Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless.

A/N: So I couldn't just let our boys go unheard from now that they are finally reunited behind bars. Here's a series one of conversations, or one shots that take place post 9.6 Face It, You're Gorgeous. Enjoy!

Girl Advice-(Mickey and Carl)

Carl looks around the prisoner visiting area anxiously as he waits for the prisoners to be brought in. He's no stranger to prisoner visiting rooms. While he was doing time in juvie Fiona, Debbie, and his brothers made frequent trips to see him. But this is only the second time that he has been on the other side of the glass.

It's been almost three months since Ian went in and Carl has only been here to see his brother once. When Ian first went in, Carl planned to make the trip to see him every week. But his desire to get into West Point and his relationship with Kelly began consuming every free minute he had and his plan to see Ian fell by the wayside. He wishes that he was here today to see Ian, but that's not the case. He's here for a different reason.

"You have got to be fuckin' joking."

Carl can't help but smirk when he sees the older man take his seat on the other side of the glass. "Hi, Mickey."

Mickey gives him the finger as he picks up the phone. "What the fuck do you want? The only Gallagher I want to see is back there," he says pointing to where he just came from.

"Nice to see you too," Carl says as he tales in Mickey's healing black eye. "How's Ian?"

Mickey huffs. "You can ask him your fuckin' self. I'm not his keeper."

Okay. Note to self. Mickey is still not into small talk. Even if it's about Ian.

"I kinda need your help," Carl asks.

"My help?" Mickey snickers. "Are you dealing again? Ian said you were done with that shit. If you started up again, I can't help you. I kinda lost any cred I had with my dealing connections."

Carl nods. He knows this already. Even though Mickey and his brother's relationship is pretty much legendary Southside lore now, it's still not openly talked about much. Only a small, select few feels comfortable enough to talk about it out in the open. It was only by chance that he walked in on Lip trying to reassure Fiona that Ian was okay. That he wasn't holding any ill will towards her for not going with them to bring Ian to jail. And that Mickey brokered some deal with the Feds that in exchange for information on some drug cartel that he was working with, he got to serve his time in any prison of his choice. He chose the same prison that Ian was sent to.

"It has nothing to do with drugs. I need some advice," Carl doesn't go into specifics right away. Aren't these conversations recorded?

"What the fuck about? You have like a gaggle of siblings to ask about shit."

"Gaggle? What the fuck is that? You reading Ian's books again?" Carl asks.

"Fuck off. What is this shit about?" Mickey asks impatiently.

"I need some girl advice," Carl says. Hoping Mickey picks up on what he is saying. Or not saying. He needs to know what to deal with this Kassidi mess now that her father has started noseying around.

"Girl advice? I know you repeated the third grade like three times. But you do know about your brother and me, right?" Mickey asks. "I'm the last person you should be going to about girl advice."

Why is Mickey making this so damn hard? Is he fucking with him? Carl can't very well come out and say, "How do you cover your tracks when you may be involved in your wife's possible/probable murder?"

"Well, I was going to go to Mandy because she has more experience dealing with this sorta thing. But I don't have her number."

Mickey looks at him confused but then it clicks. Mandy. Mandy ran down Karen when she was trying to get back with Lip and no one was none the wiser. As far as the residents of the Southside know, Karen was the unfortunate victim of a random hit and run.

Mickey smiles. He gets what Carl is asking him. "Main thing you have to do is make sure you dot you I's and cross your t's. Make sure there are no loose ends. They can't find what they're looking for if there is nothing to find."

"That's it?" Carl asks. He thought Mickey would have something more to say than that.

"That's it. If you do that, then you're golden. Is that it?" Mickey asks, clearly ready to leave.

Carl nods. "That's it."

Mickey nods as he goes to hang up the phone but Carl calls out before he can.

"What now? You want me to tell you how to tie your shoes?"

"No…um. Can you not tell Ian about this?" Carl asks. The last thing Ian needs to worry about is what's going on outside these prison walls, while he's stuck behind them. He needs to only worry about himself and no one else. "I don't want him to know."

"I won't say shit."

Carl lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Mickey holds up his finger. "On one condition. Get your brother to put some cash in my commissary account. I have like a buck in it."

Carl nods. Even if Lip doesn't do it, he will. He'll find some way to get some cash. "You'll have something in it by the end of the day."

"Later, Gallagher." Mickey says standing up.

With Mickey gone, Carl quickly makes his exit. Grinning, he already knows what he has to do. He knows that he has to make sure that Griffin won't be a problem. That he won't say anything to implicate him with Kassidi's disappearance. Carl already has a plan and he's pretty sure that Kelly will help him out.

XXXXX

"Hey," Mickey greets as he enters his cell. Ian's sitting on Mickey's bunk with a copy of "The Jungle" in his lap.

"Mick," Ian greets tiredly, folding over the page's corner to mark his place before setting the book aside.

Mickey can't help it when his eyes go to Ian's trembling hands. Two weeks ago the prison docs had the great idea to switch Ian from lithium to valproate. With the change came the tremors and relentless exhaustion.

Sensing the older man's unease, Ian folds his hands in his lap. "Good visit?"

Mickey shrugs. "Not bad. Kinda stupid though. Yo-" Mickey starts to say 'your brother' but then he remembers Carl's pleading with him not to tell Ian. And the last thing Ian needs right now while his body is adjusting to new meds is more stress about a situation that he has not control over. "You wouldn't believe it. Fuckin' Iggy."

Ian lets out a tired smirk. "Yeah? What did he want?"

"Girl advice," Mickey snickers.

"Girl advice?" Ian repeats with a laugh.

"Yeah, kinda fucked up. But the visit wasn't a complete waste of time. He said he's going to get put some money in my commissary account. That way I can get you some B-1 or something to help you out while your body gets sorted out."

Ian shakes his head. "No, Mickey. You can't. You already drowned your commissary account getting me Gatorade, crackers, and other shit. I can't let you ask your brother for more."

"Hey," Mickey says as he situates himself between Ian's long legs, placing his hand over Ian's trembling one. "Don't fucking worry about it. I got this. Trust me."

Mickey leans down to kiss him. Once they break apart, Ian looks up at him. "I trust you. Always had."