Snitches get Stitches

Sirius had done Harry the first favor he’d done in a long time and dragged him in the house after Mandy showed up to witness the madness happening in Harry’s yard.

“Where are your clothes?” Sirius asked once they were inside and the door was shut behind them.

“Lost them,” Harry said shortly. Mandy still had his backpack and he couldn’t tell if she was pissed or not.

“Your glasses?” Sirius asked. He leaned in the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room and drank while studying the wall just to the right of Harry.

“Also lost.”

Sirius scoffed and Harry stood there on one foot, wondering what Sirius had been looking for him for.

“Here.” Sirius grabbed something from the pocket of his leather jacket and tossed it to Harry. Harry nearly fumbled catching it as he wasn’t as good left-handed, but then he looked at it and realized it was a cell phone.

“I’ve got one too. The bloke at the shop showed me how to use it. My number’s saved in your contacts.”

“Oh…” Harry looked at the rectangular phone with the glass screen and swiped his thumb across it wondrously. “Thank you,” Harry said, meaning it.

Sirius shrugged as if it didn’t matter and then looked down at Harry’s foot.

“Ankle looks busted, want me to fix it?”

“Yes, please,” Harry sighed. He hopped back to the chair he’d been sitting in before and sat down so he could prop his left foot out. “I- er… jumped out a window.”

“That was daft,” Sirius said lightly. He took another drink straight from the bottle he had and flicked his wand to his hand out of the holster he had on.

Harry had a brief moment of worry about having Sirius fix his ankle while he was drinking, but if Sirius was holding a conversation with Harry then he couldn’t be drunk yet.

“Hold still,” Sirius said. “Brackium emendo.”

Harry flinched when Sirius’ wand tapped his leg and Sirius gave Harry a sharp look while the bone in his ankle healed, instantly relieving the swelling.

“What’d you do that for?” Sirius asked Harry.

“Do what?” Harry asked, stalling, as he twisted his ankle around and felt ten times better than he had. Veronica might ask how Harry’s ankle suddenly fixed itself, but Harry figured he could just fake a limp for a few days and play it off as if it hadn’t been as bad as they initially thought.

Sirius straightened up and leaned against the wall by the stairs.

“You flinched,” Sirius said. “Why?”

Because all we do is fight.

Because I think you hate me.

Because I think I hate you.

Because last time someone touched me with a wand, it had been Snape after removing me from the dungeon.

“I thought it would hurt,” Harry lied. “It doesn’t, so thanks.”

Sirius didn’t look convinced, but it wasn’t as if Harry’s eyes would give him away as Sirius avoided looking at them. Sirius just took another long drink and then frowned at the floor.

“Did you shag that boy in the yard? The brunette?”

“No,” Harry said truthfully. What a bloody mess. “I didn’t shag anyone.”

Because he’d been interrupted by a very angry father. If it was a year ago, Harry might tell Sirius about it just to make him laugh, but it wasn’t a year ago and Harry kept his mouth shut.

“You’ve got a hickey, Harry.”

Harry sighed and covered his neck with his hand. “It wasn’t from Lip.”

“He’s fit,” Sirius said casually. “The red-head looks like Ron though, doesn’t he?”

“More like Fred, I think,” Harry said quietly. He smoothed his thumb over the screen of his phone repeatedly, wondering what was going on with Sirius.

“Mm.” Sirius took another drink and then seemed to notice Harry’s abandoned beer bottle on the table. “Have you been drinking?” he asked. He didn’t sound pissed, just curious.

“My ankle hurt,” Harry said as an explanation. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Thanks.”

Harry sat there as long as he could before he began to feel pressure to say something, anything.

“You think I could find a way to get money from my vault?” Harry asked. “I wanted to buy contacts.”

“Contacts?” Sirius looked at Harry’s face then and Harry could see his grey eyes were beginning to get glassy. “Those muggle things they poke in your eyes?”

“Yeah, I - er… I just thought they might be simpler than glasses,” Harry said nervously. Mostly, Harry thought Lip was right and between Sirius and the violent people Harry seemed to hang around, Harry would rather not end up with retina damage from his glasses breaking in his eyes.

