A Different Kind Of Dysfunction - A Shameless Fanfiction (Book One)

The engine sputtered. Coughed.

Then roared to life.

Sophie jumped back instinctively as the old sedan shook on its cinder blocks, coughing out smoke from a cracked tailpipe.

Lip whooped.

“Holy shit. It runs.”

Sophie blinked. “You’re sure?”

He laughed. “Well, technically it runs. Can’t promise it’ll drive.”

She broke into a grin despite herself.

It had taken three weeks.

Three long weeks of digging through junkyards, trading favors, watching YouTube videos in 240p, and praying the snow didn’t freeze over the tools.

But they did it.

Lip shut the hood and leaned against the bumper, arms crossed, pride written all over his grease-smudged face.

Sophie sat down on an overturned bucket, wiping her hands on her jeans.

“I can’t believe that thing actually has a heartbeat.”

“Frankenstein had less parts,” Lip said. “And better insurance.”

Sophie laughed — real and light, which felt rare lately.

She looked at him.

“You really gonna sell it?”

“Hell yeah,” he said. “It’s a piece of shit, but it runs. That’s all someone’ll care about.”

She nodded.

Then: “You could keep it.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Use it to get out,” she said softly.

Lip was quiet for a beat.

Then he kicked at the snow with his boot.

“Nah,” he said. “If I was gonna leave, I would’ve done it already.”

Sophie didn’t press.

Because she understood.

The ones who stayed weren’t weaker.

They were just tired of leaving pieces of themselves behind every time they tried to run.

---

They sat side by side on the curb as the sun dipped low, turning the sky that hazy gray-orange the South Side got before the streetlights blinked on.

Lip passed her a Gatorade and a half-smushed protein bar.

Sophie took both gratefully.

“Thanks.”

He lit a cigarette, took a drag, then offered it to her.

She hesitated, then took it.

Smoked in silence.

“I never really had anything that worked,” she said suddenly.

Lip glanced at her.

“I mean... I’ve fixed stuff. Homework. Broken door hinges. Laundry machines. But not like this.”

She nodded toward the car.

“This thing’s garbage. And it still works.”

Lip smiled faintly. “Guess we’re all garbage with potential.”

She laughed again, this time with a rough edge.

Then she looked at him.

Really looked.

Lip Gallagher was a mess.

Everyone knew it.

Too smart. Too bitter. Too used up by this city and his own past to pretend anymore.

But sitting here, grime under his nails, legs stretched out on the pavement — he looked steady.

Like something real.

Like someone she could lean on, just for a second.

“You’re not what I expected,” she said.

Lip blew smoke into the wind.

“Same.”

She nudged his shoulder.

They sat like that for a while — the sounds of the city drifting around them: dogs barking, someone yelling, a siren in the distance.

Then Lip said, “You wanna take it for a spin?”

Sophie blinked. “It’s not registered.”

“I said spin, not cross-country road trip.”

She grinned.

“Hell yeah.”

---

The ride lasted ten minutes.

They looped around the block twice before Lip decided to quit while they were ahead.

The brakes squealed. The heater didn’t work. The dashboard lights flickered like they were afraid of commitment.

But it moved.

And for a little while, it felt like escape.

When they pulled back into the alley behind the Gallagher house, Sophie turned to him.

Eyes wide. Hair messy from the wind.

“You’re not selling it,” she said.

Lip smirked. “We’ll see.”

She reached for the door handle, then paused.

“I meant it,” she said. “You could leave.”

Lip looked at her, something flickering behind his eyes.

“You too,” he said.

“I can’t.”

“Neither can I.”

They stared at each other for a beat too long.

Then Sophie leaned in — not fast, not dramatic — just slow, like checking for land mines.

And when their lips met, it wasn’t fire.

It was warmth.

Like something they hadn’t felt in years.

It lasted all of five seconds.

Then she pulled back, eyes wide.

“Shit. Sorry.”

Lip looked stunned for a second — then grinned.

“Don’t be.”

Sophie laughed under her breath, already blushing.

“This is stupid.”

“A little,” he agreed.

But neither of them moved.

And when Sophie finally opened the door and stepped out, she looked back once.

Lip was still watching her.

And in that glance, they both knew:

This wasn’t just survival anymore.

It was something.

And it mattered.

[Word count: ~743 words]