Hannah Kirkland walked around her house bare-foot and clad in flannel pajama pants, and one of her older brother's shirts. The time was 9 AM and usually Arthur would have woken her up by now. It was nice, but she missed the gentle shaking her brother did to wake her and the smell of tea.
Her footsteps were soundless against the cold hardwood floor, and a thin sheet covered her shoulders. Hannah hummed a short tune over and over in search of her brother.
"Where could Arthur be at this time?" She questioned quietly. She'd looked in every place—even the kitchen she'd only allow him to make his tea in. Then she remembered the one place she never thought to look, which was her favorite place in the house. She forgot to check the library. "Of course, he must have stayed up reading..."
This, she found was not the case. As soon as she made it to the door, she heard a lowly hissed curse of 'Bloody hell'. She peaked in and suppressed a giggle. Her brother Arthur sat on the far side of the large room, facing the door. His gaze was down at his lap where his fingers were fumbling with the needle he was using for embroidery. He had apparently pricked his finger while sewing.
"Arthur." The blond haired green-eyed man jumped about three feet in the air, causing Hannah too uncontrollably giggle. She covered her mouth with her fingers rather than with the palm of her hand as Arthur calmed himself down. "Arthur what are you doing with Gran's embroidery supplies?" She stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.
Their Gran had left them everything in her will—even the house they currently lived in. Which meant they owned all her embroidery supplies now. Arthur huffed and looked down at his masterpiece.
"Well Hannah, Gran always said that embroidery was marvelous at helping relive stress." She padded her way over to her brother and glanced at the cloth he'd been working on. She gasped in air and held it in along with a large amount of laughter which was soon let out as a soft giggle.
She though his flower design could do some work, but that wasn't it. Stitched into the cloth in cursive were the words 'Francis is a wanker'.
"This is just lovely. Let's frame it and stick it somewhere in your room." Arthur scoffed and Hannah giggled. A yawn overtook her and she shook her head. "Move Arthur." She said, waving at the items in his lap
"What? I was here first." He frowned, confused.
"No, move your work." He glanced up at her and she gave him an 'I'm serious' look. Arthur hesitantly moved everything off his lap just in time for her to come around and plop down onto his lap.
"H-Hannah!" She shushed him, pressing most of her weight onto the arm of the chair where her bum sat. She curled up so her legs lay over his lap, and her head rested on his shoulder. "This is no time to act like a child Hannah."
"Says the man who just embroidered the word wanker." He huffed and just sat there before wrapping one arm around his sister's shoulders and the other over her legs.
And they spent most of the day enjoying each other's company, as family should. Especially when they're the only family you have left.
