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“I’m just saying if you took the route I suggested in the first place we wouldn’t have been late to our last two deliveries,” Ian says as he steps inside the Gallagher house.
It’d been a few months since the two of them had lived there. Now, it’s just the youngest three Gallaghers plus Franny.
“What the fuck ever,” Mickey replies. “We got it done, didn’t we?” Ian has nothing to say to that; he just stares at his husband, unamused.
“Alright, I’m gonna go take a dump.” he gives Mickey a peck on the cheek as he makes his way across the living room and over to the downstairs bathroom.
“Always the romantic,” Mickey quips, and Ian flips him off without so much as looking back.
It’s then that Mickey walks up to the couch and turns his attention to Franny who’s sitting there coloring at the coffee table. She’s engrossed in her drawing and has her face all scrunched up in concentration. As he looks down at the kid, Mickey notices her hitting her hand on the table and muttering to herself.
“What’s that, lil’ Red?” he asks.
She doesn’t acknowledge him, just keeps chanting to herself as she smacks the table in rhythm with her left hand and scribbles with a hot pink crayon in her right. Mickey grabs a seat next to her on the couch where he can listen more closely.
“S-I-M-P! S-I-M-P!” he hears her chant.
Is she—? No… she’s like fuckin’ four. Where did she learn that shit?
He nudges her knee with his own to get her attention. “Franny,” he starts.
The scribbles stop and she turns to look up at her uncle. “Simp!” she greets him in her characteristically cheery tone as she stretches her arms up to wrap them around his neck in a hug.
He pulls back from the embrace, and tilts his head to the side in confusion. “No… not simp!” he says, and apparently that was the wrong fucking call because that just sets her off further. “Simp! Simp! Simp! SIMP!” She shrieks the last one and Mickey’s pretty sure the entire block can hear it. He instinctively hops up off the couch and stands up.
“Franny! You gotta cut that shit out!” he says without hesitation. This was also the wrong call because before he knew it, Franny bursts into a wail that was even louder than her previous outburst.
One of the bedroom doors opens upstairs and Mickey can hear, in full-blown fucking screamo, “I’M A SHINY BITCH! I GOT LOTS OF SHINY SHIT! I GOT GLITTER ON MY CLIT—” before the song is muffled again as the door shuts. “What?! What’s going on?!” Debbie asks, as she hurries down the staircase.
“Jesus, Debbie! What the fuck are you listening to up there? You’ve really gone full dyke, haven’t you?!”
“Shut the fuck up, dickhead. Why’s Franny crying?” She turns her attention to her daughter. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Uncle Mick—“ Franny begins, and her explanation is cut off as she gasps for air between sobs.
It’s then that Ian reenters the living room.
“Sweetie, calm down,” Debbie reassures her as she sits down next to Franny and rubs her back. “What happened?”
Franny jabs her tiny finger out in Mickey’s direction, “Uncle Mickey yelled at me!” She brings her arm back and uses both hands to press into her eye sockets, then drags them down her cheeks in an attempt to wipe away her tears.
“What?!” Ian and Debbie respond in unison, both drawing their eyebrows together and looking to Mickey for an explanation. God, those two can be scary sometimes.
“She was callin’ me a fuckin’ simp!” He turns his attention to the tiny redhead who’s now taking deep, choppy breaths in an attempt to calm down “You can’t call me that!”
“Why not?!” she demands.
Mickey freezes up, and Debbie crosses her arms and turns to look at him.
“Yeah, Uncle Mickey, why not?”
He starts rubbing the back of his neck nervously and looks over to Ian for guidance. When none comes, Mickey jerks his head to the kitchen.
“We’ll be right back Fran,” Debbie assures her, as she turns on Vampirina and follows them into the other room.
— —
Mickey stands next to the fridge, back to the living room, while Ian and Debbie lean against the kitchen counter.
“What the fuck, Mick?” Ian says with a laugh.
“You know what that shit means, right?!” Mickey turns back to make sure Franny’s occupied with her show before he continues in a hushed voice, “It means Suckers Idolizing Mediocre Pussy.”
Debbie and Ian exchange knowing looks before bursting into laughter.
“No it doesn’t!” Debbie says. “Who the fuck told you that?!”
Mickey pulls his arms across his chest, feeling like an idiot. “Fuckin’ I don’t know! Tami? Maybe Carl? Shut up!”
Ian’s bends over in laughter before saying, “Mickey,” in that sweet tone of voice that would normally turn Mickey into a soft fucker but now makes him want to roll his eyes. “You realize you just called Debbie a dyke and now you’re over here actin’ all scandalized that Fran’s calling you—” he lowers his voice to mock his husband, “a simp.”
“Oh, you can fuck right off, thank you very much!” Mickey actually rolls his eyes at that. “Where’d she even learn that shit?”
“Simp?” asks Debbie. “It’s a Lil Mariko song. Franny loves Lil Mariko. She’s one of her favorite artists.”
Mickey and Ian exchange confused looks like they don’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.
“Is that the shit you were just listening to?! I dunno if you can call screaming about simps and glitter clits art.”
Ian scrunches up his face in disgust. “Mick, can you spare me the fuckin’ visual? Jesus…”
Mickey rolls his eyes again and turns his attention back to Debbie. “All I’m sayin’ is you gotta stop listening to that music around the fuckin’ four year old.”
“She’s five.”
“Oh, big fuckin’ difference.”
“Mickey why don’t you save it and when you have a kid of your own I promise not to corrupt them with glitter clits, ‘kay?”
“Alright, alright,” Ian interjects. “Debbie, quit talking about… that.” He walks up to his husband. “If you don’t want Franny to call you something you can just tell her that. She’s a kid but she understands shit like that, you just gotta be nice about it.”
Mickey runs his hand across his face in frustration. “You know I’m no good at this shit.”
“I know Mick, I know,” Ian reassures him. “C’mon.” he heads back to the living room, knowing Mickey will follow.
“Hey Franny, Uncle Mickey wants to apologize to you,” he says.
It’s been a few minutes and though her eyes are still red-rimmed, she’s calmed down for the most part. Ian grabs the remote muting the tv to get her full attention. Mickey stands there, clearly unsure of what to say.
“Um, I’m sorry for being mean earlier,” he begins looking over to Ian for reassurance. When Ian gives him a little nod, he continues. “Uh, I shoulda just asked nicely…” He sits down on the couch next to her so they are eye-to-eye. “I don’t really like when you call me that. Please don’t?”
“Okay,” she answers simply as she grabs the remote to unmute her show.
Mickey looks back over to Ian for reassurance, only to see his husband raise his eyebrows and give him a tight-lipped smile.
“Fuck off,” says Mickey as he stands and heads back to the kitchen. “Let’s go raid the fridge, Glitter Clit.”