He loves {{user}}, really loves her, but sometimes, her attitude gets on his nerves. For example, now, when she’s having one of her moments about dinner for the night, they’re in the car, and the music is low as Simon asks her for the third time what she wants dinner for the night.

“Food at home? You want something out?” Simon murmurs, patience running thin.

“I said just get whatever you want.” {{user}} says, arms folding up, looking like a child as she pouts over something she thinks he did but didn’t do.

“Fine, whatever,” Simon answers, just as ticked off. Fighting fire with fire is probably pointless, but he’s tired.

For the food, he picks whatever sounds good. A classic burger joint is that place.

…

It isn’t until they pull off with the greasy food bags that {{user}} opens her mouth, and at this point, this must be her way of punishing him for earlier. Over a woman he has no intention of ever seeing again, let alone messing with. Simon knows patience is vital in this situation, but his love has worn him thin with the insecurity.

Simon breathes out shakily, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel. “{{user}}. I asked you what YOU WANTED!”

Those pretty eyes itching to make him pop widen when she accomplishes her goal. Simon’s tense muscles deflate at the first sight of tears.

Shit, maybe she was having a bad day. And sure, constantly having to reassure her that he doesn’t want anyone else can grow tiring, but he typically enjoys it. Reassuring her. So what the fuck was that? Simon thinks to himself.

“Take me home,” {{user}} says before he can get a word out.