HARD TIMES ━ lip gallagher²

01 | in your dreams

☆

"WHERE THE FUCK IS my journal?" Amara demanded, stepping down the stairs with Lip trailing behind her after failing to locate the item she was looking for, purse swinging from her forearm.

"Yeah, my work boots are missing too," he said, maneuvering around her.

Debbie's voice rang from the bathroom. "Anything left in the upstairs hallway can now be found in the backyard!"

Lip blinked and Amara narrowed her eyes as she walked into the kitchen. "What? Why?"

"'Cause the hallway is a public space, and all public spaces need to be kept clear of clutter to allow for safety egress in the event of a fire."

"You expect me to be able to straighten back up after I bend down?" She questioned, staring at the redhead. Damn did she miss Fiona.

"Relax," Lip rubbed her arm and made his way to the door. "I'll get it."

"Can you get out of the kitchen Frank?" Debbie snapped, pushing her father away from the sink. Amara just barely dodged him. "Shoo!"

"Love the diaper," Amara commented as he stumbled back into the living room. "Move out of my way before I stab you with a fork."

"Jesus," Debbie huffed and went to the fridge. "I don't remember being such a bitch when I was pregnant."

"That's because you've always been a little shit," Amara shot back. "Of course you wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Well, do you have money for me? You're living here full time, you've gotta pitch in."

"Thank you captain obvious, I gathered," she rolled her eyes and approached Lip once he came back into the room. Liam sat down at one of the barstools, his hair poofy like an afro. "Who are you today?"

"Frederick Douglass," he answered.

"Liam, sausage and eggs, grab a plate," Debbie called.

"I don't eat the white man's swine."

"The what?"

"Pork," Amara clarified, tugging Lip's shirt. "Come on, we've got to go. Oh, wait, no, we have to stay or else we might miss Debbie's daily speech."

Debbie scowled at her and Lip sighed, before pulling her forward. "You could at least try to be subtle with the passive aggressiveness," he told her once they were outside, holding the passenger side door open for her. "She thinks you hate her."

"If she weren't such a control freak maybe I wouldn't."

"You didn't have any problems with Fiona," Lip replied, climbing into the driver's side.

"Fiona didn't act queen of the word," she rolled her eyes. "I just want to smack her aside the head with a frying pan. Just once."

"Okay Mar," he turned the car on. "It's only eight am, I think it's time to tone down the violence a little bit."

She glared over at him. "In your dreams."

☆

"No, that's what I told her," Amara said as she switched the phone onto her other shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, no. I get it. I know. I'll talk to her. Yeah. Okay, sure. Yeah. Bye." She hung up the device with a huff and then glanced out her open door. "Georgia!" She called, and there was no response. She refrained form sighing, and clutched her stomach as she stood up. There was a sudden wave of dizziness that took over, and she had to steady herself with a palm on her desk. It faded after a moment.