a whole hell of a lot smoother if the fucking kid didn't know who he was. Fuck.

"We were also on the same little league team when we were kids," Ian continued with an endearing smirk, his stiff demeanor finally softening. "I remember when you whipped your dick out and pissed on first base. Fuckin' badass."

Suddenly, memories of a scrawny, freckle-faced kid with goofy hair wearing a number ten jersey on second base popped into his head. "What the fuck ever, man," Mickey scoffed, moving to head towards the door, eager to get away from those piercing green eyes and cocky fucking smirk. Gallagher had certainly grown up, that was for fucking sure.

"So, are you gonna pay for that beer or what?"

"Fuck off," Mickey snapped as he shoved his way roughly past Ian and out the door. He threw his middle finger up as a parting gift.

"I'll just put it on your tab, asshole!" Ian called out before shaking his head with a resigned sigh and heading back behind the counter.

"Who was that?" Kash asked when he appeared from the back of the store, looking disheveled and in the process of refastening his belt.

"No one important," Ian murmured as he placed a five-dollar bill in the cash register to cover Mickey's beer. "Just some dumb thug."

Outside, Mickey crossed the street and crouched back down behind the garbage cans. His brothers gave him matching, questioning glares. "The fuck're you looking at?" he snapped, still smarting from his interaction with the feisty redhead.

"So?" Colin asked. "You gonna tell us what the fuck happened in there?"

"The kid's ugly as shit, that's what happened," Mickey retorted as he opened his beer and took a long, satisfying chug to help calm his jittery nerves.


Almost an hour later, Mickey was going out of his mind listening to his brothers' fucking nonsense. They were taking turns telling dirty jokes to pass the time, and Mickey was seconds away from snapping. The situation would be a lot more bearable if they would just shut their mouths. He couldn't even think straight with their constant babble filling his ears.

"How do you know you have a high sperm count?" Iggy asked Colin since Mickey had made it perfectly clear he was in no mood to partake in their childish bullshit.

"How?" Colin answered, humoring his brother.

"She has to chew before she swallows," Iggy finished with a shit-eating grin.

"That's fuckin' gross," Mickey snapped, giving Iggy a baleful look.

"Since when are you a fuckin' prude?" Iggy sneered. "It was fuckin' funny!"

"Like fuck it was funny," Mickey groused, huddling deeper into his coat. "How about you two shut the fuck up and keep your head in the game? I'm tired of hearin' you." Mickey really fucking hoped Gallagher would appear soon, he didn't know how much more he could take.

Finally, the door to the Kash and Grab finally opened, and the Milkovich brothers straightened in excited anticipation, all joking aside. They watched with bated breath as the store owner locked the door, and then he turned to face the kid. The pair said something incoherent to each other, and then the man was leaning in and kissing his employee tenderly on the mouth.

"The fuck is this shit?" Colin snapped. "They're gay for each other!"

"Fuck, man," Iggy said. "Wait, isn't towelhead like fuckin' fifty?"

Mickey just sat quietly stewing as he watched Ian and the man kissing. He averted his eyes and swallowed down the bitter lump in his throat, convincing himself that it was the blatant display of gay affection that made him sick to his stomach. The only thing that really made him sick, however, was the fact that the man was fucking old enough to be Ian's dad. Fucking pedo.

"The kid is leaving with fucking towelhead, just fucking great! The fuck are we gonna do now?" Colin hissed, pulling Mickey away from his thoughts as the odd couple began heading towards a white van parked at the curb. Mickey and his brothers certainly hadn't seen that coming.

Mickey retrieved his gun from his coat pocket and turned to look at his brothers, his eyebrows raised to show he meant business. "We better do this fast, then."

Within a matter of seconds, the three brothers shot up from their hiding spot, pulled their masks down over their faces, and confronted the kissing couple head-on.

"Get your hands in the fucking air!" Mickey shouted.

"Don't do anything stupid, numbnuts!" Iggy added.

The pair shot their arms high in the air, their faces stark white with shock and fear as they spun around to face their attackers.

"Get down!" Mickey yelled, kicking Kash hard in the back of the knee, causing the man to collapse to the ground with an agonizing yelp.

"What the fuck! Why did you do that?" Ian exclaimed, his arms still high in the air, even though it was obvious he was resisting the strong urge to bend down and help his boyfriend.

"Shut the fuck up!" Mickey yelled, aiming his gun at Ian as his brothers relentlessly and maliciously kicked the shit out of the older man. He grabbed a distressed-looking Ian roughly under the arm and dragged him away from the brutal display, feeling a strange obligation to spare Ian at least that much.

"Let's go, fuckheads!" Mickey screamed at his brothers as he looked around the dark, deserted street. He knew the street wouldn't stay deserted for long, so they needed to hurry shit up. As much as he enjoyed watching Kash get the shit beat out of him, they had to go. "We ain't got all night!"

Iggy and Colin gave Kash a few rough kicks for good measure, leaving him bloodied, battered, and sputtering on the ground.

Mickey pushed Ian roughly, causing Ian to stumble and nearly fall before catching himself."Walk," Mickey ordered, his gun pressed hard into the small of Ian's back.

"Why are you doin' this?" Ian asked once they reached the Milkoviches' beat-up car. "Where are you taking me? What did I do?"

"Just shut up and get in. Stop askin' questions," Mickey snapped, opening the door and shoving Ian roughly inside. He got into the backseat with Ian, while Iggy and Colin hopped in the front, both out of breath and running high on adrenaline.

They all pulled their masks off as the car started, and they peeled out on screeching tires, leaving a thick cloud of exhaust fumes behind them.

Mickey laughed wildly and slapped the back of Colin's seat excitedly, his breathing heavy. He then looked over at Ian, seeing the recognition dawning on Ian's face, his eyes questioning and sad.

"Mickey?" Ian asked, his voice small and almost childlike as he realized exactly who his abductors were. "What's going on? Why're you doin' this?"

For a split second, Mickey froze and regretted all of it. He then forced himself to toughen the fuck up, and he dug his gun harder into Ian's side, getting his head back in the game. "What did I just say to you? Shut the fuck up, or I'll shut you up."

Mickey watched as Ian turned his head to look away, but not before catching the wetness rimming Ian's eyes.

Fuck.

He had a feeling the kidnapping wasn't going to be as cut and fucking dry as he'd originally thought.