―

Moonlight streamed through the cracks of the slightly open curtain over Adam's bedroom window. The boy lay in his bed, asleep, with his arms wrapped around the redhead next to him, who lay wide awake, staring up at the ceiling.

Hannah looked over at Adam's sleeping face with a smile small that quickly fell before she slowly got out of the bed, moving slow enough as not to wake him up. Pulling the sleeves of the yellow and brown knitted sweater of the boy's that she'd slept in over her hands as she tiptoed across the bedroom and grabbed a pair of his pyjama pants as well. Slipping them on, she let out a sigh as she looked back over at the bed and took quiet steps toward him and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Goodbye, Adam." She whispered, before rushing out of the Cuthbert house.

―

"Thank you all for coming out in honour of Aunt Ginger," Cousin Patrick said as his side of the family and the Gallaghers stood on a street corner for her... send off, "'GG' as I called her. You now, when the guy at the funeral place handed me her ashes, I thought, 'what the hell do I do with these? Put 'em in a vase on my mantle? Or scatter them at the park or the lake?' Then I thought, 'no, I know where she was happiest. On this corner, her corner, where she turned tricks in her twenties and thirties'."

"And sixties!" Frank cried.

Carl raised an eyebrow, "She did magic tricks?"

"No, no, no, son," Frank shook his head, "'Turning tricks' is a euphemism for prostitution. In her day, your great aunt was a legendary pole smoker. Could unlock her jaw like a Burmese python."

"We are at her funeral." Jimmy reminded him sharply.

"You know, some think Gallaghers don't have a work ethic," Frank continued, making Hannah rest her head on Ian's shoulder with a groan, "But Ginger worked this corner rain, sleet, snow, her old knees hitting that hard pavement again and again. Bertie Giddelman is the only one that's outlasted her." He said, gesturing to the prostitute in the wheelchair.

"Look, you all knew Ginger, so I ain't gonna sugar-coat it," Patrick said, "She was a mean old bitch. But even a mean old bitch deserves a send off. Here, here. So this is us, Ginger, sending you off, right where you belong." He finished, tipping the carboard box upside down and letting 'her' ashes be dumped onto the pavement.

"It's touching." Lip nodded.

"I'm tearing up." Ian hummed.

"My life will never be the same again," Hannah said in the same sarcastic tone as her brothers, "Carl, want a piggyback back home?"

"Sure." The boy grinned, the boy jumping on her back as the Gallaghers made their way home, Lip and Fiona staying back to talk to Patrick.

―

"Let the Cousin Patrick war council commence." Hannah sighed as she slumped on a chair at the dining table.

"We're not calling it that." Lip chuckled.

"You appreciate the irony, right?" Frank asked his kids as he leaned against the fridge, "Senseless arguments about who gets what bedroom, refusing to allow me to stay. Now, nobody gets to stay."

"Why is Frank here again?" Ian asked.

"There's a small chance he'll be able to help since he's known Patrick longer than any of us." Fiona said.

Carl raised an eyebrow, "Patrick wants to steal our house?"

"He's a contractor," Lip told him, "He's gonna flip it. Slap a coat of paint on it, call it 'a cosy, authentic pre-war', and offload it to yuppies."

Carl looked over at Hannah next to him with a questioning look, making Hannah shake her head, "No, not flip literally."

"It's not gonna happen," Fiona told them, "So let's go over our options."

"I'll write them down." Debbie said, everyone gathering around the kitchen table.

"All right, look, we know the will is bullshit. It was signed a year ago, and Ginger's been dead for what, ten?" Ian asked.

Fiona let out a laugh, "More like fifteen."

"Option one. Prove will is a forgery." Debbie wrote down.

"We can't call the cops because we faked Ginger's death and forged a will of our own." Lip said, pouring the above thirteens coffee.

"Plus Frank's been cashing Ginger's social security checks." Fiona rolled her eyes.

Frank let out a scoff, "Oh, like you didn't share in that bounty?"

"Shut up, Frank." Hannah told him without turning around.

"What we could do," Lip spoke up, "We could argue that Ginger wasn't of sound mind when she signed it. I mean, she was never of sound mind anyway."

"Option two," Debbie wrote down, "Say Ginger was crazy."

"Or convince Patrick to back off somehow." Jimmy shrugged.

"Yeah, that's three." Debbie nodded.

"Good luck with that!" Frank barked out a laugh, "His nickname used to be Pit Bull. It was partly an odour thing, but also because once he gets ahold of you, he doesn't let go. You gotta kill him first."

"Option four. Kill Patrick." Debbie wrote underneath option three.

