prompt #139: "Don't open an umbrella in the house."
Anthea had her feet up on the coffee table as she flipped through the magazine held in her perfectly manicured hands when Mycroft appeared from their bedroom. He was dressed for the day, umbrella in hand.
"How dreadful," he remarked as he looked out the window. It was pouring down rain outside.
"Glad I don't have to go out in it," she commented. A wooshing sound caught her attention. "Don't open an umbrella in the house, Mycroft."
"I'm preparing for the weather outside," he defended.
"It's bad luck!" she argued.
"Oh, don't tell me you believe in those silly superstitions," he scoffed with a roll of his eyes.
"Yes, I do, FYI," Anthea replied. "Close it, now."
"And if I don't?" Mycroft challenged.
"I won't let you kiss me for a week," she teased. Now, she was playing as she slinked around him.
"That's not going to perturb me," he told her.
"Oh?" she asked. He could feel her minty fresh breath against his neck, causing him to gulp nervously.
"It's not going to work," Mycroft insisted. She moved in front of him, allowing her lips to linger just below his. He moved in to kiss her but she backed away and he huffed in frustration.
"Umbrella; close it now," she demanded. He did as she requested and tossed it on the sofa to give her a proper snog before leaving for work.
