barty never considered he’d like weird, let alone marry it, but here he was anyways.

leaning against the kitchen island, watching you fret about something you’ve forgotten, but couldn’t remember what you had forgotten, while waving around a spatula covered in brownie batter, a smile pulled at his lips. you were truly endearing, and a bit of mess too, and he loved you for it.

“you sure you haven’t already done what you’ve forgotten?” he asks, reaching out to grab your wrist and remove the spatula from your hand. (it was starting to flick pieces of batter over the counters he had just cleaned.)

“if i had already done it, i would’ve remembered it,” you shook your head, rolling your eyes. “idiot..”

barty chuckled at that.

then, a rather loud gasp erupted from you. “oh, i’ve forgot! how could i forget?!” you exclaimed, beginning to rush out of the kitchen.

“right,” he sighed, “what is it now?”

reaching the hall adjoining the front door, he watched you sort through the pile of unopened mail.

“okay, come on,” he murmured, dragging you up by your arms. “we’re focusing on three things at once, and our forgotten conversation about Mozart’s sister.”