2p!Austria x Mom!Reader- Foster parent

Six

You slammed the side of your fist against your phone as its alarm blared near your ear— the annoying reminder that it's time to start yet another day. The unnecessary violence towards the device didn't silence it, but it did make you feel a bit better as you groaned and properly stopped the alarm.

Your heavy eyelids blinked open as your mind made the unpleasant transition from dreams to reality, but it wasn't like you slept that great, anyway.

You lied there in bed for a few moments as you stared at the ceiling.

"Only eighty-nine more days left," you said to yourself with dry humor before you tossed your legs over the side of your bed.

Though your thoughts and emotions have stayed racing for the last few days, you tried your best to reel them in and focus on breakfast.

As you passed by the living room, you noticed a strange, hastily set up little fort. It made you pause for a second and tilt your head. The last time you'd seen such a fort, the boys were in primary school. You glanced to the dining room where you noticed two missing chairs.

With light steps, you went around the couch, into the living room to further investigate the makeshift tent. At the entrance of it, you found your coffee table with a laptop, notebooks, and loose paper on it. Behind it, Roderich lied sleep on the floor hugging his guitar with his glasses still on. You watched him sleep for awhile. You assumed he fell asleep making music.

He reminded you so much of Lenard. He'd do the exact same thing. Early in the morning, you'd find him passed out on the couch with a guitar on top of him. Every so often, he'd mumble a tune or lyric in his sleep.

You headed for the kitchen again. Once there, you rolled up your sleeves and prepared to lose yourself in your cooking. You had to whip up something bigger than yesterday just to get your mind elsewhere.

Omelets, and sausage, and hashbrowns with cheese. You might have went a bit overboard, but you knew if any leftovers remained, you could count on Lutz to finish them off.

As you flipped the third omelet, feet dragged from down the hall to the dining room. A chair at the table screeched before you heard, "He slept in the living room?"

"Looks like it," you said back to Lutz.

The sizzling of the sausage cooking on the stove top filled the silence after your reply.

"...What's with all the food?" he asked next.

"I don't know. I guess I just felt like cooking," you said. "I've been halfassing you guys' breakfast since you got to high school." A smile tugged on the corner of your lips as you turned to him and asked, "Why? You prefer just eggs again?"

He shook his head. "Nah, you're good. Keep doing what you're doing, ma."

You gave a sarcastic gasp. "Can I really? Thank you!"

He chuckled.

You smiled at this and looked him up and down. "You've gotten up and dressed awfully early without me waking you up. What's with that?"

He pointed to the food.

You nodded as you slipped the omelet from the skillet onto a plate. "Well, go get your brothers. I'm just about done cooking."

"They can smell," he said.

"That's not what I asked you," you said.

He groaned and forced himself out of the chair.

You got to plating the meals as he left out of the dining room.

Lutz came back with only one of his brothers— the older one. You decided not to question it.