A/N:
Ah yes, the filler everyday snippets chapter... This information is important, so still pay attention! xD I decided to show their morning routines because we already saw Gage's in Origin of Awesome, do why not try my hand at writing the others? Brandon was purposely left out, we'll see his daytime happenings next chapter, where he'll get more direct focus. I still gave Gage a brief scene because... he's the main character? Okay, it really was to transition between Wyatt and Rhett. And to add the coffee joke. (I wuv my coffee!) I enjoyed writing Wyatt's daily routine, giving him his usual, confident spurts of energy.

Rhett is obviously a slob. We haven't seen him as he slob in the series yet but he's totally a slob. I threw in some humorous (hopefully) stuff and some angst inducing stuff as well. Because what better way to show (not tell? hopefully?) someone's struggles than old photos! :D

Which of course, leads to Wyatt's own photo. Before anyone asks, the mystery person in the picture is not Wyatt himself. It's somebody from deep in his past, so his own friends don't know about this random OC. I'm pretty sure people will be able to figure out who "anonymous figure from Wyatt's past" is quickly with not too many hints, but why not see what anybody's guesses are? You probably don't need luck guessing, but good luck and shoot your theories in the review box! :)

I hope I did Wyatt's aunt a worthy introduction. This scene alone shows how she is 24/7, and she will come back as a more vital plot device a ways further down the line. So don't forget her!

I was cautious about adding the final scene with Wyatt (once he gets into his truck) because the obvious extreme emotions. But hey, Wyatt's always been high strung, and obviously is the type who hides his struggles from everyone, so yeah. Plus, I can totally see him wearing shades while blasting the radio!

Enjoy this chapter! :)
~ Ashla.

A red alarm blinked. 5:00. That annoying, agitating beeping did not stop until -

- *POW!*

- The alarm clock flew clear across the room. This was followed by sheets being kicked clear off the bed. A moment of silence passed before a southern accent was raised, "Show time."

Soon enough, all dressed and hair combed, Wyatt slid down the rail on the stairs. He jumped off and into the kitchen (full of priceless antiques) and checked his watch.

It was 5:24 a.m.

He pulled a dusting rag off a Victorian, steel chair. "I need to dus-" he sneezed, then wiped his nose, "Dust more..."

By six thirty he completed various tasks from dusting to vacuuming. He cleaned the house every morning, but antiques tended to collect dust quickly. Not like he minded much, this was for his grandmother. He did wish he actually was around the house more, but since Team Hotwheels became a thing he wasn't around that much. Yes, working at Larry's Garage was a part time job that took time out of the day, but this was still new. Leaving at seven thirty and returning anytime between six and twelve was certainly preparing him for adulthood. He was thankful his aunt Belinda lived just around the block and had agreed to keep an eye on his grandmother.

Of course, he was filthy now and had to shower again... he threw his table cloth in the laundry basket and headed up the stairs again.

Another pot of dark, rich, black coffee was just finished brewing. He held it in one hand, in the other hand was his favorite race car mug... He lifted the entire pot of coffee to his lips and down the hatch.

"Ugh... I hate this stuff..."

Gage put his coffee cup under the coffee maker, the actual coffee pot was placed on the table. After that, he checked the radar and cameras again. It had been a peaceful night, he even snuck in some shut eye. However, he was still exhausted from the all nighter. He looked over the screens once more... Nothing wrong.

He walked into the living room where a blanket was sprawled over the couch. The garage part of Larry's Garage was purposely neglected to avoid hints of a massive, underground, research lab beneath it. However, Gage thought it was high time they did something about that stupid, lumpy couch. As he folded the blanket, he noticed something crammed between the couch cushions.

"Ew!" He whispered, pulling out a half eaten apple by the stem, "Seriously, Wyatt? You're almost as bad of a slob as Rhett..."

"Rhett, sweetie, it's time to wake up."

"Mmmff... Go 'way..."

"Rhett, it seven. I'm headed out the door for work and you need to get going too."

Rhett rolled from his stomach to his back, "Okay."

"Gotta go, honey. Love you, bye!" He heard her rushing outside the door.

The redhead pulled a pillow off his head and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw were the bearded mermaids he scribbled on the ceiling when he was eight. Five years, three months, three weeks, six days, nineteen hours, forty nine seconds and counting and his mom still had not caught them.

"Ladies and bearded merfolk," he smirked before literally rolling out of his bed.

*Thud!* He pulled himself out of his sheets and started searching through the piles of clothes and other stuff for his favorite outfit. Several minutes of throwing his sea of stuff around, he found just about everything. Still looking for his monkey socks though, he continued the search. He did eventually clear a Turtletopia Theme Park shirt and a spare key to his old Bone Shaker aside and found... a turned down picture frame.

A guilty hoarder of old pictures, he did not know what photo this frame held. Curiosity caused him to turn the picture over.

And he instantly regretted that decision.

It was a photo taken several years back. He was seven then, and he was posing with the "peace" symbol as he sported a toothy smile. His mother was standing to the right. She was just as unorderly and discombobulated as always. Her uncombed, red curls and uneven glasses made her look like quite the mess, even in her professional outfit. An overworked office employee for years, her high standings at work seemed to have cost her sanity. The person next to her, so much more organized and neat, was giving the camera an almost military nod. It was Rhett's father.

He quickly turned over the picture again, understanding why he could of buried it so deep.

The yellow door opened. "Bye, Grammy Gram. I love you, Grammy Gram!"

"Grammy Gram loves you toooooo!"

A backpack on his back, his helmet tucked under his arm, Wyatt closed the door behind him. A gust of wind blew, causing him to instinctively hang onto his cap. Unfortunately, the wind blew something out of his backpack. He turned and saw the small photo flying away... that photo.

"My picture!" He raced down the sidewalk, trying to catch the photo. When the wind died the picture landed face down on the pavement. A heavy boot landed on it.

"H-hey!" Wyatt reached down before looking up. He saw his Aunt Belinda right in front of him. Her high heel boots kept the picture in place. She was in her forties, a harty lady with short, curled black hair. She raised an eyebrow at him. He nervously smiled, "Hi, Aunty."

She sighed, "Sloppy as usual."

The chord hanging outside his half-zipped backpack confirmed it. 'Aunty' Belinda bent down and picked up the now grubby picture. She took one look, her nose wrinkling, "Isn't this-"

Full blown adrenaline rushed through Wyatt's body. He swiped the picture away from her, stuffing it into his pocket, "-my picture? Yes."

Belinda rolled her eyes, "Just move along, kid. Go do your daring duo, dangerous driving stunts."

Years of her criticism had hardened his skin, he simply nodded and walked to his truck. Once inside, his fake smile dropped, replaced with... emptiness. He threw his backpack onto the passenger seat. His broken alarm clock and a spare shirt fell out. He bit his lip and shoved them back in, zipping the bag shut. He slowly turned to the steering wheel. He pulled the small photo out of his pocket. He pulled his roof mirror down, opened the window, and placed the photo on it. It was neatly pushed into the crevice, in plain view for whenever he pulled the mirror down. He stared into the old photo, taken a lifetime of years ago, for a long moment... and he did something he swore he'd never let a single soul see.

He cried.

The tears were slow to come from emerald eyes. Slowly falling down his cheeks and off his jaw. Wiping his tears on his spare shirt from the bag (it was the first thing he could reach for,) he sighed, "Maybe today? Tell me why?"

Whatever the picture held, it said nothing.

Wyatt rolled his eyes, "Same old, same old... Have it your way."

He reached up for the sliding cover for the mirror, but gave the photo one, final glance, "Love 'ya."

He slammed the mirror, and the picture with it, shut. He took another moment of silence, staring at the digital clock on the radio. It was almost seven thirty.

Wyatt let out a heavy sigh, "Okay." He completely dried his face with the shirt, "That's enough feeling sorry for myself today."

He threw the shirt into the back, then pulled some black shades from the glove box, pushing them on his face. "Guess who's 'bringin home de bacon 'taday, boys and girls!" He started the truck, smirking as as he blared the radio, "Here we go!"

As he drove off, everyone within twenty feet could hear Life is a Highway playing.