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Zam wakes up early, again.
She’s actually been doing pretty well, if she may say so herself, and tonight she even got a good five consecutive hours of sleep. But something must have shifted in the night, or maybe the weather outside just got colder again, because now she’s staring at the ceiling and trying to tell her muscles to chill the fuck out.
That’s not happening, she decides, when five more minutes pass and everything is still throbbing painfully. She may as well get up; doing things other than just being stuck in one place is usually helpful enough.
She stretches slowly and winces at the feeling, before rolling out of bed and landing vaguely clumsily on two feet. Sweeping black hair out of her eyes, she squints at her reflection in the mirror and tries to determine if the waves they’ve decided to land in this more are presentable or tangled. In the end, it doesn’t really matter — who’s going to see her, anyway? — so she ties it up into something less likely to keep getting in her way.
Her arms already ache, so the whole distraction thing clearly isn’t working. She allows herself a moment of grumbling at her reflection, rolls back her shoulders, then tries to push back the dark cloud already sweeping over her.
The stairs are a slow process, but she allows herself the time. When she lands on the first floor, she patters over to the kitchen and pulls up a chair by the countertop, where she starts the process of boiling water for a coffee. She sets out three mugs, just in case one of her housemates gets down here early, and waits for the kettle.
Mornings have been odd lately, at least for Zam. There’s really no reason to be up too early these days, what with the snowstorm that’s been going on for weeks now, so there’s hardly ever anyone up. Not that she’d know if anyone was — they’re in their own houses, the snow between an impenetrable distance — but she’s entirely sure she’s the only one in the city who could possibly be awake.
There’s a familiar thump of feet on the stairs, and she smiles to herself.
Not the only one awake, then.
Steam bursts from the kettle, pleasantly warm when it gets to her, so when she turns in her chair to face her housemate she’s already grinning.
“You’re in a good mood,” says the aforementioned housemate, looking a bit of a mess himself. Then again, Mapicc is always kind of like that; he doesn’t seem to bother with anything before his morning coffee — a bad habit she’s been picking up from him.
“Why are you saying that like it’s a problem?”
Mapicc goes to grab the instant coffee. “It’s not a problem, it just kinda feels like a bad omen for me. Are you plotting something?”
“Hey,” Zam says sharply. Mapicc turns to her with a raised brow, then sees what she’s indicating and rolls his eyes.
“You’re a menace,” he informs her, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead, and she laughs. “I’m literally helping you. I’m literally getting the coffee and you’re distracting me.”
“Well, go get the coffee, then!” she teases.
Leaning against the counter, chin in hand, Zam watches as he takes over the task of pouring out water and adding sugar to both. Zam usually prefers at least a little milk, though they’ve been avoiding using the milk they do have in the fridge except when absolutely necessary. There’s evaporated milk somewhere in the cupboard but it tastes absolutely dogshit, so practically-black coffee it is.
“You want me to make some for Minute?” Mapicc asks, pausing over the third mug. Zam glances at the clock.
“No, he won’t be down for another half hour,” she replies.
Zam goes to pick up her own mug but her hand gets bapped away almost immediately, Mapicc picking it up instead and nodding to the couch in the other room.
“Go sit down, you’ll spill this if you carry it now.”
“I won’t,” Zam frowns. “I’m perfectly good at carrying things.”
“Okay, well, the chances of you dropping it are way higher, and I’m not swapping up mug pieces today.” Mapicc’s already halfway out of the kitchen, so there’s not much point in arguing now. She makes a face at his back anyway. “I’d be a dick making you carry hot drinks around when you’re having a flare-up anyway.”
“Bold assumption. I might be having a great day.”
“You’re literally sitting on a chair watching the kettle boil, I am not a complete idiot.”
Walking over to the couch already does kind of take it out of her, so by the time she’s sitting next to Mapicc she isn’t sure she even wants to bother picking up the coffee. She opts to sprawl out next to him instead, arranging herself as best she can over the cushions, and resolutely ignoring the look she gets for it.
She’s kind of grateful he doesn’t comment on it. One of the better parts of dating someone she’s already been friends with for years is that he already knows how much she wants him to step in; there’s no awkward questions or hovering, and they’ve already done all the conversations about what she’s okay with. It makes upgrades stuck in this house with him from terrible to bearable.
After a few minutes of quiet, Mapicc’s arm snaking over her shoulders to shift her slightly closer, she decides she’s good to start on the coffee. She reaches down and balances it carefully, grateful when it turns out to have at least a decent level of warmth.
“I’m gonna go shovel the snow from the drive in a bit,” Mapicc says, though doesn’t make a move to go yet. Zam can’t join him on that, the cold being so unkind to her body. He still sounds tired, though, and Zam wonders for a moment whether he’d be up now if it wasn’t for her.
Not a helpful thought. She likes the company.
“Any news on the storm ending?” she asks instead, which is an infinitely more useful question.
Mapicc shrugs. “Nothing I’ve heard. And Minute hasn’t said anything about it either, though I actually don’t think he seems to mind it much anymore.”
“Of course he’d get used to a fucking snowstorm. That guy’ll adapt to anything, seriously.”
“He’s one with the storm now, dude.”
They both get a laugh from that, and Zam takes a sip of coffee. It’s really not that good, but the company is worth it. The act of normalcy is worth it.
Despite the cloud hanging heavy in Zam’s limbs, the morning finally settles into something a little brighter.