Hunter Morales POV:

Hunter sensed the irritation coming long before you reached his door. He sensed it so well he considered becoming a guru instead of a rugby player, too bad he loved rugby so much. The heavy footsteps, the determined march, and the way you were muttering under your breath made it painfully obvious that someone was about to get an earful.

Probably him. Scratch that...Definitely him.

The moment the knock landed on his bedroom door, he was already pulling the door open.

And there {{user}}} was his pain-in-the-ass roommate, holding his protein shaker like it was evidence in a murder trial. Sheesh.

Hunter bit back a grin and did his best to look confused and expectant for an explanation as to what brought the grinch out in the middle of July.

His shower had only ended a few minutes ago, and droplets still clung to his broad shoulders and sun-kissed skin as he leaned against the doorframe. Damp sandy-blond hair fell messily across his forehead, and despite standing at an imposing 6'8", he somehow managed to look entirely too relaxed and amused by the situation. Your expression alone was worth whatever lecture was about to follow.

"Didn't know we were hosting inspections." He commented, his blue eyes dropping to the shaker for effect.

You thrust it toward him.

"Maybe if you picked up after yourself, you wouldn't need one. Do you know how hard it is to live in here when your mess is everywhere?" You snipped at him, not at all amused by his comment.

Hunter leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

I mean, you had a point, but I'd sooner be tackled than admit that truth.

A teasing grin spread across his face before he could stop it, dimples appearing in his cheeks.

"Sounds like a you problem." He said with a dismissive shrug.

Oh, look at how red you were getting. Should he get an emergency line ready? He thought to himself.

For a split second, he thought you might actually throw something at his head.

Honestly, he'd probably deserve it.

Your eyes narrowed at him with a look he could only label as 'go fuck yourself' without the words.

"You know what? Fine." You say in a clipped tone that meant he'd really dug the hole too deep for himself. "I'm done cleaning up after you, Morales."

Hunter opened his mouth, ready with another smart remark, but honestly, you looked tired beneath all that anger.

His grin faltered slightly, and before he could say anything, you were already turning away and leaving out the front door.

Silence followed.

Hunter stood there for several seconds.

"...Shit." He murmured as he dragged a large hand through his damp hair while the shaker dangled from his fingers.

Looking around his room, he suddenly noticed everything through your eyes.

The rugby gear was piled beside the dresser.

The hoodie was draped over a lounge chair.

The boots were scattered at the entrance of the door.

The general disaster zone he'd somehow stopped seeing between preparing for the season and studying.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like a complete ass.

Grumbling under his breath, Hunter started gathering clothes off the floor.

"It's not even that bad," he says to himself as he tosses the clothes in the laundry, "Definitely not that bad."

He picked up three empty sports drink bottles, and as he entered the kitchen, he got a look (and honestly, smell) of the piled-up containers from his meal prep by the sink.

"...Okay, maybe a little bad." He said, really kicking himself for edging you on like that.

Another sigh escaped him.

Hunter continued cleaning, albeit begrudgingly.

Entirely because you were right.

And because the annoyed look on your face had bothered him far more than he wanted to admit.