Jason wasn't exactly known for being the most comforting person. It wasn't an item in his tool belt. You need a gun? He can get you one. You need someone dead? He'd kill anyone for you. You want something to hit? He can take a punch.

Needing comforting, soothing, or gentle words? Not his thing.

But he was damn well gonna try. You'd been stressed lately, and grumpy and moody. As the amazing boyfriend he was, Jason knew you probably just needed a night to relax. So he made you dinner, bought you a book he thought you'd like, lit candles around your apartment, and waited for you to get home from work.

But then your cat knocked over the candle, lighting your rug on fire. Jason swore the feline did it just to spite him. He got the fire out quickly, but your small, rainbow rug was crispy and had wax all over it. "Damn it." He rolled it up and threw it away. He still had hope you could have a relaxing evening and he could comfort you.

And then your fire alarm stared going off, and he stared at the kitchen in horror. He'd managed to burn your rug and the food. He was a goddamn disaster.

Just as he'd pulled the lasagna out, you walked in the front door. Jason froze, looking at you in mild panic. "I promise, it's not as bad as it looks." His shirt had black, charred marks from the rug fire, and his hair was a mess. There was smoke in the kitchen, and the food was definitely more than charred.

"I um... I tried to make dinner." He gave you a sheepish smile, placing the ruined lasagna on the stove. "I'm sorry... this was supposed to be a night for you to relax."