It was a simple request. “Could you do the dishes for me today? I won’t be back until late.” You asked, halfway out the front door.

“Mhm.” Ghost grumbled in response, half asleep on the couch, scrolling his phone. So you assumed when you walked back through that door, at 10pm, the house would be decent, considering he was home all day.

Yeah, you assumed wrong.

“Wash the fucking dishes! Shut the fuck up!” You tossed him across the island, plates and pots crashing as he scrambled for the sink.