I just realised that Americans spell the name Sean "Shawn." (I'm Irish, born and raised here) so I spell it Sean but left out the fada (Seán). I try make my writing American ( like making it grades in school instead of primary and secondary school) but I completely forgot that it's spelled Shawn in America, sorry about that! Plus since I speak Irish most of the time I'm so used to saying Seán it completely slipped my mind (I speak Irish since I'm in a Gaelscoil.) If you have any questions or any requests about something being made Irish or American, just comment and let me know💗
Me and Mickey felt so out of place at the baby store. We never thought either of us would ever end up as parents.. or at least involved parents.
"What the fuck are we even supposed to get?" Mick questioned.
"Uhh, I dunno. But I asked Svet to write down a list of shit we might need," I replied, rummaging in my pocket for the list.
"You asked a Russian whore for baby advice?"
"Yes, the Russian whore that carried, gave birth to and is currently raising your child Milkovich."
"You think she's gonna end up like you?" He asked.
I snapped my head around to look at him, "what the fuck is that supposed to mean."
He rolled his eyes, "I mean a little fiery thing that will chop your balls off if you look at her wrong."
"Absolutely. She'll be just like her mom," I chuckled.
"I'm saying I want her to be. Raising a little south side shithead like us."
"Don't worry she will. With you as her dad, she'll probably be put up for homicide by the time she's 6."
I pulled out the list and eyed it up, I really didn't know what half this shit was, "a breast pump? Jesus."
We spent a while there, deciding on what clothes, and what crib to use. We decided we'd just borrow Liams old stroller or ask V for the twins old one.
We were in the aisle looking at bottles for the baby when Mickey spoke up, "Wait how's the baby's name gonna work?"
I looked puzzled at him, "what you mean? We just decide on a name."
"I fuckin know that shithead, it's last name!"
Oh fuck.. I didn't think of that either, "Uhhh.."
"Like, are we doing a joint thing? We gonna have both our names, or just Gallagher, just Milkovich?"
"Well.. we need to decide on a first name first really.. but, I guess a joint thing," I shrugged, placing a bottle into the basket.
"Sooo.. Gallagher-Milkovich? Milkovich-Gallagher?" He questioned.
"Something like that, but you're gonna have to pick some first names."
"How?"
I thought for a minute, picking up more baby shit that looked useful.. I really didn't know what I was doing, "We can both make a list. Pick like 5 or 6 names, then just pick the one we both like best. Grab me those pacifiers."
"But I don't fuckin know what names I like. Why can't you just pick?"
"Then sit down and think about it! It's our daughters name! I need your input" I argued.
He put his arms up in defeat, "fine! Jesus. Sooner that baby's out of you... wait- fuck it, you're a crazy bitch whether you're pregnant or not."
I swatted him but he dodged my hand, slapping my ass and grinning in response and I just flipped him off.
***
I got home, carrying one of the bags from the store up to my room, I made Mickey carry the rest.
I pushed open my bedroom door to find Carl, putting up wooden boards across our window.. and to my horror he had a massive gash on his head, with stitches in them.
"Fuck, hey," I sighed, putting down the bag.
"Hey," he said, but he sounded angry, and I knew that there was still something up with him.
"What're you doing?" I asked.
"Escape route."
"Why?"
He carried on working with all this random equipment, "just never know when you might need it."
I sighed, looking concerned towards my little brother, "stitches? What you do?"
"Nothing."
"Carl!"
He stopped what he was doing, taking a deep breath and looking at my apologetically. I gave a half smile, trying to let him know that it was okay for him to say what he needed.
"Nicks in jail," he breathed.
"Wondered what happened to him."
"He killed a guy... got all twisted up about respect. He couldn't let it go." His voice was shaky when he spoke, I knew that whatever shit had gone down had got to him this time.
"You okay though?"
He shook his head, "I just can't stop seeing that dead body in my head. And I figured that I'll keep seeing body's get dropped if I stay in the game. I don't wanna see that."
I pulled him into a tight hug before he could say any more, letting him lean into my shoulder, "we'll get you out of this shit okay Carl? No ones gonna fuck with my little brother."
***
"Carl!" I called, running downstairs. Queenie, Debbie, Chuckie, Carl and to my surprise Lip.
"Morgan!" Lip smiled.
"Hey! When did you get back?" I laughed, so happy to see my big brother again, pulling him into a hug.
"Just now, fuck your getting big now," he chuckled, placing a hand on my stomach.
"Well, I'm seven and a half months now, she's growing," I smiled, "Carl, come on let's go."
He looked at me confused, "what?"
"Just get your ass in the car, come on. See you guys later, we won't be long," I called.
"Wait, I just got here. Where you going?" Lip asked.
"Don't worry, we can get food or something once I'm back. Wont be longer than 30 minutes big brother."
I followed, Carl as he walked past me, grabbing the killing bat from the wall... also having one of Carl's old guns stuck into my jeans.
Okay so I kept just one of them, what was the harm? Self defence. It's important.
***
"Mouse, we don't need to do this," Carl muttered as I drove into the back end of an alley, approaching a black, old car that was parked at the end of it.
"We are sorting this out now. You know how many times I let people fuck with me or my family? Zero. So shut up, we're doing this," I replied, pulling up and parking beside them.
A group of about four older guys got out, and I realised they were clearly gang members.
Carl got out first, approaching one of the guys.
"Fucks sake Carl, you told us it was a few kids on the corner," I sighed, opening up the car door, gun still in my jeans, killing bat in hand.
"The fuck is this?" The leader asked Carl, eyeing me up.
"Your worst fucking nightmare if you want it to be," I smirked.
"I want out of this shit," Carl told him.
"So we about to stomp both of yall out Huh?"
I smiled, because regardless of who these guys thought they were, I knew I was more dangerous.
"Awh no sweetie, actually. What I was thinking that if you don't back the fuck up off my brother, I was going to use you as a piss bucket," I smiled.
The man scoffed, smiling and turning to smile at his boys, "you think so pretty lady?"
"Absolutely pretty boy. He's worked for you a while, now he wants to retire. And that's happening wether you're down for it or not."
Me and Carl's eyes met and I saw the smile on his face, he knew that I was going to get him out of this. And now he was gaining confidence too.
"Exactly, I don't want in with this shit anymore. You hear me?" Carl snapped.
"Oh I hear you boy. But how will I know you won't go spilling secrets, going to work for the competition," he said.
"Because he has a job at Patsys Pies working 40 hours a week. Wont have time for nothing else," I responded.
"I do?" He asked.
I glared at him, "yes you do."
"What kind of message would I be sending if I let him walk?" He glared.
"Well," I smiled, holding up the killing bat, "you won't have to report back to your boss saying that you took a beat down from a pregnant 18 year old girl, and lost Carl. You let him walk, we keep our mouth shut and you don't get your head bashed in."
"Don't think she won't. She's a crazy psycho mentally ill motherfucker," Carl added.
"Nah, what do I get if I let him walk? He ain't going for free," he responded.
That's when I pulled out the gun, "this. You get it only if you let him walk. Worth a lot, fully loaded baby."
This caught his interest...
***
"Uh, thanks Morg," Carl muttered on the drive home.
I smiled, "You're my buddy. Couldn't have you getting beat and shot on the daily."
He paused, looking out the window, "so a dishwasher?"
"Yeah, beats you getting locked up again for the rest of your life," I mumbled, playfully swatting his head, "plus it was fun."
"Yeah, the two delinquents of the family teaming up against a goddamn drug gang," Carl joked.
"Yeah, delinquents is right, but we make good partners in crime don't you think?"
"... Thanks again."