Written in British English. Like the story or got any suggestions to make? Please take the time to vote or comment to let me know what you think.
***
Under the Blanket
I come downstairs from my shower, walking past my mum who's nearly done her first small bottle of cheap vodka, which is pretty good going for 7pm on a Wednesday, and into the kitchen. Scott's already in there, looking through the veg drawer in the fridge to see if there's anything we can add to the stir fry.
"Hey sis, wrinkly peppers?" He shakes the plastic carton at me.
I wrinkle my nose back in response, but take it from him. They'll do.
We work together to chop the veg and dice the chicken, practiced in our routine of the 5 or so staple meals we can do. Weekends fall apart, with cheap takeaways and rounds of buttered toast replacing nutritious food, but during the week we try to be good. Pretty sure we eat more healthily than most 20 year olds fending for themselves on a limited budget anyway.
The sizzle of the chicken in the wok stops our chatter and Scott opens the back door to let the fumes out. The cold air blasting into the kitchen chills me, but the smoke alarm will set off if we shut the door so I put up with it. My fault really, for not putting a hoodie on over my pyjama shorts and top.
We dish up and I carry Mum's in, putting it in front of her.
"Thanks Evie," she mutters, not taking her glazed eyes off the telly, peering around me with a frown because I'm clearly in her way. I try to swap the vodka bottle for a fork, but her grip tightens so I leave her to figure it out. She probably won't eat it anyway. It's such a fucking waste of food when we're making do on scraps anyway, but it's not like we can leave her to starve.
I stomp back over to Scott, waiting for me on our settee, and as I sit, he pulls me sideways into him and plants a kiss on my temple. We don't speak because there's no need. It's the same routine we go through every week day night.
After we've finished eating, we clear up, but Mum's still in her zombie half-life state, loaded fork froze in mid-air, mouth open to receive said food, until she cackles at some shite on the telly and drops the fork back into the bowl to point at the screen. I turn my head into Scott's arm to block the sight of her.
"Tough day?" he asks, throwing his arm around me. "Jeez, you're freezing." He rubs my upper arm as we pull the huge grey waffle blanket we share over our laps and I snuggle into him to steal his warmth.
"Yeah." My shift on the checkouts of our local supermarket was a long one today and I'm shattered. "Double shift, though, so more for the pot." The mythical pot of money that's funding the plan to get us out of this crap existence; I work full-time while Scott does his degree and works part-time, he gets a graduate job, and then I drop down to part-time work and get my degree. We'll still come out with shit-loads of debt, but we'll support each other through it. And then we can finally afford to leave this place, but right now, it's the only roof we can get over our heads, and while Mum's name's on the lease, we need to keep her alive. We'd never afford the renegotiated rent, even for a wreck like this, if she drinks or starves herself to death.
"Well done," my brother says appreciatively. "Is your neck okay?"
"Not really," I crick my head from side to side, hearing the crunch. He knows it gets sore from the repetitive strain of looking down at the scanner belt.
"Stand up," he commands, then lies down, propped up on one elbow and pats the settee in front of him.
I lie next to him on my stomach, face down into the settee, angling my head slightly so I can breathe. The blanket is pulled over us and my world shrinks to just me and Scott; the noise of the telly and my annoyance at Mum fading away.
I feel his fingers massaging the back of my neck, squeezing the skin to make me arch up then releasing and rubbing the aching muscles. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. I slowly relax and turn my face towards Scott as he moves onto massaging my shoulders.
"Sorry," he whispers. "I hate that you've got the raw end of our deal."
I shrug, "It's the plan." Just gotta keep the plan in mind on the bad days. "We'll claw our way out of this shithole one day. Together."
"Together," he agrees, bending down to kiss my shoulder.
I get butterflies inside when he does this. Rationally I know it's just me responding to someone showing me love, that they care about me, that they're keeping me safe; and that someone has only been Scott my whole life. I get that; it's just a physiological reaction to touch and comfort, but lately...my irrational side has taken my daydreams to places a sister shouldn't go with her brother. Still, it's only fantasy. Not real. I ignore that deep dull ache building in my core that suggests otherwise.
Scott's hand swoops lower, in circles around my back, dipping under the hem of my sleep top to push the heel of his palm into the hollow at the base of my spine. I groan, then give a self-conscious chuckle.
I'm aware of his bicep in front of me, holding his head up. I risk a glance up at him and he's staring down intently at me.
He does it again and I give another appreciative groan, quieter this time, for his ears only as I lean forward to press my lips against the bulging muscle coming out from his t-shirt sleeve. I look up again, my lips still on his skin and we lock eyes. Blue to blue.
He presses down on my back again and I roll my hips to match his movement. A slight whimper escapes my lips, trapped against his skin.
"Evie," he whispers. There's a pleading tone in his voice and I'm not sure if it's because he wants me to carry on or because he wants me to stop.
I scoot onto my side, facing him, and tug his t-shirt towards me. He stretches out his propped up arm and lowers himself down, shuffling so we're face to face.
I lift my head for a second and he curls his arm around me; my head now resting on the skin I'd just kissed as we settle against each other. With the blanket around us, we join at our torsos and I glance down, noting my breasts resting against his chest, our clothes acting as a shield between us.
I note Scott looking down as well. I want to move one leg to rest between his legs, but his groin is deliberately angled away from me so I stay still for the moment.
His left hand is gripping my right hip, his thumb rubbing over the ribs he can reach. "We need to feed you up; you're too thin."
"When we're rich, we'll eat the finest of foods every day," I joke. "You'll have to roll me down the grand staircase each day and have the servants hand-feed me."
"Deal."
His breath warms my face and I breathe him in. We're so close we're almost touching. I inch my lips forward to just to the right of his lips and whisper against his skin, "Thank you for looking after me, bruv."
He inclines his head to the right and whispers against my lips, "Always, sis. And we're a team, looking after each other."
Suddenly we're kissing, lips drinking each other in, tongues swirling. The kiss of all kisses. The one that will wipe all other kisses I've ever had from my memory. He pulls my body against his and I feel his erection digging into my hip. I arch my back, grinding against him. We're dry humping against each other, but Scott pulls back from me, pushing my shoulder to get some distance.
