Seaweed Season?

"so, you have to divide first, and then-"

"yeah, yeah. it's a piece of piss." he cuts in, despite the fact he was still doing it wrong.

he scribbles down some random numbers with his blunt pencil, crying out for a sharpening, not caring one bit.

"liam, come on.." you say, tone slightly disappointed.

"what?! i ain't ever gonna use this in real life!"

liam's logic was unfortunately right. you doubted the boy would ever be using maths in the future, especially something like algebra. yet you couldn't let him win this little debate.

"come on. you've gotta learn it." you insist, taking the pencil off of him, "we can get through these last questions together, hm?"

he lets out a groan in protest of your suggestion, dramatically slamming his head down onto the table, which probably hurt; yet he didn't let it show. "but i'm bored.."

liam does the stupid thing he always tries when he wants his own way; pouts at you like a puppy, attempting to weasel his way out of anything that inconvenienced him.

but you're smart enough now to not give into his surprisingly sneaky manipulation tactics. "and i don't care. three questions left, liam. you can do it."

"nah, i ain't doin' it." he states plainly, crossing his arms over his chest in protest of your words. liam was as stubborn as anything, determined to get his own way.

"liam." a frustrated sigh escapes from your lips, the tiredness from his certainty of not doing his work clear. "c'mon. i've gotta start making your tea."

"do it now or i'll tell mam you're bein' a little shit." a second voice speaks from the doorway, and it's almost unclear which of the two of you turn to look at him first.

noel's leant against the doorframe, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans that are clearly a size too big for him, despite the fact that you'd never in a million years point it out. "you're making her look like a right tit. now stop being difficult do your fuckin' work."

"snitch.." the younger gallagher mutters under his breath, eventually picking up the pencil, connecting numbers to paper. "tell 'im i'm not bein' difficult!"

and noel's head turns so that he locks eyes with you, one of his overly thick eyebrows raising as he awaits your answer from liam's prompting.

"no, he's not being difficult." you answer, maybe not completely honestly, but you don't fancy seeing liam get berated by his older brother for any longer than necessary. "he's probably just hungry. right, liam?"

"yeah! i'm starvin', me." he perks up, possibly it's because he knows that gives him a chance to get out of finishing off his maths, but noel's clearly not amused by liam's act, letting out a sigh so undemanding you'd think it was in slow motion.

"i bet you are. you're always starving." his expression is flat, until it morphs into something more amused, like he's just realised a major clue. "hold on.. swear y'had like.. a whole packet of crisps before she got here?"

"did i fuck?!" liam lets out an overly-defensive gasp, eyebrows knitted and jaw dropped as he locks eyes his brother, gaze sour. it's clear what the truth is from his expression alone, along with the fact that he's trying to convince you so desperately that it isn't true.

as much as it is amusing to see liam lie straight through his teeth, you decide to stay neutral on the situation for his sake, pointing back to the work. "come on. you've got three left. then i'll cook tea. deal?"

"but i'm hungry now."

"liam-"

you expect to be cut off by another whine of protest, but instead your stern-ish voice is interrupted by noel's voice, supposedly giving his brother an ultimatum.

"right. if you're hungry now then i'll start tea. she'll help you finish those questions."

"but you're shit at cookin'!"

"it's alright, i can do it-" you chime in too, knowing their mother was literally paying you to do that job.

yet noel has already left the room, mumbling something that sounds very much like the words "greedy bastard.." as he trudges into the kitchen. he'd somehow caught his brother out with that one.

"he'll give us all food poisonin'..!" it sounds like liam is panicking at that, like he can't stand the thought of having a single mouthful of noel's cooking. maybe that thought shot some sense into him, because he had his head down, scribbling away for a few minutes, dedicated to getting the final questions completed.

"there!" his exclamation almost makes you jump due to how quickly he'd got those last three done. he'd probably just made up some random numbers like he always did when in a rush, but to your surprise he'd actually taken your advice on how to answer the questions.