Carl and Hannah shared a grin, Hannah nodding, "I like option four. Option four is good." She said, Fiona kicking her under the table.

"It's time to face reality," Frank said, hopping onto the counter, "Patrick out-Gallaghered us, and there's no point in fighting it."

"Easy for you to say," Ian rolled her eyes, "You're at Sheila's."

Frank only ignored him and continued to talk, "So before you're out on the streets like so many Somalian refugees, ask yourselves, 'if Patrick is taking the house, what are we taking?'," He asked them before grinning, "Copper pipes."

"You're not taking the pipes, Frank," Fiona told him, jaw clenched and she turned to Lip, "You really think there's a way to challenge the will?"

"Why not?" Lip shrugged, "You know, if I can bone up on probate law."

"And I'm sure Sally can help." Hannah nodded.

"All in favour?" Fiona asked, all of the siblings and Jimmy holding up their hands, "Unanimous." She nodded.

"Well, like hell it is." Frank cried.

"Lip and Hannah will handle the will," Fiona said, "The rest of you, get ready for the first day of school tomorrow. Debbie and Carl, pick out something to wear that doesn't have holes. Hannah, make sure your uniform's all clean and uncreased."

"Wouldn't it just be easier to kill him?" Carl groaned.

"I do still like option four." Hannah nodded as she left the through the backdoor.

Fiona rolled her eyes, "Clothes, now."

―

Hannah let out a sigh as she adjusted the maroon bow in her hair in her bedroom mirror as Xavier's phone kept on pinging.

"What's that about?" Hannah wondered, covering the hickey on her neck with some concealer.

"Work." Xavier hummed.

"I think we're at the point now where you can say it's a drug deal." Hannah chuckled, walking over to her bed and flopping down on it, resting her head on Xavier's leg.

"Got a new guy who's looking for a dealer," The boy told her as he focused on texting on his phone, "Gonna meet him night after tomorrow."

"Hope it goes well."

"Always does."

―

"Guess who got bagels on her way here." Elodie called out as she and Hannah entered the kitchen, freezing as they saw what Debbie was wearing.

"Have we suddenly entered a time machine?" Hannah asked.

"I borrowed it from Mandy." Debbie smiled, looking down at her outfit.

Ian let out a snort, "Clearly." He muttered, making Mandy slap his chest.

"You do realize that I'm in middle school now, right?" Debbie asked, turning to Fiona.

"Yeah, not stripper school. Go change," Fiona ordered the girl, who went upstairs with a huff as, a loud knocking on the front door echoing through the house, "Somebody get that," She said, before looking at the Milkovich girl, "Mandy, she's thirteen. She's not working the bedroom at the Mustang Ranch."

"Yeah, like you never wore a short skirt when you were her age." Mandy rolled her eyes as she went to the toilet.

"Jeez, Fi, she's just trying to help," Lip told her as the loud, incessant knocking continued, "I'll get it." He said, leaving the kitchen.

"Can you take Liam tomorrow too?" Fiona asked Veronica, smiling at Elodie when the girl handed her a bagel.

"Not sure yet," V said, "Those fruits of Islam people on 4th have a free day care. If I say I hate whitey, I bet they'll watch him for a few hours," She shrugged, before leaning on the counter, "So is Lip getting serious about Mandy Skankovich?"

"Nice." Mandy said, having just let the toilet.

"Oh, shit, Mandy, I'm sorry. You know I would have never said that to your face," V told he, Mandy only rolling her eyes and going upstairs. Veronica turned back to Hannah, Fiona and Elodie, "Should I apologize or leave? I'm gonna leave."

"Good choice." Elodie nodded as the woman left the house.

"You and I both know you're not legally entitled to shit." Lip's voice called out and Patrick entered the living room with two other guys.

"Patrick?" Fiona asked.

"You remember my sons, Desmond and Warren." Patrick gestured at the two behind him.

One of them smirked at Elodie, looking her up and down, "Hey there."

"Gay as fuck, dude." Elodie told him.

"What are you doing here?" Fiona wondered.

"Oh, just a quick walkthrough to assess repairs, shouldn't take too long." The man shrugged.

"It'd be quicker if you just left." Ian said.

"You're the ones that are gonna be leaving." Patrick told them.

Lip chuckled, "Assuming your bullshit will stands up in court."

Patrick glanced back at him, "Probate hearing is on Thursday."

Fiona raised an eyebrow, "This Thursday?"

"Uh-huh," Patrick hummed, "Why prolong the inevitable? I'm gonna need you out on Saturday so I can spray the place with insecticide, rip up this piss carpet, and, you know, make it liveable," He turned to his sons, "Boys, start upstairs."

