( O.H ) VALOROUS, johnny storm

iii. MARIA'S DINER

“IT WON'T hurt, buddy,” his dad tells him as he hooks the tube that's attached to his elbow to the machine with the shiny, blue liquid. “And after this, no bullies will be able to add those nasty bruises to your face.”

Tennessee's jaw tightens harshly as he jerks out of his bed, and breathes heavily in the darkness of his room.

Stabilizing his heartbeat, he looks over at his phone, reading that it's seven in the morning. There's clattering outside of his new room, and curiously, and slides on sweatpants before leaving the room.

Lucy is dancing shamelessly to some pop song around the kitchen when he walks in, and he leans against the doorway, amused. It takes about three minutes before she notices him, and she drops the carton of orange juice in her hand, instantly grabbing for a weapon.

Tennessee laughs, grinning from ear to ear. “Good to know you're the fight type when it comes to fight or flight.”

Lucy pants, eyes narrowing at him. “Ugh, I hate you, Esse. You made me drop my OJ.”

“Nothing spilled,” he dismisses. “Anyways, what the hell are you doing up? It's like four.”

“It's seven, and my classes start at nine,” Lucy corrects. She picks up her orange juice, and goes back to poking at her bacon, sizzling in a pan. “And put a shirt on. No heathens live here, Esse.”

Tennessee shrugs the comment off, and steals one of the slices of bacon off her plate. “That doesn't explain it, though. My classes start at eleven, and I don't get up until ten-thirty.”

She glares at him, witheringly. “That's because you're insane. And you know crazy parkour.”

“Spidey still won't rooftop race me, the little gnat,” he says, fondly. “Anyway, now that I'm up, let's do something fun!”

“No,” she says, shortly. “And no talking about other superheroes.”

“Not super. Okay, well, yeah, I'm super. Just not a hero,” he says, patting the top of her head before grabbing another piece of bacon and leaving the room.

He gets a spoon thrown at his bare back, and he yells back that it was abuse, because it was, but she doesn't respond. And she calls him the heathen.

Unceremoniously, Tennessee plops on Lucy's — well, their couch. He turns the TV on, going to Netflix on instinct. He's still scrolling through, bored out of his mind, when Lucy's socked feet pad in.

He grins happily at her and her two plates. She puts one down, full with eggs, bacon, toast, and ham. She hands one to him.

He looks down at it.

“These are strawberry Pop-Tarts.”

Lucy shrugs, attempting and failing at hiding her smirk. She gives him a cup of milk, setting her cup of orange juice down.

“They aren't even cherry, or — or brown sugar cinnamon, they're... they're strawberry.”

“Oh, shut up. I'm not Maria, you pay or you make your own breakfast here,” Lucy snorts. To make everything worse, she grabs the forgotten remote and Tennessee yelps when she clicks on Grey's Anatomy. “The woman spoils you.”

“Stop!” Tennessee cries as Ellen Pompeo's face pops up on the screen, dramatic music already blasting. “Haven't you done enough?”

Lucy rolls her eyes and starts eating her food, tuning his cries out. Eventually Tennessee goes to get his laptop and grudgingly sits through Lucy's torture by finishing his history essay.