Work Text:
You added the final touches–a few more sprinkles of glitter and heart-shaped stickers–and sat back, admiring your work.
Your anniversary with Roy was coming up tomorrow, and you had wondered for a while what to get him. You had considered getting him some new archery tools, but you wouldn’t even know where to start with that. He had already stolen your idea of matching tattoos, which took that off the drawing board completely. While you had been sulking, something caught your eye in your shared apartment.
It was a framed photo of you, Roy, and Lian. You had only been dating a few months at this point, but he insisted early on that he introduce you to his daughter. You were nervous at first that she wouldn’t like you, or that the two of you wouldn’t get along, but you were quickly proven wrong when she practically attached herself to you upon meeting, and hasn’t let go since. The rest is history–you, Roy, and Lian made a perfect adventuring trio in your eyes.
You felt so lucky that he had let you into his life, even more so that he and his daughter had welcomed you in so effortlessly and treated you like you had always been a part of the family. You decided that for your anniversary gift, you wanted to show him how grateful you were.
Fast forward to now, where you were sitting on the floor of you and Roy’s bedroom covered in crafting supplies and exhaustion. You chose the location because Roy had said he was going to be out of the house for a few hours. You had nonchalantly agreed, saying that you had a few errands to run with a friend. This set up your plan perfectly–you had the whole apartment to yourself to work on your gift.
Just as you were adding a few finishing touches, you heard a shout and a loud CLANG from downstairs. Holy shit, you thought, I’m getting robbed!
Panicking, you dove over the bed, reaching underneath it to a locked compartment. You punched in the code, pulling the small handgun out that Roy had insisted you get for when you’re home alone: Just for emergencies, he’d said, so you can defend yourself.
This certainly qualified as an emergency, you figured, as you crept towards the front of the apartment where the noise came from. You would shoot if you had to, but you hoped it didn’t come to that, willing the intruder to run at the sight of the weapon.
Just as you were about to turn the corner and declare yourself, you heard a familiar voice form the kitchen.
“Flour comes before the eggs, dumbass.”
Jason?
As in, your husband’s best friend, Jason?
You lowered the gun hesitantly, turning the corner to see a truly formidable sight: Roy and Jason, covered in flour and powdered sugar, arguing about the order of baking ingredients. A quick sweep of the area showed your kitchen absolutely destroyed, littered with dirty bowls and spatulas, ingredients out on the counter, the fridge door askew.
“What the hell?” you shouted, and the two men turned to see you standing very confused in the hallway with a loaded gun in your hands.
Roy waltzed over and threw his arms around you, “Happy early anniversary, angel.”
You tentatively hugged him back, pulling away to question what was going on.
“We’re making your anniversary gift, of course,” Roy said, as if that explained anything.
“A mess for me to clean?” you quipped.
“No, don’t worry about that, babe, Jason’s gonna clean it up. Right Jay?” That earned a protest from the dark haired man, but your attention was focused on your husband.
“Roy, you can’t cook for shit. You can’t even heat up the dinner I leave for you without burning the whole building down.”
Roy rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I know angel, I just . . . you’re always working so hard for me, and taking care of Lian, and I wanted to take care of you too.”
His words made your heart melt a little. “You don’t have to prove anything, Roy. You go out every day and keep our family–and the city–safe. I already know how much you love and care about me.”
Although he would deny it to hell, his cheeks reddened. “Aw, you’re too sweet, baby . . .”
“Still here, you know!” Jason retorted from within the kitchen.
You laughed, bringing your arms around Roy’s neck.
“Well, since your gift was already revealed, can I show you mine?” you asked.
“Are you my gift? ‘Cause you know I’ll take you right here–” Roy said as he ran his hands along your sides, inching lower.
“No, you creep!” you joked, mostly for Jason’s sanity. “Stay here, I’ll go get it.”
You ran down the hall, grabbing the gift and returning with it hidden behind your back.
“Okay, close your eyes,” you instructed Roy.
When you were satisfied that he wasn’t peaking, you had him hold out his hands and placed the gift in his grasp.
Roy opened his eyes. In his grasp was a large fabric-lined binder, filled to the brim and decorated with glitter glue and heart-shaped sequins. The front cover read Harper Family.
Roy paused.
“Go on, open it,” you prompted, bringing a hand to his bicep to run soothing circles along it.
He brought it to a nearby table, setting it down for easier access. The two of you took a seat, Jason still in the kitchen cleaning up the mess.
For the first time (possibly ever), Roy was rendered speechless. Each page contained photos of moments with the three of you: you and Lian at the park during your first meeting, Roy and Lian at a sushi bar for her birthday, all three of you outside the apartment complex on the day you officially moved into your new home. Every photo sent a rush of memory through him, surging with love and gratitude for his wife and his family.
“Baby, this is . . .” he started. “You’re so thoughtful. This is perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it,” you said. “Lian helped me with the decoration.”
“That little monster was in on this?” he joked. “She’s in for it when she gets out of school tonight.” Of course, this was satire–that girl could do no wrong in her father’s eyes. Every day, he looked at her as if she hung the stars herself.
“She loves you so much, you know. And so do I. We’re lucky to have you,” he said.
“What would you do without me?” you teased.
He looked back at the kitchen, where Jason was currently scraping burnt cake batter off the bottom of the oven. “Probably eat a lot more microwaved food.”
You laughed, leaning in to wrap him in a hug. “Happy anniversary, Roy.”
“Happy anniversary, angel.” You heard a clang from the kitchen, and then a frustrated grunt.
Roy sighed, speaking softly into your hair, “I guess we should go clean up our mess.”
You smiled, pulling away, “You should go clean up your mess, Mr. Harper. I’ve got a kid to pick up from school.”
He sighed, holding onto your hips in a feeble attempt to get you to stay.
“Takeout tonight?” he asked.
“Only if you clean my kitchen.”
“Love you, Mrs. Harper.”
“Love you, Roy.”