“I doubt anyone can access your vault, but here…” Sirius fished his wallet from his back pocket and flicked a black card toward Harry. “I had Remus open a checking account for me before we came here. Just use that card.”

Harry used his foot to slide the card from where it fell on the floor so he could grab it without taking himself closer to Sirius.

“Thanks,” Harry said again.

“Remus’ll be here next weekend,” Sirius said then, startling Harry. Harry looked up at him and Sirius shrugged. “It’s not like we’re in bloody hiding, there’s no reason he can’t come stay for a few days. He’s coming the muggle way, so I’m thinking about getting a car to pick him up.”

“Do you know how to drive?” Harry asked curiously.

“Yes, I know how to bloody drive,” Sirius snapped.

“Right, sorry.” Harry tapped the card on the phone and fell quiet. He didn’t know how to talk to Sirius anymore - he didn’t know what sort of mood Sirius would be in at any given point - and it was more stressful to try talking than it was to simply avoid him.

“There’s a pub down the road, I’m going there,” Sirius said, almost to himself. “Try and be more careful, yeah? You look like you’ve been beaten to hell.”

Harry waited until Sirius left out the backdoor to let out a semi-hysterical laugh.

Where the hell did Sirius think the bruise on his cheek and cut on his lower lip came from? Did he just forget every fight they got in?

Sirius needed help, bad. But maybe Lupin could do something for him when he arrived.

Harry took a long hot shower while he had the house to himself. Harry thought he might have been having some sort of fit as he scrubbed his skin from top to bottom.

Everything was mental, everything. The events at Karen’s that had seemed hysterical for a moment felt insane again. As did the fight between Ian and Lip—

“He’s fucking him!”

“Maybe if you’re dying to do it then you should and quit acting like a jealous bitch.”

And the worst part was Mandy. She didn’t cry or anything, but she’d seen Harry half-dressed with a bloody hickey on his neck while Ian screamed about Lip buggering Harry.

Even if Mandy specifically said that they weren’t really dating, she hadn’t looked very happy with Harry either. She deserved an apology, at a minimum.

By the time Harry finished his shower and felt as if he could breathe normally, he had a plan formed.

First, Harry was going to write to Dudley. Dudley and Harry had been rather friendly the summer before Harry’s fourth year and the brief few weeks Harry lived there before the dementor attack. Dudley talked a lot about girls from his school so Harry assumed he’d have some sort of advice for Harry.

Then, Harry was going to go find Mandy and apologize if he hurt her feelings. Mandy was one of Harry’s closest friends in Chicago, Harry wasn’t keen on thinking he’d hurt her.

And then Harry was going to go buy contact lenses… and maybe see if Lip would go with him because Harry didn’t know how or where to even buy contacts.

If Lip was still Harry’s friend, of course. Considering his fight with Ian, there were decent odds that Harry had pissed off everyone he knew in a single go.

The letter to Dudley was perfectly absurd, but Harry assumed that he’d have a good laugh with his mates at Harry’s expense:

Dudley,
You can laugh, but if you laugh you also have to give me advice, ok?
Listen… I had a fake girlfriend who gave me a real blow job. Then when she went to sleep, her brother gave me a blow job too.
Then her brother said if I wanted to shag him, I couldn’t shag his sister. But also he wouldn’t shag me if I was a virgin. So my mate, Lip, took me to shag his friend (Karen) but her dad caught us before I could. Remember when your dad would turn purple and try and strangle me? That’s what her dad did. I broke my ankle trying to get away, but I’m fine now. Or - I’m fine physically, I guess - but then Lip’s brother Ian thought Lip and I had sex so he hit him. Then Mandy (fake girlfriend, I think?) saw I had a hickey from Karen.
Anyway, I’m still a virgin with a broken ankle, a sprained wrist, and I’ve got no bloody idea what to do. I reckon I just make people pissed everywhere I go.
Write back soon and tell me what I’m doing wrong.
Your miserable cousin,
Harry
PS: I’ve got a phone, but I dunno what my number is or how to figure it out, send me yours and I’ll call you

Since Harry’s comfortable trainers were at Karen’s house, or maybe burning in a fire or ripped to shreds, Harry had to pull on a pair of boots that he hadn’t even worn yet. It wasn’t terribly cold out, thankfully, so Harry didn’t bother with a jacket over his long-sleeved shirt since his favorite one was at Karen’s.

