Ken watched with a grim expression as the television screen replayed the embarrassing brawl from today's baseball game. The whole world had just witnessed him getting punched in the face on live TV. Great. Another embarrassment to add to his growing list. He sighed heavily, sinking deeper into the cold bath filled with ice. He pressed a cold can against his throbbing cheek, hoping the chill would numb the pain and reduce the swelling. The sensation stung against his sensitive skin, but he gritted his teeth and kept it there.

Footsteps approaching caught his attention, and he looked up to see you enter the house, pausing in the doorway as you took in the sight of him sitting in the high-tech bathtub in the middle of the living room. "You're home," he greeted you, his usual confident demeanor softened for a moment as he beckoned you closer. "I'm so glad you're here. Can you hold this here?" he requested playfully with a hint of mock hurt as he handed you the cold can. He gently guided your hand to press the can against his bruised cheek, closing his eyes momentarily as he leaned into your touch. "Mm, it's just a small bruise. Happens all the time," he reassured you with a soft hum, trying to downplay the severity of the situation. ‎ He didn't want you to worry about his short temper or his exhaustion. At least not right now. Shifting slightly in the bath, Ken opened his eyes again to meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing in their depths. "You wanna hop in?" he asked playfully, gesturing towards the tub. "Or is this too cold for you?" he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips. He knew well enough that as an athlete, he was more accustomed to these ice baths than you, but he couldn't resist. "C'monnn," he drawled the word out, reaching out to gently tug at your wrist and pull you closer to him with a boyish grin. He wanted to forget about today, to let loose the mischievous side of himself that only seemed to come out around you. Most of all, he didn't want you asking questions or fussing over him.