Chapter Text
Conrad slid a tray of muffins out of the oven, the rich scent of cinnamon, sugar, and browned butter curling into the corners of the sunlit kitchen. The morning light streaming through the bay windows.
Jere wandered in first, barefoot and already in his boardshorts. He yawned as he leaned against the counter, blinking sleepily.
Conrad slid over a fresh muffin. "Careful, it's still hot."
"Thanks. I'm headed out surfing. You wanna come with?"
Before he could answer, Steven and Taylor shuffled in, both still wearing rumpled pajamas. Taylor’s oversized sweatshirt hung off one shoulder, and Steven’s hair stuck up in wild tufts like he’d just rolled straight out of bed—which, knowing him, he probably had.
"These smell amazing," Taylor said, peeling the liner off her muffin.
"Way better than his unseasoned chicken," Steven mumbled, speaking around a mouthful, half a muffin already demolished in his hand.
"They’re Belly’s favorite," Conrad said, smirking as he set the tray carefully on a cork trivet. "But I’ve been banned from making them too often—she wants them to stay special. Figured our first day here is a good enough reason." He rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips gave away the fondness behind the complaint. "And Steven, don’t talk with your mouth full. You’re spraying crumbs everywhere." He turned to his brother, "You go ahead. I'm waiting for Belly to come down."
Jere chuckled and poured himself a glass of milk, the clink of the glass hitting the counter echoing faintly in the quiet morning. "I’m surprised she’s not already down here. You two are always the first ones up in the summers."
Conrad glanced toward the staircase, his expression softening. "She’s been running on fumes lately—trying to finish her dissertation and cram for the licensing exam. Last week, she nearly fell asleep face-first in her mashed potatoes. This morning, she didn’t even wake up when I got out of bed." He paused, the corners of his mouth tugging into something between a smile and a sigh. "This'll be the first day in months that we'll have an entire day together without a pager going off or a deadline coming up."
"How does it feel to finally be the Drs. Fisher?" Taylor teased, taking a slow bite of her muffin and raising an eyebrow.
"It feels great," Conrad said, reaching for a muffin of his own—only to smack Jeremiah's hand away as he tried to grab a third. "Save some for Belly."
"I see how it is," Jere said in mock offense, clutching his chest. "You like her more than me."
"Well," Conrad said dryly, "she gives me things you don’t."
Steven groaned. "Oh, gross, man! That’s my little sister."
"Shut up, Steven," came a sleepy voice from the hallway.
"Good morning, Isabel," Conrad said softly. "I made muffins."
Belly didn’t answer. Instead, she trudged to the counter and slumped forward, resting her head on her folded arms like it weighed too much to hold up.
"Belly?" Conrad stepped closer, his brow furrowing. He reached out and gently brushed a few strands of hair from her face. "Maybe you should go back to bed."
She forced her eyes open with visible effort. "No, I’m up."
"You sure?" he asked, thumb smoothing over a faint pillow crease still etched into her skin.
She cracked one eye open and gave him a lopsided, sleepy smile. "Yeah. I just need some coffee. And a day binge-watching something that doesn't need me to think."
Conrad let out a quiet laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Do you want a muffin? They’re still warm."
"Coffee first," she mumbled, slowly pushing herself upright.
As Conrad moved to pour her a cup, Taylor leaned back against the counter. "Okay, but once Belly's caffeinated, we are watching the new season of that ridiculous dating show. I’ve waited a week to watch it together and avoided spoilers on TikTok like my life depended on it."
Steven groaned. "Not the one with the twins again."
"Yes," Taylor grinned wickedly. "The drama is absolutely unhinged. It’s healing."
Jere finished his milk and headed for the door with a wave. "Enjoy your hot twin mess. I’ll be in the ocean—far away from whatever this is."
"You’re missing out!" Taylor called after him.
Minutes later, the four of them had migrated to the living room, the cozy lull of summer settling over the house. Belly was curled up on the couch, legs tucked under her, hands wrapped around her mug. Her hair was still a mess, and the pillow crease hadn’t quite faded from her cheek, but there was color in her face again.
Taylor took the other end of the couch with Steven setting up camp in the armchair, laptop open, headphones around his neck—insisting he had work to do, but every so often, his gaze flicked up at the screen.
Conrad settled on the floor in front of the couch with his crossword puzzle, his shoulder resting lightly against Belly’s leg. She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his hair, gently working through the tangles.
He didn’t say anything—just let his head tip back to look at her for a second. She was sipping her coffee, half-smiling at whatever nonsense was happening onscreen, her body finally still.
It was nice—having a lazy morning together.