Harry rather desperately hoped that Karen’s dad didn’t destroy his stuff… though he figured it was probably a wasted wish.

Sirius was still gone when Harry went downstairs, so Harry helped himself to another cold bottle of beer from the fridge and wondered if he should use the card from Sirius to buy groceries. They didn’t really have much there and Harry was starving.

It was another easy decision. Either Sirius would be pissed about Harry buying food or he’d be pissed for any other random reason and at least then there’d be something to eat in their house aside from frozen fish and booze.

The Gallagher house seemed quiet when Harry crept past it in the alley behind their houses. Nobody was screaming or fighting that Harry could hear anyway.

“Hi, Harry!”

Harry heard Debbie say his name, but he looked all around the yard and didn’t see her.

“Debbie?” he said uncertainly.

“Look up, silly.”

Harry looked up and then laughed when he saw Debbie sitting on a semi-flat part of the roof. It was a little ledge, just above the backdoor. Harry assumed the window behind Debbie went to her bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Harry grinned.

“Everyone’s mad inside my house so I came out here to sit,” Debbie said. “Did you and Lip have sex?”

“Er… no,” Harry said. “How old are you?”

“Twelve,” Debbie said airily, as if twelve year olds routinely asked about their neighbors sexual encounters. “Ian thinks you and Lip had sex so he’s really mad. Lip said he’s just jealous and Ian got even more mad. Do you think Lip’s gay?”

“No idea,” Harry said. He raised his hand to shade his eyes to try and see Debbie better. “Would it matter if he was?”

Debbie scrunched her face up with her lips twisted to the side.

“I don’t think so,” she said thoughtfully. “He’s still my big brother. Will you come help me build a dollhouse now?”

“I need to go see Mandy first,” Harry told her. “If she doesn’t kick my arse, I can come by afterward and help you?”

“Okay!” Debbie said happily. “You can bring Mandy if you want. I don’t think she’s a drug-dealing whore.”

Harry snorted and dropped his hand. “Alright, thanks, Debbie. Wish me luck?”

“Good luck! I hope nobody shoots you!”

Yeah, Harry hoped nobody shot him either.

Mandy was sitting on her porch when Harry walked up and he couldn’t tell what sort of mood she was in when she saw him approaching.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said as soon as he was close enough to her. Harry felt just buzzed enough to be embarrassingly honest.

“I didn’t know if you were my real girlfriend or not and so I wanted to lose my virginity but I didn’t want to risk falling in love with anyone so Lip took me to his friend’s house but we didn’t have sex, her dad caught us and nearly killed me. I had to jump out a window to get away, I broke my ankle, and I don’t know if you’re mad or not but I hope you aren’t because you’re one of my only friends here.”

Mandy blinked at Harry after his quickly blurted explanation.

“Your ankle doesn’t look broken,” Mandy said. Harry looked down and shrugged.

“I thought it was broken, but I think it was just twisted. I put ice on it and it feels better,” Harry amended himself as he shifted from side-to-side while Mandy just stared at him. “Are you mad?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not thrilled that you left in the middle of the night last night,” she said.

“I… er… felt sick,” Harry said as a lame excuse.

“You didn’t leave to go fuck some skank?”

“No,” Harry said earnestly. “I swear. I went home, found Lip, and it was his mad idea to have me shag Karen.”

“Karen?” Mandy’s face twisted in distaste. “Karen Jackson? Ew, she’s a fucking nasty psychopath, Harry. My fake boyfriend could do a hell of a lot better for his first time than Karen Jackson.”

Harry sagged with relief that he was still Mandy’s fake-boyfriend.

“If she’s crazy, she gets it from her dad,” Harry said. “He tried to strangle me, Mandy. I had to run home in my bloody briefs.”

“Dumbass,” Mandy grinned. She patted the spot beside her so Harry went and sat down. “What was up with Ian and Lip? They seemed like they were fighting over you.”

“No idea.”

Since Mandy wasn’t upset with him, Harry told her the rest of the details of his day, only omitting the part where Sirius healed his ankle with magic. Mandy laughed her arse off about Karen’s dad and only stopped when Harry got to the part about Ian attacking Lip.

