Ripped Tights and Late Nights → Muke

four;

Michael's alarm scares him awake at 7.30 the next morning. He groans, rolling over as he slams his hand on the clock, effectively shutting it up. He rubs his hands over his eyes, removing the gunk that lies in the corners. He notices that Leah didn't come back to bed last night. His marriage is dying.

Shuffling to the bathroom, Michael passes Britt's room on the way. He can hear The 1975 coming from her speakers, so at least she's awake. She's maybe not as punk rock as Michael had hoped she would be, but she's as close as Michael's going to get.

He brushes his teeth and tries to force his hair into cooperating by stealing some of Jake's hair gel. He's pretty sure the kid won't notice. It registers that he's wearing the same clothes as yesterday, seeing as he didn't get changed once he came home. He's pretty sure his family will notice this, so he goes back to his room to change his shirt just in case.

The sizzling of bacon in the pan motivates Mike to go downstairs. Once he's there, he slumps in his chair at the head of the dining table. Leah's making breakfast and he mentally groans as he remembers last night's oath to make her breakfast. She's way too good for him. He looks to his right and sees Jake with his head in a book, an empty plate awaiting breakfast in front of him.

Jake looks pretty interested in his book, but he still deigns Michael with a polite, 'Morning, dad, sleep well?,' because Leah raised their children to always use manners, no matter what. It was her philosophy that if you use manners and you're respectful, you'll go far in life. Michael agrees as far as the kids are concerned, but he's never outgrown that punk kid persona. Respecting others that weren't apart of his immediate family wasn't his forte.

"What'cha reading, Jake shake?" He asks. He loves his kids, more than absolutely anything, and he's not sure when their relationship became so damaged. Maybe he's imagining things.

"Nothing," Jake mutters, dog-earing his place and putting his book down.

Michael's actually offended for like, a solid six seconds, before he sees Leah's finished cooking and Jake's just putting his book out of the way. Leah's holding out a plate of bacon and eight differently cooked eggs, two per person, and he realises Jake's not mad at him.

Leah's still in her pyjamas, and her hair is in a messy bun atop her head, but she's still the most beautiful woman Michael knows. They're childhood sweethearts, so they've seen each other on their kind-of okay days and their I just slept for 19 hours do you think anyone will notice? days. Michael thinks Leah still looks great no matter which day. Michael usually looks like crap.

Leah smiles in place of a good morning at Michael, and he smiles back. It's involuntary at this point. Leah smiles, he smiles back.

Jake steals a piece of bacon and the two eggs on the far left. Barely cooked, yolk flowing from the centre before he's even touched them. Jake groans as he hears Brittany bound down the stairs with her dyed blond hair straightened. She's got an earphone in one ear, the majority of the cord hiding in her school shirt's breast pocket.

She doesn't say anything. She hasn't had coffee yet so it's hard for her to actually communicate with people despite her fresh appearance. She just ruffles Jake's curly brown hair and kisses Michael on the cheek, which he gratefully accepts. At least it seems that one of his kids doesn't hate him. Brittany sits in the chair beside Leah, across from Jake. She declines the plate of eggs that Michael offers her and he shakes it off. Michael takes his fried-to-death eggs and two slices of bacon, folding them inside a sandwich and biting straight into it. Leah wrinkles her nose playfully as she uses her silver cutlery to cut into her basil and parmesan covered eggs.

"My show's this weekend. You're all going," Brittany announces, sipping from her coffee cup.

"What if we're busy?" Michael asks. He's joking though, he's never too busy for Britt or Jake.