Antonio pulled out a sock of his from the washer, and he sort of just stared at it; it was pink.

He'd never bought a pink sock nor had any of his best friends or his boyfriend done so for him or he'd have recalled the moment or at least slightly knew of it.

Once he finished digging out all of the clothes, he noticed that the cause of such a pinkening state happening to his socks was caused by Francis's red throng that he'd worn to bed the other night, and Antonio's face darkened in embarrassment.

He quickly set the clothes in to the dryer and felt the embarrassment creep further, and so he decided to hide this discovery for as long as he could.

His tan fingers hurriedly went about setting their dirty laundry in to the washer and starting both appliances.

Antonio left the laundry room with a worn out blush and new found embarrassment.

Needless to say, he could barely find the words to speak at dinner despite it being one of his favorite meals that Francis had managed to cook: Paella.

Antonio's mind was lost in lala land where he could easily see the red throng and the once white sock nearly frolicking together before they formed the pink sock as their hybrid baby; Antonio blinked.

Normally, his imagination did not get so far away from himself, and he stared straight ahead at Francis who still looked so beautiful and absolutely perfect despite not shaving this morning or the fact that he'd be pink in embarrassment more than likely to know what his red throng had done to Antonio's perfectly good pink sock.

"'Toni? 'Toni?" Francis called out to his longterm boyfriend rather nervously.

"Oh. Did you do the laundry last time?" Antonio tried for a politely disinterested tone, but he'd never been a master at disguising his own emotions when anger seemed too scary on him and joy too bright.

"Oui. Is there a problem with your clothes? Missing underwear, perhaps?" The twinkle in Francis's eyes hinted that the missing underwear wouldn't be a problem.

"My sock is pink." Francis couldn't be the one to blame for his pampered childhood where he never had to learn to operate washers and dryers, could he be?

"How did that happen?" Francis seemed very startled by all of this and almost upset by it.

"You washed it with your red throng." Was all Antonio answered with though the answer got straight to the point of itself rather quickly.

"My throng turned your sock pink?" The absurdity of the situation managed to make Francis laugh.

"Si." Antonio answered his male lover.

Francis's laugh turned louder as the absurdity of the situation finally hit Antonio at that; he joined in the laughter after a beat or two.

If this was the only issue with living with Francis now, he knew that they could overcome it with hard work.

Antonio didn't really mind too much that his socks were now pink which may have been further evidenced when he leaned against Francis on the couch watching the fire in the fireplace heat up the room with his pink socks on his feet that were curled gently and comfortably against his body.