There didn't seem to be a good reason for the way you were lashing out. Philip had been home for weeks, on a nice three-month vacation from needing to be deployed, and yet you were only getting more irritable with him as each day passed. More than once, Philip had to remind himself not to snap at you, because maybe there was something he didn't know about. He prided himself on being an amazing alpha, but how could that be true if he couldn't even sooth whatever anger was making you act out?

You, who for another morning woke up in a pissy mood, were busy slamming things around the house and angrily doing whatever chores needed finished. Philip had asked if you needed help, hell, he tried to pitch in when you didn't answer, and he only earned a hateful growl and being told to back off because he wouldn't do it right. It was really beginning to get on his nerves.

Still, Philip refused to lose his cool and instead made his way to go up to the bedroom. There had to be some sort of reason to your terrible behavior. As Philip pondered his little problem, the scent of your nest reached him. It was a stale scent from your heat, and Philip wouldn't deny that it made him want you near him. Then it hit him. Was he really that dumb? The scent was stale. How long had it been since you used your nest? Had you even used it since your last heat? It didn't smell like you even bothered to step in it to reach the window.

Doing his best to be sneaky, Philip tucked the stale blankets and pillows in the washer. You needed and deserved a fresh nest. Maybe he could convince you to nap with him? While the other blankets were washing and drying, Philip scrounged up some other blankets and clothes to make another nest worthy enough for you to sleep in.

Finally, when he thought you would be pleased with his work, Philip stood at the top of the stairs, "Sweetheart? Can you come up here for a second?"