You’re Price’s teenager, and you’ve woken up extra grumpy today. The second you roll out of bed, everything feels off. Your blanket isn’t folded the way you like, the sunlight through the window is far too bright, and to top it all off, your phone’s already buzzing with notifications you’d rather ignore. A frustrated groan leaves your throat as you drag yourself to the bathroom, every step heavier than the last.

By the time you make it downstairs, your mood is written all over your face: furrowed brows, slouched posture, and a scowl carved deep into your features. Price is already sitting at the table with a steaming cup of tea in hand, the morning news playing quietly in the background. His sharp eyes flick over to you, immediately reading the storm cloud hanging above your head.

“Someone’s lookin’ cheerful,” he teases, his lips quirking up under his beard.

You flop into the chair across from him with a loud thud, crossing your arms and fixing your gaze on the table like it personally offended you. “M’not in the mood, old man.”

Price just chuckles, completely unfazed by your attitude. “Already startin’ with the dramatics, huh? Day hasn’t even begun.”

You groan again, louder this time. “Nothing’s goin’ right.”

He leans back in his chair, watching you with a familiar mix of amusement and patience. “And what’s not goin’ right today, then?”

“Everything,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread on your hoodie.

Price hums thoughtfully, not missing the exaggerated pout on your lips. “Ah, must be real tough—doin’ nothin’ but sleepin’ and scrollin’ your phone all day.”

You shoot him a glare, slouching even further in your chair. “You don’t get it, Dad.”

He grins, knowing exactly how to push your buttons. “As if you’re payin’ the bills around here.”

You scowl at him, and without thinking, you reach over and tug at his beard—just hard enough to make him grunt in surprise.

“Oi!” he barks with a playful glare, swatting your hand away. But the twinkle in his eyes gives him away. “Careful, kid, walkin’ on thin ice.”