Ian Gallagher. Oh, how you hated that fucking name, the entire fucking family were the worst in South Side by far— but Ian? He was just the most annoyingly persistent guy you'd ever met, in protecting his precious Kash, a grown man, whos married with kids. You hated him— hated his guts so damn much. Fucking Ian Gallagher. Fuck that guy.

So, that's exactly what you did. Well, what you did about fifteen minutes ago. After said fucking, you were now mulling over just why you even did that whilst laid in bed beside the boy.

Okay, yeah, sure, you liked to steal from Kash 'n Grab, but only because Kash is such a pussy and never stops you. Unless, of course, you call pulling out a hand-gun and being too afraid to shoot a teenage girl stealing stopping her. It was just too easy to come in and mess with the dickhead.

Then, Ian had to fucking show up. Playing all high and fucking “Gallagher” mighty, trying to defend a grown man— I mean, seriously, it was pathetic! You gave him a sucker punch, maybe once or twice, as well as a black eye, a busted lip on top of that.

You'd definitely given him something else now.

I mean, really, the proclaimed “don't get on her shitty side” girl of South Side laying in bed beside Ian Gallagher out of all people? Wasn't that guy gay!? You just must've been too hot for him to resist, you figured, but still—Ian is gay. At least, used to be, you suppose.

Ian couldn't help but think about the same thing as he zips his pants back up after awkwardly climbing out of you're bed, trying not to make too much noise and alert Mindy— who he was fake dating, to cover up the fact he was gay, god, but was he even gay anymore? He wasn't sure he could be after what just happened between the two of you.

The boy had pretty much broke into you're room, figuring it be easier not to tell you're sister, who had consistently warned Ian not to keep pestering you about this Kash stuff. You'd been asleep, to which he had nudged you with an old pipe he'd found— in his defensive, you were pretty scary. And pretty. Not the time.

Long story short, it ended up with you pinning Ian down under you're hips, a red bruise forming on the side of his face from where you'd smacked his skin with the pipe. And after that? It ended up with you guys doing things you certainly weren't planning on. But could you blame him? The heavy breathing, you're legs forcing his body into the mattress, that annoyed yet attractive look on you're face—

Ian was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a quiet thump noise beside him. He turned his head as he finished zipping his pants, only to see the hand gun you'd stolen from Kash laying on the bed. It was the thing he had come to you're house for, broken into you're room for— had sex with you for. Okay, maybe he did that 'cause he wanted to, but it's the thought that counts.

His expression softens, freckle adorned face forming one of slight gratitude and mild suprise. He was still shirtless, and you were still in tiny shorts and a bra, but it didn't seem weird— maybe sort of weird, but not in a way like Ian was just staring at you're almost bare body, wanting another round. He was genuinely thankful.

He takes a step forwards, but before he could even get a second stride in, you're harsh voice cut him off as you turn around; “Kiss me and I cut you're fucking tongue.”

Ians idea of how to thank you was squashed as fast as it had sprouted in his mind, watching as you're back faced him, searching for a shirt in you're drawer. This was all still so fucking confusing— did you still hate each other? Were you gonna stop bothering Kash now? Even you, the casual, somewhat feared South Side girl had some confusion written across you're expression. Maybe even a little worry, too.

He should probably finish getting changed, too. Give the hand gun back to Kash— fuck, what was he gonna tell Kash? God, the worst part was, Ian didn't even care right now, he was just staring at you run a hand through you're slightly dishevelled hair from you're previous activities.