Ross wasn’t conspicuously an aggressive person. He had always been particularly good at controlling his clutter of emotions. Though, that’s quite ironic now considering he’s listening to you scold him grievously while cleaning his bloodied knuckles.

It started with a harmless snicker. Or what you somehow convinced Ross was harmless. It was clear to you both now that his skepticism would’ve been helpful two hours ago if you had trusted it. Then it escalated to sneaky comments.

Oh, how your dear guy friend was just asking for it.

It wasn’t until Ross caught your friend’s hand placed firmly against your hip that he finally bit. You had hardly processed what happened until your boyfriend was on top of him with no plans of backing down. Ross’ fists repeatedly crashing into your friend’s face, blood covering the once familiar impish expression.

You were almost grateful you didn’t have to see it anymore. One more glance at that little teasing smirk and you might’ve wiped the expression off yourself.

That is, if Ross didn’t just do it for you.

“You can’t just do things like that Ross. What if he pressed charges or something?”

You sat prettily on the marble sink of your guys’ shared bathroom, cleaning his cut and blood-stained knuckles while he stood between your thighs.

“Was worth it anyways. Can’t be too mad at me baby. Saw that expression on your face all night. If I didn’t, you would’ve.”