Smoke billowed out of his nose as he watched the flames grow in the deli across the street.

"It's not us," Iggy murmured from beside him.

"No shit, Sherlock," Mickey replied. "They're still gonna look at us for it."

"Fuckin Terry," Iggy groaned.

Mickey nodded in agreement - it almost didn't matter what it was in reference to because, yes - fuckin Terry - but he knew. Terry had been caught literally red-handed during a job. Then resisting with fire against the police. Because Terry was a narcissistic dumbass who thought he could get away with it. Thankfully, he'd been thrown quickly into prison. Likely forever. Hopefully, anyway.

While Mickey and his siblings were thrilled with their Terry-free lives, Terry had left the Milkovich kids as the first stop by the cops anytime a fire appeared in their general vicinity.

Mickey pulled his cell phone and typed out a cryptic warning to Mandy. Better she had a heads up before the police arrived to question them.

"Lot of fires lately," Iggy murmured.

Mickey glanced across the street again, about to tell Iggy they should go when he accidentally made eye contact with one of the EMTs who happened to look his way at that moment.

"Fuck," Mickey whispered.

"That's a Gallagher, ain't it?" Iggy asked about the redheaded EMT. He was hunched over a person the firefighters had dragged out of the fire, but currently sat frozen as he stared across at Mickey.

"Yeah, which means he knows who we are," Mickey responded, already walking away from where'd they'd stood. Iggy hurried to casually catch up to him, doing everything not to draw attention.

The Gallaghers were as well known in the neighborhood as the Milkoviches, although for vastly different reasons. The Milkovich children had all inherited fire power from Terry. They were well known as torches in the South Side.

The Gallaghers, though… All the local stories said the Gallaghers were world-class thieves, specifically art from museums or private collections. They were probably financially set for life, if Frank wasn't wasting away all their profits in alcohol anyway. Terry would never admit it, but Mickey knew their father was jealous of the powers exhibited by Frank's brood. Fiona and Liam's invisibility, Lip and Carl's speed, and Debbie's strength (its rumored she singlehandedly carried The Thinker out of a museum last year). The Gallaghers were a heist-man's dream team.

The tall redhead, though. Ian. Mickey has never heard anything about Ian's abilities. Not even a rumor. Actually, the rumor was that Ian wasn't Frank's actual kid, which, if true, then Ian didn't exhibit powers because he didn't possess any.

Mickey's fire power meant his father had him setting fires since he was old enough to toddle away from a crime scene, even if it landed him in juvie more than once. So, maybe Ian is lucky to be powerless. Although, if any of the Milkovich kids had been born without Terry's fire ability, Mickey doesn't doubt that Terry would've tossed them to the curb.

Actually, the fact that he, Iggy, and Mandy are torches and there isn't a Milkovich sibling who isn't… Maybe Terry did toss out a few powerless offspring along the way.

Mickey is not the one starting the fires, but as a torch, he can easily smell the smoke. He'd been walking home, but he turned and headed in the same direction as the sirens.

He stood a little further off this time, leaning against the brick of a building down the street. The fire looked like it was consuming an office supply store, which meant there was plenty of flammable material inside. There was a bank next door, and Mickey wondered if there was any connection. Would a bank robber set a fire next door as a way to break into the bank? Would a bank alarm be ignored, with such a serious fire nearby? Would it be easy to escape the bank unnoticed when everyone was already busy with –

"Hey."

Mickey startled at the interruption and half spun to glare at the guy who'd somehow sidled up next to him without him noticing. Ian Gallagher was casually leaning against the wall next to Mickey. He was seemingly unaffected by Mickey's murderous expression, probably because the redhead's attention was focused on Mickey's hands.

"Wow," Ian said, sounding genuinely impressed. "You know, I've never actually met a torch."

Mickey glanced down at his own hands, at the flames that danced around his fingertips, a reaction to being startled moments before. He crossed his arms, extinguishing his fingers under his biceps and continued to glower at the redhead.

Ian's eyes lifted to Mickey's face, but he continued to appear unaffected by Mickey's obvious disgruntled-ness. His wide eyes were a bright green, practically glowing with the help of the storefront lights next to them.

