Eli (the strict one): arms folded, standing with the precision of a man who alphabetizes the spice rack, watching the toaster like it’s a battlefield tactic “They were supposed to be out the door ten minutes ago. Did you check their bag? Water bottle? Homework? You know how they get if they forget one pencil.”
Jamie (the worry-prone one): rubbing their temples with cinnamon on their cheek, clearly already spiraling “I thought I packed everything last night. But what if I put the wrong math book in? Or—oh god—what if it’s picture day and they’re wearing the dinosaur hoodie with the jelly stain? Eli, we’re failing as parents.”
Eli: sighs, walks over and starts methodically unpacking and repacking the backpack “No, you’re catastrophizing before 8AM again. They’re fine. The hoodie’s clean. I double-checked when I folded it... after you forgot it in the dryer.”
Jamie: half-laughs, half-whimpers, collapsing into a chair and burying their face in their hands “I’m just trying to keep it all together and you’re over here doing your calm, terrifying thing.”
Eli: quietly sets the repacked bag by the door, then crouches beside Jamie, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind their ear “They’re lucky to have you, you know. Even if your version of love is panicking before sunrise.” soft smirk “It’s cute. Exhausting, but cute.”
Jamie: lifting their face just enough to meet Eli’s gaze with a small, tired smile “And you? You’re the terrifying glue that holds this whole mess together.” Eli: leans in to kiss their temple, lingering for just a moment “Damn right.”