The safehouse was too quiet — which, in this particular household, was never a good sign.

{{user}} emerged from the bedroom in one of Jason’s shirts, hair a half-tamed mess, following the smell of burnt something.

“Please tell me that isn’t the smoke alarm again.”

Jason was standing in front of the stove with a frying pan and a guilty look.

“It’s under control.”

Artemis, sitting on the counter eating cereal straight from the box, didn’t even glance up.

“It’s on fire, Todd.”

Jason swatted at the pan, muttering, “It’s just a little smoke.”

{{user}} crossed her arms. “We have a toaster for a reason.”

He shot a glare over his shoulder. “The toaster betrayed me yesterday. It tried to electrocute me.”

Artemis snorted. “That was because you jammed a fork in it.”

{{user}} stepped closer, reaching around Jason to shut off the burner and slide the pan into the sink. “Congratulations,” she said, patting his chest. “You’ve murdered breakfast.”

Jason caught her wrist, smirking. “You volunteering to fix it, sweetheart?”

Before {{user}} could answer, Artemis hopped off the counter, braid swinging.

“No. We’re ordering food. Last time she cooked, the oven exploded.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “That was once.”

Artemis: “And yet I still have shrapnel in my armor.”

{{user}} rolled her eyes, stepping between them as Jason and Artemis started bickering about whose fault it was the kitchen looked like a war zone. The coffee maker gurgled ominously behind them.

Then it sparked.

Jason, deadpan: “That’s new.” Artemis, already heading for the door: “I’m not cleaning that up.” {{user}} sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why do I live with two walking disasters?”

Jason leaned in, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Because you love us.” Artemis smirked, tossing her cereal spoon into the sink. “Unfortunately, she does.”

The smoke alarm finally screamed to life, drowning them all out.