tequila ; s. paulson one - shots

chore day (a. mayfair - richards)

"Ally? Can you help me, please?" you called, struggling to keep your balance underneath the large pile of bedcovers you were holding.

"Honey? What are you doing?" opening the door to your bedroom, she took half the pile from your hands and placed it on the dresser, "Is it that day already?"

"Yup, now help me remove the bedsheets."

Switching on your speaker, you started playing some of your favorite music and went over to your wife, who was tugging off the sheets from your bed, folding it neatly and piling it on the floor.

"So, what were you doing before I called you?" you asked Ally, folding the pillowcases you had just stripped off, "You don't really seem to enjoy this."

Rolling her eyes, she took the disinfecting spray and started spritzing the mattress and pillows, "I was reading a book in the living room, and it's not that I don't enjoy doing chores with you, I'm just lazy."

"Of course you are, now hand me the bedsheet," you replied, lifting up one corner of the mattress and resting it on your leg.

"Why do you enjoy housework so much?" slipping the bedsheet on one corner of the bed, Ally tugged on it  until it was stretched out across the mattress, "I can't drag you out of bed on any other day, and yet on chore day, you're literally just 'we need to do this whether you like it or not'."

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you replied, "Because, Allyson, we need to do this, whether you like it or not. Now can you arrange the pillows while I load the sheets in the washing machine?"

"Not like I have a choice, do I?"

"No, you don't," you answered, sashaying out of the room with a dramatic hair flip, "You married me, after all."

"I never said I regretted it!" she called out to your retreating figure, making you laugh softly.

Whistling to the tune that was playing in your bedroom, you loaded in the bedcovers and the detergent, making sure it was safely closed, when you felt arms around your waist, "I finished the bedsheets, and I mopped the floor in the room."

"Good job, love," you replied, kissing her lightly on the forehead, "Now, I'm going to go shower so we can fix the clean clothes later."

"And you're going to make me shower too, aren't you?" pouting, she looked at you with her gorgeous brown eyes, "Don't use your puppy eyes on me, Allyson. Not going to work. You're going to take a shower and help me with the clothes, so we can finish early."

With a roll of her eyes, she gave you one last kiss, whining, "Fine. But hurry up, I'm hungry already."

"Aren't you always, though," you answered, walking to the bathroom.

"Yeah, I am, but still."

"Of course."

★★★

Drying your damp hair, you pulled on some clean clothes and went to tell your wife to shower, only to find her sitting on the couch playing Piano Tiles.

"Hey, Ally, bathroom's free," you said, leaning against the back of the sofa, but getting no response, you tried again, "Ally? Are you there?"

"Shhhh," she hissed, "Almost done."

"I'm going to fucking call your phone if you don't go shower now," you retorted, planting your hands on your waist, not that she was looking anyway.

"Crap," Ally swore as her finger slipped and missed a single tile, "Okay, okay, gonna go now."

As she was leaving to shower, you called out, "Love you, Ally!"

"I know!"

★★★

"Okay, I'm done, what do I do now?" the older woman asked, as you were folding a white shirt on your clean bed.

"Fold, duh," you gestured to the laundry basket filled with clothes, "Sit here with me."

Prior to dating you, Ally had always just hung up all her clothes and threw the other articles in a drawer carelessly, but when she invited you to stay the night for the first time, you had seen her storage and immediately started folding the ones in the drawers neatly.

On her part, she had felt very embarrassed, so she asked you to teach her how you stored your clothes, and your first sleepover had been spent folding shirts and underwear. It had been one of the many reasons she had started falling in love with you, your shamelessness in correcting what you knew was wrong.

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence, listening to the music playing, as you piled up the clothes neatly and she stored them in the drawers.

"Yes! Finally!" you exclaimed after folding the last piece of clothing, "Now I can relax for another week."

"Now can we eat?" Ally asked, lying on top of you, head on your chest, "I'm still hungry."

"Okay, okay, can you pull me up?" with a groan, you forced yourself out of the comfortable position you were in, allowing yourself to be pulled into her arms, where both of you stayed for a while.

As if trying to end the soft moment, she mumbled, "I think there's still some noodles in the fridge," against your neck, which made you roll your eyes and drag her by the wrist to the kitchen.

You plopped yourself down on the chair in front of the counter, as your wife started microwaving the leftovers from last night's dinner, "So, do you feel like playing cards with me tonight?"

"Why would I do that, you literally beat me every single time," she complained, setting two plates on the countertop, "Can't we just play Monopoly or something?"

"Nope, you got to pick the game last week, it's my turn, Ally," you grinned at the brunette, who was scooping noodles and putting them on the plates.

It had become an informal routine for the two of you to play a game every chore day, which was almost always a Saturday. Movie nights were on Fridays, when you would catch up on the things you hadn't been able to watch during the week.

"Fine," she groaned, sitting next to you and stuffing a forkful of food into her mouth, "I just suck at card games."

"I suck at Monopoly, we're even."

"Not for long, get ready to get your ass whooped in Uno tonight!"

"Best of 5 games?"

"You're on."

wc : 1056