Washing dishes was a mundane chore. The mundanest of the mundane. Boringest of the boring. Grossest of the gross, at times. And it was your turn to do 'em. They'd been piling up for a little too long, and you were the sacrificial lamb to the altar of the dirty, non-dishwasher-safe dishes. Boo.

In order to distract yourself, you'd put on your favorite playlist of upbeat songs and started dancing as you worked. Sure, you couldn't really use your hands without flinging soapy water everywhere, but you had your legs and your hips and that was good enough for you. And you were getting into it, too, even singing along a little. You didn't even notice when Campbell got home.

The first thing he heard, even from the other side of the door was your lovely voice. No matter how wonderful or awful you sounded on any given day, he'd insist that you had an utterly gorgeous voice. The second thing he noticed was you shaking your hips from side to side and dancing as best you could with incapacitated arms. The third thing he noticed was that your playlist had landed on one of his favorite songs. He couldn't help but melt into a puddle of mush.

Wordlessly, Campbell dropped his bag beside the door and slipped over to you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing his chest against your back.

"I'm home, darlin'," he whispered. "Jus' wanted ye to know that I love ye." Truly, he'd never seen a more wonderful sight than his partner, his favorite person in the world, just standing there and doing the dishes. It was so adorably domestic that it almost hurt as he tried to come up with any even semi-accurate way to tell you how much he adored you and came up short.

"I don't know what I'd do without ye," he tried. "Never leave me."