12

The house was quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that felt empty—but the kind that felt full. Like peace had finally carved out a little space just for us.

Conner and Lucas were off at the Gallaghers for the night, set up in some backyard tent Carl insisted they build without instructions. There'd been a lot of yelling and duct tape involved. I gave up trying to supervise the second I saw Debbie handing them a lighter.

Now, for once, there were no responsibilities. No noise. No one tugging at my sleeve or asking what's for dinner.

Just me and Lip.

He sat at the kitchen table, spinning a spoon between his fingers, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The overhead light caught the curve of his jaw and the tired softness around his eyes.

I stood in the doorway, watching him for a second before stepping in.

He looked up at me and smiled—small, real. The kind that didn't need to be loud to say something.

"You're beautiful," he said offhandedly, like it wasn't a compliment, just a fact.

I rolled my eyes but felt the heat crawl into my cheeks anyway. "You're just saying that because I put on real pants."

"Maybe," he said, standing and walking toward me, "but it's still true."

I didn't step back when he reached me. Just let him close the space like we'd been orbiting each other all day, waiting for it.

His hands slipped around my waist, warm and steady, like they belonged there. I looped my arms around his neck, fingers curling into his hair.

We kissed—slow, unrushed. The kind of kiss that quieted every corner of my brain.

He didn't say anything when he lifted the hem of my shirt. Just looked at me for a beat, and when I didn't stop him, he tugged it over my head and let it fall to the floor.

My hands found the hem of his hoodie, and he leaned down just enough to help me pull it off. I could feel his chest against mine now, skin to skin, and the warmth between us pressed in like gravity.

We moved together slowly, backing into the living room, bumping into the arm of the couch. I laughed into his mouth, and he smiled against mine.

His hands traced the curve of my waist, up my sides, his touch feather-light. My fingers slipped beneath his waistband, tugging gently.

He kissed down the side of my neck, then lower, his lips leaving trails of warmth as we sank down onto the couch, limbs tangled.

My breath caught as he kissed lower, slow and soft, and my body arched into his like instinct. God, I missed this—missed him. The way we fit, the way he knew exactly how to find me without words.

Clothes fell away in pieces. Nothing rushed, nothing loud. Just us.

His forehead pressed to mine, breaths shallow and shared. He moved with a kind of care I hadn't seen in him in a long time, like he was memorizing this—me.

"I love you," he murmured, voice rough, but steady. Like it cost him something, but he'd say it again anyway.

"I love you too," I breathed, and I meant it. Every word.

⸻

Afterward, we stayed curled up on the couch, the only sound in the room our breathing slowing down. His arm draped over my stomach, fingers tracing lazy patterns against my skin.

"I missed this," I said quietly, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"You mean my irresistible charm and bad decisions?" he mumbled, eyes half-closed.

"No," I said with a soft laugh. "I mean you."

He turned his head, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. "Yeah. I missed me too."

I snorted and swatted his chest. "Asshole."

He grinned, then sobered a little, looking up at me. "Thanks for not giving up on me."

"I tried," I said. "Didn't stick."

He hummed, resting his cheek on my shoulder, like he didn't want to move. "Feels like maybe things are... I don't know. Better. Like we're better."

"We are," I said, curling my fingers through his hair. "But you're doing the work, Lip. Not just for me. For you."

He was quiet for a second. "I'm trying."

"I know."

We stayed like that a while longer, the couch beneath us too small but just enough. No chaos. No noise.

Just us.

The sun crept in through the living room blinds, slicing golden lines across the floor. I shifted under the blanket, warm and sore in the best way, the weight of Lip still half on top of me.

His arm was slung over my waist, face buried in the curve of my neck. His breath was soft, even. Peaceful.

For once, nothing was on fire.

And then—

The front door burst open.

"ERIN! WE'RE HOME—"

"DUDE!" Conner's voice cracked mid-sentence, followed by the unmistakable sound of something plastic dropping to the floor. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

My eyes flew open.

Lip groaned into my neck. "Five more minutes..."

I slapped his shoulder. "Lip. Lip. Get up."

He blinked blearily, lifting his head just as Lucas screamed from the hallway, "EW! YOU'RE NAKED! WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!"

"I'm not naked," I said, scrambling to yank the blanket up to my chest. "Technically."

"Technically?" Conner shouted from behind the couch. "Are you serious right now?!"

