A loud crash jolted him awake. The kind of sound that didn’t belong to alarms or to Andrew’s measured footsteps but to Mia and was usually accompanied by shrieking laughter at her own chaos.
Christopher groaned, dragging the covers off his shoulder and rolling halfway onto his side. The sunlight spilling across the floorboards was too bright for someone who had no intention of being awake at six sharp in the morning.
"For the love of God, Mia," he muttered, voice gravelly with sleep. "We are on summer vacation. Aren’t you supposed to sleep until noon like a respectable child?"
Silence. Which meant she was ignoring him on purpose. Of course.
He shoved himself upright, bare feet finding the cool wood, and squinted around the room. His bedroom was ordinary, with pale walls, a desk perpetually cluttered with books and half-finished notes, and clothes folded neatly enough in the corner to keep Andrew off his back. He pushed his black hair off his forehead and stretched, long limbs unfolding awkwardly as though he hadn’t grown into them yet. Pale skin, darker shadows under his eyes from staying up too late.
He yawned, tugged a shirt over his head, brushed his teeth, and stepped down to the first floor of their house.
The smell of coffee hit him first. In the kitchen, Andrew was at the table, lifting the last of his mug with that quiet, steady presence that had carried them through the past year. Dark hair rumpled from too little sleep and too many responsibilities after their parents’ death, brown eyes bright despite the pain all of them had to overcome. He wore his work shirt already, sleeves rolled to his elbows, with a blue tie thrown haphazardly around his neck but not yet knotted.
Opposite him, Mia was in full attack mode, perched on the chair nearest the sugar bowl, demanding attention with every ounce of her eleven-year-old energy. Brown hair in a loose braid that had already come undone in the back, black eyes flashing with all the stubbornness she’d inherited from both brothers.
Andrew’s gaze lifted as Chris padded in. A faint smile tugged at his mouth.
"Chris. You’re awake."
"Not by choice," Chris muttered, raking a hand through his hair before narrowing his eyes towards their little sister.
Mia grinned. "You sound like a grumpy old man."
"I live with one," Chris said flatly, dropping into the seat beside her and stealing one of the pieces of toast on the table before she could.
Andrew sighed, but the warmth behind it was impossible to miss. He set his mug down, meeting Chris’s eyes over the rim. "Can you take Mia with you to the checkup? I know I should go, but work has been hectic lately."
Chris waved it off, chewing. "Sure. Don’t worry. I’ll still be the same Christopher Malek, whether alpha or omega."
Andrew’s gaze lingered. He took in his brother’s tall frame, the elegant lines of his long limbs, and the way he carried himself without even noticing. He wasn’t alpha-tall; if he were to awaken as one, there would be time to grow even more. His jaw was already sharpening, his black eyes steady and too calm for eighteen.
"Maybe omega," Andrew murmured, half to himself, as though the thought had been circling him for weeks.
Chris made a face, reaching for Mia’s braid and tugging it lightly until she squealed. "Maybe beta," he corrected. "Would be easier to deal with just one hormonal child in the family and not two. Maybe even less screaming over breakfast."
Mia swatted at his hand, indignant. "Betas are boring."
"Good," Chris said, leaning back in his chair with the nonchalance of an eighteen-year-old. "That’s the dream."
Andrew only smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried both hope and worry in equal measure. Then he glanced at the clock, drained the last of his coffee, and rose with a rustle of fabric and the scrape of his chair.
"Just don’t give the nurse trouble," he said, smoothing his tie into something passable. "And if Mia talks you into ice cream on the way back, don’t let her eat half of it before dinner."
Mia gasped, scandalized. Chris only smirked, already reaching for his shoes.
"Can’t promise anything," he said.
Andrew bent to retrieve his bag, adjusting the strap over his shoulder, and paused at the door. His voice softened, almost too quiet for the morning bustle.
"Take our father’s car. And be careful."
Chris waved a hand as if brushing off a cloud of smoke. "Don’t worry so much. I’ll bring her back in one piece." He leaned sideways, bumping Mia’s shoulder with his. "And in exchange for your angelic silence during my checkup, you get your ice cream."
Mia lit up instantly, her indignation forgotten, black eyes gleaming like she’d just been crowned empress of the neighborhood. "Two scoops?"
Chris smirked, reaching for his shoes. "If you manage not to break anything before we leave, three."
"Deal!" She hopped off her chair, braid bouncing, and dashed upstairs to change, her voice trailing down the hallway. "I’m picking the biggest dress I own!"
Andrew watched her disappear with the ghost of a smile tugging at his tired mouth. He lingered in the doorway, eyes shifting back to Chris. For a moment, the weight of everything, the year since their parents’ accident, the bills, the responsibility, hung between them like a shadow only Andrew carried.
Chris caught it, as he always did, and straightened his cuff with exaggerated calm. "We’ll be fine. Go save the world, Andrew. We’ll survive the doctor’s office without you."
Andrew exhaled, something like gratitude flickering across his face, then pulled the door open. "Just don’t let her talk you into a fourth scoop."
Chris chuckled, pulling on his shoes. "I’m reckless, not suicidal."
The door shut behind Andrew with a soft thud, leaving the house briefly quiet, except for Mia upstairs, already turning her room upside down in search of her ’biggest dress.’ Chris tied his laces slowly, letting the silence stretch, the taste of coffee and toast still clinging faintly to the morning air.
It would be a simple day. A drive, a test, maybe an argument over toppings. Ordinary. Exactly what he wanted it to be.