Annie Hargreeves (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
defenderofdesmoines) wrote2023-06-18 07:58 am
defenderofdesmoines) wrote2023-06-18 07:58 am
Entry tags:
75 Godiva St | Sunday Morning
It was rare that Annie was able to beat Diego to being awake -- so rare, in fact, that on the few occasions when she did successfully sneak out of bed before him (and back when she'd had her insomnia-induced midnight Almond Joy raids), she kind of suspected he was letting her.
Today was one such day, which was good because it was Father's Day. A holiday that, right up until this year, had been kind of fraught and/or meaningless for everyone in this house. Annie hadn't seen her father in fifteen years, and Diego's was now dead -- and also, like, a manipulative asshole alien with little regard for the lives of those around him, so. You know. Not big Father's Day people, previously.
Annie had gotten it into her head that Father's Day breakfast was a thing (right? People did that?), and had thus made both her own coffee and Diego's real coffee before setting to work to do just that.
So, when Diego did emerge, he would find Annie quietly cleaning the kitchen, the lingering smell of burnt toast in the air, perhaps a cracked egg shell here and there, and a delivery person on their way with an actual edible breakfast shortly, because that had been stupid of her.
At least she'd managed to not catch the present she'd gotten him on fire or anything. It was still sitting there on the counter, looking all sparkly and gift-like.
[for the dad-to-be!]
Today was one such day, which was good because it was Father's Day. A holiday that, right up until this year, had been kind of fraught and/or meaningless for everyone in this house. Annie hadn't seen her father in fifteen years, and Diego's was now dead -- and also, like, a manipulative asshole alien with little regard for the lives of those around him, so. You know. Not big Father's Day people, previously.
Annie had gotten it into her head that Father's Day breakfast was a thing (right? People did that?), and had thus made both her own coffee and Diego's real coffee before setting to work to do just that.
So, when Diego did emerge, he would find Annie quietly cleaning the kitchen, the lingering smell of burnt toast in the air, perhaps a cracked egg shell here and there, and a delivery person on their way with an actual edible breakfast shortly, because that had been stupid of her.
At least she'd managed to not catch the present she'd gotten him on fire or anything. It was still sitting there on the counter, looking all sparkly and gift-like.
[for the dad-to-be!]