A/N: K SO REVISED TO SUITE THE CHANGES TO MY IDEA. I apologize if anyone is confused.

Sorry, I didn't bother with much of a summary. Just kind of figured I'd throw people right into it. This idea has been circling my head since I watched Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver again. Obviously, this one's AU.

Some deets real quick: Mickey's 25 in this one. Ian's a lot younger. I'm picturing him as maybe 17. Lots of things are different. Certain characters aren't even going to be in it, certain unexpected ones are going to be in it a lot.

Basically, this is more like an original idea, but using the Shameless characters. Hope you'll like it, whoever's reading this!

The Whore

Chapter One: Coffee

She sat there yammering on about work, like Mickey cared or was even actually listening. Sat there talking with her hands, voice too loud and obnoxious for Mickey's comfort. Made animated faces and spoke while chewing her food. If he was being honest, Mickey barely remembered the bitch's name, much less the company she worked for. Much less how she and he had even ended up in bed together the night before. Probably the latter had more to do with Mickey drinking himself to death lately over his inner turmoil. Also his paying little attention to much of anything besides getting his dick wet. And this lady seemed like the type to fuck just about anyone who was willing. So at least he'd solved one mystery.

"Are you even listening?" the woman asked, breathy, laughing as if this was a friendly conversation. She cupped her cheek and batted her lashes at Mickey from across the booth. Coffee in one hand and a dab of creamer cleaving to the crook of her pale, thin lips.

Finally Mickey took a good look at his present company. Pulled himself from lala land. He stared at the creamer, unconsciously licking the corner of his own mouth. He wished she would rid herself of the spot. It was irking him. The woman, whose name was, he was almost sure, Katelyn, smiled at Mickey. He guessed she was pretty. He could have done worse. She kept blowing at a stray blonde lock in front of her left eye. Finally she licked away the creamer. Her skin almost mirrored Mickey's in translucency under the cafe's florescent lighting. Except Mickey was paler. His mother had always referred to him as Dracula when he'd been a child. Katelyn or whatever had some color on her cheeks.

"Yeah," Mickey lied, and then took a bite of his eggs. Really he just wanted to finish his breakfast and be done with this. But he'd play along for now because this girl looked the type to cause a scene.

So she continued. Talking. Her voice was annoying. So was her train of thought. Mickey tried to drawn her out by chewing on the ice in his morning coffee. He hated hot coffee. Even though the taste was kind of the same. Cold was somehow better. When the ice didn't do the trick, Mickey shifted a bit on his end of the booth, trying hard to eves drop on the conversation of the two people behind him. His eyes trained hard on Katelyn's face, feigning mild interest. Mickey had no idea what she'd even said. Not really. Something about a promotion. He smirked to himself, which probably came across to the woman as him being impressed with whatever she was on about. Really he was just thinking that Katelyn had probably sucked a lot of dick for that promotion. She looked the type. Mickey hoped he'd used protection.

Behind Mickey sat a tall, agile looking middle aged man. Probably around forty or so years old. Close to fifty, maybe. Mickey had spotted him almost immediately when Katelyn all but shoved him into this shithole for the morning after breakfast. Which Mickey never fucking partook in. This had been a total misfortune on his behalf. And a first in all of his years of fucking random women once an then never again. Never twice with the same one. Before moving from his home town in Detroit, Michigan, Mickey was pretty sure he'd probably fucked at least half of the female population in his high school and neighborhood. And more outside of that. Here in Chicago, after only barely a month, Mickey had managed to fuck only one and look where it had gotten him. And he hadn't even enjoyed it. Not really. But then, Mickey rarely did enjoy sex. Sometimes, almost, but never fully. That's probably why he kept chasing tail. Hoping that something would just fucking click already. He was growing tired of trying. Had been getting that way since hitting puberty.

"So what do you think?" Katelyn or whatever asked, patiently sipping her coffee and staring at Mickey with wide eyes.

His attention was pulled instantly from the man's lowered voice behind him. Mickey blinked at Katelyn, taking one last slurp of his drained iced-coffee. Mickey had plenty of practice with bullshitting women. Throughout childhood and teenage years, before the car crash, before dying, Mickey's sister Mandy had never fucking shut up. Now he yearned to hear the twat go on about what guy had screwed her over and broken her heart. And his mother, the reason Mickey wouldn't hear Mandy's voice again, had also been a terrible rambler. So Mickey didn't even hesitate, he sniffed hard once and shrugged at Katelyn, saying, "I think you probably already know. You're just fishing." That one hadn't fail him in years.

Katelyn blinked back at Mickey. She sat upright and worried her bottom lip, deep in thought. Finally she looked down at her plate of food she's hardly touched. "Maybe you're right," she sighed. And then she was off again. Talking.

Mickey rolled his eyes when he thought she wouldn't notice. Went back to listening in on the conversation behind him. When he'd first walked in, the man had been alone. Mickey couldn't see who the guy was talking down to, but kind of figured whoever it was really ought to just spit in the man's eye. Some pretty hateful things were being said. Some very degrading, loathsome things. The threats and insults were hard to make out because of the tone of voice and amount of muffling, like the guys was covering his mouth as he blessed out whoever his companion was. The companion never spoke. Not once.

Having been so engrossed in trying to appear interested at the same time he fought to hear a conversation that was none of his business, Mickey jumped a little as the waiter's hand smacked the receipt down in front of him. Clearing his throat, Mickey glanced at the teen-aged boy. The kid smiled down, asked if everything had been okay. At the same time Katelyn nodded, grinning tight and polite, Mickey licked his teeth loudly and told the redhead, walking freckle everything had sucked. Even the coffee. Taken aback, the waiter apologized and walked away awkwardly. Katelyn just stared at Mickey, mouth agape an brow knitted.

"That was fucking rude," she said matter-of-fact, leaning forward so that her boobs squished against the table.

Mickey shrugged, picking his back, corner teeth with his tongue. He reached beside of himself and grabbed at his heavy green coat. Putting it on, he gave Katelyn one more glance and began standing. "Whatever," he muttered, straightening out his clothes. He dug through the coat pocket as he said this, then tossed down his half of the check. "You can cover your share," he said. "Hope I don't see you around, Katelyn."

She stared at him, furious. "It's Karen, you prick!" she yelled after him as Mickey made his way toward the door.

Mickey gave one glance beside of him as he began leaving. Looked briefly at the pair who sat behind his booth. His eyes fluttered across the person Mickey had been picturing as a middle aged, heavyset, whore in ragged clothes. Instead he saw a fairly young, fairly pretty black girl with mascara running down her face. Hair a tuft of brown and bleached blonde curls. Dark bruises all over her morose face. Too many piercings. Seemingly tall and fairly thin, wearing a pink sweat-suit. The girl and the middle aged man were staring, the obvious prostitute at Mickey, the older man looked backward, at Karen-not-Katelyn. Quickly, Mickey pulled his eyes away and walked out the door.