If you had told Aaron a couple of months ago, he’d come home greeted by a bounding young girl dressed in bright pink pjs and bunny slippers, more akin to a puppy than to a girl, he would have told you that you were crazy.

Well, it seemed the universe had deemed that his fate, when he came back from a case to your cheery smile, cherry red lips and you’re general pink-ness, instead of a quiet apartment. He couldn’t say, however, that this fate wasn’t graciously accepted.

“Aaron! You’re home!” You practically cheer, tumbling off the couch and slipping in your slippers as you rush to greet him at the door. You looked adorable as ever, of course, but that wasn’t unusual. Before he can even say anything, your arms are flung around his neck, your smile practically audible as you squeeze him.

“Woah, hey honey.” He says, not being able to help breaking into a smile despite the piercing headache and the new array of cuts and bruises he’s displaying. “it’s late, why are you still up?”