"i divided first, like y'said!" he's one step away from going absolutely hyper, and you can't help but let out a surprised chuckle at his attitude. "now can y'go cook? 'cause i really don't wanna eat rkid's shit tea." he's begging now.

"alright, alright!" a laugh escapes you, probably from the pure shock at the way liam's acting from the thought alone of trying noel's food. "go find something to do. i'll go take over from him."

liam gives a little cheer from being victorious, and in an instant, he's raced through to the back door, grabbing his football in the process.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

you can spot him through the window as you wander into the kitchen; he's in the small back garden, kicking the ball around and booting it into his makeshift goal, which is just two plant pots spaced out.

once you're certain he's settled and occupied, you focus your attention back onto the kitchen, more-so onto the other brother, who is leaning his back against the counter, cigarette to his lips.

he wasn't cooking at all; he hadn't bothered to even make a start on the food. and then you realised what he'd said earlier was actually just a very smart scare tactic against liam.

"y'need to stop babying him." he states after a few moments of silence from the pair of you, the only sounds heard being the clattering of the pots and pans as you attempt to start cooking. "he's thirteen years old. he's old enough to know what he should and shouldn't do."

"i don't baby him..." the tap runs gently as you fill up the pot, and noel moves out of your way as you work, leaning in the doorway instead.

"i just treat him nicely. maybe if you did that too, he'd be more obedient."

he gives you a look of disgust at that, which gives you an opportunity to keep talking a bit of sense into him:

"he just needs a bit of encouragement, that's all."

"or a kick up the arse."

"should you be smoking in here?" unable to help yourself from changing the topic from his ranting, you point to the lit cigarette still sat between his middle and index fingers, held away from his lips. "your mum wouldn't be happy."

"she ain't even home, is she? didn't realise i was bein' babysat too."

and despite his words of protest, he actually follows your advice. "right," the last of the cigarette is extinguished against the countertop, before being flicked into the bin just opposite him. "forgot you knew what's best for my whole family."

you kept your mouth shut after that comment from him. snarky as always. your earlier words weren't said with the intention to start an argument with him, you just wanted to suggest being nicer to liam.

it was weird; despite barely knowing him, you didn't want to get into a fight with noel. maybe it was because you think he's slightly intimidating, or maybe it's just because you simply wanted to keep the peace.

he eventually pushes himself off of the kitchen counter, and for some bizarre reason, you blurt out the first thing you can think of to stop him from leaving the room. you didn't want to leave the conversation on a bad note.

"can you, um.. get the cooking oil out for me? i don't know where it is."

mid-step to the door, he turns back to look at you, expression particularly unreadable in this very moment. "the cooking oil." he repeats, processing your words. "it's in the cupboard. where it always is."

you stare at him for a second. there were a lot of cupboards; his information not really helpful to you. or at least that's what you wanted him to think.

"fuckin' hell.." he groans after another second, basically moving you to the side to get to the cupboard he was talking about, and pulling out the bottle with exaggerated force.

"thank you."

although he's still clearly pissed off, he doesn't immediately retreat out of the kitchen like you'd expected him to. instead, he's standing there now, like he's waiting for you to say something else.

and that you do, unable to stop yourself from striking up another conversation, hopefully something he won't get upset about this time.

"so, was liam telling the truth? if you actually had cooked the food, would it have given me food poisoning?"

"you really think i'm that bad?" is his response, followed by a light scoff.

and before you're about to reply with something as stupid as an apology for simply asking, he cuts you off with a wider response.

"liam's just makin' it up 'cause he won't eat a single mouthful of food if it ain't made by you or mam. 'cause i don't put enough effort in, apparently."

"maybe you should." you shrug in return to his words. "it's not a bad life skill to learn, putting more effort in. might make your meals better."

he scoffs once again at your suggestion, leaning against the kitchen counter again, this time with his arms crossed. "nah, it's easier to have someone do it. why waste time learning when i can just let you do it?"

