INT. MITCH & CAM'S DUPLEX - KITCHEN - MORNING
The morning sun filtered through the blinds, but the energy in the kitchen was anything but calm. It was the first day of the New Order: Cam returning to the workforce as a music teacher, and Mitchell assuming the role of Domestic work for today.
Cam stood by the counter, dressed in a yellow sweater with melody symbol on it. He was vibrating with energy.
"Okay, here comes the trouble!" Cam announced, doing a little jazz-hand spin. He looked at Mitchell, eyes wide with expectation.
"Huge for day one," Mitchell commented dryly, e.
"Hey, don't temp down my enthusiasm!" Cam scolded, grabbing an apple and tossing it in the air. "I am about to mold young minds. I am the clay-maker, Mitchell!"
Aman sat at the island, methodically eating his oatmeal. He was dressed for school, backpack already by the door.
"I think it's good," Aman said, pausing with his spoon mid-air. "But be careful. All audiences aren't the deserving type. Middle schoolers have no filter."
"Thanks for the advice, Aman," Cam said, dismissing the warning with a wave of his hand. "But I think those cute children would like my dazzle. I'm bringing the pizzazz!"
Cam checked his watch and gasped. He turned to Mitchell, his expression suddenly serious.
"Oh! The dimmer came for the dining room switch. It's on the counter. I want you to call the electrician—but not Brad. We have a problem with Brad. "
Mitchell nodded, taking a sip of coffee. "No Brad. Got it."
"And don't forget!" Cam continued, already moving toward the door. "Lily needs a gift for Gio's birthday party this weekend. Do not be thrown by the invitation—it's a Pirate Party, not a Pilates Party. "
Mitchell kept nodding, looking a little too relaxed for someone with a growing to-do list.
Aman watched him. He saw the glaze in Mitchell's eyes.
"Are you sure, Mitch?" Aman asked quietly. "Will you be able to handle all this suddenly? The dimmer, the gift, the pick-up... it's a lot ."
Mitchell set his mug down with a sharp clack.
"You don't believe me, Aman?" Mitchell shrieked, his voice jumping an octave. "Just see me today! I will get all of these things done. I am a lawyer! I manage high-stakes litigation! I do all of this with good time managment!"
He turned to Cam, putting on a brave face.
"And Cam, if you're feeling anxious, I want you to just focus there. Just go on. I will take care of everything. The home front is secure."
Cam hesitated at the door, his hand on the knob.
"Are you sure?" Cam asked, a flicker of worry crossing his face. "I am very confident about my first day, but as Aman said... you suddenly taking everything might cause problems. You aren't exactly... domestic."
"Hey!" Mitchell stood up, feigning offense. "I would be fine. Now go! Be the music man!"
Cam smiled, reassured. He took a theatrical bow. "Thank you! I'm off!"
The door slammed shut.
Silence descended on the kitchen.
Aman picked up his backpack. He looked at Mitchell, who was staring at the uninstalled dimmer switch like it was a bomb.
"Best of luck, Mitch," Aman said.
"Ha!" Mitchell scoffed, grabbing his keys. "As if I need it. I will show both of you today. It's just errands. How hard can it be?"
Aman didn't answer.
INT. MITCH & CAM'S DUPLEX - Evening
The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the living room. The house was quiet.
The front door opened. But it wasn't Mitchell.
It was Claire Dunphy. She marched in, holding a power drill in one hand and a large pot in the other. She looked like a suburban commando.
She stopped dead when she saw Aman sitting in the armchair, reading a book.
"Hey, Claire," Aman said without looking up. "What are you doing?"
"What are you doing here?" Claire asked, setting the pot down on the dining table. "I thought you would be doing your homework?"
"I already did," Aman said, closing his book. He stood up and walked over to her. "Let me guess. Mitch is running late. He panicked. So he asked you to make dinner and fix the switch because he forgot to call the electrician. And he probably forgot the pirate gift, too."
Claire sighed, hoisting the drill. "You got it in one. He called me . He sounded like he was hyperventilating."
She walked over to the dining room wall, where wires were hanging out of the socket like spaghetti.
"Move over," Claire muttered. "Let me fix this before Cam gets home ."
Aman leaned against the wall, watching her work. Her hands were steady, stripping the wire and connecting the dimmer with practiced ease.
"You're good at that," Aman noted. " my respect to you , clarie ."
Claire paused. She looked at him, surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah," Aman said sincerely. "You could fix things, cook a great meal... you're really an all-in-one package, Claire. Phil is lucky guy."
Claire flushed slightly. A genuine smile broke through her stressed expression. She wasn't used to praise—especially not from teenagers, and certainly not for her handyman skills.
"Well, aren't you too young to say such thing ." Claire said, tightening the faceplate. " And someone has to be the capable one in this family."
She put the drill down and walked to the kitchen to check the soup. Aman followed.
"So," Aman asked, leaning on the counter. "Has Alex dropped her Goth phase?"
"Oh, thank god, yes," Claire exhaled, stirring the pot. "Well, it's for the best. She really dropped that. It was one of the fastest phases of her teenage period. I am just glad it was Goth and not... I don't know, what else to come."
Aman chuckled. "Well, what happened? One time I see her skipping school, and the next day her friendship is broken and she is good."
Claire stopped stirring. She turned slowly to face him. The ladle dripped soup onto the stove.
"You knew she was skipping class?" Claire narrowed her eyes. "And you didn't even stop her?"
Aman held his hands up in surrender.
