This is just a short one and I just thought I should probably say that even though I know this is an American version of the show, I know that if I change the words or spellings over so that it says stuff like Mom instead of Mum, I'll only end up swapping halfway through without realising and it'll be inconsistent. So. . .if it's not your way of spelling it, pretend! Also, I'm not sure what the deal is with Mickey's mother in the show because Mickey made a comment that implied she was alive and Mandy made a comment that said she was dead and we never see her, so I made something up. So, without further ado… enjoy. . .

"Mickey?"

Mickey didn't even bother opening his eyes, didn't roll over either, just stayed where he was on his front. The nurse, the new one, Lacey had thought she was being helpful by sparing Mickey the pain of having to sleep in a chair, so she'd organised for a bed to be brought into Ian's room that during the day they could collapse the legs on and slide it under Ian's. They couldn't really say anything without giving away the fact that Mickey didn't actually sleep in the chair at night, so the bed had stayed.

"What?" he asked when Ian didn't say anything else.

"What's your mum like?" he asked, his voice quiet but still seeming loud in the silence of the room. For a minute or two there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, while Mickey decided whether or not he actually wanted to answer that.

He knew what had brought the question on, knew it was Monica reappearing again and the stress of that, but just because he understood didn't mean he liked the question being asking.

"She's a bitch," he said harshly after a minute, punching the pillow underneath his head into a better shape even though he'd actually been comfortable before, "She drops in and out once every few months because she thinks she owes us clean washing once in a while or some shit like that." He shrugged even though Ian couldn't see him and it was sort of awkward while lying on his front. He wanted to try and pretend none of it mattered to him.

"What was she like before she left?" Ian asked, like he thought Mickey wanted to talk about this, or maybe needed to or something, when really they both knew it was Ian trying to find something to cling to that made Monica less of a horrible mother.

He rolled over onto his back and glared up at the ceiling. "All I really remember was that she was always clean," he muttered, the words sounding forced because that was what they were, "We never had much of a relationship, she thinks exactly the same thing about me as my Dad does, that I was somehow necessary for them to get Mandy."

Mickey was the one nobody really cared about. He was the one that was overlooked and forgotten, because he was nothing to them. Mandy was everything, the others were something, Mickey was nothing.

They'd never hesitated to tell him that.

"I could get away with anything because it was like I wasn't even there," he added when Ian didn't say anything, "My brothers only paid attention to me when they were bored or wanted something, my Dad only when he was drunk, but Mandy was sort of the exception."

It was the reason he looked after her, the reason he'd kill for her.

She'd never overlooked him. Sure, she thought he was an idiot and most of their conversations consisted of insults, but Mandy was the one who visited him when they were in Juvie, it was her who noticed that he was even gone in the first place. That was pretty much the only reason he overlooked the fact she borrowed his clothes to sleep in, his stuff without asking and constantly took the piss out of him for not bathing often enough.

"I remember when your Mum left," Ian said randomly and Mickey would have called him a liar, would have contradicted him on that, but he couldn't, it wasn't possible, because he could tell that Ian wasn't lying.

"What the fuck you talking about Gallagher?" he asked, probably in a much snappier tone than was necessary, but he couldn't help it, it was a sensitive subject and his lip was throbbing like a bitch.

He heard the rustle of bed sheets and Ian's face appeared above him because the bed Mickey was lying on was closer to the ground than his. He propped his head up on his elbow and rubbed some of the sleep from his eyes.

"I remember when she left," he repeated, chewing his bottom lip for a moment, like he didn't know whether or not Mickey actually wanted him to keep talking. Mickey didn't know whether or not he did either. "I don't know if it was the first time, but she drove off in this crappy car and then you came storming out the back door and threw a bottle at the neighbour's house and I remember thinking that you were a freakishly angry person, but maybe this time you had a reason."

Mickey didn't completely know why, but he scowled.

"Yeah well, whatever," he said, because he didn't know what else to say but he knew the redhead was waiting for him to say something, anything, "My mum's a bitch, you're mum's definitely got a screw loose and life can just be fucking unfair."

But what could you do?

Ian's hand dropped over the edge of the bed and brushed across his face and Mickey twitched away from it automatically. As the hand withdrew, he caught Ian's smile and thought that maybe his Gallagher had a screw loose as well.

"Thanks for setting Monica straight, anyway," he muttered, his eyes holding Mickey's until the ex-con just couldn't look anymore. He couldn't take the way Ian was staring at him, he didn't like him thanking him, he didn't like any of this.

Except maybe he sort of did.

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered, flipping back over onto his front, turning his face away from Ian, "You can always count on me to be a fucking dick." Everybody knew that.

Mickey shivered when he felt Ian's fingertips against his back.