"well, i'm not gonna be your personal chef forever, am i?" you try not to take any notice of how disrespectful his comment is.

"not a chance." the smirk on his face is almost visible through his voice. "once you're gone, it's straight back to beans on toast for me."

you look at him dumbfounded, shocked he can't be bothered to learn such a simple life skill.

"unless liam starts cookin' for us all," he adds with a glance over to the window, looking out to where his brother is still kicking about in the garden outside. "doubt that'll ever happen though."

"he's got a better chance of it than you."

"does he fuck?!" noel lets out a sharp laugh. "the kid's got more chance of winnin' the lottery than cookin' a decent meal."

despite your usual ability to defend liam against his brother's harsh criticism, you can't help but crack a smile at that one.

"he couldn't even make toast on a good day.." he adds in a mutter, scouring the fridge now for a beer. he pulls one out while you're in the middle of cutting some vegetables, bringing it to his lips as he leans back against the now-closed fridge.

"you're cutting the onions too thin."

your hands pause mid-chop, looking up at him in surprise. "i am?"

he nods slowly, taking another sip of his beer before pointing with it towards your chopping board. "yeah. makes it all go soggy when you cook 'em like that."

it's an oddly specific criticism. almost helpful? but he immediately seems to realise he's slipped into something resembling advice, and he starts to backtrack. "not that i know what i'm talkin' about," he waves a dismissive hand as if to make you forget about the moment entirely. "obviously i don't care how you cut 'em."

you turn to look at him, your face twisting into an expression of intrigue. "no, keep going." you say, tone curious; smug, even. "how'd you know that?"

"you're fuckin' unbearable." he mumbles, bringing the bottle back to his lips, but he doesn't ignore your question. just lowers his voice. "i jus' helped mam with the food once or twice. few times, maybe. that's how i know."

"so you do know how to cook?"

"i can make basic stuff," he admits through gritted teeth. "it's not like i'm a chef, for god's sake. i just know how to follow instructions."

"so why'd you lie to me about it?" you press further, despite knowing it would also piss him off further.

the bottle is placed down on the side with a huff before he speaks again, "'cause if i said i was decent, y'would've been forcing me to help you cook."

"no i wouldn't."

"yes y'would."

"well, what's so wrong with that?" you put the knife down, crossing your arms.

"it isn't my job t'cook. it's yours. that's what mam hired you for." he mimics your movements, crossing his own arms in some kind of retaliation.

with all your pointless bickering, you hadn't even noticed that the pot with the spaghetti inside was starting to bubble, water and steam beginning to escape from underneath the lid.

but noel notices, almost shoving you out of the way as he makes a successful attempt to calm it down.

"jesus christ.." nothing but that grumble leaves him as he keeps the spaghetti from boiling over, stirring it slowly. and his reaction causes you to grin.

"thought it wasn't your job to cook?" it was impossible not to tease him in that moment, especially since he'd just contradicted the words that had left his mouth less than a minute ago.

a harsh scoff is heard as a reply, his gaze not lifting from the pot as he continues to stir the pasta. "shut up."

and you do just that; close your mouth and pick up the knife again, focusing your attention onto the vegetables, yet your eyes do flick back to him for a split second, once or twice, just to check if he's still helping out with the spaghetti.

the silence that you settle into is comfortable now; a complete contrast to the earlier tense situation.

his eyes are fixed to the pot, yet somehow it feels like he knows you're watching him. but maybe not.

"what?" he scoffs. nevermind.

you take a second to overlook your words before letting them out; you didn't want to piss him off again.

"nothing, i was just thinking.." you shrug. "you said it's my job to cook, not yours. so.. i can take over."