"We've got kids living here," Fiona glared at him as his sons went upstairs, "And you're just gonna throw us out? How do you sleep at night?"

"Don't blame your miserable goddamn lives on me." Patrick said as he also went upstairs.

Hannah glared after him, "Jackass."

―

That evening, the Gallagher siblings, Mandy and Elodie sat around the dining table waiting for Fiona to enter the kitchen, the said woman raising an eyebrow as she did.

"We've reconvened the Cousin Patrick war council." Lip told her.

Hannah grinned, "Knew we'd call it that."

Fiona sighed, "No luck on the legal front?"

Elodie shook her head, "Mom says it's pretty hard to prove that someone had dementia when they signed a will. Especially 'cause she's kinda dead." She shrugged.

"What was option two again?" Fiona asked.

Debbie looked up from her notepad, "We're on three now. Convince Patrick to back off."

"Or option four: kill Patrick." Carl grinned, high-fiving Hannah.

"Back to three," Fiona told the two with a pointed look, "Convince him how?"

Mandy turned to her with a smirk, "We get my brothers to go around and scare him a little."

"No way," Fiona shook her head, "Enough with the brothers Milkovich."

"Nothing fatal," Mandy shrugged, "Hit him with a bat a couple of times, a little pistol whipping. They'll want five-hundred for it, but if I help Mickey move some meth next week, they'll settle for two."

"That's a discount beating," Lip nodded, "What do you say?"

"Guys, we can't-"

"We need a house." Ian told her, the other siblings nodding in agreement.

Fiona thought for a moment before she let out a sigh, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the cash she had earnt from the cleaning job that day and putting it on the table, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be scraping blood and shit from under my fingernails, and then I'll be at V's getting drunk, pretending I didn't just order a hit on a relative." She said, going upstairs.

Everyone around the table nodded and stood up, reaching into their pockets and all adding cash to the pile.

―

"They're removing the toilets." Debbie groaned as she came downstairs the next morning.

"I'll get some buckets." Lip told her.

Debbie looked over at Mandy, "I guess it didn't work out with your brothers."

"Mandy, are we getting our money back?" Fiona asked her.

"Minus a hundred," Mandy shrugged, "He took a chain off Mickey."

Patrick's sons then came down the living room stairs with the upstairs toilet, "Over there. By the couch. Yeah, just leave it." The man instructed, the boys putting the toilet in the middle of the room.

"Bye, honey, off to work." Jimmy told Fiona as he came downstairs.

"What the fuck?" Hannah muttered as Fiona turned to her family.

"Why is he leaving a toilet in our living room?" She whisperer-shouted.

"Bye, honey!" Jimmy repeated, louder, "I'm off to work!"

Fiona only sent him away with a small wave as Debbie let out a groan, "We are so losing the house." The girl said as Jimmy left.

"I told you we are going-"

"To be fine, I know," Debbie rolled her eyes, "But will we be fine here or somewhere else?"

Fiona glanced over at the rest of the family, who were all looking questioningly at her, "The probate hearing is tomorrow. Maybe we'll get lucky," She told them, "If not, I will find us a place to live, okay? Please drop Liam at V's on your way to school," She said to Debbie, "Everyone else, grab a lunch and head out. No truant Gallaghers today."

Everyone filed out of the kitchen, picking up a lunch bag as they went.

"The Gallaghers getting lucky with an issue?" Hannah muttered as she left the house, being the only one not to have a packed lunch, "Please, we're so fucked."

―

Those in the kitchen stood in a shocked silence when the backdoor opened and Jimmy came in with a full rant prepared after his first day of actual work, "I have a new respect for baristas. It turns out it's a highly demanding craft. Who knew? You keep burning the shit out of your-" He noticed the silence of the room, "What's up?"

Fiona turned to Carl, "Tell him."

"I killed Patrick." Carl told Jimmy.

"What?"

"Option four. Kill Patrick. Why skip an option?" Carl shrugged.

"The whole life in prison thing, sweetheart." Veronica said.

"You agreed with me." Carl muttered, looking over at Hannah, who had her head in her hands.

The girl stared at him, "Not in the literal sense."

"I realize you've had sketchy parental role models, okay?" Fiona stressed, moving to stand in front of Carl, "But as your newly appointed guardian, can we agree that offing people is not cool? Can we get on the same page with that?"

Carl nodded with a frown, "Yeah."

"If this comes back to us, if we get charged with homicide, do you realize how serious that is?" Fiona asked the boy as Hannah put her hand on his shoulder. Fiona glanced over at her boyfriend, seeing him staring ahead, wide-eyed, "What?"

"Liam." Jimmy muttered, pointing to the living room.