Lip sat up slowly, hair a mess, face creased from the pillow. "Morning, boys," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Lucas covered his face with both hands. "I can never sit on that couch again."

"Okay, everyone just calm down—"

"CALM DOWN?!" Conner shouted. "You traumatized us!"

I reached for the hoodie on the floor, trying to wrap it around myself without giving the boys an accidental anatomy lesson. Lip stood and tugged on his boxers like it was any other Tuesday.

"This is your fault," I hissed at him under my breath.

He yawned. "They weren't supposed to be back 'til noon."

"It's nine-thirty," I snapped.

Lucas peeked through his fingers. "Did you at least use protection?!"

"Oh my God, Lucas!" I groaned, pulling the hoodie tighter.

"I just wanna make sure we're not gonna be uncles or something," he said, defensive.

Lip choked on a laugh. "Relax, buddy. Nobody's getting promoted to uncle."

Conner looked like he was seriously debating running away forever. "This is why I said we should've stayed at Carl's until lunch. But no, you wanted your stupid Yu-Gi-Oh cards."

Lucas crossed his arms. "They're collector's items."

"Oh my God," I muttered, burying my face in my hands.

Lip leaned over and kissed the top of my head. "You still love me?"

"No comment."

He smirked, clearly way too pleased with himself.

I looked over the couch at the boys. "Go put your bags in your room and pretend this never happened."

Lucas frowned. "I'm sitting on the floor forever."

"Great. Wonderful," I said. "Happy Sunday."The boys stomped off down the hall, grumbling and dragging their duffel bags behind them like war veterans returning from battle.

Lip and I stayed frozen in place for a beat, wrapped in the aftermath of mortification.

Then—

"I need coffee," I muttered, pulling my hoodie tighter and heading toward the kitchen.

Lip trailed behind me, still shirtless, like he didn't just get caught butt-naked on the living room couch by a pair of traumatized children. "They'll be fine," he said.

I spun around. "Fine? Lucas asked if we used protection."

Lip laughed under his breath. "Okay, that was kinda impressive. Didn't expect that outta him."

I pointed a warning finger. "Don't encourage him."

Just then, Lucas marched into the kitchen with his arms crossed tight. "Can I have waffles? But I'm not sitting down. I'm standing forever."

I turned to him, exasperated. "How do you even know what protection is? You're six!"

He blinked. "Health class. Miss Simmons said it's important and that we should tell our parents to talk about it with us."

"Oh, well Miss Simmons and I are gonna have a chat," I muttered, opening the freezer and yanking out the Eggo box like it personally wronged me.

Lip leaned against the counter, grinning like he was watching his favorite sitcom.

Conner wandered in next, arms flopping at his sides. "What's for breakfast? Besides trauma."

"Waffles," I said flatly. "No comments, no eye contact, just eat them and let me repress this morning in peace."

Lucas, standing stiff as a board, piped up: "I'm never sleeping over here again."

"Yes you are," I said. "Because I'm the only one who remembers you hate Carl's bathroom and Debbie talks in her sleep."

He sighed dramatically. "Fine."

I slid two plates across the table. "Waffles. Syrup's in the fridge. Don't talk."

They actually listened.

Lip helped himself to coffee while I leaned against the sink, trying to pretend I wasn't dying inside. He nudged my hip with his and offered me the mug. I took a sip without looking at him.

"We were quiet," he said softly, teasing.

"Not quiet enough," I whispered back.

"Okay, but... worth it?" he asked, voice low now.

I turned my head toward him. His eyes were warm. Still sleepy. A little amused.

I gave a small smile. "Yeah. Worth it."

He leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth. Just a brush. Just a thank you. My heart fluttered anyway.

When the boys finished eating, they disappeared into their room to fight over who won in "most disturbed." Lucas announced he was sleeping in a chair tonight. Conner started making a list of "rules for adults," which apparently included "wear clothes at all times" and "lock the door, you weirdos."

By the time I curled up on the couch again with Lip, the house had settled. The chaos had returned to its usual simmer.

I rested my head against his shoulder, his arm coming around me. He smelled like coffee and laundry detergent, and home.

"Remind me to put a blanket on the couch next time," I mumbled.

"Next time?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

I grinned. "Not if the kids are home."

He laughed. "Fair."

We sat there quietly, our fingers tangled. Outside, the sun started warming the windows, and inside, for all the madness that morning had thrown at us, I still felt it—

That quiet, full kind of peace.

Like no matter how insane life got, this—me and him—was something solid.