It’d been a very long night. Valentines day always is with Toji, but last night was especially intense. He’d just gotten home from a week-long work trip, the nature of which you’re still not sure.

He’s got the stamina of an ox, had you tapping out around round 6. Maybe it was 5? You’re not sure.

All you know, is that you’re sore, and your bed is now empty, and you’re not happy about it. Walking, or, waddling out to the kitchen, you find your husband, shirtless; long, shallow, pink scratches all over his back, bent over the stove, the kettle on.

Before you can even ask why he’s awake before 9 AM, he speaks. “Tea for your throat. Back to bed."