"Oh, Liam," Debbie sighed as they all turned to see the toddler sitting on the toilet, the youngest sister rushing to pick him up, "Oh, got him in time."

"We need to come up with an explanation in case the cops tie this to us," Fiona said, raising her hands to her head, "Like we have rats and Carl threw poison everywhere."

"That works." Veronica nodded.

Carl raised an eyebrow, "It does?"

"Anyone who knows you will know it's not far-fetched," Fiona told him, "Debbie, go get everyone so we can get our story straight."

The girl nodded, going upstairs, "Okay."

"She has a point, Asswipe." Hannah said, pressing a kiss to the crown of Carl's head.

Fiona let out a heavy sigh, "I'm raising a sociopath."

"I'm sure that your cousin went to the hospital, so he'll probably live," Jimmy shrugged, "Hopefully."

Hannah glanced over at the man, "Shut up."

"Yep."

―

"Thanks for helping us out, Sally." Hannah muttered to the blonde woman as they, Veronica and the rest of the Gallaghers - minus Frank - were waiting in the courthouse.

"Anytime, sweetheart." Sally smiled, resting a hand on the redhead's back.

"Last night of mom's ovulation cycle, thank God," Veronica told Fiona, though everyone heard it as she wasn't speaking quietly, "She just needs to screw Kev and not enjoy it. That's not unreasonable."

"That's what every daughter wants from her mother," Fiona agreed, "What time is it?"

Jimmy checked his watch, "Three-fifteen and still no Patrick."

"We don't want him to come, do we?" Debbie asked.

"It's kind of a toss-up." Lip said.

"If he does show, the judge gives our house away," Ian told her, "If he doesn't, he's probably dead, so we get to keep the house until we all go to prison."

"Okay, lawyer tip one, don't say that out loud in a courthouse." Sally told him as a man stepped out of the office they were waiting by.

"The estate of Ginger Gallagher."

"Here we go." Lip muttered as they all stood up.

"Guys." Carl then called in a panic tone, making the family turn to see Patrick, coughing and spluttering, as he staggered through the courthouse.

"Ah, shit." Hannah muttered.

―

That night, Elodie and Hannah were playing video games with Carl when there was a knock on the door, the boy answering it.

"Fiona!" Carl cried, the woman coming downstairs to see Tony and his partner standing in the living room.

"What's going on?" Fiona asked.

"I've got Patrick Gallagher outside with an eviction notice." Tony told her, handing her the said eviction notice.

Fiona raised an eyebrow, "You're throwing us out? This was supposed to take a couple of weeks."

"Normally. The guy seems like an asshole," Tony said with a small sigh, "I'm trying to chill him out, but he's made a couple accusations. He said you tried to kill him."

Fiona hesitated as Hannah discreetly put her hand on her Carl's mouth, "That's ridiculous."

"He has a toxicology report from the hospital. He says he won't press charges if you move out tonight."

"He can't be serious." Fiona said.

Tony shrugged, "He seems to be serious."

"But Patrick loves me." Debbie spoke up as she entered the living room.

"Yeah, well, is there a place you can go?" Tony asked.

Fiona sighed, "Tonight? No."

"Patrick gave me candy." Debbie added.

"Debs, go get Lip and Ian, please." Fiona told her with another sigh.

"And then he got in bed with me and touched me in my nice places."

Heads slowly turned to the girl.

"What was that?" Tony asked.

Debbie raised an eyebrow, "About candy or Patrick touching me?"

"Patrick Gallagher?" Tony clarified.

"Mm-hmm." Debbie nodded, her family catching on to what she was doing.

Fiona covered her mouth with the eviction notice to hide her laughter and Hannah had to hide her face in the crook of Elodie's shoulder, the brunette patting her back as she fought her own smile.

"And when you say 'nice places'?"

Debbie looked down, bringing her cardigan across her, "Uh, private places."

Tony nodded slowly, taking the notice from Fiona and he and his partner left the house. Once the door closed, Hannah pulled away from her best friend and burst out laughing as she hugged her youngest sister.

"Oh, I have never been more proud of you, Debs," She smiled, "Which, admittedly, is kind of worrying."

―

"You're shitting me." Patrick scoffed as Tony lead him out of the Gallagher house, hands behind his back.

"Standard police procedure, sir. We'll have to meet the sex crimes detectives at the station, unless..." Tony said.

"Unless what?"

"The charges are dropped."

"Charges are--?" Patrick froze once he came face-to-face with Fiona, Debbie and Hannah leaning against a police car.

"Four hundred a month rent, no deposit." Fiona told him.

Patrick turned to Tony, "Are you in on this?"

