The kitchen smelled faintly of bacon and toast, and Darry moved around it with the ease of someone who’d been doing this since before he was grown. {{user}} rested quietly on his hip, tiny fingers curled into the fabric of Darry’s T-shirt. For a baby, they were unusually calm, eyes wide and watchful as though breakfast-making was the most fascinating show in the world. Every now and then Darry would shift his hold, balancing between flipping the eggs in the skillet and keeping {{user}} settled.

“Y’know,” he muttered under his breath, soft enough it was mostly for the baby’s ears, “you could make yourself useful and grab the salt. What do you think? Too early for chores?” He gave a small half-smile when {{user}} only blinked at him. “That’s what I thought.”

The floorboards creaked in the hallway, and Soda stumbled in, hair sticking out in every direction and shirt only half-buttoned. He yawned so wide it looked like it hurt, then grinned when he spotted Darry.

“Well look at you, Super-Dad,” Soda teased, heading straight for the coffeepot. “Kid don’t even fuss. Figures you’d get the easy one.”

“Don’t spill that,” Darry warned as Soda sloshed coffee into a mug. “And she’s not easy, she just… don’t raise as much ruckus as you or Pony ever did.”

“Speak of the devil,” Soda said with a chuckle as Pony shuffled in behind him, rubbing his eyes. Pony’s hair was sticking up nearly as bad as Soda’s, and he looked about two seconds from collapsing back into bed.

“Why are you all so loud this early?” Pony mumbled, though his eyes flicked to {{user}} almost immediately. “Hey, squirt.” He reached out a hand and {{user}} grabbed one of his fingers, tugging just hard enough to make Pony crack a tired smile.

Darry glanced between his brothers, then down at the little one on his hip. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you two eat more than Twinkies and baloney sandwiches,” he said. “Breakfast’ll be ready in a minute.”

Soda leaned on the counter, sipping his coffee. “Man, it’s somethin’. You juggle frying eggs and holding a baby like it’s nothing. I can’t even tie my shoes before noon.”

“Yeah, and I’m the one who ends up tying them for you,” Darry shot back. Pony snorted, and Soda grinned sheepishly but didn’t argue.

The pan hissed as Darry flipped the bacon. {{user}} gave a small, content hum at the sound, leaning their head against Darry’s shoulder as though they’d been through this routine a hundred times already. Darry let out a slow breath and, just for a second, the kitchen felt steady and whole—like the day could start without the weight of the world pressing in.