Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless.
This is my second collection of One-Chapter-Stories for Shameless. Each Chapter will focus on a different pair of Gallagher-Siblings-Dynamics. They do not connect in anyway and can all be read separately.
I haven't seen any of Season 10 so far, so this particular story takes place after Season 9, but does not include anything from Season 10, even if it might focus on events that the show might have covered already or will cover in the future.
Special Thanks go out to my beta lemondrizzlecake.
Home
Ian & Liam
Overcrowding.
The word still rings in Ian's head as he walks down the familiar streets of Chicago, all his belongings under one arm. Overcrowding. That's why he got released from prison four months early.
He can still smell the stench of urine in the showers, still feel the hardwood under the thin mattress, still taste freaking Mickey Milkovich's lips on his own.
Overcrowding, he thinks as he walks down the street, trying not to suffocate due to the amount of fresh air reaching his lungs as he makes his way home. Home. The word doesn't ring familiar within his head. So when he stops in front of the blue house on Wallace Street at three p.m on a regular Tuesday afternoon, he takes a moment to let it sink in. He eyes the house carefully, as if he thought it might eat him alive once he enters.
He hasn't told any of his siblings that he's been released early.
There wasn't really any time, because they literally just told him yesterday morning, but Ian also didn't want to. For sure, he could have called Lip, and he knows his big brother would have immediately dropped everything he was doing, probably gotten Kevin's truck and driven him home.
They would have stopped for lunch at a shitty diner and clinked with plastic cups filled with soda and there would have been a long talk with tons of prison jokes — which Ian wouldn't have found funny at all, but they would melted his heart anyway because it would have been Lip.
He could have called Debbie and she would have gone to the store, bought tons of food and prepared a fancy dinner, and talked and talked and talked while Ian would have sat in silence, his head spinning, Franny on his lap – oh gosh she must have grown so big since he got sentenced. He would have told Carl, because he, for sure, wouldn't make a big deal out of it, but Carl's at military school, close to graduating, and Ian doesn't want to disturb him. Nor does he have his number, and the school is a few hours away. There is no use to do so.
He might have called Kev, if Kev could keep quiet, so he could get a ride home in a comfortable truck. But Kev can't keep quiet, so he would have told Vee, and probably Lip, and -
Long story short, Ian decided he didn't need to tell anyone, that it would be a better surprise if he just sat on the couch when they came home.
Home.
It takes a while for Ian to find the courage to open the door. It's not locked – which means Frank must be on good behavior, lately. The thought makes him smile, because these tiny little things, the Gallagher mess, are what he missed the most when he was gone. He enters quietly, wondering if anybody might be home, staring at him wide-eyed, or if they're all gone and he might have the house for himself for a moment before the usual chaos breaks out.
Everything looks the same.
Ian doesn't know what he expected, but somehow it's strange that nothing inside seems to have changed at all. It should make him feel homey, should give him that warm comfortable feeling in his tummy, but it doesn't. It's like he's an intruder, a thief that's only there to rob the house of all its peace.
He has no luggage with him, nor a lot of belongings; he's not even wearing a god damn jacket, so all he does is wander around in confusion.
It's too quiet.
That's what bothers him most.
Three p.m on a Tuesday afternoon, so no one's home yet and it should explain this uncomfortable feeling inside of him, but it just makes it worse.
Breathing in, he prepares himself to yell, to make the house wake up and notice him, but the word gets stuck in his throat. So instead, Ian just stumbles into the kitchen, then upstairs. He enters Debbie's room first but finds it empty. He checks every other room, too, and by the time he's back downstairs, he's running and sweating and breathing heavily.
Exhausted, Ian lets himself fall down on the couch and curses himself.
He should have called someone.
He's not used to being alone. In prison you're never alone, not even while taking a shit; there's always someone, and luckily for him, most of the time it had been Mickey.
But Mickey's still got another year, so he's not here and Ian's alone. It's suffocating.
The quiet is excruciating, his legs are already shaking from the tension building up inside him, and it takes a minute to think straight.
He turns on the TV then, bumping up the volume until it hurts his ears and he finally calms down.
"I'm home" he tells the house, even though it doesn't listen.
~break~
He must have fallen asleep with the TV still on, because suddenly, he jerks awake and it takes a while to register where he is.
The TV is still on, but it's on mute. There are noises in the kitchen, plates and glasses and someone walking around with creaking sneakers.
He takes a deep breath and gets up to evaluate the situation. He grabs his chest in the process, to check his heart rate is back to normal.
The sounds in the kitchen continue and Ian smiles, breathes in the atmosphere, and tries not to cry from relief, when he finally makes his way in.
When he reaches the entrance, he stops and just watches.
It's Liam, and he's grown so freaking much in the past eighteen months that Ian feels like he just got off a time machine. It's not like Ian hasn't seen him during his stay in prison, Liam had come to visit a few times, but the atmosphere back there made him look so much smaller. Here he is, a pre-teen, making a sandwich and not looking up, until Ian speaks.
"Hey."
His brother turns around to face him, his dark eyes piercing, evaluating.
It occurs to Ian that the two of them have never been really close, him being gone a lot during Liam's upbringing, Fiona being the one taking care of him with Lip stepping in at times.
There's that feeling again, the uneasiness in his stomach, that makes him unable to move, and Ian thinks that it might be because he's afraid to be judged.
"You didn't break out, did you?"
His brother's voice isn't demanding, judging or afraid. It sounds as if Ian had just been to the grocery store and now Liam wonders if Ian remembered to get milk.
"No, got out early. Good behavior, overcrowding, the usual stuff."
"Good."
There's an awkward moment of silence and Ian tries to think of something to say to cross the invisible border that seems to be drawn across the kitchen floor, but it's Liam who takes the first step.
"You hungry? We could share my sandwich."
It's then that Ian's chest almost bursts.
In an instant he crosses the few feet between them and embraces his little brother in a crushing hug. The plate with the sandwich shatters on the ground when Liam hugs him back, kind enough not to comment on the tears running down Ian's face.
Five minutes later, they're both sitting on the couch, watching the history channel and sharing a sandwich, the awkward feeling in Ian's chest gone.
"It's good to be home," he says.
Next up
"Protector" with Fiona and Lip.