"You're not supposed to be impressed," Mickey informed him, even if he was maybe a little bit pleased at Ian's reaction. "You're supposed to stay away from fire."

"You don't," Ian pointed out before nodding towards the fire down the street. "You know I saw you at that other fire a few days ago."

"I'm not the one starting these fires," Mickey growled.

"Did you know that people who start fires for fun usually stick around to watch them burn? You being here is more suspicious than not."

Mickey turned to fully face Ian, ready to deck him or growl at him some more, but he stilled when he saw the smirk on Ian's face. This fucker was trying to tease him?

"I don't think you've had anything to do with the fires, but we should still get outta here," Ian suggested.

Mickey glanced at the fire again before shrugging and heading down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the burning store. Mickey wasn't sure why, but Ian walked with him, long legs making it easy to keep up with Mickey's naturally quick pace.

They walked for a block in silence. Every time Mickey side-eyed Ian, he found the tall man practically smiling as he walked, even as he cast his own side-eyed looks in Mickey's direction.

"Wanna get a drink?" Ian asked as they were about to pass a noisy bar. "I'll buy the first round," he offered eagerly.

Mickey wasn't one to turn down free drinks, especially when they were being offered by an overgrown puppy.

"Sure, Red."

He may have been trying to feign indifference but Ian full on beamed at him as he pulled open the door of the bar for Mickey.

"It's Ian, by the way."

Mickey smirked, leaving Ian to think he didn't remember a name he's known since they were kids, and walked in ahead of him, beelining for two open stools at the bar. They had two bottles in front of them, and the appearance of privacy as the bartender moved away, before Ian spoke again.

"I really don't think you have anything to do with all these recent fires," Ian offered again.

"Why not?"

Ian's eyes, which had been traveling around the bar, settled on Mickey's face. "I don't see how you'd gain anything from it," Ian began, "but honestly? People are getting hurt. I don't think you would want people hurt."

It was a strange sensation, feeling seen by someone, especially someone as charismatic as Ian. Mickey ducked his head, needing a moment away from those wide green eyes. He rubbed a finger against the eyebrow closest to Ian for a moment. Mandy said it was a nervous tick, but he knew he wasn't nervous.

Ian was courteous enough to not call him out on anything, anyway. Instead, he drew Mickey's attention back to him by leaning over enough to bump their shoulders.

"So why do you show up at the fires?"

Mickey shrugged, even while he considered Ian more closely. The last time he'd seen Ian he's sure the redhead didn't have his current height or broadness. The freckles were pretty much the same, even if he's not sure he's ever been this close to see their distinct patterns on Ian's face. And that hair. Mickey couldn't keep his eyes from traveling up to appreciate the red strands. When his vision dropped to Ian's eyes again, he knew he'd been caught checking him out, but Ian's mouth only twitched as his gaze dropped to his beer before glancing back at Mickey.

Good looks aside, Ian seems authentic in his curiosity.

"I'm looking for clues," Mickey finally said with another shrug. "Cops have it out for me and my siblings. We're torches and Milkoviches. They come talk to us after every fire." He thumbed his nose for a moment. "I just want to know who's starting them before we get framed."

Ian's brow creased as Mickey spoke. "So, you've got alibis or enough that they've never arrested you, and yet they keep coming back for every fire?" Ian asked before pressing his lips into a thin frustrated line.

It was cute.

"You got it, Red."

"That's fucked up."

"Just the way it is, man."

"So, you're an amateur private detective, huh?"

"Fuck off," Mickey laughed. "What were you doing there today?"

"You were at the last fire," Ian stated. "Thought maybe I'd see if you were at this one."

Immediately affronted, Mickey glared at Ian. "You said you didn't think I had anything to do with the fires?"

Again, Ian appeared unphased by Mickey's glare. Instead, his grin turned bashful as he said, "You guys don't live at the Milkovich house anymore. Mandy's number changed. Neither of you are on social media. You're a hard guy to find."

"You had Mandy's number?"

Ian nodded. "We were good friends in high school but lost contact after I dropped out. I tried to call her a year or two ago, but she must've gotten a new number."