"i'm here now. might as well finish it off." he returns the shrug, not letting up on the stirring for a second.

he was doing a good enough job at keeping the water from boiling over, and he'd also done a little more, using a pair of tongs to retrieve the noodles when they became soft, so you decided to leave him to it.

after another short period of silence, he lets out a long sigh, still not looking at you as he finally stops stirring the pasta. "i ain't actually pissed at ya or anything.."

his jaw clenches slightly as it looks like he's fighting an inner battle with himself over whether to continue this conversation or not.

"..liam's got it in his head that i don’t do shit round here," he mutters eventually, voice low. "and then you go on about how i shouldn't be smokin', how i should be more helpful.. makes me sound like some right cunt."

that made you realise you'd never really thought of your words in that way before; they way they could've been twisted into an insult against him.

and the more surprising thing to you is that he's actually said anything about it at all, instead of keeping his mouth shut around you like he always does.

"i never meant it like that." you murmur, too embarrassed to look at him now. "i don't actually think you're useless."

"yeah, i know that." he nods, and you swear you see the roll of his eyes, acting like you just said something completely stupid. "don't think you're the kind of person to think that. and even if y'do, you're too nice to admit it."

noel suddenly seems as if he's realised he's been too open to you; opening up to someone he barely spoke to. opening up to someone.

"right, this needs some salt." he mutters, trying his best to change the subject.

the cupboard he's trying to get to is right above you, and due to the fact he wants to go quiet again after suddenly opening up to you, he doesn't tell you to move to the side.

you suddenly feel him lightly pressed up against your back as he reaches up to the cupboard. the only reaction you give is your eyes widening a slight bit, your hands resting against the counter like you don't know what to do with them.

he's back to his original position just as quick as he had moved behind you, dropping a pinch of salt into the pasta while you can't do anything but stare at him, taken aback at how close he'd gotten into your personal space.

"pasta's done." he states casually, completely ignorant of the incident.

"great," the three plates are set out across the counter for him to dish up. "i'll go call in liam."

⊹ ࣪ ˖

"fuck, that's good. i thought i was gonna starve to death. y'took forever!" liam's already got his mouth stuffed full of the food, like he can't have it fast enough as he projects his voice out at you.

"don't talk with your mouth full. s'disgusting." noel interrupts, like he's not doing the exact same thing just so he can have a go at liam.

"it's good, yeah?" you smile back, trying to ignore the state of his mouth from the red sauce already surrounding it, along with the usual scolding he's getting from his brother.

"proper good." he grins, right before shovelling far too big of a mouthful into his mouth. "see, she always cooks better than you, noel."

"don't be a dick. i cook well."

"when have y'ever cooked well?"

"i cooked that fuckin' pasta, you little shit!" he scoffs, and you can't help but smile at his admission.

"well.. the pasta tastes shite." liam backtracks on his own words, for some reason not daring to admit his brother's cooking was good.

"it's fuckin' spaghetti, how can it taste shite?"

"hold on, liam," you interrupt their bickering, a wider smile forming on your face, "i thought you just said that the food was proper good, hm?"

"i did say that, yeah." liam's eyebrows knit together in frustration as he tries to go back on his earlier compliment so it doesn't sound like he's speaking highly of his older brother. "but now i'm thinkin' about it, the spaghetti's too watery.."

"too watery?" noel repeats in disbelief, "it's spaghetti, you div, how's it gonna be dry?"

you'd learnt to tune out of their petty arguments by now, focusing on finishing your dinner rather than listening to their constant bickering.

"i'm jus' saying, i'd rather have it drier," liam adds through his full mouth, earning him yet another scoff from noel.

"oh my god.. you're so fussy!" noel exclaims in return, exasperated by his whining over such a stupid thing. "just shut up and eat it!"

