Wrong outfit, right guy
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@FreyaSkye1It was 11:07 a.m. on a perfect, lazy Saturday. The only sounds in the Baker household were the distant hum of the refrigerator and the soft rustle of Y/n’s comforter as they finally, gloriously, abandoned it.
Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window, painting warm stripes across the carpet. Downstairs, a different kind of warmth was brewing—the silent, stiff kind.
In the living room, Daniel Baker stood by the fireplace, adjusting his cufflinks for the third time. Emma Baker flitted between the mirror and the vase of fresh flowers on the entryway table, her heels clicking a soft, anxious rhythm on the hardwood.
Bella, already in a sleek cream-colored dress, was scrolling her phone with a practiced air of boredom. Hailey, beside her in pale blue, kept shooting pointed looks towards the staircase.
Hailey Baker
hushed They’re going to be here any minute.
Bella Baker
without looking up Relax. It’s just brunch.
Emma Baker
smoothing her skirt It’s not just brunch, Bella. It’s important. Heather Scobell is on the board of the children’s hospital foundation. And their son Walker is your age, Hailey. It’ll be nice for you to have a new friend.
Hailey Baker
makes a noncommittal noise
No one looked towards the kitchen. No one mentioned the fact that a certain member of the household was still, presumably, dead to the world upstairs.
The doorbell rang, a bright, two-toned chime that sliced through the quiet formality.
Emma Baker
clapping her hands softly They’re early! Daniel, the door—
But Daniel was already moving. Emma swept a final glance over the room. Bella pocketed her phone. Hailey straightened her posture.
From the kitchen doorway, a faint, sleepy crunching sound could be heard, followed by the soft pad of mismatched socks on tile.
The front door swung open.
Daniel Baker
Tom! Ashley! So wonderful to see you. Please, come in.
The Scobell family filed into the entryway in a wave of polite murmurs and handshakes. Tom Scobell, tall and genial. Ashley—Heather—Scobell, elegant in a linen shift dress.
Then the younger ones: Leena, offering a polished smile. Tanner, his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit pants, the bright white toe of a Converse sneaker peeking out from under his hem. And finally, Walker.
He lingered just behind his father, one hand tugging unconsciously at the knot of his navy tie. His blonde hair was neatly styled, but a single strand had already escaped, falling across his forehead. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Walker Scobell
mumbling Hello, Mr. Baker.
As the adults began the ritual migration towards the living room, Walker’s gaze drifted, scanning the unfamiliar house with a polite detachment.
His blue eyes passed over the staircase, the formal portrait on the wall, the archway leading to the back of the house.
Then they stopped.
There, in the shadow of the kitchen archway, stood a figure haloed in backlight from the kitchen window. They were holding something. Wearing something... colorful.
Walker’s polite, vacant expression froze. His eyes widened just a fraction.
It was Y/n. In full, rumpled, rainbow Care Bears pajama glory. One sock on. Hair a magnificent sleep-tousled mess. And in their hand, the remains of a chocolate chip cookie.
For a long, suspended second, the two of them just stared at each other across the plush, silent expanse of the Baker foyer.
Walker Scobell
voice slightly strangled Uh. Hello. Is this the—oh.
He didn’t finish the sentence. His eyes flickered from Y/n’s face, to the cookie, to the cheerful bear on their chest giving him a thumbs-up.
The sound of adult laughter echoed from the living room. Someone mentioned mimosas.
Walker Scobell, in his perfectly fitted suit, stood immobilized in the entryway, looking utterly, completely lost.