Chapter Text
It was a peaceful night at the Gallagher house.
Peaceful in the sense that no one was bleeding, naked, or being chased by police. Which, by their standards, meant it was practically a holiday.
Fiona had pulled out a dusty old Monopoly box from under the couch.
“This time,” she warned, pointing at Mickey, “no strip rules. I mean it.”
Mickey raised his hands. “What, I can't help that y’all are degenerates.”
Carl snorted. “You literally moaned during your last turn.”
Ian: “He was acting.”
Mickey: “I was immersed.”
---
10 MINUTES INTO THE GAME, CHAOS HAD ALREADY SET IN.
Debbie was trying to unionize the utilities.
Liam was suspiciously rich and wouldn’t say where his fifth house came from.
And Mickey and Ian?
Let’s just say their roleplaying got... a little too real.
---
Scene:
Mickey landed on Ian’s Boardwalk.
Ian smirked. “That’ll be $2,000.”
Mickey pouted, sliding closer. “Oh nooo, I don’t have enough money, what should I do?”
Carl gagged. “Please.”
Mickey leaned in, whispering theatrically: “I know other ways to pay my rent~”
Fiona banged the table. “NO SEXUAL FAVORS DURING MONOPOLY.”
---
But then — sweet, dumb Carl made a fatal mistake.
He tried to start a housing monopoly on the brown properties.
Brown.
Mickey’s eyebrow twitched. “Really?”
Carl grinned. “Just bringing back good memories.”
That was it.
He lost immediately in the next round. Now the family could sentence him.
---
THE PUNISHMENT COUNCIL CONVENED.
Debbie pulled out a whiteboard.
Lip drew a stick figure with Carl’s face and devil horns.
V and Kev brought wine.
“Let’s be evil,” Fiona said, clinking her glass with Debbie’s.
They all took turns pitching ideas:
“Make him shave his eyebrows.”
“Make him wax Frank’s back.”
“Force him to write poetry about Mickey’s ass.”
Then Debbie, eyes gleaming, raised a finger.
“I say... we avenge Mickey’s ass.”
Everyone went quiet.
She smiled like a Bond villain. “Carl. Should kiss it.”
---
Carl blinked. “Wait what.”
Mickey squinted. “What.”
Then paused. Thought about it.
Tilted his head.
“…It’s not such a bad idea.”
Ian: “Mickey.”
Mickey shrugged. “What? It’s about respect.”
Carl looked around the room. Everyone nodded slowly.
Lip raised his glass. “All in favor?”
Everyone: “Aye.”
Ian: …(silence)
---
THE SENTENCING BEGINS.
Carl stood awkwardly in front of Mickey, face red.
He cleared his throat. “U-uh… could you… bend over?”
Mickey stared. “The hell I’m gonna bend over. What am I, a beach chair?”
He stepped forward. “You better get on your knees, Gallagher.”
Carl flinched. “Jesus.”
But he obeyed. Slowly. Knees to the floor like a man accepting death.
He hovered. Shaky breath. Closed his eyes.
And then—
Smooch.
Mickey smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
---
Ian didn’t say a word.
He’d stayed silent the whole time. Arms crossed, jaw clenched.
He didn’t like it. Even as a joke.
Even if it was just Carl.
Even if he trusted Mickey more than anyone alive.
Still… the image was burned in his brain. His husband — mooning the whole room, and Carl — down on his knees like a Disney sidekick.
Mickey noticed.
Later that night, he’d have some apologizing (and compensating) to do.
---
Carl, meanwhile, sat in the corner post-kiss.
He was quiet.
Suspiciously quiet.
And blushing.
Lip squinted at him. “Wait... are you— blushing?”
Carl scoffed. “No. It’s just— the room’s hot.”
Fiona: “It’s literally winter.”
Mickey grinned. “You liked it, didn’t you?”
Carl: “SHUT UP.”
He never played Monopoly again.
(But he may or may not have doodled “M + C” in the margins of the board later that week.)