"Well, the last one was History," Aman reasoned smoothly. "I guessed she already read the textbook. She probably memorized it. And honestly? She needs to do some of these high school activities. Rebelliousness builds character."
"Well, you are right," Claire admitted, softening. "That one needs to have more fun. She's so tightly wound."
She paused, pointing the ladle at him.
"But still! You should have done something. You're the older... well, you're the responsible one."
"Claire," Aman said gently. "Don't try to make me her mother in school. That's your job."
"I am not!" Claire protested.
"You totally are," Aman smiled. "You worry about her constantly. It's sweet, but I'm not a babysitter."
Claire sighed, leaning against the counter. "How about this. You look after her——and I make your favorite food for next family dinner. What do you like? Lasagna? Tikka Masala?"
Aman laughed. "Hey, no need. I will take care of her because she's family. But did you really try to buy me with one meal? That's cheap, Claire and I have expensive taste."
Before Claire could answer, the front door burst open.
Mitchell stumbled in. He looked disheveled. His tie was askew, he was sweating, and he was holding a bag that looked like it had been run over.
He froze when he saw them.
"Hey, Mitch," Aman said cheerfully. "You okay?"
Mitchell glared past him, locking eyes with his sister. "I see you already saw Claire."
"You don't have to worry," Aman said, miming zipping his lips. "My lips are sealed. I sees all, but says nothing."
"Thanks," Mitchell breathed, dropping his keys. "I really had a long day. The line at the party store... was really huge with lot of circus mixed in ."
"Hey," Claire interrupted, gesturing to the stove. "The dinner soup is ready. The switch is fixed. You're welcome."
Just then, they heard the distinct sound of a car door slamming outside.
"He's here!" Mitchell hissed. "Everyone, places!"
INT. DINING ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Cameron walked through the door. He paused, taking in the scene.
The house was immaculate (thanks to Aman cleaning up ). Lily's present—wrapped present— on the table. A steaming pot of soup sat on a trivet. Claire was gathering her things, trying to look invisible and hiding.
"You came!" Mitchell said, forcing a bright smile. "Come here, let's eat."
He guided Cam to the table. Cam sat down heavily, looking like a deflated balloon. His spirit look a liitle deflated but he hid it.
"So," Mitchell asked, pouring water. "How was your day?"
"It was... good," Cam lied unconvincingly. "How was yours?"
"It was also good," Mitchell lied back.
Cam took a spoonful of soup. He tasted it. He paused. He looked at Mitchell.
"So," Cam asked quietly. "Who did you call? Did Aman help you?"
"No one!" Mitchell insisted. "I got it done. I called myself. Me. I am the provider."
Aman walked out of the hallway, having just put Lily's bag in her room.
"Really, Mitch was good," Aman lied smoothly, catching Mitchell's desperate eye. "My doubts were misplaced."
Mitchell let out a breath. "So, Cam... really. How was your day? Tell me about it."
Cam put his spoon down. His lip trembled.
"Well," Cam started, his voice thick with emotion. "As I said... kids just need someone to come into their life and bring out the music. And that person..."
Cam broke down, sobbing into his hands.
"...was not me, Mitch! It was not me! The children hated me! The teachers hated me! You did everything perfectly, where I failed!"
Claire, who was halfway to the door, stopped. She turned around to watch.
"Oh, Cam," Mitchell said, his face crumbling. The façade broke. "Well, what can I say? I think what you did... and saw you did... and I just perfected it ."
Claire glared at Mitchell. Really?
Aman looked at Mitchell, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, Mitchell! No!" Claire snapped. "Cam! He was every bit the failure you were! He was late! Lily's hair is in a braid because she had gum stuck in it! He forgot the electrician!...."
Cam looked up, tears in his eyes. He looked at Claire, then at Mitchell.
A slow realization dawned on him.
"Oh," Cam whispered. He reached out and hugged Mitchell tightly. "Oh, you must have had a bad thing. If you had to call her... that means you had a much worse day than me."
Claire's jaw dropped. She looked at the scene—the two of them bonding over how terrible it was to need her help.
Mitchell sniffled, leaning into the hug. "She was mean, Cam. She taunted me every day. She judged ."
"I know, I know," Cam soothed him. "She's a monster."
"Maybe we just need time to settle into this new role," Mitchell said, wiping his eyes.
"Yes, sweetie," Cam agreed.
Claire stood there, stunned. "So... is this going to work around into a 'Thank you, ladies'?"
Aman, who was eating his soup quietly in the kitchen, spoke.
"Thank you, Claire," Aman said clearly. "You were a very good cook."
Claire smiled at him, grateful for the one ally in the room.
"Thanks, Aman," she said. She turned back to her brother and brother-in-law , waving the drill around. "Now both of you. Come out with it."
Mitchell and Cameron looked reluctant. They exchanged a look.
"Thank you," they mumbled in unison, like toddlers forced to apologize.
"You're welcome," Claire said sharply. She grabbed her drill and left the house, slamming the door.
Silence returned to the room.
"Can you believe she demanded a thank you?" Cam whispered, offended.
"See?" Mitchell nodded. "I told you. Tyrant."
Aman finished his soup. He stood up, taking his bowl to the sink.
"Don't forget to feed Lily," Aman said over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go up. Good night."
"Good night, Aman," Cam and Mitchell chorused.
As Aman walked up the stairs, he heard them whispering.
"Aman was the one who cleared the house," Mitchell admitted softly. "Claire told me."
"Oh," Cam sighed happily. "He is such a helpful boy. We really lucked out."
"We did," Mitchell agreed. "Now pass the wine."