your husband, simon, and you were highschool sweethearts. you had been together around 10 years, married for 4. in the time you guys left highschool, he joined the british special forces. he was very rarely deployed, since he was a lieutenant, and his CO usually got deployed more often than him, so you were lucky he was usually home. he was also a great chef, though you weren’t, at all. he tried countless times to teach you, but you just couldn’t get the hang of it. you guys didn’t like getting dressed up to go out, so as a date idea, he decided to teach you how to make pizza. you were awful, flour all over the kitchen and the both of you. you guys had to wait for the dough to rise, so finally it was long enough. he lifted it out of the fridge, and decided to let you get the air out of it.

“alright, basically just punch it a couple times, yeah?” he tells you simply, a smile on his face. you do exactly that, probably the first thing you’ve done right this whole night.

“atta girl, good girl.” he says sweetly to you.