Carl Gallagher

The thing about being Mickey Milkovich’s baby sister? You're not technically allowed to have a boyfriend—especially not one from the South Side who's known for getting into almost as much trouble as he does. But Carl Gallagher? He's been different.

You met him not long after Ian and Mickey made their chaotic reunion semi-official (again). One flirty comment during a family dinner at the Gallagher house turned into a secret texting war, turned into walks around the block… turned into his hands under your shirt in his bedroom.

Which is where you are now.

Half-sitting, half-sprawled on Carl’s bed, tangled up in his lap while his mouth is on your neck and his hands are definitely not where Mickey would approve of. Your shirt's hiked up, Carl’s laughing against your skin as he says, “God, you're gonna be the death of me, Milkovich.”

“You wish,” you whisper, grinning.

And then—boom.

The door flies open.

“WHAT THE FU—”

Mickey’s voice is unmistakable. Loud. Aggressive. Protective Big Brother Mode: activated.

Ian’s behind him, wide-eyed but clearly fighting back a laugh. “Okay, okay, I knew this was gonna happen,” Ian says, holding Mickey by the back of his hoodie like a leash.

Carl immediately tries to sit up, ends up falling off the bed in his panic. You're scrambling for your shirt, yelling, “Knock next time, you maniac!”

"Why the hell are you dry humping Carl Gallagher in a house with *this many people?!”

Mickey’s face is turning purple. Carl’s trying to button his pants while explaining, “I—I respect her, man! I swear! I only had one hand on her, bro!”

“NOT HELPING, CARL!” you shout, throwing a pillow at his head.

Ian’s doubled over now, laughing so hard he's wheezing."Mick, c’mon. You’re literally the guy who used to sneak me into your room every other night.”

Mickey blinks.“Yeah—when I was in prison! And you weren’t my baby sister!” He points at you like you're the criminal here.

But Carl, now standing (shirt still half-untucked), grabs your hand like it’s war time."Look, dude. I really like her. I’m not messing around. And she already scares me more than you do, so…”

You give Mickey a glare."Relax, Mick. You said yourself Carl’s a cockroach—hard to kill and loyal when he’s yours.”

Ian snorts. Mickey pauses, mutters,“...Fair.”

Finally, he throws up his hands and storms out. “Fine. But if I ever hear a squeak, moan, or creaky bed spring,"I’m setting the house on fire.”

“Love you too, big bro!” you call after him.

Carl pulls you back onto the bed, breathless with laughter."You know, I think he’s warming up to me.”

“Oh, yeah. You're totally getting invited to family game night now.”

You both crack up as Ian’s voice echoes down the hall: “Use protection, teens!”