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☆*:.｡｡.:*☆
"hey you lovebirds. wake up, mikey made breakfast." anya's voice stirs me awake and i see her waving a hand infront of my face. the sun was already up and shining light rays through the curtains.
"hi" she says, wiggling her fingers in a greeting and giggling at my morning woozyness. i let out a small breathy laugh while she looks at me with raised eyebrows. fourthgrade and i are layed together on the couch, limbs tangled in a gordian knot and covered with a flannel blanket too hot for the now warm morning.
"i know what this looks like" i mumble, rubbing my eyes and looking up to fourthgrade who was still fast asleep, and still had his arms around me. there was light brush of his fingertips on my collarbones as i looked up to him, and i shook his chest lightly to wake him up. he jumps awake and looks at me and smiles, holding me close and kissing me on the forehead. as he straightens up, he takes off the blanket that covered us.
"nothing happened, right?" fourthgrade asks
anya huffs with a tight-lipped smile, "i suppose not, you both are fully clothed."
"they better be." i hear from the kitchen over the light sound of sizzling. the tv's still on, droning on with some pop song that's been playing all the time. ooh i want you i don't know if i need ya but ooh i gotta find out...ugh. i stand up from the couch, pulling fourthgrade up with me, and see mikey in the kitchen poking at some bacon with a spatula. he's got this stupid apron on and holds a cigarette between his fingers. nico glances up at us from the table through his glasses and turns back to his book and cigarette, the title of the book barely visible under the bent-around pages. the catcher in the rye. angsty.
"good morning to you too, mikey" i huff, pulling fourthgrade over to the kitchen. he smiles looking back at me and quickly turns back to his cooking.
"your ma called earlier. don't worry about tommy here, i didn't mention it"
"it's fourthgrade" i hear behind me through a mumble.
"right, sorry 'bout that fourthgrade"
"thanks mikey, that bacon looks real good," i say looking around the kitchen. it's strewn around with cooking utensils and a few bowls of some kind of batter. "mikey, you made pancakes?" i squeal, grabbing a plate and a fork and stacking on 2 pancakes on my plate.
"'course i did, mari. you know i make the best hangover breakfast. the ihop ain't got shit on me" mikey says smiling, serving the bacon onto a plate and handing it over. "there you go. eat."
anya and nico come on from behind us and grab some breakfast, and i hand a plate to fourthgrade. mikey walks over to his stereo and looks through a shoebox of tapes. "which one?" he asks looking around at us, expecting an answer quickly.
