A/N - This chapter was semi-inspired by the song Hate That I Love You by Rihanna Ft Ne-yo. In my head, both reader and Billy grew up in yelling households, and now reader gets all nervous thinking that Billy is going to yell at her when she does something wrong (because, let's face it, that would probably be his instinct). I hope you all enjoy it.
"I have something to tell you, but you have to promise you aren't going to be mad at me," you started quietly, hovering awkwardly in the doorway of your living room, causing your boyfriends head to pop up from the couch, his eyes landing on you, his brow furrowed at your choice of conversation starters.
"Why would I be mad at you?" he hummed, shoving himself up into a sitting position, his attention fully focused on you as he reached for the remote to turn off the TV. "What happened?"
You hesitated for a moment, shifting awkwardly on the spot. "Just promise me," you uttered again, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "Please, Billy," you added, your voice so soft that it practically melted his heart.
"I promise I won't be mad," he finally told you, watching as you approached slowly, your hands still behind your back.
"I swear I didn't do it on purpose," you started again, sniffling in an attempt to hide the fact that you'd obviously been crying before coming to confess. "It was an accident," you pressed on, coming to stand between Billy's knees when he sat on the couch.
Billy hummed softly, his hands lifting to rest on your hips for a second. "What happened?"
"I thought I'd checked the washer," you breathed out, your head tilting back, eyes focused on the ceiling. "I always check for any stragglers before putting anything else in."
His brow furrowed slightly. "Are you talking about laundry?" he uttered, and the look of confusion on his face when you glanced down at him was enough to make you forget about why you were so upset for just a second.
"I'm normally so careful, especially when I'm doing your stuff too, but-" your voice trailed off, another soft sniffle slipping out of you. "Someone must've left a sock or something in the drum, and-" you paused again, finally bringing your hands out from behind your back, revealing his shirt. The shirt that he loved. The one he wore on almost every date night the two of you went on. Except now, it was a patchy baby pink, tainted by a stray red sock. "I'm really sorry, Billy," you added, watching as his hand left your hip to reach for the shirt, still completely silent.
"Baby," he breathed softly, unravelling the shirt slightly, eyes wandering over the uneven staining. "It's a shirt," he reminded you quietly, dropping it into his lap so that he could have both of his hands on you again, his palms splayed out over your hips. "It was from JCPenney's; I can get another next time we go to the mall," he added, pulling you down so that you were sitting in his lap, drawing a soft yelp out of you.
"But, it's your favourite-"
"It's a shirt," he repeated, cutting you off slightly. "I promise I'm not mad, baby," he added softly, his hand lifting to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing at the tears lingering on your lash line. "It was an accident."
You nodded slightly, leaning into his palm with a soft sigh. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," he reminded you quietly, pulling you down to press a kiss to your forehead before dragging you into a tight hug. "What happened to the rest of the clothes?"
You shrugged lightly. "The rest was mine," you confessed quietly, your head resting on his shoulder. "I'm going to be rocking a lot of baby pink for a while," you hummed, drawing a snort of laughter at him.
"Well, aren't you going to look just darling," he teased lightly, his grip on you tightening for just a moment. "Pretty as a damn princess, all head to toe in pink," he added, listening intently for the giggle that slipped from your lips. "Bet you're still going to look hot as all hell," he added, his voice a little more serious. "Always so pretty."
You let out a soft sigh, your breath tickling his jaw as you sat back up, looking down at him intently. "Thank you for not being mad at me," you told him, watching as a small smile crept onto his lips.
"Oh, Sweetheart, even if I was mad, I doubt it would last long," he hummed. "It's pretty hard to stay mad at you, Baby."
"Yeah?" you asked quietly.
"Yeah, you do that little pout and it's like I melt. How am I supposed to be upset when you look so cute when you feel guilty about something?"
A proper chuckle slipped out of you then, shaking your head in frustration. "You're an idiot," you murmured.
"No, I'm just madly in love with you, Baby," he confessed. "I don't think I can take all the blame for that one," he added softly, reaching up to draw you down into a proper kiss.
"Love you too, Bill," you breathed against his lips, grinning from ear to ear.
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