Summary: There is nothing he likes more than going back home.
Based on the prompt: Choices August Challenge Day Thirty – Marshmallows
Logan closes the door to his loft, puts his car keys on the counter, places his jacket on the wall hanger, kicks off his boots and slumps on the couch completely spent. It’s a bit late and he’s tired. He isn’t entirely sure if he ever felt this tired before and he would sleep right on the couch if he could. But he knows he will feel better once he has a shower and puts on clean clothes. So he gets up and undresses on his way to the bathroom, throwing his dirty jeans, shirt, and boxers aimlessly on the floor.
The warm tap water cascades all over his body as he massages the soap bar on his torso, the combination of the fresh smell filling his lungs, soothing him. He smiles to himself. He never cared much about which smell of soap would help him relax after a long day of work. The simple idea that a bar of soap could do anything other than clean his body was absurd to him until her. She came into his life, with her bubbly laughter, her intelligence, her kindness, bringing tranquility to his frantic routine, much like the floral aroma of the soaps she buys for him to use.
He gets out of the shower, dries off quickly then goes back to his room when another comforting smell takes over his senses. He could almost see her, dressed in her blue and white PJs and flip flops with her hair tied in a messy bun, humming some cheesy pop song while she melts a dark chocolate bar and waits for the lightly sweetened milk to almost start boiling so she can mix them together and add a pinch of cinnamon. He has seen her follow the recipe more than enough to remember it, but he always pretends he doesn’t know which temperature the milk should be to make the perfect hot cocoa. He prefers when she does it because he knows her hot cocoa is much better than his.
He chooses some clean sweatpants and gets dressed, then picks up his scattered clothes, puts them in the hamper when he senses another sweet smell coming from the kitchen. His smile grows bigger. He has no idea of how she does that, but even when she’s not in the same room he is, she has a way to make him feel more at home than he has ever felt anywhere before.
Unable to wait any longer, he leaves the room and heads downstairs, towards the kitchen. He leans on the threshold and sighs contently. On the table, he sees two mugs of hot cocoa, a kettle with more cocoa, a bowl with more marshmallows to add later and a vase with pink gerberas in the middle. He walks in slowly, encircles his arms around her waist and nuzzles her shoulder and neck while she finishes preparing the grilled cheese.
As she squeals in surprise, he chuckles.
“Why do you always do that?” Carla slaps his hand.
“Because you’re adorable when you’re distracted and you always make a funny little whimper when you’re surprised,” he says, brushing his stubble on her neck. “And I love making this cute angry face go away with like this.” He kisses her neck incessantly until she’s smiling.
“Enough. We can’t keep eating burnt sandwiches,” she commands but fails to hide a grin. “Go sit over there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he gives her one last kiss on her cheek and takes a seat on the bench by the table, waiting for her to finish.
A couple of minutes later, she turns to him with a plate with grilled cheese and sits on the bench across him. She purses her lips as he grins. “You can stop pretending you didn’t drink both of our mugs,” she says, putting marshmallows on their mugs as she pours the hot cocoa.
“Sorry. It’s too good to let it get cold,” he plasters his best smile to her.
She simply shakes her head and they have their peaceful meal before doing the dishes and going to bed.