“Oooh, Ian’s into you!” Mandy said in a whisper. She giggled and shouldered Harry lightly. “He thought that Lip was the one who stole your v-card and he was jealous.”

Harry considered that with a frown. That was what Lip said too.

“You really think so?” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Mhmm.” Mandy was leaning on Harry’s side and he had his arm around her waist. “He sounds totally jealous. I didn’t even know he was gay.”

“Who’s gay?” The screen door slammed behind them and Harry and Mandy both watched Mickey walk outside with a joint dangling from his fingers. Mickey gave Harry a hard look, nothing like how he’d been looking at Harry the night before.

“And who the fuck left that shit on your neck?” Mickey asked.

“I did,” Mandy said nonchalantly. “And none of your fucking business. Give me that.” Mandy turned and made grabby hands for Mickey’s joint.

“Not until you tell me who’s a fag,” Mickey said, holding the joint out of Mandy’s reach.

Harry never would have outed Ian, if Mandy was even right about him fancying Harry, but Mandy didn’t hold the same opinion.

“Ian Gallagher,” she said. “Now give me.”

“Ian’s a queer?” Mickey asked, sounding only mildly surprised. He passed the joint to Mandy then and shook his head. “Damn. Someone remind me to kick his ass later.”

Harry squinted at Mickey for a moment, entirely bemused. If Ian was gay, it wasn’t as if Mickey was entirely straight.

“The fuck you lookin’ at?” Mickey asked Harry. “Scoot your skinny ass over so I can sit. I’ve been workin’ all day.”

Harry and Mandy obligingly scooted over so Mickey could sit beside Harry while they all shared the rest of the joint.

“Where the fuck are your glasses?” Mickey asked when the joint was gone and they were just relaxing in their highs.

Harry touched his face and sighed.

“I lost them,” he said. “I think I’m going to get contacts, less chances of getting glass in my eyes.”

“If you’d learn to fuckin’ fight, you wouldn’t have to worry about that shit,” Mickey said. He leaned over on Harry so he could dig something from his pocket. “Here, use this next time someone thinks they’re gonna take a swing at you.”

Harry looked down at the little metal piece Mickey gave him and had no idea what it was meant to be.

“Er thanks?”

Mickey and Mandy both laughed and Mickey took the metal thing back to show Harry what it was.

“They’re brass knuckles, see?” Mickey slipped his four fingers through the openings and curled his hand in a fist. “Pop someone once with these and they won’t fuck with you again.”

“Oh, thanks,” Harry said again, more genuinely that time. Harry never bothered to learn muggle fighting. When he’d been a kid, Dudley was the only one who ever messed with Harry and Harry wouldn’t have hit back if his life depended on it. Getting caught hitting Dudley by Vernon was more dangerous than letting Dudley get a few swings in.

And once Harry turned eleven, his wand had been the only weapon he needed. Even before he knew proper spells, it was still good to jab in a nostril.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mickey said carelessly. “You got plans tonight? I thought I’d grab a case and kick on the xbox.”

“I have to get groceries and contacts, then I told Debbie I’d help her build a dollhouse,” Harry said. He glanced over at Mandy and gave her his most winning smile. “You wanna come with me?”

“Mandy’s busy,” Mickey said roughly.

“No I’m not,” Mandy argued immediately. “The fuck else do I have to do?”

“Uh, watch the fuckin’ baby in Terry’s room,” Mickey drawled. “Iggie took off and I’m not watchin’ his ripped condom cry and shit itself.”

“Whatever.” Mandy kissed Harry on the cheek and stood up to kick her brother in the back. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” she asked Harry when she tossed him his backpack from her porch.

“Yeah, thanks, Mandy,” Harry said.

Mandy winked before sauntering inside, leaving Harry alone with Mickey.

“Optometrist is closed,” Mickey said abruptly. “C’mon, I’ll show you to the closest store.”

Harry moved his letter to Dudley from his back pocket to put it in his bag with the one Harry needed to send Hermione. Then, since it seemed as if Mickey planned on walking with Harry, Harry fell in step beside him.

They barely got a block away before Mickey took a detour in an alley. Harry followed him and was caught by surprise when Mickey grabbed Harry by the shoulders and slammed him against a wall.

