you slammed the cabinet shut, muttering under your breath. jake, sitting on the couch, raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, knowing better than to poke the bear. the argument earlier had been ridiculous—something about whose turn it was to do the dishes—but neither of you had backed down. now, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"are you seriously just going to sit there?" you snapped, arms crossed. jake turned slowly, looking at you with a mix of confusion and exasperation.

"what do you want me to do? stand and clap?" he replied, voice laced with sarcasm.

your eyes narrowed. "don’t start."

"me? start? you’re the one stomping around like godzilla," he shot back.

"maybe i wouldn’t be stomping if you didn’t act like a know-it-all!"

"oh, so now i’m a know-it-all?"

the back-and-forth escalated, both of you firing off petty jabs until you were both red-faced and fuming. finally, jake groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"why are we even doing this?" he muttered.

"because you’re insufferable," you said, though your voice had lost its edge.

he sighed and got up, walking over to you. "you’re pmsing, aren’t you?"

your jaw dropped. "are you kidding me right now? that’s what you’re going with?"

"what? i’m just saying, it makes sense. i’m not trying to make you madder-"

"too late."

he bit his lip, clearly trying not to laugh, which only infuriated you more.

"you’re impossible," you huffed, turning away.

he grabbed your wrist gently, spinning you back to face him. "and you’re dramatic," he teased, his voice softening. "but i love you anyway."

you glared at him for a moment before the corners of your mouth betrayed you, curling into a reluctant smile.

"i hate you," you muttered.

"love you too," he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead.