A few days had passed since The Adoption Reveal, and things in the Loud House were… mostly back to normal.
Mostly.
Lynn sat at the kitchen table, aggressively shoveling cereal into her mouth like she was punishing the poor, defenseless Fruity Loops for crimes they didn't commit. Her brain had been stuck in a loop of its own—one that replayed the same stupid thought over and over:
"Lincoln's not my brother."
Which was fine. Totally fine.
Except for the part where it wasn't.
The sound of footsteps snapped her out of her mental spiral.
"Mornin', Lynn."
Lynn nearly choked on her spoon.
Lincoln stood there, hair still sleep-mussed, rubbing his eye with one hand. He looked way too innocent for someone who had unknowingly turned her brain into a scrambled egg.
"Wassup," she managed, voice somehow both too high and too gruff at the same time.
"Can you pass the cereal?"
"Yeah. Yeah, sure."
She grabbed the box, holding it out without looking—
—and then their fingers brushed.
ZAP.
Lynn jerked like she'd been shocked, sending the cereal box tumbling to the floor in a colorful explosion of sugary Os.
"Hey, what gives?" Lincoln blinked at her.
"Sorry! Just—uh—not fully awake yet," Lynn lied, bending down way too fast to pick up the mess. "Cool cool cool cool cool—"
Lincoln raised an eyebrow. "…Oookay?"
He grabbed a bowl and plopped into the seat right next to her.
Lynn's spine went rigid.
Why was this weird?! This was Lincoln. The same kid she'd shared a bathroom with for years. The same dork who'd once eaten an entire tube of toothpaste on a dare.
But now?
Now she was hyper-aware of every little thing.
The way he held his spoon left-handed.
The way his knee accidentally bumped hers under the table.
The way their hands kept grazing when they both reached for the milk at the same time—
"You good?" Lincoln asked, mouth half-full. "You're, like, vibrating."
"I'm FINE," Lynn barked, a little too loud.
Then—she saw it.
A small bandage on Lincoln's hand.
Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist.
"Whoa—!"
Her thumb traced over the bandage, gentle in a way Lynn Loud never was. Lincoln froze, staring at her like she'd just grown a second head.
"Uh… Lynn?"
She didn't answer. Just stared at his hand like it held the secrets of the universe.
His fingers were rough from years of comic-book flipping and half-built step stool projects. His palm was bigger than she remembered. When had that happened?
"You don't gotta feel bad about it," Lincoln said softly, misreading her silence. "The cut's not even that deep."
Lynn blinked. "Huh?"
"From the ladder? When you didn't catch me?" He grinned. "Not your fault the adoption bomb dropped mid-fall."
"Oh. Right. That." Lynn's grip tightened slightly. "Yeah. Sorry. Again."
"S'cool."
A beat.
Lynn was still holding his hand.
Lincoln's grin turned into a concerned smirk. "…You gonna let go, or…?"
"SHUT UP." She flung his hand away like it was on fire. "I was just—checking for nerve damage or whatever!"
"From a tiny cut?"
"MEDICAL SCHOOL IS HARD, LINCOLN."
He snorted, going back to his cereal like this was totally normal.
Lynn, meanwhile, stared at her own hand like it had betrayed her.
What the heck was THAT?!
She'd literally arm-wrestled him last week and felt nothing. Now? One stupid adoption reveal later, and a hand graze had her acting like some cheesy rom-com protagonist?
Nope. NOPE.
She stood up so fast her chair screeched.
"Gotta go. Soccer. Bye."
"But it's 7:40 AM—"
"EARLY TRAINING!" She was already halfway out the door before turning back, pointing at him. "AND DON'T—!"
"Don't what?"
"JUST DON'T!"
And with that, Lynn Loud sprinted out of the house like her life depended on it.
Lincoln stared after her, then down at his cereal.
"…Weird."
He shrugged.
And took another bite.
Meanwhile, Outside:
Lynn sprinted halfway down the block before skidding to a stop, gripping her own hair.
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!"
A passing neighbor watering his lawn gave her a look.
"NOT TALKING TO YOU, Mr. Yates!"
She pulled out her phone and aggressively typed into Google:
"Why does my brother's hand feel weird now?"
Pause.
DELETE.
"Why does my FRIEND'S hand feel weird?"
Pause.
DELETE.
"HOW TO DELETE BRAIN."
Mr. Yates slowly backed into his house.
Leaving Lynn processing her disastrous Google search before her phone suddenly blared in her hand, making her fumble it mid-air like a hot potato. After a clumsy juggle, she caught it just in time to see the caller ID: Margo.
With a quick swipe, she answered. "Margo, it's like 7: 50 AM. This better be good."
Margo's voice crackled through, way too energetic for this hour. "I know, I know, but listen—Our Roller Derby team needs us! Me, Maddie, Lainey, and Nadia all got dates now. Like, significant-other dates. And we need our star player to bring the heat at today's match to impress 'em!"
Lynn blinked. "Wait, all of you? Since when?!"
"Since yesterday! So, you in or what?"
Lynn groaned, rubbing her face. After the weirdness with Lincoln, a distraction sounded perfect. "Yeah, yeah, I'm in. What time's the match?"
"Noon. But we're meeting at 10 to strategize. Don't be late!" Margo chirped before hanging up.
Lynn stared at her phone, then at the empty street around her. "What the hell am I supposed to do for the next couple of hours?!" she shouted to no one. A big yawn escaped her—she'd barely slept last night, too busy overthinking everything.
"Ugh. No point complaining."
Heading to Ketchum Park, she trudged over and plopped down under a tree, leaning against the trunk. Within minutes, exhaustion pulled her into a nap… and then, into a memory.
Flashback: Lynn, Age 5
Back in The Loud House living room, before it was truly loud, five-year-old Lynn clutched her favorite kickball, bouncing from sister to sister like a tiny, determined tornado.
"Lori! Wanna play kickball?"
Lori, the ever-responsible oldest, barely glanced up from her phone. "Can't. Gotta rotate babysitting duty. Ask someone else."
Lynn huffed and moved on.
"Leni! Kickball?"
Leni was twirling in front of her mirror, lost in her own world. "Oh! Wanna play runway with me instead? Fierce poses only!"
"Ew, No thanks," Lynn rejected, already marching away.
Next up: Luna, who was sitting cross-legged on her bed, plucking at a guitar with no real rhythm. "Luna! Kickball?"
Luna squinted. "Uh… sports aren't really my vibe, sis."
Finally, Lynn reached Luan's room—where she found her sister making ridiculous faces at a giggling three-year-old Lincoln, who was clapping his hands like it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen.
"Luan! Play kickball with me!" Lynn demanded.
Luan grinned. "Sure thing, Lynn-ifer! Just let me—"
But before she could finish, Lincoln grabbed Luan's skirt with his tiny fists, pouting up at her. "Nooo! Stay! More funny!"
The effect was instant.
"Awwww!" Luan cooed, scooping him up. "You're too cute, Linc!"
Leni, Lori, and Luna suddenly appeared in the doorway, drawn by the commotion. "Did someone say 'play with Lincoln'?" Leni gasped.
"We're in!" Luna declared.
Just like that, Lynn was forgotten—again.
She stood there, kickball dangling from her hand, as her sisters flocked around Lincoln like he was the only sibling that mattered.
With a quiet huff, she turned and stomped outside to the backyard, where she kicked the ball against the fence hard, over and over, until her frustration faded into lonely resignation.
"Stupid Lincoln," she muttered under her breath, her tiny hands clenched into fists. "Always getting attention. Like I don't even exist anymore."
Ever since Lincoln came home, Lynn had become the forgotten sibling. The way her sisters flocked to him at a moment's notice, the way they ooh-ed and aah-ed over every little thing he did—it made her blood boil. She kicked the ball again, this time with enough force to send it ricocheting across the yard.
The ball rolled to a stop at a pair of tiny feet.
Lynn's gaze traveled upward—and there he was.
Lincoln.
Grass stains on his knees, a goofy grin on his face, and his hair sticking up in every direction like he'd just lost a fight with a pillow. Judging by the smudges on his elbows, he must have wriggled through the doggy door before stumbling his way over. He picked up the ball with both hands, holding it out like it was the greatest treasure in the world.
"Lynn! Pway wif me!" he chirped, his toddler lisp making the words sound even more ridiculous.
Lynn scowled. "No."
She marched forward, snatched the ball from his hands, and—without thinking—shoved him backward.
Lincoln landed on his butt with a soft thud.
Lynn froze. Oh no. He's gonna cry. They're all gonna come running, and I'll get in trouble, and—
But instead of crying, Lincoln giggled.
"Again! Again!" he squealed, scrambling to his feet like this was the best game ever.
Lynn blinked. "…Huh?"
She glanced around—no one was watching. No parents, no sisters, no witnesses. Just her and this weird little boy who laughed when he got pushed over.
Slowly, very slowly, a tiny smirk tugged at the corner of Lynn's mouth.
"…Scoot back," she ordered, pointing to a spot a few feet away.
Lincoln obeyed instantly, plopping down right where she pointed.
And just like that, the two of them started playing.
Kick.
Giggle.
Kick.
Giggle.
For the first time in weeks, Lynn felt… happy.
Not just happy—seen.
Lincoln didn't care that she wasn't as "girly" as Leni or as "funny" as Luan. He just wanted to play. With her.
And then—
WHAM.
Lynn's latest kick sailed through the air—directly into Lincoln's face.
The impact was glorious. And by glorious, we mean horrifying.
Lincoln's head snapped back, and for a second, he just stood there, swaying slightly, like his brain was buffering. Then—
"WAAAAAAAAAAH!"
The scream could've shattered glass.
Within seconds, the backyard was flooded with Louds.
Rita came running, baby Lucy in one arm, her other hand already pointing accusingly. "LYNN MARIE LOUD!"
Lynn Sr. was right behind her, his upper lips twitching in disappointment. "What did we say about roughhousing?!"
Lori and the others swarmed Lincoln, their gasps and shrieks making it sound like he'd lost a limb instead of a tooth.
"OH MY GOSH, HIS TOOTH IS CHIPPED!" Luna pointed.
"HE'S GONNA BE UGLY NOW!" Leni wailed.
Lincoln, still sobbing, peeked through his fingers—and saw Lynn.
She was standing there, tears streaming down her face, her whole body trembling. Not because she was scared of getting in trouble, but because—
Because she hadn't meant to hurt him.
And then, in a move that would haunt Lynn for years to come, Lincoln waddled over to her, wrapped his tiny arms around her waist, and glared at the rest of the family.
"STOP! STOP MAKING LYNN CWEY!" he hiccuped, his voice wobbling but fierce.
Rita and Lynn Sr. looked stunned.
Lynn stared down at him, her heart doing something weird in her chest.
And then—
BZZT. BZZT.
Lynn jerked awake under the tree, her phone buzzing in her hand.
A text from Margo:
"WHERE R U? Missed warmups! Get to the ring NOW!"
Lynn swallowed hard, her throat tight.
That memory… it was real.
And suddenly, she understood why Lincoln's smile made her stomach flip.
Shaking her head like she could physically dislodge the thought, Lynn bolted for the roller rink. If there was one thing that could drown out emotional crises, it was violence—er, sports violence.
"SHOWTIME!" she yelled at nobody, sprinting toward the Royal Woods Roller Rink like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. Maybe if she blitzed fast enough, she could outrun whatever weirdness was happening in her chest.
By the time she burst through the locker room doors, her teammates were already suited up. Margo tossed her a helmet with a wicked grin. "Cutting it close, Loud! We've got three minutes before—"
"LYNN'S HERE!" The entire team erupted in cheers as she yanked on her gear, transforming from confused mess to star jammer in record time.
The match passed in a blur of elbows, hip checks, and the sweet sound of opposing players eating hardwood. When the final whistle blew, the announcer's voice boomed through the rink: "AND YOUR ROLLER DERBY QUEENS TAKE THE WIN!"
"OW OW OW!" Lynn howled, chest heaving as her teammates mobbed her.
Maddie slung an arm around her sweaty shoulders. "Knew we could count on our number one star player!"