“You fuck Gallagher?” he asked, glaring in Harry’s face.

“What? No,” Harry said, squirming under Mickey’s relentless grip. Harry’s skin started to prickle at the feeling of being trapped.

“Mandy then?”

“No!”

“Then who the fuck left a bitch-bite on your neck?” Mickey asked.

“Karen Jackson,” Harry yelled. He kicked out and hit Mickey in the shin with his boot. “Let go, I’m going to be sick.”

As soon as Mickey dropped him, Harry hit his knees and turned his head to sick up bile. The more Harry heaved, the more the sudden cloudiness in his head cleared away.

“Fuck, what’s wrong with you?” Mickey asked when Harry was only spitting to get the sick taste from his mouth.

“You fucking attacked me,” Harry said. His voice sounded horse and he swallowed a few times before taking Mickey’s hand to pull himself up.

“I was just messin’ with ya,” Mickey said. “Fuck.”

“Well don’t pin me again,” Harry snapped irritably.

Harry despised being pinned ever since the graveyard. Fred had flattened Harry against a wall in Grimmauld Place to keep Harry from being hit by a spray of bullets from a crazy clock and Harry had lost his mind entirely.

Mrs Weasley had to give Harry a calming draught to stop Harry from twitching and sweating after he threw up then. It had felt, just for a moment, as if he were tied to a tombstone again.

“Alright, be cool.” Mickey held his hands up and backed a step away from Harry. “Why the fuck was Karen’s mouth on your neck if you’re dating my sister?”

“Why was your mouth on my dick if you know I’m dating Mandy?” Harry asked instead.

Mickey stared at Harry for a minute before he grinned. Mickey’s entire face changed when he smiled; he looked more relaxed, less likely to shoot someone with the gun he carried.

“Good point,” Mickey agreed. “So you fucked Karen and Ian got pissy about it?”

“No, I tried to shag Karen, her dad tried to kill me, and then Ian got pissy,” Harry corrected him. “It’s been a day,” he laughed when Mickey did.

“Only you’d find yourself in some fucked up shit like that, Black,” Mickey said. It was odd, hearing Harry called ‘Black’. Harry assumed he’d be less annoyed by it if Sirius wasn’t such a bastard lately.

“Yeah, well…” Harry trailed off with a shrug. “I- er… thought- you know… I’d have a first time and all, see what it’s like.”

Mickey stepped closer to Harry then and leaned against the wall just in front of him.

“If I didn’t want you fuckin’ Mandy, why the fuck would I want you with some skank like Karen Jackson?”

Harry stared incredulously at Mickey, completely lost.

“You don’t want to shag me, but you don’t want me to shag someone else?” Harry asked slowly. “That’s mental, Mickey.”

“Maybe I changed my mind,” Mickey said. He reached out and brushed a hand down Harry’s arm lightly. “Maybe I like the idea of being your first.”

Harry licked his lips that suddenly felt very dry. Mickey was fit, had a tattoo on his shoulder and one across his knuckles. It shouldn’t be attractive how Harry was certain he could kill Harry with a well-aimed blow, but… but it kind of was. When he wasn’t actually pinning Harry to a wall, anyway. Mickey was funny too, and it was bloody attractive beyond reason the way he was so protective of Mandy.

Plus, Harry liked Mickey’s eyes. They were a deep brown color that sparkled a little when he laughed.

“Yeah?” Harry said.

“Yeah.” Mickey shrugged a shoulder up. “I dunno, I could probably teach you some shit.”

Harry had a sudden and very pleasant image in his head of him and Mickey naked and tangled up in bed while Mickey held an incredibly informative class.

“Don’t fall in love with me though,” Mickey said, bursting Harry’s daydream. “I’m not lookin’ for anything serious.”

“Lip said that’s just chick shit anyway,” Harry said, copying Lip’s exact phrase.

Mickey pointed at Harry. “And don’t tell anyone a fuckin’ peep, got it? I don’t care if you wanna walk around with a rainbow flag tattooed on your forehead, my dick is my business.”

Harry almost agreed. It made sense, people’s sex lives were private. But then Harry thought of Mickey’s response to finding out Ian might be gay and he scowled.

