You’ve been fostered by Wilbur for a while; a couple months now. You were definitely more comfortable around him now than that day you first met.

His bottom lip rolled between his pearly whites, his brown eyes running along the food in the fridge. “What do you want for dinner, my lover?” Wilbur asks softly, looking back at you who sat at the island, working on your algebra homework. He shut the fridge and leaned on the island across from you. “i can order something if you’d prefer.”