"Should we slap him?"

Daria stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I just don't know that it would work. What do you think?"

"I think it would be fun?" I offered.

Daria looked down, considering. Jonah's sleeping form was unbearably tempting for general physical abuse; in a non-problematic he-asked-me-to-do-it friendship kind of way. Jonah's dark hair was flopping lazily over his forehead and his chest was rising and falling with shallow breaths. Back in the day—when Jonah and I had been so close we were practically siblings—we used to have so many sleepovers that a sleeping Jonah was practically a fixture in my house. That closeness apparently meant that it was my responsibility to wake him up at the butt crack of dawn, far earlier than I ever would get up, to give him adequate time to properly reach consciousness. Maybe because I had the key to his bedroom window.

Obviously, Daria was always up at 5AM to work out or, like, get dressed by her animal friends and sing songs—whatever productive human Disney characters did with their time—so I'd roped her in to Jonah duty.

Daria, who was apparently, and predictably, not on board with my slapping plan, bent her head over Jonah and shook his shoulder lightly. "Hey, Jonah?" she said softly. "Time to wake up."

Jonah did not even stir. He just carried on sleeping, vaguely coma-esque, without even a muscle twitch. Jonah had a gift, honestly. Daria looked up at me helplessly. Daria had only joined our group last year—despite always being friendly—so she was not yet completely accustomed to Jonah's ability to completely disassociate with reality in sleep; an unawakenable lump of Jonah. Daria did not seem to realise that a light request to awaken could not stir the fondly dubbed 'Jonah-in-a-coma'.

"So," I said hedgingly. "Can I slap him now?"

"Then he'll wake up even crankier," Daria pointed out. "He has enough attitude problems as is."

I threw a hand over my mouth. "Daria," I said. "Did you just give someone a non-positive descriptor?"

"No!" Daria cried, bumping our shoulders together in amicable protest. "I like cranky Jonah. He's funny. That wasn't supposed to be insulting."

I poked her in the ribs. "A crack! She has cracked!"

Daria giggled and tugged fondly on my dark braid. "Shh, it wasn't mean. We love Jonah."

"'Cos I'm delightful," Jonah mumbled.

Daria pointed gleefully. "See, he's awake. Didn't even need to slap him."

I raised an eyebrow. "You wanna bet?" I said, motioning to the now snoring Jonah. Daria was gaping. "Yeah, no, he can both talk and be asleep. He is the sleeping god."

Jonah snuggled into his pillow, nuzzling his head against it like a lover. That pillow was the only romantic relationship Jonah ever needed in his life.

Daria was silent for a beat. "Okay, you can slap him now."

I looked at her regretfully. "It is the only way."

Jonah groaned. "No slapsies," he said sleepily.

I slapped him.

Jonah jolted slightly, lazily stretching his long limbs skyward. Not even a slap would stir Jonah into rapid motion. "Morning, pals," he said sleepily.

"Morning, Jonah," said Daria chirpily. "Time to get up!"

"World is cold. Blankets not cold. I choose blankets."

I could hardly fault Jonah's logic, at least. The world was cold and awful and full of stupid boys who decided to make out with their enemies with no thought for the consequences of such foolhardy actions.

Daria sat down on the edge of Jonah's bed and tapped his face. "I'm sure Lena would love to still be tucked into her blankets right now too, but you had to be a turd and force her to come wake you up at 6AM. So, get over it and get up."

A frown crossed Jonah's restful face. "That's mean, Dars. You're not supposed to be mean."

I flicked him on the forehead. "I'm shamelessly mean. Get your lazy ass up now."

Jonah threw an arm over his face. "I hate everything about this."

"I know you do," Daria said sympathetically. "I'm sorry for being mean."

"Don't apologise. Don't cave," I warned.

But Jonah sat up with a satisfied, lazy expression, as if Daria's apology had soothed the resentment he held towards any time in the AM. He yawned softly and rubbed at his eyes. Daria lent forward to grab his wrists and gently coax him from underneath the covers.

Jonah grinned at Daria slowly and stood up, stretching his arms skyward. Daria sat back with a small smile on her face, seemingly pleased at accomplishing the impossible task: getting Jonah out of bed in the morning.

I was smirking at something different entirely. Jonah's night attire seemed to consist of an interesting combination; no shirt, as was customary for boys apparently, and which showcased Jonah's half a muscle or so, and... "Nice ducky pyjama pants," I said.

