Doing the dishes

Your mother chuckles, the sound warm and affectionate.

"Then you can wash the dishes," your mother says with a smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She turns to Caitlyn, who is still sipping her coffee and nibbling on a piece of bacon. "And you, young lady, can dry the dishes for your brother."

Caitlyn rolls her eyes but stands up, the lacy robe swishing around her legs as she moves. "Yes, Mom," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You stand up and grab a dish towel, following Caitlyn's lead.

You finish washing the dishes, the warm water cascading over your hands as you scrub the last of the pancake batter from the frying pan. You hand the pan to Caitlyn, who is still standing at the sink, drying the dishes with a dish towel.

Caitlyn takes the pan from you, her fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. You feel a jolt of electricity at the contact, and you quickly pull your hand away, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"Thanks, little brother," Caitlyn says. She turns back to the sink, her back to you, the lacy robe clinging to her curves.