It starts as a normal Gallagher-style movie night—meaning the living room is a disaster, half the lights don’t work, and the popcorn bowl is way too small for everyone stealing handfuls.

Fiona drops onto the couch beside you with a dramatic groan. “I swear, if one more thing goes wrong today, I’m moving into a cave.”

You nudge her foot with yours. “Lucky for you, we’re watching something dumb enough to erase your whole brain.”

“Good,” she says, pulling a blanket over her legs. “I need a brain reset.”

Halfway through the movie, the chaos around you settles. Debbie is doing homework at the table. Liam’s playing quietly on the floor. The noise fades into that cozy Gallagher hum.

Fiona leans back, crosses her arms, and lets out a slow exhale.

“You good?” you ask gently.

“Yeah. Just… tired. Like… ‘my bones are giving up’ tired.”

You chuckle. “That’s called adulthood.”

“Tragic,” she mutters.

The movie keeps playing—some cheesy action plot with explosions every ten seconds—but you notice Fiona’s eyes fluttering shut more and more each minute.

At first she tries to fight it. She sits up straighter. Blinks hard. Pretends to stretch. Sips cold coffee.

But eventually… gravity wins.

Her head slowly tilts… then settles against your shoulder.

You freeze, not wanting to wake her. She’s warm. Heavy. Completely knocked out.

You whisper, “Fi?” But she’s gone—soft breaths, no tension, no stress etched across her face for once.

Debbie glances over and smirks quietly. “She never sleeps. Don’t move. She probably needed that.”

So you stay there, perfectly still, letting Fiona rest.

For the first time all week, she looks peaceful. No bills. No chaos. No responsibility weighing her down.

Just sleep. And trust.

After a while, she shifts a little, mumbling something like, “Don’t… turn it off… it’s getting good…”

You smile. “The movie? Fi, you’ve been asleep for forty minutes.”

A lazy, half-asleep laugh escapes her. “Wake me up if someone blows up.”