“What so you can call me a fag?” Harry asked. He pushed himself off the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not much interested in being some dirty secret.”

Harry was always a shameful secret. His relatives were ashamed of him, Sirius was ashamed of him. Harry didn’t exactly care to not broadcast his private life, but he didn’t want to be mocked in public either.

“You are a fag, who the fuck cares?” Mickey asked.

“So are you then,” Harry snapped. “I didn’t stick your cock in my mouth, did I?”

Mickey took a step closer to Harry and narrowed his eyes dangerously.

“Say that shit again, I fuckin’ dare you.”

Harry stepped right up in Mickey’s face despite every cell in his brain warning him not to.

“I said if I’m a fag, you’re a fag.”

Lip sat on his porch, icing his face, waiting for Ian to show his little bitch face.

Lip didn’t give a damn if Ian wanted to fuck Harry, but Ian wasn’t going to swing on Lip when he wasn’t expecting it like some jealous skank. Lip knew how it looked - Harry had been standing there with a hickey on his neck dressed in just Lip’s shirt after Lip said he was taking him to get laid - but if Ian had waited and asked Lip about it then it would be a different story.

Instead, he started some bullshit fight and then screamed that Lip fucked Harry before running off. He probably went to cry on Kash’s shoulder.

Pussy.

It meant Lip was left to explain to their sister that no, he wasn’t sleeping with Harry. And, no, Lip wasn’t gay. All the while Frank’s dumbass moped around in the background mumbling about how ‘it didn’t make a man queer just because he fucked a dude’.

Like there was any other definition of queer.

But Fiona kicked Frank out, Debbie and Carl were collecting wood for the dollhouse Debbie kept begging everyone to help her build, Fiona was busy with washing all their dirty clothes before she returned the washer Steve bought her, and Lip was waiting to beat shit out of his brother.

Or, he was, until he saw Harry walking down the sidewalk with his arms covered in plastic bags.

“Want some help?” Lip called to him. Harry looked up and Lip couldn’t tell if he was stoned or just blind without his glasses.

Lip should have went back to Karen’s and got Harry’s shit, but he’d been worried about killing Ian first.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry said. Lip jogged over to him and took a few of the bags and then watched Harry take a few steps.

“V’s going to kick your ass if you’re walking on a broken ankle,” Lip told him. He spotted the black wrap on Harry’s wrist at least.

“Huh? Oh…” Harry looked down at his own feet like he was surprised to see them. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s broken. The swelling went down with some ice, I reckon it’s just sprained or something.”

“Cool,” Lip said. He’d felt bad Harry busted his ankle on his watch and then had to go home with his uncle after Ian’s bullshit. “Was your uncle pissed?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, actually.” Harry sounded distracted and Lip tried to get a good look at him while he opened the gate to his place for him.

“Are you high?” Lip asked. “You look off.”

“No, I… hold on.” Harry opened the front door to lead Lip inside. They bypassed the silent living room and both of them dumped their bags on the table in the kitchen.

Lip spun a chair around to sit backwards on it with his chin propped on the headrest while he waited for Harry to spill.

Lip expected him to say he tried ecstasy or coke. Maybe he took some pill from a dealer or even stopped by the Alibi and got blitzed.

Lip didn’t expect—

“I shagged someone.”

“You what?” Lip asked. Harry had his back to him while he put some groceries in his fridge so Lip just gaped at his back.

“When? Who? Why?” Lip asked. He had a sudden thought that pissed him off for no real reason. “Was it fucking Ian?”

“No.” Harry turned and Lip couldn’t see any lies on his face. Harry was too honest, that was his problem.

“Good,” Lip told him. “Do me a favor? If Ian tries to fuck you, kick him in the balls first.”

Harry grinned and then grabbed the boxes of pasta he bought to stick in an empty cabinet.

“Come on, give me some details,” Lip said with a grin. That was the look Lip didn’t recognize on Harry at first- he looked relaxed and well-fucked.

“It was brilliant and I lasted longer than three minutes,” Harry said proudly.

Lip laughed and then clicked his tongue at him.

“She’s gotta confirm before I pay you a single cent,” Lip joked. When Harry quickly turned away to put away peanut butter, Lip rethought what he said.

