Doesn't Know

1.9

Edited/Rewritten

Rodrick sat at the kitchen table with a smirk plastered on his face, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a folded newspaper in the other. He lounged back in his chair, feet kicked up onto the edge of the table like he owned the place. The scene looked straight out of a sitcom—Rodrick playing the role of the smug dad, y/n curled up beside him nursing what was clearly a wicked hangover, her head heavy against his shoulder.

"You're really leaning into this 'responsible adult' look," y/n muttered, her voice groggy as she glanced at the paper in his hands. Her gaze landed on the front page, where a black-and-white photo of Greg getting his face shoved into the dirt by Patty Farrell stared back at her. The caption below it read: "Middle School Mayhem: Local Boy Meets Justice."

She snorted, her laughter bubbling up despite the pounding in her head. "Oh my god, Greg, this is incredible," she managed to say through her laughter, shaking her head as she pointed at the picture.

The front door banged open, and in stomped Greg himself, clearly worse for wear. His backpack thudded against the wall as he tossed it down in frustration.

"Hey!" Rodrick called out, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "I hear it's a great day for women everywhere!"

Greg shot him a death glare, his cheeks flushing red. "It's all Rowley's fault! He ratted me out to Patty!" His voice cracked in a way that only added to the comedy of the situation.

Rodrick didn't even bother hiding his amusement. He raised a mocking eyebrow, the smirk on his lips growing wider. "I don't know what you expected, dude. Rowley's the human equivalent of a doormat. I'd say dump him, but watching him drag you down is honestly too good to miss."

Greg let out an exasperated groan, storming off toward his room. Rodrick chuckled softly, shaking his head as he took another sip of his coffee. He turned his attention back to y/n, his hand lazily finding its way to her hair. He ruffled it gently, a small, almost tender smile tugging at his lips.

"You good?" he asked, voice low enough that only she could hear.

Y/n groaned, closing her eyes and leaning further into him. "I feel like death, but yeah. This hangover is gonna be the end of me, though."

Rodrick let out a low laugh. "Lightweight," he teased, but his hand didn't leave her hair, his fingers tracing small circles against her scalp as if trying to soothe her headache.

Later that evening, the house fell quiet, save for the faint hum of the television in the living room. Rodrick, y/n, and Greg were sprawled across the couch, their attention glued to some old bikini beach movie that Rodrick had insisted on watching.

Greg sat with his arms crossed, pretending not to enjoy it, while y/n lay across both of them, her legs tangled awkwardly over Greg's knees and her head resting in Rodrick's lap. His hands found their way to her hair again, idly playing with the strands as the film played on.

In front of the couch, Manny was rummaging through Rodrick's black backpack, his tiny hands digging through whatever treasures—or trash—he could find.

"Manny!" Rodrick barked, barely glancing away from the TV. "Quit messing with my stuff, man. Seriously."

Manny ignored him, pulling out a pair of drumsticks and waving them around triumphantly.

Frank wandered into the room, standing just behind the couch. His eyes were also glued to the screen, captivated by the cheesy beach antics playing out before them.

Then Susan stormed into the room, her voice sharp and commanding. "What's going on in here?"

All four of them froze. Frank looked like a deer caught in headlights, Greg tried to feign innocence, and Rodrick...well, Rodrick didn't even bother to hide the fact that he didn't care.

Susan's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene—the bikini-clad women on the TV, Manny happily drumming on the floor, and the utterly shameless expressions on her family's faces.

"Turn that off!" she snapped, snatching the remote from Manny and switching the channel to something far less interesting.

"What?! Why?" Rodrick and y/n protested in unison, both sitting up in indignation.

"I don't want Manny exposed to this trash," Susan said firmly. "And honestly, none of you should be watching it either. It's disrespectful to women."

Greg, ever the diplomat, tried to reason with her. "It's not disrespectful! These women have, uh...incredible minds. And besides, y/n's watching it, and she's a woman!"

Y/n rolled her eyes, already tired of the argument. "We're going upstairs," she said, tugging at Rodrick's arm.

Rodrick stood up, scooping her into a dramatic bridal carry that made her squeal in surprise. "Yeah, we're out," he said, grinning down at her as he carried her up the stairs.

Once in his room, Rodrick tossed her onto the bed with zero grace, earning a loud groan from her as she bounced against the mattress.

"Rodrick, I swear—" she started, but her words cut off as he flopped onto the bed beside her, leaning over her with a cocky grin.

"Don't act like you didn't love it, princess," he teased, his voice low and playful.

Y/n glared at him, but the blush rising to her cheeks betrayed her. "You're impossible," she muttered, turning her head to hide her smile.

Rodrick's grin softened, his teasing fading into something gentler. He shifted closer, pulling her into his arms and cradling her against his chest. "You know I love you, right?" he said, his voice quieter now.

Y/n froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his tone. Of course, they'd said "I love you" before—mostly in casual, offhanded ways. But this felt different.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His hazel eyes were locked on hers, filled with a warmth that made her heart skip a beat.

"Y/n," he said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Can I kiss you?"

Her breath hitched, her cheeks flushing as she nodded. "Yes. Please."

Rodrick's hand moved to her jaw, his fingers curling gently under her chin as he guided her closer. When their lips finally met, it was slow and deliberate, a far cry from the reckless chaos that usually defined their relationship.

Y/n's hands found their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if grounding herself. When they finally pulled apart, she was breathless, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I love you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rodrick smiled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "Damn right you do," he said, his smirk returning.

And just like that, the moment was quintessentially them—soft and sincere, but always with a hint of playful chaos.