The first time you walked into the Gallagher house, no one noticed.

Not really.

Fiona was yelling about bills, Debbie was arguing with Carl, Liam was glued to the TV, and Frank—well, Frank was being Frank. You stood awkwardly by the door until Ian leaned over and whispered, “Just don’t make eye contact. You’ll survive.”

You laughed, nerves easing a little.

At first, you were Ian’s person. The one who waited outside during family blowups. The one who helped clean up without being asked. The one who didn’t judge when things got loud or messy or weird.

Lip tested you early. “So… you sticking around?” he asked one night, arms crossed like he already knew the answer.

You met his stare. “Yeah. If that’s okay.”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll see.”

Debbie watched you carefully, suspicious until you helped her with homework without making her feel dumb. Carl decided you were acceptable after you patched up his scraped knee without freaking out. Liam warmed up when you let him fall asleep on your shoulder during movie night.

Fiona took the longest.

One night, long after everyone else had crashed, she found you scrubbing the kitchen sink that would never stay clean. “You don’t have to do that,” she said quietly.

“I know,” you replied. “I just… want to help.”

She studied you for a moment, then nodded. “Ian needs someone steady.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That was the night things changed.

It wasn’t all at once. It was small moments—an extra plate set for you, someone saving you the good couch spot, your name added to grocery lists.