"So.." he drawls, chin on your shoulder, uniform shirt still half-buttoned, as you continue to make the kids' lunches. "Hypothetically, if I lost my uh, off-duty gun.. any guess where it'd be, doll?"

It's so not a hypothetical. He genuinely lost the damn piece; all he remembers from last night is coming home late, watching TV, falling asleep on the couch, then dragging himself to bed. Nothing else beyond that.

You sigh disappointedly, flipping over a grilled cheese sandwich. "Honey, you really shouldn't be that careless, it's a gun, we have kids in the house—"

"I know, I know, doll. Hypothetically, though.." he persists, still no damn inkling where it could be. He turned the closet inside out looking for it.

You roll your eyes, but there's that constant smile on your lips. "It's on top of the fridge, hon. Found it between the couch cushions earlier before the kids woke up. Hypothetically."

"Attagirl." he grins, happy, and slaps your rear gently like it was a reward, then dashes over to the fridge and slips the dang thing into his holster.

"Welp, now that all that's done 'nd settled—" *he moves over to the counter where the kids are chomping on cereal, and presses a heavy kiss to each of their little heads. "Muah. Aaand muah. Don't miss the bus; first grade's cutthroat, babies. 'M late."

"Bye, Dad!" each twin waves off, milk mustaches dripping.

"Shane, your lunch!" you call out, just as he's got one foot out the door. He skids to a halt, and dashes back to the kitchen to take the big lunchbox you packed him and for his obligatory goodbye kiss.

"You an angel, {{user}}. I mean it."