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early20sfailingplenty · 2 years

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Yo, I woke up after one in the afternoon and had a glass of milk with a Nutty Buddy of all things for breakfast, accidentally giving myself a stomachache because I drank the milk too fast. Then I immediately started on doing the dishes as soon as I was done eating (which took about three hours) before I finally sat down in front of my computer only to discover that today was not -in fact- a writing day.

I can just picture Bo watching me go about my morning in utter amusement as I stuff my face with a sad excuse for breakfast before proceeding to complain about my stomachache while doing dishes. Then listening to me bitch with half and ear when I finally sit down to do my favorite activity only to discover that I have no motivation for it.

He would definitely think I'm a bit of a fruit loop. Lol.

(Why are you and me giving off the same vibes? I too drink milk too fast and end up giving myself a stomachache😂😂😂 I had to Google what a Nutty Buddy was because we don't have them here in the UK and I got two results – a wafer bar with peanut butter between each layer and covered in chocolate and an ice cream cone with peanut butter pieces on it, but whatever you ate, it sounds super goooood ~ and a good breakfast to have (any breakfast is a good breakfast)! Delicious!💖

You forever whip up super cute blurbs for me unprompted so here I am with one for you; personalised and a bit late, but for you! Don't ever hesitate if you want one! I have more free time atm so I can do them same day in most cases!)

You had woken up in the early afternoon; later in the day, in fact, than even Vincent, who usually woke up around eleven if he had gone to bed at three in the morning, or noon if he had gone to bed just as the birds woke up at four.

Bo was often up early, as early as Lester (you had asked once if the two brothers sent each other good morning texts because they woke up at the same time, but they had denied it vehemently. Vincent, however, had nodded his head twice; answering once each for his brothers. You trusted him – he wasn't afraid to speak the truth, no matter the consequences, and he was the Sinclair most aware of their reality). As such, he liked to sit down at the kitchen table in the late morning, watching his twin come downstairs seeking coffee. Bo always had it made ready for Vincent, simply holding out an old cracked mug full of the steamy goodness, and accepting a good morning grunt from Vincent. A thumbs up or down from Vincent would tell Bo if he had slept well or not, and then the longer haired twin would be on his way back down to the basement to get ready for a day's hard work.

The eldest Sinclair was still at the table when you came downstairs at one in the afternoon, halfway through a sandwich. He chuckled around a mouthful at the state of you (like he was much better) and you wrinkled your nose in distaste as he greeted you with his mouth full. Your breakfast was simple but delicious – a glass of milk and a Nutty Buddy. Lester had surprised you with a box of them last weekend and you were eating them slowly, savouring each one.

You were thirstier than you realised, and even knowing what the consequences would be, you gulped down the glass of milk while eating your breakfast just as quickly.

Bo shook his head in amusement at you. “Jus' bought yer'self a ticket to Stomachache City, darlin', drinkin' it like that.”

You shrugged, making Bo laugh again, dumping the glass on the side and chucking the wrapper in the bin. Your stomach was sated but you'd probably eat something again soon; your breakfasts were only ever enough to take the edge off. You dealt with bigger meals once you were awake a bit more. The dishes were piled high and the day was still young, so you figured you would do the dishes. Unfortunately for you, Bo's warning and your ignored instinct came to fruition, because your stomachache set in while you were doing the dishes.

“Oww,” you tried to keep quiet, not wanting Bo to pick up on your discomfort, but he already knew what was happening to you, and he scoffed.

“What did I fuckin' tell ya'?”

He continued to listen to you as you complained about your stomach, though you took very few breaks from the dishes. Bo half listened to you, nodding and making noises to let you know he was still There in the room with you, but he gave you no sympathy. You had been warned, even with you knowing what you were doing, and he had nothing gentle for you. What had you expected? A stomachache. What had you done anyway? Drunk the milk too fast; it was your own damn fault. All in all, it took you three hours to get everything done (Bo watched the whole damn time but didn't help you, except to dump his plate in the sink with a cheeky grin), and by the time you were done, you had lost all motivation to engage in one of your favourite hobbies.

“Today is not, in fact, a writing day,” You huffed, doom-scrolling and not doing the very thing you had gotten out of bed for.

“Ain't it?” Bo grinned at you, amused by how your day had turned out. He had meant to go back to the garage but watching you was infinitely more fun. “Well, Tibby, I'on what t'tell ya', other than th'fact y're a few sandwiches sort of a picnic, huh? Fuckin' fruit loop.”

“Take one to know one, Sinclair.”

Bo mockingly tipped his hat at you and you grinned at each other from across the room, reading each other like the well-loved books you were.

#bo sinclair x tibby

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