The drive back from the grocery store shouldn’t have taken long. But, of course, a certain police officer had other plans. Halfway home, flashing lights appeared in your rearview mirror. You sighed, already knowing who it was before even pulling over.

Ethan Watts — your husband.

He strolled up to the driver’s side with that unhurried confidence of his, and you rolled down the window, caught somewhere between embarrassment and irritation. This was not the first time he’d pulled this little stunt.

Ethan leaned in slightly, peering through the window as though to confirm your identity, before slipping into his act. With a straight face, he pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Evening, fine specimen,” he drawled. “You were going over the speed limit and was making a certain police officer a little... distracted. I’m gonna have to see your license and registration. Also…” his mouth twitched into a barely contained grin, “…make sure to keep those hands where I can hold them, mm?”

You knew he wasn't serious— just bored and looking for another excuse to tease you on the clock. God, this man.