"fine! i will!" liam raises his voice, stuffing his fork inside his mouth, and you and noel both hear the little hum of amusement he lets out from having another taste of the food.

you shoot noel a small glance, topped off with a smile, and you're surprised to see he gives you a satisfied nod back, pleased with himself that the pair of you had caught liam out.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

the rest of the evening went by just as it usually did; you cleaned up the kitchen, making sure it was left in the state you found it, before sitting down to watch whatever liam chose on the little tv in the front room.

you'd been sat on the sofa for at least two hours now, mindlessly watching last weekend's football highlights that liam had put on. he was already half asleep though, despite it not even being that late.

one thing you'd noticed about liam was that no matter how hyperactive he was, he'd always fall asleep easily as soon as he was settled.

you tap him gently, not wanting to disturb him.

"bedtime? i can tell you're tired."

"five more minutes." he tries to hold back a soft yawn, attempting to keep his eyes open by blinking repeatedly.

liam was stubborn, but because he was half asleep, you knew you could win this little debate with him. "come on, you're gonna end up napping here. you should go upstairs and get in bed."

"yeah, alright." he doesn't have any more energy to put up a proper fight with you.

he tries to get up straight away, but his body is too relaxed at that moment, so he basically falls back against the couch, a small huff leaving his lips before he gets up onto his feet again; slowly, this time. "night."

"night, liam." you smile, voice quieter. "see you thursday."

and just as you were left alone by one brother, the other had just made his way down the stairs, past liam.

"you off?"

it was the first time he'd ever asked you when you're leaving. it kind of took you by surprise.

"yeah, about to be." you nod, gathering your things together that you'd left on the sofa, "you'll be alright with him 'til your mum gets back?"

"m'not incompetent." he breathes out lightly, sounding like an attempt at a laugh. "kid's asleep anyways. only time he won't start shit."

"yeah, i know." you give him a combination of a nod and a smirk, slinging your bag onto your shoulder as you stand up, "i know you're not an idiot. just making sure."

"i'll manage to keep him alive and breathing 'til she gets back. though there won't be any babyin' like what you're so good at." he gives you a smirk in return, and you swear it's the first time you've ever seen a proper smile on his face. "i mean, come on.. bedtime? really?!"

you roll your eyes, completely unamused by his teasing, except from the growing smile on your face. "shut up."

"nah, m'serious." he presses, "i've heard you say a load of silly shit to him over the last few weeks, but i think bedtime is the worst yet. bedtime at thirteen?!"

it's not malicious, his teasing, but it's enough to make you stifle a laugh.

"i was just trying to be nice." you try to defend your actions, but the smile on your face continues to grow. "someone's gotta put him to bed."

"he's thirteen, and you're trying to put him to bed? he isn't three!"

"you're overreacting, you know. you're just jealous that i'm nicer to him than i am to you."

"oh yeah, i'm so jealous." the slow roll of his eyes is exaggerated as the smirk fades into more of a smile. "i'm green with envy. i really need a second mother figure in my life to tuck me in and sing me a lullaby."

"you do sound a bit sulky, actually." you return the sarcasm. "bet you secretly want bedtime for yourself too."

"i don't need a bedtime," he scoffs, the sarcasm still thick and clear in his tone, but he drops it for a second. "i just want you to stop treating my brother like a toddler. he needs to grow up a bit."

"alright." you nod, smile softening when you tell those words are genuine. "i'll do better. but i think you should stop swearing at him every five seconds. you're teaching him bad habits. and maybe then he'd stop lying about hating your cooking." you'd said the last part to wind him up, wanting to remind him of liam's earlier comments.

"fuck off, i don't swear that much."

all you do is raise your eyebrows in return, a slight hint of a smile on your face.

"right, yeah, piss off then.." he mutters, embarrassed that he'd directly contradicted his words. "..i'll stop swearin' at him as much."

"sounds good." you smile, deciding to spare him any more embarrassment of being picked apart by you. it was funny how you'd so easily proven him wrong, and how you'd discovered in one afternoon that he wasn't as much as a dick as he so desperately wanted to portray himself as. "i'll be off, then. bye."