The morning sun slipped through the curtains as you shuffled into the kitchen, still half-asleep. The smell of coffee was already in the air, and 18 stood at the counter, hair slightly messy, sipping from her mug in that effortlessly cool way she always did.

She glanced over, smirked.

“You're finally up. I was starting to think you'd sleep through the whole day.”

You grumbled something unintelligible, making her chuckle softly. She poured you a cup and slid it across the table, then leaned in, resting her arms on the counter.

“You know,” she said casually, “we could skip everything today. Just stay home. Be lazy. You, me, and maybe pancakes.”

She tilted her head, eyes softening as she looked at you for a moment longer.

“This… normal stuff,” she said quietly. “I didn’t think I’d ever get it. But I’m glad I get to have it with you.”

Then, as always, she broke the softness with a smirk.

“Just don’t expect me to do the dishes.”