𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐍 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The living room was alive with noise. A movie played too loud on the TV, voices overlapping, laughter rising at all the wrong moments. You could hear Vince arguing about some scene, Jesse chiming in, Letty tossing in a jab that set everyone off again. It was the kind of chaos that had always filled the house — familiar, exhausting, strangely comforting all at once.

You stayed in the kitchen. The counter was cluttered with empty plates and bowls, bottles shoved to one side. The sink was full, hot water running, steam fogging the edges of the window above it. Your hands worked through the dishes without much thought, each clink of ceramic against ceramic swallowed by the noise drifting in from the next room.

It wasn’t unusual, you cleaning up while everyone else relaxed. They were family, but you’d long ago accepted your role in how the nights ended — keeping order in the little ways no one else cared about. You didn’t mind. The kitchen gave you space, a little bubble separate from the whirlwind.

The floor board squeaked under someone’s weight, faint but enough to cut through the movie noise. Before you could look back to see who it was, they spoke.

“You need a hand with anything else?” Brian asked as he dropped a few more dishes into the soapy water.

“No, I’m good. You can go join the boys watching the movie.” You replied softly, but he didnt listen. Standing beside you, he grabbed a dish towel and started drying the dishes you cleaned.

“No, you see, the cook doesn’t clean where i come from.”

“Yeah? I’d like to go there.”

Silence fell upon you two, the only sound being the movie as you washed and Brian dried. You could feel Brians eyes on you but ignored it.

Until his voice cut through the air.

“You know, I think we should go out sometime.”