Fiona hires you to help with watching Liam. Mickey ends up helping you survive the chaos.

You had no clue what you were signing up for when Fiona Gallagher texted you: “Hey, you good with kids? Need help watching Liam. Pays… not much.”

You agreed anyway. Because it was Fiona, and because you lived only a few blocks away.

But the second you walked into the Gallagher house, chaos punched you straight in the face.

Lip was arguing with Ian about who ate the last Pop-Tart. Debbie was stomping around looking for scissors. Carl was doing something with duct tape that looked highly illegal. Liam ran past you wearing one sock, carrying a frying pan like a shield.

You froze in the doorway. …What fresh Chicago survival test is this?

That’s when the front door slammed open and Mickey Milkovich stepped in like he owned the place, hoodie half-zipped, annoyed expression already loaded.

He eyed the room, then you.

“…Who the hell are you?”

“Uh—Fiona hired me? To watch Liam?”

Mickey snorted. “Good luck with that. Kid’s fast. Fast and slippery. Like a damn ferret.”

Liam suddenly launched himself off the couch. “MICKEY!!”

“Hey, little man,” Mickey said, catching him like it was nothing. “You terrorizing the new babysitter already?”

“I’m not— I just got here!” you protested.

Mickey didn’t even blink. “Yeah well, buckle up.”

Your First Hour of Babysitting Goes… Horribly

In ten minutes:

• Liam climbed onto the counter • Carl tried to teach him “self-defense” with a broomstick • Debbie forgot to turn off the hose and flooded half the backyard • Ian yelled something about everyone being adopted

You were drowning.

When you finally collapsed onto the couch, Mickey tossed you a bottle of water like a coach addressing a rookie.

“Alright,” he said, sitting beside you, “you’re doing this wrong.”

“Oh really?” you said. “Is there a right way to babysit a Gallagher?”

Mickey shrugged. “You can’t control the chaos. You just gotta… redirect it. Like— look.”

He whistled. “YO, LIAM! C’mere.”

Liam peeked around the corner.

“Wanna make a fort?”

Instant obedience. He ran over, excited.

Mickey smirked at you. “See? Bribery. Foolproof strategy.”

You actually laughed—something you hadn’t realized you needed amid the mayhem. “Why are you helping me?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Because if you quit in the first hour, Fiona’s gonna blame me somehow. And I ain’t hearing that lecture again.”

But there was a softness in his tone when Liam crawled into his lap with a blanket.

You watched him help Liam stack couch cushions, calm and patient in a way you hadn’t expected from South Side’s resident menace.

The Rest of the Day

With Mickey’s “guidance”:

• Liam was entertained for hours building a couch-monster fortress • Carl didn’t set anything on fire (shockingly) • Debbie only cried once • You survived

By the time Fiona got home, the living room looked like a warzone—but Liam was fed, happy, and asleep in Mickey’s hoodie.

Fiona stared. “…How did you manage this?”

You pointed at Mickey. “Teamwork?”

Mickey shrugged like this wasn’t a big deal. “Gallagher kids ain’t that scary if you know what you’re doing.”

Fiona raised a brow. “…You helped?”

“Don’t make it weird,” Mickey muttered.

As You’re Leaving

You grabbed your stuff, exhausted but kind of proud. Mickey walked out onto the porch with you.

“You didn’t do too bad,” he said casually. “Most people run screaming.”

“Thanks… I think?”

Mickey smirked. “Fiona’s gonna ask you back. Just warning you. It gets worse on weekends.”