Hannibal preferences

Mother's day (h.l)

It was a Sunday and for the first time in months there was silence. There was no sounds of kids stomping down the stairs or of Florence squealing from the top bunk 'hey there Delilah' and there was definitely no sound of doors slamming closed.

All that was heard was the shallow breathing of his wife as she slept from beside him. He was sat beside her, crosslegged with his sketchpad strewn across his lap with a smile on his face. She was always beautiful but when she slept, he thought, she was his own personal angel to combat his demons. The way her (h/c) locks fell across her face seemed almost too perfect for him to not capture in a quick sketch.

Their door creaked open and even though he was facing away from it he could tell just from the fragrance that it was their son, Ashleigh. He poked his head through to observe his father as he sketched out what he could assume would be his mother.

"Dad, Mischa and i want to make breakfast for mum." He knew his father knew he was there by the way his posture tensed and relaxed. There was a brief chuckle through the room, just quiet enough to not wake his slumbering mother.

"Ash, need I remind you what happened the last time your sister attempted to brave the kitchen?" His father's voice was low with sleep but held a hint of amusement. The eight year old boy held in a laugh, "that's why we need your help. We wanna make special pancakes"

The man placed down the pad of paper on the pillow and stretched before rising from the silky sheets. They slid away from him and he shuffled close enough to pat his son lightly on his messy brown hair. "Then I suppose we'd better check on your sister before she burns the house down... Again"

The wooden stairs gave a low moan every once in a while from the combined weigh of his son and him despite their best efforts to keep as quiet as possible. Once down the stairs, they both looked around the corner of the door frame.

A small (h/c) girl was sat on the stone floor, a minefield of bowls around her as she inspected them all thoroughly. She gave a large, clear bowl a final pat before getting to her feel and waddling towards the counter, he legs obviously numb from the sitting. She stood on her tip toes, trying valiantly to place the brown on the work top before their father stood in. He took the bowl in his left hand while picking his daughter up in his right arm.

"Now what do you suppose you're doing, sweetheart," he smiled at her, kissing her cheek, "I thought we agreed that you can't start any more fires."

She giggled, placing her small hands in his hair, toussling it up into a mess of brown. 

"Well yes but actually no" she stated, clambering away from him to sit atop the counter. "Because i won't cause a fire this time"

He raised an eyebrow curiously, "how do you know?"

She grinned, her sharp canines flinging in the lighting. "Because I have you, daddy!"

Her brother rolled his eyes and put the rejected bowls safely back into the cupboards and pulled out a pot of flour. He dropped it down on the table beside his sister and it created a small puff of white, making her cough. 

She pouted and stuck her tongue out at him before pouring the flour into the bowl. Their father stretched his arm to grab the carton of eggs and carefully placed them beside her.

With the help of their rather tall father, gathering ingredients was much easier. Baking them however was not. Within the first batch, Mischa had burnt not only 2 pancakes but also her forehead. Hannibal really didn't know how.