"I'm not in on anything, sir. I am, however, gonna make a radio call from the car." Tony said, leaving the four of them alone, making Hannah smirk.

"You can take your four hundred and shove it up your ass." Patrick told them with a glare.

Hannah and Fiona turned to their youngest sister, "I remember your hands touching me."

"Twelve hundred."

"You said it was our little secret," Debbie continued, "I knew it was wrong."

Patrick stared down at Debbie, making Fiona then glance at Hannah.

"When I heard the footsteps coming down the stairs to the basement, I first thought it was Xavier, so I stayed in bed," Hannah said, "Until I heard your voice and felt your hands. Travelling lower and lower until-"

"Jesus, what--" Patrick cried, looking back at Fiona, "Five hundred, final offer."

"Five hundred, no deposit," Fiona told him, "I need a 50-year lease, and I want that in writing."

Patrick seemed to be thinking, making Hannah raise an eyebrow, "Need me to show you the bruises to prove it?"

―

"I can't believe Debbie told Jimmy that it all worked out because you two were molested." Elodie chuckled as she and Hannah were lying on the redhead's bed, sharing a beer.

"The way he barely reacted should be the more worrying thing." Hannah laughed.

"No Xavier tonight?" Elodie noticed.

Hannah shook her head, "Meeting with a new client."

Elodie nodded, eyebrows creasing as she glanced around the basement, "You know, it still smells like meth in here."

"Yeah," Hannah hummed, "It's pretty great."

―

Xavier shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jackets as he turned the corner into an alley, seeing his new client waiting for him at the end of it, "Before we even start, I've gotta tell you that his ain't any low level, cheap shit. It's the good stuff and if the price scares you, then you can just fuck off right now."

"I'm not here to talk about drugs." A voice said from the shadows of the alley.

Xavier rolled his eyes, "Well, then you definitely texted the wrong number and wasted both of out time."

"No," The boy said, stepping into the light from the lamppost next to the alley that had managed to seep its way in, "I texted the right number."

Xavier raised an eyebrow, "Aaron?"

"Adam." He corrected.

"Oh, my bad," Xavier held his hands up sarcastically, "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave Hannah alone."

The older boy couldn't help but let out a laugh, "That's funny," He chuckled, leaning against the brick wall, "See, I knew you had this weird obsession with her. I was wondering how far I had to go before I had pushed all your buttons."

Adam clenched his jaw, his fists curling up inside his pockets as he took a step towards the taller boy, "You're no good for her."

Xavier scoffed, cocking his head mockingly, "And you are?"

"This isn't about me or what I feel for Hannah," Adam told him, "You can't give her what she deserves, what she wants or needs."

Xavier smirked, leaning down slightly to look at Adam in the eyes, "Oh, I give her exactly what she wants. I know you know that. I've seen you lingering around the neighbourhood after dark. Kinda creepy, don't you think?" He taunted, taking a step forward and making Adam take one back, "How do you think she'll react to you essentially stalking her because I'm 'no good for her'."

Adam swallowed thickly as he glared up at the drug dealer, who continued to smile down tauntingly at him.

"Besides, whether I'm good for her or not doesn't matter," Xavier continued, "Not to me, and especially not to Hannah. She's not my girlfriend and I'm not her boyfriend. And that's what irks you so much, isn't it?" He asked, continuing to back Adam up into the wall behind the shorter boy, "That we don't have a title, yet I have her in more ways than you ever could. That I've seen her in more ways than you could ever wish."

Adam shook his head as he stared up at Xavier with narrowed eyes, "If you think that's even close to anything she wants, then you clearly don't know her."

Xavier shrugged, "I know she's a good fuck. That's enough for me." He said with a smirk, starting to leave the alley.

"What's her favourite meal?" Adam called after him.

Xavier rolled his eyes as he turned to Adam with a raised eyebrow, "What?"

"Her favourite meal," Adam repeated, "What is it? Or, her favourite colour? Favourite band? What's the reason she always wears odd socks? Fuck, do you even know her middle name?" He cried, Xavier not replying, "And that's how I know that you're not good enough for her, as a boyfriend, hook-up, whatever you want to call yourselves. And whatever I feel for Hannah, we were friends first. And I don't let my friends be dragged down my scumbags like you. So I'm gonna keep on fighting for her, because I know that I can give her everything you can't."

Xavier let out a sadistic chuckle, "You keep doing that. Meanwhile, I'm the one who sleeps in her bed. I'm the one who sits in during her fucked up family's drama. And above all, I'm the reason she's got all that makeup on her neck. But, you have fun trying to prove something." He smirked before walking away.

Adam glared at his retreating figure, "Yeah, I will."