#recycle bin

He closes his eyes and groans internally— he meant to replace it, told himself he would as he put the first spoonful in his mouth. His silence must confirm your suspicions because you let out a grumpy growl.

“Xaden! You know I’m on my period! It’s on the calendar!” You point angrily at the calendar on the fridge, your back still to him.

He knows this— of course he does. He is allowed to eat your snacks at any time as long as he replaces them, except around your period (which you graciously notify him of ahead of time). But he really thought he would get to it and that you wouldn’t notice before he replaced it.

Could this day get any worse?

He is quiet for so long that you finally turn, hands on your hips. But you quickly drop your arms at your sides, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“Are you okay?”

Those three words are too much— he looks down at his feet, shakes his head, and walks over to the bathroom for a quick shower, locking the door behind him.

He walks back out almost an hour later drying his hair with a towel and already feeling a little better now that he is clean and out of his suit. He hears noise in the kitchen and decides he should go and apologize to you, but when he turns the corner he finds that you have dimmed the lights, poured that fruity wine you like into two glasses, and made popcorn.

“Come here,” you say softly and the gentle domestic feeling of it all makes his heart clench as he steps towards you. You take the towel from his hands and gesture at the couch. “Sit, I’ll be right back.”

He sits on the couch, reaching for the glass at his side and takes a sip before leaning back into the cushions. He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until they fly open at the sound of your voice.

“I know a shower always makes me feel better too, but I have something else.” You climb onto the couch next to him and the scent of your shampoo and perfume are actually rather comforting. “Close your eyes,” you murmur, and he obeys, thinking you might kiss him. And thinking that he would like that very much.

“Ah!” A very unmanly yelp escapes him as he feels something cold and slimy on his face. “What the f—” You cut him off with a soft ‘tsk’ and swat his hand away as he reaches for his face.

“Sit still, and close your eyes,” You grumble, smoothing your fingers over his face, spreading the slimy thing.

After several seconds you tap his shoulder and he hums a reply. You giggle, “Open your eyes, silly.”

He opens his eyes and laughs— you’re holding up a mirror to his face where he can see that he is wearing a teddy bear shaped face mask. He looks over at you and finds you in a matching one, and it makes him laugh again.