Chapter Text
Piper McCloud was undeniably a morning person. There was something about the rising sun that beckoned to her, the way the sky shifting from a starry midnight blanket to a brilliantly golden-rimmed cornflower blue that made the air sing with energy. Besides, it was always best to get started on her chores before her Ma arose to minimize the possibility of having to be nagged at.
A newly lit world- a realm all to herself. She wasn’t always one for calm and quiet; she enjoyed her fair share of heart-racing exploits and adrenaline-seeking adventures, but there was a peace that only a sunrise and its matching skyline could bring inside her.
And yet, for all the value she placed on that sweet, sweet silence, she was very nearly incapable of getting down the stairs without crashing into something or creating some kind of loud noise. A broken mug, or accidentally hitting the one very, very creaky stair; stubbing her toe on a doorway and a quickly let-loose swear of pain; these were all things that could’ve been heard on any given early hour in the house. It was lucky for Piper that her parents were far away and at the end of the hall, so as not to summon her mother’s wrath unnecessarily, but it was unlucky for Conrad that he happened to be in the room next door.
Conrad Harrington was not a morning person. He preferred the wee hours of the night; not for any particular interest in marvelling at the moon or stars, but because he didn’t see a point in going to sleep only to have to wake up again and work on whatever it was that had caught his attention the previous day. He was already awake now. He might as well see it through, find a good stopping point. In practice, this meant that though he very often was late to Betty’s breakfast call (so much so that she just took to leaving a plate out on the stove for whenever he arose, along with a list of chores that he needed to complete before he could start tinkering away on his own projects), he was up until 3 or 4 AM Gettings Things Done. Patience was a tool available in his wheelhouse, but anything started demanded completion.
As such, it was with a grumpy countenance that he found himself jolting awake to the sound of someone nearly falling down the stairs. A muffled “ fuck” and then another thump , as he assumed her head hit the ceiling above the stairs, which elicited a “damn it” could be heard through the walls. Poking his head out the door, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes, he was unable to find the culprit.
Downstairs in the kitchen, the source of his sleeplessness was humming a quiet song as she busied herself with the coffee machine. Her face brightened as she saw that he had awoken, taking in his ruffled hair and obnoxiously green flannel pajama pants. “You’re awake! Want some coffee? I thought you had a late night last night. You’re not usually up this early!”
Somehow, her cheerful chatter served to make him more annoyed. He leaned against the countertop, arms crossed. “Is it possible that you might, be able to, get out of the house somewhat quietly ? You sound like a bull in a china shop every damn morning.” This argument felt like an old and tired one. It was a fight that neither person were ever going to win. It seemed she would manage to be quiet for a few days, only to resume her terribly noisy habits and break any streak he had of sleeping in. He took the proffered cup of coffee, wrapping his hands around the mug for its warmth and inhaling the aroma.
“Is it possible for you to start your day off in a good mood, ever ?” She laughed, a bit of a guilty expression making its way onto her face. She continued to busy herself with buttering a piece of toast, avoiding the topic, as though if she stayed silent, it would be as though nothing had happened.
He stared her down when she at last looked back at his face again. “Okay, fine,” she cracked. “I didn’t mean to slip on the stairs, and then I hit my head on the ceiling. I forget that it’s so low, which is why I can’t really fly down the stairs before I’ve had caffeine, but- was I really that loud?”
He took a dramatic sip of his coffee, maintaining eye contact and a deadpan expression. It was something that would’ve been effective had the coffee not been terrible tasting. Coughing, he gulped it down, and glared at her again through messy hair as she tried not to laugh.
“Good God , Piper. What the hell was in that?”
She shrugged innocently, heading towards the door. “Coffee? I don’t know. I just put one of the little pods in that new Keuring machine thing. Don’t let Ma hear you taking the Lord’s name in vain like that. Does it not taste good?”
He shook his head, following her toward the door. “ Yes , you were ridiculously loud this morning, and-” Her face wasn’t falling exactly, but the sheepish cheer was slipping quickly. He didn’t miss her hand grasping for the door handle as though she was planning on spring away as soon as possible. He bit back the coffee insult. It was fine. He didn’t need it at this hour anyway. “The coffee was stronger than I expected. But, seriously, every day, it feels like you’re banging pots and pans on your way out.”