“Oh, shit.” Lip absently pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it. “Was it a dude?”

Harry had his back to Lip and Lip could see his shoulders tense beneath his shirt.

“Does it matter if it was?” he asked kind of quietly.

Lip considered Harry’s stupid, stoned, smile when he told Lip that Lip was his best friend.

“Nah, as long as it wasn’t Ian,” Lip said casually. It was weird as fuck, Lip couldn’t imagine that a dude felt as good as a chick, but Lip had fucked Karen in the ass before.

It wasn’t bad, Lip just couldn’t imagine that ass being hairy and muscled instead of soft and plump.

Lip waited until Harry turned to the side to tilt his head to the side and subtly check out Harry’s ass. He didn’t have much of one, but it was curved enough Lip supposed.

“It wasn’t Ian,” Harry said.

“So who was it?” Lip asked. “No, wait, was it Tommy Milkovich? I swear he’s been taking dick for years.”

“No,” Harry laughed. He pulled a six pack of Bud Light from the one brown bag he had and offered one to Lip before sticking the rest in the fridge.

“Someone older than,” Lip guessed as he looked at the bottle thoughtfully. “You don’t have a fake ID. Wait,” Lip had a horrible thought, “you’re not fucking some grown ass man, are you?”

Lip already had a baseball bat ready for Kash’s brain matter, he didn’t know what he’d do if there were more sick fucks preying on teenagers in his neighborhood.

“He’s your age and I stole the beer,” Harry said brazenly. “I can’t tell you anything else, Lip, sorry. He’s- er… not wanting to tell people.”

“Fine,” Lip said evenly. It wasn’t exactly a great neighborhood to be blatantly gay in anyway. Harry’s uncle with his tight shirt and thick eyeliner was already pushing the limits, but that dude looked like he was a fucking nut job anyway.

“I told Debbie I’d help her build a dollhouse,” Harry said. “Is that still okay?”

Lip scoffed. “Dude, she’s got a pile of boards and crooked nails. You aren’t going to be able to build shit, but if you want to try, have at it.”

Harry didn’t seem daunted by the challenge. He just went over in the backyard and sat in the grass with Debbie while he worked with a hammer and scrap wood to try and build something.

Lip popped inside at one point to grab some drinks and Fiona was lounging on the couch with Steve.

“Harry’s back?” Fiona called casually.

“Seems like it,” Lip said. He grabbed a coke for himself, Harry, and Debbie before peeking in the oven and seeing some fancy looking lasagna warming up. “Steve buy dinner?” he guessed.

“Seems like it,” Fiona said. “Hey, Lip.”

Lip paused at the backdoor and looked over his shoulder at his sister. “Yeah?”

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Fiona asked him.

“Pretty fucking sure, yeah,” Lip said. He had no idea what the fuck Fiona was on about but he sent a pointed look at the brand new washing machine in the kitchen and then at Steve’s yuppie ass. “You sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked.

Fiona leaned back against Steve and grinned.

“Pretty fucking sure, yeah,” she said. “Tell Harry there’s plenty of food if he wants to stay.”

“Will do,” Lip said. He went back outside and tossed drinks to the others before he settled in to keep watching Harry desperately try and build a dollhouse for Debbie.

It was a doomed project, but it made Debbie happy so Lip didn’t mind watching.

“So what’s up with the Harry kid?” Steve asked.

Fiona sighed heavily and ran her hands through her loose hair. Fiona liked Harry, she felt bad for him, but if the boys didn’t get their shit together then Fiona was going to have to start redirecting Harry to V’s house when he needed a place to crash.

“Fuck if I know,” Fiona said. “As far as I can figure, Ian’s got a crush on him and Harry’s stuck up Lip’s ass.”

“Wait, Ian’s gay?” Steve asked. “Wow, wasn’t expecting that. Lip, maybe, but damn.”

“Oh, don’t you know?” Fiona reached up and patted Steve on the cheek patronizingly. “Nobody’s ever gay in this neighborhood.”

Steve chuckled and kissed the top of Fiona’s head.

“Good, then the boys don’t need to fight over the neighbor.”

Yeah, Fiona kind of doubted if that would happen.