mia-calloway:
A feigned look of horror came to the girl’s face as Mia even went as far as to place her hand against her chest. “Excuse you, are you trying to say that I share gross things with you. I would never.” That was a lie, but whatever. Sometimes she let it slip out about her latest hookup, didn’t mean Ian had to get all squeamish about it. They were both adults here, he could handle knowing that his little sister was having sex as long as she didn’t get into all the dirty details. She pulled out a container and handed it to the boy, rolling her eyes as she did so. “Yes, there’s bacon in it, weirdo. Just don’t get all weird. It’s not any of that fancy crap you’re fond of, but it’s food and for some of us normal people, it’s yummy food.” She leaned in, pressing a quick kiss against her brother’s cheek then offering him a smile.
When first finding out about his diagnosis, she had wondered how this would change them. Would she still be able to tease him as she did? Would she still be able to call him a freak or a weirdo? Ultimately, she had decided to keep things as they had always been. After all, changing would have been far too apparent and who knows, maybe it would have made everything worse. “But, no. My news has nothing to do with my recently anti-climactic love life. It has more to do with the fact that we hired a new person at the bar, which means I won’t be practically dying every weekend night.”
Ian cocked a look at Mia’s feigned horror that said that he saw right through her. He wasn’t a particularly nosy person when it came to his little sister’s love life but there was an inherent protectiveness that came with being an older sibling. Nothing taught him boundaries better than snooping through her things at seventeen but in case he hadn’t learned the hard way, scraping Mia’s drunken body from various steps would surely cement that idea that he was better off not asking.
“Bacon is fancy in its own right. It has a very distinct flavor that separates it from pancetta. You’d know that if you ever got home before I eat all the leftovers.”
He fiddled with the plastic bags, despite not wanting anything in them. Then he fidgeted with the boxes, picking them apart and folding them back together while he passively listened. He was usually good at listening, and happy to do it, but that evening, his mind ran a mile a minute. Thoughts about what he was going to accomplish tomorrow-- or even the next few hours popped into his head like spring daisies.
“That’s great news. I definitely needed you to come home with more energy than you do,” he commented.
“What happened to the last guy? What’s his name...” Ian gestured vaguely in front of his face, imitating a hairdo that he couldn’t think of.
