i know // jeremiah fisher

LXIX - Together Shirt

"Mom, no no no, Mom, please!" I whine, taking steps backwards as she approaches us.

"Mom, please! We'll stop! We'll be good!" Steven practically sobs.

"Nope. I have had enough of you two this trip." She says firmly.

We're backed to a wall, and even running has no point now.

We whine like five year olds while Mom pulls the gigantic shirt over our heads.

"Lefty?" She calls in a sing-song voice.

"Here." Steven sing-songs with a lot less enthusiasm.

"What was that?" She asks cheerful.

"Here." He plasters on the biggest smile and shoots his left arm through the arm hole with an added jazz hand.

"Righty?" She calls again.

"Righty here." I sing through clenched teeth and shoot my arm out.

"Perfect." She smiles, "Aren't you two adorable? Have a wonderful hour loving one another!"

"Mom.." We whine as she leaves the room.

Our grudges don't leave just because of the shirt. We mean mug each other big time after she leaves.

"I hope you're happy! I had plans with Shayla!" He accuses.

"Hope I'm happy?!" I squeal, "You're the one who walked in to my room and made a scene!"

"Another hour!" Mom yells from somewhere in the house.

We both huff loudly.

"Two hours because you can't get over yourself and just let me date." I grumble.

We're sat on the bed now. We decided when we were 11 it was the best place to be to get the time over with, doing anything else led to fighting.

"It's Jeremiah." He deadpans like it's obvious.

"Nuh-uh. This whole older brother act would've only been worse if it was someone other than him. I see how you are with Cam and Belly."

"There is a difference between you and Jeremiah and Belly and Cam." He defends.

"And what is that?!" I whisper shout.

"I don't have to answer you." He turns his chin up away from me.

"God, you are literally three years old." I groan.

He doesn't respond verbally, however the elbow inside the shirt gives me a nice jab.

"Mom!" I yell. "Steven elbowed me!"

His eyes widen, "Stop it!" He whines.

"You stop it!"

"I said you!"

"And I said you!"

"Stop it!

"StOp iT!" I mock.

"Another hour for this, and no dessert tonight Steven." Mom says, walking in the door. I honestly forgot I called her.

Steven huffs and does his best to turn away, but since we're literally attached at the hip, his movement pulled me off the bed. 

"Ow! My head!" I yell.

Steven is laying on the ground next to me, but I broke his fall. He covers his mouth with his hand, "Shoot, Y/n, I swear it was an accident! Please don't tell Mom!"

"Tell Mom what?" Speak of her, she walks in with an eyebrow raised.

Steven looks over at the door stunned.

"Tell me your sister did not hit her head on the dresser and then tell me you did not fall on top of her." I can hear the anger in her voice. Even with the pain I'm feeling, I'm happy she's fighting for me and not with me.