#graysonlyra

"Did you just put that coffee in the microwave?" Lyra asked in mild horror.

"Yeah, it was cold," Max replied, looking at her as if she were being unreasonable. Lyra stared at her. Xander sipped his hot chocolate, watching intently, not fazed by Max’s beverage quirks.

"It’s iced coffee," Lyra deadpanned.

"Yeah, well, not anymor—what the elf!" she yelled as two figures whooshed past her.

"I swear, Lib, I’m not sick! God, what is your problem?" Avery yelled while still running.

"If you’re not sick, why the heck aren’t you letting me check your temperature?" Libby replied, sounding out of breath.

"Because there’s no reason to! I’m not sick!"

"So you are sick."

"No, I just don’t understand why you’re so determined to—"

"Stop."

A country drawl sounded throughout the room. Lyra turned her gaze to where Nash was standing in the doorway, Grayson at his side, an eyebrow raised. He caught her gaze from where she sat on the kitchen counter and sent her a questioning look. She shrugged, because she genuinely had zero idea what was going on. Avery and Libby had both stopped where they were—Avery with her back against the staircase, Libby facing her, back toward everyone else.

"What’s happening?" Xander asked helpfully.

"Yeah, I was wondering as well," Lyra added. Max just nodded eagerly.

Avery rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Nothing."

Libby complained to Nash, "She’s ill and won’t admit it! She won’t even let me take her temperature!"

"If you’re not sick, as you’re claiming, why aren’t you letting Libby take your temperature?" Grayson asked Avery plainly.

Avery glared at him. Abruptly, Grayson smiled slightly—though Avery didn’t seem to notice. Her body was still in a defensive stance, as if she were ready to run if anyone attempted to move toward her.

"Because, obviously, your collective blatant distrust in me is downright offensive. After years of living together, you continue to doubt me and assume immediately that I would lie about something as trivial as feeling sick. I mean honestly…."

Lyra zoned out slightly and looked around to find the source of Grayson’s smile, her eyes travelling to where she saw Jameson making his way down the staircase behind Avery. She smirked as she saw Nash silently signal something to him, to which he gave a nod.

In true Jameson Hawthorne fashion, he reached the bottom of the staircase and swiftly wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Avery started slightly, but after a moment, sighed in exasperation, seemingly knowing there was no point in running anymore.

"What am I doing?" Jameson asked Libby, smiling slightly at the girl in his arms.

"Check if she has a fever." Libby smiled, thankful for the help. Jameson frowned lightly.

"I thought you said you weren’t sick," he reminded Avery, his voice low.

"I’m not! Libby’s just being assumptious," she said back to Jameson.

"How am I assuming anything when you look like you’re about to collapse?" Libby shot at her.

Lyra looked at Avery. Jameson pressed the back of his palm to her forehead, keeping his other hand firmly around her waist. To Lyra, Avery didn’t look ill at all—or like she was about to collapse. Just perhaps slightly tired. Maybe Avery wasn’t lying?

Jameson looked concerned now.

"You’re burning up, Ave," he told her softly, worried, his hand still pressed against her forehead, then moving to her cheek.

Or maybe it was sibling intuition, and Lyra should never be a detective.

"YOU LIAR!" Libby yelled. Nash and Grayson watched in both slight concern and amusement.

Max whispered to Lyra, "It’s like watching a soap opera."

Lyra laughed. She felt Grayson come to stand by her side, his arm around her shoulders, rolling his eyes at his brother and sisters-in-law. Lyra smiled.

"Well, how am I supposed to know if I have a fever?" Avery argued.

"BY LETTING ME CHECK FOR YOU!" Libby looked exasperated—very un-Libby-like.

"Okay, okay. You—bed." Jameson pointed at Avery and gestured upstairs, amusement and concern evident on his face, his voice stern.

"I have meetings," she said, turning around to frown at Jameson.

"Heiress, you’re sick. You’re not risking your health for some random idiots who are unorganised enough to schedule meetings on a Friday morning. You’re overworked as it is. You need rest." Jameson’s tone indicated that they had had this conversation numerous times.

"Well, I have things to do, love. I can’t just drop everything—"

"I can take your work for the day, Avery. You should take the day off," Grayson told her. Lyra looked down at the counter and smiled at his thoughtfulness.

"Gray, I can’t do that to you. You have just as much stuff to do today as I do. We can’t—"

"Then he can delegate. You need rest, Avery. You can’t go on like this without taking days off," Jameson said firmly, his thumb tracing her jaw. They looked at each other for a moment, something unspoken passing between them.

"Fine. Fine! God, I’ll take today off. But only today, okay?" Avery sighed in defeat.

"Done," he stated.

Libby smiled at him. Avery clearly had forgotten tomorrow was the weekend.

"Fine," Avery rolled her eyes.

"Good." He smirked. Grayson looked at Lyra, and they shared a smile. Lyra thought it was endearing how much Jameson cared about Avery, no matter who was watching.

After Avery went upstairs, Libby made her way to the other side of the kitchen.

"Well, now that that’s all finally settled, thank God—does anyone know where my cookie dough from yesterday went?" she asked, opening the fridge and looking through it.

Xander’s eyes widened almost comically as he mumbled an incomprehensible response and left the room hastily. Libby smiled and rolled her eyes. Lyra was too busy laughing to notice Grayson swiping her croissant off her plate—until it was too late.

"Oi!" Lyra yelled at him.

"You have four other croissants on your plate, Lyra."

"So? What are you insinuating?"

"I’m insinuating that I have a busy schedule today, and that if you can’t sacrifice one croissant for my efforts, we may have to rethink this whole relationship."

"Our relationship?"

"No, your relationship with those croissants."

"Don’t judge my relationship!"

"Speaking of schedules—Gray, you will delegate Avery’s work, right? That alone is too much for one person," Jameson asked, his back to everyone as he made a sandwich for Avery.

Lyra smiled at Jameson’s obvious concern for his brother, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Jameson glanced at Grayson, and Grayson nodded.

"Promise?" Lyra asked.

"Promise," Grayson replied, his eyes still on his brother, who shot him a smirk and turned back around carelessly—although Lyra noticed some of the tension leave Jameson’s shoulders.

Nash, who had been silently watching this whole exchange, smiled and shared a knowing look with Lyra.

They all had so much pride, and yet were secretly concerned about each other’s wellbeing.

God, how she loved them.

a/n : i feel like lyra's perspective is so much easier to write than anyone elses. i originally wasn't going to publish any works but i thought i'd give it a go (i don't love this one but it's alright lmao) and see what people think. i hope you enjoyed!