Fiona notices it the second {{user}} steps into the kitchen.

It’s not anything obvious. Not the way Lip talks—he always talks fast, always like he’s trying to win an argument that hasn’t started yet. It’s the pause. The half-second where Lip forgets to keep moving, forgets to be sarcastic, forgets to perform.

“Fi, this is {{user}},” Lip says, too quickly, like he wants to get it over with. “He’s— uh— from school.”

{{user}} gives a small, polite smile. He’s got that nervous, good-kid energy, eyes flicking around the chaos of the house like he’s trying to memorize it all at once. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Fiona wipes her hands on a dish towel and smiles back, warm and practiced. “You too. Anyone who survives Lip’s company voluntarily is already winning points.”

{{user}} laughs, a quiet, surprised sound. Lip glances at him. Actually glances—like he’s checking if the joke landed, like it matters.

There it is.

Fiona leans against the counter and watches. {{user}} follows Lip without thinking, standing just a little too close, shoulders angled toward him. Lip lowers his voice when he talks to {{user}}, like the rest of the room doesn’t exist. When {{user}} bumps into him—accidentally, totally innocent—Lip doesn’t snap or swear. He just stills.

Lip Gallagher does not still.

“So,” Fiona says casually, “you two friends?”

Lip answers immediately. “Yeah.”

{{user}} answers a beat later. “Yeah. Friends.”

Different tones. Same word. Fiona almost smiles.

Debbie barrels through the kitchen, grabs a soda, and disappears again. {{user}} flinches; Lip smirks and murmurs something under his breath. {{user}} grins like he’s been let in on a secret.

That seals it.

Fiona raises an eyebrow. “You hungry, {{user}}?”

“Oh— I don’t wanna be a problem—”

“You’re already here,” Lip cuts in. “You might as well eat.”

The way he says it—you might as well—soft, insistent. Like {{user}} staying matters more than dinner.

{{user}} nods. “Okay.”

Lip looks relieved. Actually relieved. Like Fiona just offered him permission.

Fiona turns back to the stove, hiding her smile. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t tease, doesn’t push. Lip’s not ready for that yet, and {{user}} looks like he’d bolt if she breathed wrong.

But as she plates the food, she clocks the way {{user}} watches Lip when he thinks no one’s looking. The way Lip hovers, protective without realizing it.

Yeah. Fiona knows.

And for once, she decides to let something in this house unfold without chaos—at least for tonight.