Jonah struck a pose. "Never insult the duckies."

"I like the duckies," said Daria reassuringly. "I want my own."

Looking pleased with himself, Jonah stuffed his feet into, oh god, matching ducky slippers. I looked down at his feet with a raised eyebrow. "Do we have a ducky beanie or a duckie t-shirt to go along with it?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Jonah scoffed. "That would be way overkill."

He strode over to his closet, shivering slightly. Reaching inside, he pulled from the hook on the cupboard door a duck-themed dressing gown, which he wrapped around himself with a wink and matching smirk directed at Daria and me.

"I had no idea you were so into ducks," said Daria. She had stolen Jonah's spot on the bed, sitting with her legs crossed atop the bundle of twisted sheets. "It's cute though."

Jonah shrugged, tying the strings of his gown securely around his waist. It was super embarrassing for him, sure, but the fluffy wrap did look extremely comfortable. "I wasn't really. I told my grandma that I thought a duck was cute once. Cue the next 14 years of duck related birthday and Christmas presents."

Once he was comfortable and warm, Jonah's mood significantly improved. His eyelids still drooped slightly, and he still looked vaguely like we'd woken him from the eternal sleep instead of a regular nap, but he smiled more, and was alert to about the extent Jonah ever got.

"So yes," Jonah said, perching uncomfortably on the edge of his bedside table. Daria had clearly not noticed that she'd stolen his seat, and if anyone told her, she would probably have an aneurism at the impoliteness. It was probably for the best. If Jonah sunk back into his mattress, we'd never wake him. "I do have a soft spot for ducks now."

Daria was smiling, and pulled the corner of Jonah's dressing gown between two of her fingers. "I love this. It's so yellow and sunny."

"So not at all Jonah, and very Daria," I added.

Jonah nudged Daria's knee with his in a friendly fashion, and she looked up at him with a smile, dropping the corner of his dressing gown. I watched as her eyes widened in panic, clearly realising that Jonah was sitting on a hard and uninviting surface while she was languishing on his bed. She bolted upright, moving to the end of Jonah's bed.

"Sorry," she said.

Jonah waved it away. "No worries."

Politeness was going to kill that girl one day.

Jonah looked over at me. "How long do I have to get ready, by the way. What's the time?"

"Early as shit," I said sunnily. "But Daria and I want to go out for breakfast and we're dragging you with us. So, you have twenty minutes. Dars and I will wait in the car."

Daria looked up at the sound of her name. She'd been absently folding the pile of clothes at the end of Jonah's bed into a neat pile, with the flourish and tidiness of a retail employee. Honestly, Marie Kondo had nothing on her.

"Oh, okay. Sounds good. We'll see you in twenty minutes, Jonah? Breakfast can be my shout, it was my idea," said Daria.

Breakfast had been suggested by Daria last night, and I had jumped at the offer. Distraction from Jace and everything that had happened between us was welcome. If I thought about the kiss, the camaraderie, the implications of friendship, I would burst. And I couldn't even hide behind a screen of hatred and insults anymore. Thinking about it made me want to hurl.

I shot her a look. "Firstly, it's my shout." I knew Daria worked exceptionally hard for the money she had. She picked up at least five shifts a week at Myer—sometimes more—and the wage was average, but I knew it could only be just over $20 an hour. I had savings accounts and investment accounts with thousands of dollars just sitting there—perks of wealthy parents, I guess—and I liked to share it with my friends. Daria and Jace, unlike the rest of my mates, weren't as receptive to leeching. Besides, the breakfast was occupying my mind for an hour or so, and I needed to be distracted to calm my nerves before I was confronted with Hartley's stupid face today. "Secondly, if we come back up here in 20 and you're asleep again, Jonah, you will quite literally be Jonah in a coma."

"You say that like it's a threat," said Jonah. "It sounds delightful."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I'll spike your water bottle so that you're awake for days."

Jonah gasped in horror.

Daria said, "Oh, don't be silly. Just get ready Jonah. We're thinking pancakes."

He perked up. "I like pancakes."

I looked at him wryly. "Don't we all. Now move your ass, ducky boy."

A/N: Heya pals.

I try not to do too many of these authors notes, but I wanted to quickly let you guys no that I have a sneak peak of my new project, After the Beep, up now! I have released a prologue, and I'm asking for your feedback on covers in my introductory chapter! I would love it if you could check it out, because I'm really excited about it.

- K