We Get It, You're Mean - Maeve Wiley X Reader

Chapter 8

The gentle patter of rain woke you up, as you turn and see Maeve cuddled up next to you. Her arm draped over your stomach, the coldness of her bracelets sending a shiver up your spine. You smile to yourself as you watch her sleep, imaging her face filled with disbelief if you were to tell her how close she'd been to you.

Grabbing your phone off the nightstand you see it's still early. You gently move Maeve's arm off you, careful not to disturb her and throw your legs off the bed and onto the floor. Creeping out of her bedroom, you turn and take one last peak at her; her blonde and pink hair now covering her face, her chest rising and falling as she slept, the bracelets she never seemed to take off rattling as she shifted slightly.

You unlock the front door putting up your borrowed hood, stepping out into the rain and sitting on the step, inhaling the fresh, early morning air. You tilt your head up as you let the droplets of rain fall elegantly onto your face, and you sit there for a while, thinking.

The rain, calming, touch, Maeve, fascinating, beautiful, emotions, raw, pain, your parents, abandonment, anger, Jackson, jealousy, Maeve and Jackson, "Fuck." You let out a sigh of frustration as you mess with the tassels of the hoodie in an attempt to calm yourself down.

You take a breath and pause before going back inside.

***

Finding your way around the kitchen, you make a 2 cups of tea, some pancakes and some toast for the pair of you, unsure of what Maeve actually liked.

As you set down the final plate and set of cutlery onto the dining room table you hear movement coming from Maeve's room. You gently lean on the doorframe as her eyes flutter open, instantly meeting yours.

"What are you doing?." she groans in a raspy voice.
"Making sure I didn't have to call an ambulance," you smile, "didn't think you were moving." She rolls her eyes before yawning, "I made breakfast, when you're ready."

Furrowing her eyebrows in disbelief she throw the covers back and gets out of bed, following you into the dinning room.

"I didn't know what you liked..." you trail off.
"So you raided my cupboards and made everything?" she chuckles lightly, taking a seat.
"Yeh," you sit down opposite her, also laughing, "pretty much."

You both eat in a comfortable silence, listening to the rain lightly hitting the window. With your cup of tea in both hands, the rim resting against your bottom lip, you watch as Maeve shakes a can of whipped cream before squirting it onto the top of her pancake pile.

You laugh quietly and she looks up, shooting you a glare, "What?"
You shrug, "Nothing, I've just never seen a 17 year old love pancakes and whipped cream as much as you." You set down your cup and pick up your knife and fork, she smiles before cutting down the stack, "I'm guessing you've never tried it?" she lifts the fork, handing it to you.

You look from the fork to her face, confused, "Try it then." she says nudging the fork closer to you. You take it from her and eat the pancakes, "That's actually.... not that bad." Her mouth falls open, "Not that bad, this right here," She picks up her plate, "is the most revolutionary food I ate as a child."

You laugh, and throw your head into your hands, "What?" She asks, gently setting the plate back onto the table, "You, Maeve Wiley," you lean over and wipe whipped cream off her face, "are very strange."

She glares at you, swatting your hand away, "You're a dickhead."
You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows, "You never fail to remind me."
She rolls her eyes as you smirk, taking a sip from your cup.

***

The two of you clean up, or rather Maeve washes the dishes, you dry them and then she moans that you're not putting them away in the right place.