Work Text:
To say your day isn’t going well is quite the understatement.
First, you slept through your alarm. Then you missed your usual stop on the tube and had to walk the long way to work. During that walk, it started to rain, and you (of course) didn’t have an umbrella. Even work was frustrating, both from your responsibilities and your coworkers.
By the time you drag yourself home, all you want is to crawl into bed and scroll on your phone until you fall asleep.
When you unlock the door to your flat, you’re surprised to hear movement in the kitchen. You freeze, but exhale once you notice Jon’s shoes and laptop bag sitting on the ground (and his spare key on the hook).
“Jon?” You call out, hanging your coat up. His voice responds from the kitchen, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying.
You sigh. Normally you’d be ecstatic to see your boyfriend—well, you still are, but the idea of interacting with another person today just adds to the deep ache that seems to have settled into your bones.
Taking a deep breath, you enter the kitchen.
The question you were preparing to ask dies on your lips when you come face to face with Jon, who is attempting (unsuccessfully) to stand in such a way that hides the mountain of dishes in your sink. Despite this, you can’t bring yourself to be angry because in his hands is a plate of what you instantly recognize as your favorite dish.
You stand there in such a shellshocked daze that you can’t even begin to think of what to say. Thankfully, Jon saves you by talking, as he is prone to do.
“Um, surprise?” He says, shifting from one foot to the other like he might bolt at any second. “Er, it’s not a great surprise by any means, but...I–I knew you were having a bad day so I wanted to do something for you.”
You blink at that. You don’t recall texting him at any point during the day (you usually don’t, he claims there’s bad cell reception in the Archives). “How did you know I was having a bad day?”
He blinks a few times, pausing much longer than what would be considered normal before answering. “I’m–I’m not sure. I could just...tell.”
At this point, you’re too tired to even think about that any further. You take the plate from Jon with a smile. “Thank you.”
He smiles at you for a moment, until his eyes widen in alarm again. “I, um, I—” He gestures behind him to the sink. “Sorry about that. I’ll wash them.”
This actually pulls a laugh out of you, which in turn makes Jon laugh and something in your chest lifts ever so slightly.
(It’s not the best food you’ve eaten by any stretch, but you can’t help but smile to yourself as you watch Jon cleaning up from your spot at the kitchen table.)