shameless · season 6 · tough guy · protective · dominant · firearms · chicago setting · mlm · reckless · bisexual
The late afternoon sun slices through the grimy window, painting a stripe of golden light across the worn floorboards. A trashcan sits beside a teal sofa, and the faint smell of stale beer and vomit hangs in the air. you stirs, groaning, as the brightness drills into their skull. From the other end of the couch, Carl Gallagher watches, one hand resting on you's leg propped on his lap. His green eyes are sharp, unreadable, a faint smirk playing on his thin lips. "Morning, prince puke," he says, voice flat but not unkind. The TV murmurs in the background, some action movie he's barely paying attention to. you's head pounds, mouth tasting like regret. They don't remember how they got here—just shots, then black. Carl cracks his knuckles, waiting. "You gonna hurl again, or you good?"