cadnis oneshots so i can get some f*cking sleep

this is our place, we make the rules

hello everyone! happy holidays and happy december if you don't celebrate anything! i hope you're all doing well :) here's our annual festive-ish fic!

tws for
mild general angst
discussion of divorce
mentioned miscarriage
build up to a smut scene (but no actual smut)
and please let me know if i've missed anything so i can add it in!

enjoy!

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"Cady, honey, can you do me a huge favor?"

Cady blearily looks up from her half-soggy bowl of frosted mini-wheats when her mother comes barreling into the kitchen. Her mom is already in her pantsuit and loafers, hair done and briefcase in hand. Needless to say, a stark contrast to Cady's old Mathletes t-shirt from high school, Winnie the Pooh pajama pants, and Simba-shaped Lion King slippers. "Hm?"

"I have to make something for my work holiday dessert potluck thingy tomorrow, would you be willing to go to the store today and pick up the ingredients for me?" her mom asks, quickly grabbing a Kälteen bar from the cabinet and slamming it closed with a bang that makes Cady jump. "Oh, but I won't be home until late... maybe you should just buy something from the bakery."

"No, it's okay. I can make something," Cady replies. "What do you want to bring?"

"Whatever strikes your fancy. Just nothing too extravagant. Can't be setting any kind of bar," her mom says with a chuckle. Cady grins faintly as her mother comes to kiss her forehead the way she did when Cady was a little girl. "Thank you, dear. It's so wonderful to have you back home."

Cady chuckles sardonically. "Yeah. Thanks, Mom. Have a good day."

"You too. It'll be good for you to get out of the house for a while."

Cady sighs and tries valiantly not to roll her eyes. "I know, I know."

"I love you. I'll see you tonight. I think your father said he'd be home early today, so you'll have some company."

"Okay," Cady replies, downing her last mouthful of deliciously mushy cereal. "I love you too."

Her mom smiles and swings the door shut behind her. Cady looks down at her crumb-filled bowl of milk and at her own, pale reflection with a quiet sigh. She looks like an absolute mess, and not just because of the stray strands of wheat in her reflected red hair.

She picks up the bowl to drink the cool, cereal-sweetened milk. Some of it drips onto her shirt when she gets a little overzealous, and she sighs again as she realizes she now has to do laundry on top of everything else. Her goal was really just to hide inside and in bed until at least New Year's.

But Cady knows her mom is right. She can't even really remember the last time she felt the sun on her face, other than slithering through the blinds before she crankily stomps over to flick them closed again. She needs to get out. She needs to stop wallowing.

As a first step, she carries her bowl and spoon to the sink, sets the water so hot it almost burns her hands, and scrubs them clean. An almost fluorescent pink stains the tips of her fingers by the time she's finished, and her shirt has water drops clinging to her belly where the spoon fought back.

Cady breathes more easily than she has in weeks as she watches it fall into the dirty clothes hamper in her bathroom. The shower starts to steam up the mirror, and Cady feels some of the stresses and worries and sadnesses melt off of her as she steps under the hot current of water.