Final Fury

“Hey, no big deal. Least I could do given that you’re washing stuff.” There was the sound of a shirt snapping as Alvin shook out the last of the wrinkles and departed for the bedroom with the basket of clothes. A minute or two later, he reappeared in the kitchen, a little more carefully composed, and planted a kiss on the top of Jude’s head.

“Lunch made for me by the honors student. Must be the luckiest man alive,” he teased. It always tasted better when Jude cooked, he’d come to realize. It was comfortingly normal after the disaster the morning had been.

“But still, you just got back. I figured you’d want to relax a little.” He knew he couldn’t stop the older male, but he was serious about what he said about letting the other take it easy. 

Jude closed his eyes when he felt the small warm pressure at the top of his head, opening his eyes again to look up at Alvin. He grew a little, but Alvin was still taller than him, much to the researcher’s dismay.