She glanced out the window, where the first pink streaks had started to paint the sky. Her eyes met his, and her hand let go of the door handle. She stepped forward, till she was barely a breath away. He was frozen, couldn’t move. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she said, sounding genuinely apologetic. Reaching up, she moved hair out of his eyes, her fingertips not so much as trailing along on his face as searing his skin. “You should go back to bed and get some beauty sleep. I’ll make you some better coffee when I get back.” A grin grew on her face as her eyes moved down to his bare chest, and she laughed a little bit again. “Put a shirt on when you come down again, though.”
And, then, she was gone, door flung open and girl high, high up in the sky. His feet felt glued in place. He glanced down at his chest, suddenly reminded that he had come down there only in pajama pants and all the more embarrassed for it. What. What had that been? He was suddenly much more awake than he had been before, although his mind was spinning a million miles an hour and he was thinking no more clearly for it.
He turned towards the counter top, to find uneaten toast and her own untouched cup of coffee. Whatever. Unimportant.
Did she know? Did she know that she both haunted his dreams and dragged him out of them? Did she know that she left butterflies in his stomach and a trail of flames along his skin? What would Nalen and Ahmed have to say? (Why was he disappointed that she hadn’t leaned forward just a little bit more?)
He knew the answer deep inside himself, and yet he wasn’t sure it was the answer that he wanted. Things were so much simpler when she wasn’t trying to make him blush, didn’t go out of her way to get his attention, both his ire and affection equally welcome.
She knew.
( “Dude, you’re in denial,” Smitty declares, as he, Conrad, and the rest of the boys sit around the kitchen table. “All the knowledge in the world- and you can’t even get yourself to believe that not only do you like her, she knows , and she likes you too!”
He groans, rolling his eyes. “Can we please talk about anything other than this?”
Nalen and Ahmed laugh from across the table, and Ahmed slides a five dollar bill towards Jasper. “You too, Jasper? Wait- were you guys betting on someone bringing this up?” Jasper shrugs apologetically.)
There was no way she didn’t know.
(It’s movie night, and Piper is stretched out on the couch, her head on his shoulder, somehow having manuevered his arm around her. Violet is curled up on a nearby armchair, and Jasper and Lily are buried under blanket forts that should constitute a fire hazard. Certain that Piper has finally fallen asleep, he squeezes his arm around her tighter, and leans his head on top of hers.
When they were younger, sleepovers in the same bed were fairly common. Nightmares were too. But somehow growing up had taken that from them and replaced it with a distance, a kind of unspoken rule that stated two almost-adults shouldn’t be sleeping in the same room, let alone the same bed. And, now, with her weight almost on top of him, hair tickling his neck, all he wanted was for the closeness to never end.)
Wasn’t that what he had wanted? Wasn’t that why birthday gifts and Christmas presents and little thoughtful things in between had suddenly become so much more personal?
(Violet frowns at him. “Let me get this straight. You want my advice on whether or not you should get this for her?” She has always been a little disapproving of him, it feels. Everyone else has forgiven him, talked to him about their youth. But next to him, she’s the one who’s closest to Piper, and so as much as it makes him feel shameful, he had come to her for approval.
“Are you going to make me repeat myself? You know her as well as I do. I just want to make sure it’s right.”
The shorter girl rolls her eyes at him, not interested in putting up with his attitude. “You know the implications of a necklace like this, right? You break her heart, and I’ll break you, Conrad Harrington.”)
The timer on his watch marked that sunrise was almost over, that she was almost done with completing her lap around the sky. Quickly, he made his own way down the stairs, and put the kettle on to boil. He threw the toast back in the toaster, set to light. Several moments later, a cup of tea stewed on the counter, next to warm, fresher-looking toast. He made his way up the stairs again, pausing at the top to see if he could’ve heard the front door creak open. It did, and her soft footsteps sounded against the floor as she stepped through.
He wanted sleep.
And, if let himself be truly honest for a moment, he wanted her.
Maybe it was time to become a morning person after all, damn it.