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Phil expected an empty home as he passed the threshold to his apartment. He was greeted with a warm, sweet smell drifting in from the kitchen instead. The agent relished in it quietly before setting his keys down, making his way toward his welcome intruder.
"Sugar cookies means you’re mad." Phil noted, leaning himself against the kitchen archway.
Jasper ignored him for a few moments. It was true— Jasper roughly kneaded the dough to another batch as the cookies baked in the oven. It was a mindless task. Phil liked to watch Jasper cut clean, precise circles into the flattened results.
"Wrong." Denied the other handler.
"You’re not mad?"
The dough slaps onto the counter one last time as Jasper dusts off his hands. His back remained turned. “Not for the reason you've assumed. —And the cookies aren’t exclusively tied to anger.”
Phil uncrossed his arms and pocketed them instead. “No, I don’t suppose so.” He thought it over as he made his way to Jasper, pausing just behind him. “They’re also tied to the occasional bout of worry and stress… Add our earlier debate to the equation and…?”
Jasper threw a calculative glare over his shoulder. “A debate. That wasn’t a debate. That was me reminding you you’re a moron.”
"The biggest."
"You’ve been commanding officer of that plane for all of a week."
"More or less."
"You’re in Peru for less than a day and you run into her.”
"That became an issue, yes."
"—And now you’re standing behind me, convinced I’m cross because of one, singular mission."
Phil fell silent, watching Jasper’s arm begin to move over the flour-dusted counter once again. No, Phil wasn’t convinced that was the entire reason.
Jasper sighed as he felt the press of a chest to his back, a pair of hands on his hips.
"…It’s all of them." Phil noted softly.
"Your team’s current success rate is still indeterminable. But it doesn’t stop your rate of absence from skyrocketing over the next three months, and possibly doubling by the end of the year—”
"You need to stop running numbers." Phil murmured against the techie’s neck. He received a huff in return. The agent curled his arms around Jasper’s waist, placing a kiss just under his jawline. He ventured down and mouthed further, coaxing a small but still-irritated hum from his partner.
"I apologize for misinterpreting you this morning." Phil tried.
Jasper spares him a small, unseen smile. “What am I going to do? Keep you out of the field?” He wiped his hands on a towel, resting his hands over Phil’s. "I know it’s what you need."