𝚆𝚎𝚊𝚔//ᴍᴏʙʟɪᴛ ʙᴇʀɴᴇʀ

3. Friday

You roughly pushed the material over the scrub board, doing your damndest to rid of the dark streak that went across the back of your husband's favourite button up -completely aware of the fact that he was due to be home at any moment, if his schedule hadn't been botched by the brown-haired squad leader he worked with nearly everyday, 'I really hope he's able to make it in time today,' you couldn't help but optimistically think to yourself, 'Today is Friday, it'd suck if he had to work overtime.'

And yet, despite your inner wishes, you knew very well that the time he arrived back home wasn't always up for him to decide; not completely, anyways.

You yourself had gotten home not too long ago from your day shift at the bar, the place being slightly busier than it would've been had it been in the middle of the week -and even then, it still wasn't that congested, not as badly as you knew it would be later on in the night.

The water partially splashed onto you, staining your clothes in a cool damp and soaking your sleeves, 'I can wash these later, I just need to get this stain out for him -the best I can, at least.'

Biting your lip in determination, you knit your (E/C) brows together as you felt the small vibrations the force behind each push and pull from you produced; watered ripples sloshing against the edges of the sturdy wooden tub and spilling onto the stone floor where both you and Moblit often cleaned your clothes -sometimes together, other times when the other was busy.

Pulling the fabric away from the liquid to see how much progress you've made, you couldn't stop the upwards lift your lips gained as you noted that the mark had lightened up considerably -and never once in your life had you been so thankful for your partner's shirt to have been so dark, 'It's almost not even noticeable at this point! Even if I can't get anymore of it out, with him also wearing his Survey Corps jacket that'll partially cover it, I'm sure that no one would really notice it!'

"⁽ʸ/ᴺ⁾" you heard a familiar voice suddenly call out, a small concern able to be heard in the tone as you strained your ears to tell you where the sound had come from, "ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ?"

"Mob, I'm over here!" you called out, soon hearing footsteps making their way towards you from not too far off with the male that you had called out to peeping into view, "Honey, look!" you exclaimed brightly, turning the backside of the cloth towards him so then he could see what you had done to his shirt, "It's almost gone!"

The man was wearing a shite shirt in place of the typical, old navy one -a change that looked odd to you, given that he was still donning his assigned jacket, 'I suppose that I'm just so used to seeing him in his darker shirt.' you supposed.

At first he blinked at it, having to take a moment to process what you had said before his hands gripped onto the material -taking it into his own palms as you let go to allow for him to observe your accomplishment himself, "I... How?" he asked incredulously, lowering his voice as he continued in disbelief, "ᴴᵃⁿᵍᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ˢᵖⁱˡˡᵉᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵇᵘᵐᵖᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˢʰⁱʳᵗ..."

When his sweetened, caramel hues poured into yours, you couldn't do anything to prevent the way your heart palpitated quicker, adoring the sparkle that they had gained when he loosened his hold and dropped the fabric back into the basin -hugging you tightly to his chest as he hugged you securely, not paying any attention to the way that the clothes that he was currently wearing were starting to become drenched in the water that you had covered yourself in trying to clean the cloth.

You had all been so close together, a happy family at peace on a beautiful afternoon.

Friday he had been so grateful for what you had done for him.

Ughhhhhhhh today's not friday but a mean wednesdayyyyyyyyyyyyy