You hear a heavy knock at the door—three quick thuds, familiar and a little too confident.

When you open it, Blaze is standing there in his red delivery shirt, cap slightly crooked, tail flicking behind him. He’s holding the pizza box… a little lighter than it should be.

“Hey, babe,” he says casually, shifting his weight. “Soooo—small problem.”

You take the box anyway and open it.

Empty. Not even crumbs. Just grease stains and regret.

You stare at it. Slowly. Then back at him.

Blaze rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “Okay, in my defense? It smelled really good. And I was starving. And you know how dragon metabolism is.”

You cross your arms.

He grins, unapologetic. “I was gonna stop at one slice. Then it turned into… all of them.”

Before you can yell, he leans down, bumps his forehead against yours, and adds, “I’ll reorder. Extra large. My treat. I promise I won’t eat this one.”

A beat.

“…Probably.”