Mickey nodded. "Yeah, we all did when Terry went to jail. Didn't want him calling us."

"Makes sense."

"So, what? You lookin for me just to get Mandy's number?"

Ian laughed and it sounded so dorky that Mickey had to bite his lip to keep his smile contained.

"I mean, I'll take her number. I'd love to catch up with her. She was pretty much my only non-family friend in school. I regret losing contact with her, but I had a lot going on when I dropped out." Ian's eyes appeared unfocused for a couple seconds, but he redirected his attention to Mickey and smiled. "But I was looking for you because I was looking for you."

The hope that had been spreading in Mickey's chest for the past few moments burned hotter as Ian's earnest face watched him for a reaction.

Unable to bite down his new grin, he ducked his face. "Can't imagine why, Red."

"You don't remember me hanging out at your house with Mandy back when we were in school?" Ian asked.

Mickey did remember seeing the redhead sometimes. He'd always been surprised to find them just playing video games in the living room. Mandy rarely brought guys back to their house, but when she did, those guys only ever saw Mandy's bedroom before they were out the door again.

"Bangs, right?" Mickey teased.

Ian groaned and dropped his head practically to the bar top. "That's what you remember?"

Mickey laughed at his dramatics, enjoying how easy it was to tease him. He waved over the bartender to order another round as he spotted a guy across the bar obviously scowling in their direction. At first, he thought the look was aimed at him, but as he kept half an eye on the guy while the bartender dropped off two more beers, he realized the guy's eye daggers were actually aimed at Ian.

"Who's that asshole?" Mickey tilted his head towards the guy before taking another drink.

Ian's smile dropped off his face as his eyes found the man Mickey had indicated, and Mickey almost regretted drawing attention to the other man.

Ian heaved a heavy sigh before saying, "Caleb. He's a firefighter. He's been on call for a lot of the recent fires."

"Think he'd recognize any similarities about the fires? Any clues to who could be settin em?"

"He's also my ex," Ian muttered as he lifted his bottle for another drink.

"Oh," Mickey said, meeting Caleb's eyes directly before lifting both eyebrows to indicate that the firefighter should fuck off. The guy was smart enough to quickly turn away. "Fuck him, then."

Ian sputtered and had to fight to keep from spitting out his mouthful of beer in surprise. Mickey's eyebrows rose again, only now in amusement, as he watched Ian try to keep it together.

"Please don't," Ian finally managed to say through more laughter.

Mickey chuckled. "I don't know, Red. Tall guy in a uniform. You see any better options around here for me?"

Half of Ian's mouth quirked up as the green of his eyes darkened and roved slowly over Mickey's face. Mickey felt a smirk growing on his own face. It'd been a long time since he'd felt sparks of interest for anyone – a long time since he'd let himself even consider anyone.

"Really, Ian? Using a torch to get back at me?"

Ian flinched at the interruption and turned towards their intruder while Mickey sat annoyed with himself for not noticing that the guy had crossed the bar to confront Ian.

"How the hell do you know he's a torch?" Ian asked.

Caleb pushed his shoulders back and chest out. "Firefighters keep track of that shit, Ian," he said, obviously proud of the blatant discrimination. "How can you be here with him? He's probably the one blazing down the city."

"He's not," Ian declared.

Ian sounded so certain that the warmth in Mickey's chest flared again. Unfortunately, Mickey and all other torches were used to this sort of slander. Since the invention of central heating systems for homes, being a torch wasn't seen as a benefit to anyone. It was almost as bad as being a Milkovich. But he hated that this guy was saying those things about him to Ian. That it was Ian who had to hear this shit about him.

Before Mickey could say anything, though, Ian was off his stool and yelling in Caleb's face. "You don't know him at all! And what the fuck are you even doing here?"

The din of the crowd made it hard to hear much else, and Mickey's attention was drawn to his phone vibrating in his pocket. There was a new message in the group chat he had going with Mandy and Iggy.

Mandy: SOS home

Mickey slapped some bills on the bar top, glanced at Ian, who had his back to Mickey as he continued to argue with his ex, before slipping out the door to rush home.