"Burpin' Burger to celebrate?" Margo suggested, already peeling off her kneepads.
Lynn's eyes flicked to the stands where four unfamiliar faces were cheering louder than anyone. Margo followed her gaze and wiggled her eyebrows. "Meet the reason we needed to win today."
After the Roller Ring, the walk to the burger joint gave Lynn too much time to think. She tried focusing on the post-game adrenaline, the satisfying ache in her muscles, anything but the way Lincoln had hugged her all those years ago—
"Come on, Loud, we're treating!" Nadia announced as they tumbled into the restaurant.
Lynn eyed the packed booth where the couples were already cramming together. "Nah, I'm good. Don't wanna third wheel—"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" The entire team grabbed her before she could escape, shoving her into the adjacent booth that quickly became overflow seating when all four couples decided they needed to "include" her.
Lynn found herself crushed between Margo and some guy named Elliot, watching as her teammates transformed into giggling, heart-eyed versions of themselves. Burgers sat forgotten as they took selfie after selfie, feeding each other fries like they'd invented romance.
"So," Lynn deadpanned, stabbing a fry into her milkshake, "how'd you guys even meet? You all just hooked up yesterday, right?"
The reaction was instantaneous. All four couples lunged across the table, nearly knocking over the ketchup bottle in their enthusiasm.
"Love at first sight!" Margo sighed, practically melting looking at Elliot. "I totally wiped out during warmups because I couldn't stop staring at him in the crowd."
Maddie held up her and Kaido's intertwined hands. "We touched at the claw machine and, like, ZAP! Instant connection!"
Lainey turned pink. "I may have been photobomb in Alina's selfies, where she spotted me eyeing her..."
Lynn stared at them like they'd grown second heads. "But that's just... stuff? Like, normal stuff that happens?" She gestured wildly with a onion ring. "What actually made you go all..." She flapped her hands at their lovestruck expressions.
Four dreamy sighs answered her.
"You'll know when you feel it," Margo said knowingly, stealing one of Lynn's fries. "It's like getting hip-checked into the boards, but in your heart."
Lynn nearly choked on her burger, clearing her throat awkwardly. She stared down at her plate, fingers tapping nervously against the table. "That's... kinda the problem," she mumbled before she could stop herself. "Pretty sure I do? Maybe?"
The table exploded.
"EEEEEEEEEE!"
Maddie frizzles her hair at the revelation."HOLY CRAPBALLS - LYNN'S GOT A CRUSH?! Since WHEN does Lynn Loud have feelings that aren't rage or hunger?!"
"SPILL. HIS. DEETS." Margo demanded, shaking Lynn by the shoulders.
"HAVE YOU TALKED TO HIM YET?!" Lainey added.
Lynn's eyes darted left and right like a cornered animal, cold sweat dripping down her neck. Crap. Crap. CRAP. She had to think fast.
"I-I mean—" she started, suddenly finding her napkin fascinating. "He's just... this guy. Super kind, like, weirdly patient? Super thoughtful, always putting others first. Funny too—like, dumb joke funny but it works? And tough! Like, takes a hit and keeps smiling tough."
The words spilled out faster as she warmed to the subject, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "He's into comics and anime, draws surprisingly well, destroys at video games—"
Maddie's hand slapped over Lynn's mouth. "OKAY WE GET IT, HE'S PERFECT. WHAT'S HIS NAME?"
Lynn peeled Maddie's hand off her face. "Nope. Not telling." She crossed her arms. "It's probably one-sided anyway. I should just... let it go."
SLAM.
Nadia's palm hit the table hard enough to make the salt shaker jump. "HELL NO YOU'RE NOT GIVING UP!" She pointed a fry at Lynn like a courtroom lawyer. "You confess or this'll eat you up inside! I've seen enough rom-coms to know how this ends!"
"It's not that simple!" Lynn hissed, sinking lower in the booth. "If I tell him, it could ruin EVERYTHING!"
Nadia rolled her eyes so hard her head lolled back. "You're being overdramatic. Either you tell him, or we stage an accidental locker room meeting where you conveniently fall on him shirtless—"
The other girls nodded vigorously, eyes shining with the promise of romantic meddling.
Lynn's spine turned to ice. Nononono—
"FINE!" she blurted, holding up her hands in surrender. "I'll... show him to you soon. Maybe."
"EEEEEEEEEE!" Round two of squealing commenced as the girls high-fived, completely missing the way Lynn's smile strained at the edges. She numbly dunked a fry into ketchup, her appetite gone. The more her friends gushed about the new unrequited love, the clearer her own realization became—there was no denying it anymore. She was hopelessly, stupidly, completely in love with her brother.
As the day wound down, the group gathered at Gus' Games and Grub. But Lynn could only endure the lovefest for so long. Making up an excuse to leave, she slipped away and dragged herself home.
Pushing through the front door, she was immediately assaulted by the dramatic strains of The Dreamboat's elimination music. Lincoln laid across the couch like a dead body, his socks (one blue, one green - because of course) dangling off the edge.
"Lynn! Get in here!" he called, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Karen's about to drop the hammer on Blane and it's gonna be epic."
Lynn's heart did that stupid fluttery thing it kept doing lately. She forced her face into what she hoped was a normal smile and collapsed onto the couch, leaving exactly 1.5 cushions between them - close enough to be sibling-normal, far enough to keep her from doing something stupid like grabbing his hand.
Lincoln launched into his running commentary, waving a half-eaten Pop-Tart for emphasis. "I mean look at this guy! All those muscles and he wears flip-flops on a yacht date? That's a crime against fashion and maritime safety!"
Normally, Lynn would have fired back with her own snarky commentary. Tonight, she just nodded absently, watching how the TV light played across Lincoln's animated expressions. The irony wasn't lost on her - she might as well have been one of those desperate contestants, pining after someone completely out of reach.
Her fingers twisted together in her lap. "Hey Linc...do you think I'm a bad sister?"
Lincoln did a full-body twirl that nearly sent him tumbling off the couch. "What? No! Of course not!" He scooted closer, his brow furrowing. "I mean, yeah, you've been kinda... different since the whole adoption thing. More quiet. Less punchy. It's weird."
He poked her shoulder. "What's going on? You can tell me."
Lynn let out a slow breath, staring down at her hands. "Well.. it is about the adoption. I haven't really gotten over it." She swallowed hard. "I haven't been the best sister to you, Linc. Always roughhousing too hard, treating you like you were less than the others. Making fun of your hair, your comics... stealing your snacks when you weren't looking..."
Lincoln's face softened. "Lynn, stop—"
"No, let me say this," she insisted, her voice cracking just a little. "I was awful. And now that I know we're not even... y'know... blood..."
"Ohhhh." Lincoln's eyes widened in understanding. He reached out and firmly gripped her shoulder. "Lynn, if you think some dumb paperwork could ever make me see you as anything less than my sister, you're way off." His voice was steady, certain in a way that left no room for argument. "You could drop-kick me into next week, steal my last Pop-Tart, and burn all my comics—you'd still be my sister. Always. Now, can we please go back to mocking Karen's terrible taste in men?"
He pulled her into a one-armed hug, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before his arm settled back against hers on the couch.
This time, when their hands brushed, Lynn didn't pull away.
She let herself lean into the touch, just a little, savoring the warmth of his arm pressed against hers. A tiny, traitorous spark flickered in her chest—but she shoved it down.
"Always be his sister, huh?" she thought bitterly. Nothing more.
But for now, this was enough.
Suddenly, the TV blared a dramatic elimination fanfare as Karen tearfully sent Blane packing. Lincoln leapt up, pumping his fists. "YES! JUSTICE HAS PREVAILED! SANDALS ARE FOR BEACHES, NOT YACHTS!"
"Yeah, well, you and Karen have an eye for disappointment. Guess Blane never stood a chance."
"Wow. Harsh. Accurate, but harsh."
They fell back into their usual rhythm—bickering, laughing, tossing popcorn at the screen whenever Karen made a questionable decision.
And if Lynn let her hand linger against his a second longer than necessary, well...
No one had to know.