A/N: Hi! Oh my goodness, my first story! :O I hope it's alright! Please, read and enjoy.

The Need To Be Perfect

Everyone thought—rather, knew—he was the perfect wife, especially his husband. He never failed to meet this standard of perfection. He was loving and caring, and always welcomed his husband home with a warm smile, loosening his tie and asking him about his day. Then, he'd tell him about what kind of food they would have for dinner as he removed his apron—his favorite one, with little bunnies scattered across it—to hang back on the hook by the stove, for he had finished dinner just moments before his husband, Berwald, had arrived home.

Because he had perfect timing when it came to being a wife.

He was born to be a wife.

He would then call Peter, their adopted son, down to wash up for dinner and set the table. Tino—that was the wife's name, Tino—would make cute little jokes as they ate together, holding hands with his husband under the table like back in high school, when they were dating and being a gay couple in high school was taboo. Then, they all brushed their teeth and washed their faces. They would change into their pajamas—Tino into a night gown, Berwald into pajama pants and a cotton t-shirt. Some nights, they kiss good night and lay in each other's arms until slumber overtakes them. Some nights, they stay up and talk (admittedly Tino doing most of the talking). Some nights, they make love, beautiful and quiet so Peter and Hana, their dog, won't hear or be alarmed. On those nights, Tino would giggle quietly, and when they were done and basking in the afterglow, he'd kiss Berwald's nose and whisper his love to him, sleep heavy in his voice.

He was, in fact, the perfect wife.

Of course, when you're consistently compared to perfection, and you fail to meet it, things suddenly fall apart.

It was an evening like any other—Tino had dinner in the oven by 4:00 pm, and was now ironing Berwald's shirts. Peter was at a friend's house for the night; it would be just the two at the table for dinner this night.

At 4:45, he turned off the oven, the leftover heat keeping it warm until his husband arrived home. On this night, Tino adorned a large, off-white sweater and blue jeans. His feet were bare. He hummed to himself all the way back to the living room, where he was still ironing clothes. Tino was usually a very good multitasker, so he let his mind wander as he ironed. His thoughts went to Berwald—their first date, wine spilling on the white tablecloth and Berwald's favorite turtleneck, their first time together, nervous fingers sliding under waistbands and across smooth and rough skin, Berwald's proposal, stuttering more than usual with shaky hands and wracking knees, Tino accepting with tiny gasps and tackling hugs—

Tino squeaked quietly. Wetness at his toes brought him out of his daydreaming. He checked on the ironing, before looking below the board. Hana was on the floor, licking at his bare toes. He giggled, picking her up.

Keys jingled against the doorknob, the locks tumbling and giving way to the key inside of them, revealing a towering Swede. Tino smiled to himself, setting his tiny dog on the ground and leaving his iron station to hug his husband.

Berwald returned the small embrace happily, though his face rarely showed it.

"Missed ya, Tino."

"I missed you, too. All I did was think about you," Tino quipped, smiling.

"Thought about ya, too. Nonstop."

He giggled, "I hope you had a nice day."

"Now that I'm with you, it will be." Berwald's arms lowered to his waist, and he kissed the top of his head.

"Berwald…" Tino blushed a rosy pink across the bridge of his nose, "You're so sweet."

"'S true. Jag alskar dig, ma wife." He kissed his forehead this time, followed by his cheek.

"Jag alskar dig ocksa." Tino snuck a kiss on his jaw, before their lips met.

Berwald's kiss was surprisingly tender and deep. His warm, rough hands caressed his sides and face incredibly gently, making him grow warm. He felt his wife's demeanor change, deepening the kiss even further by slipping his tongue past Tino's two rose petal lips. Tino responded with his own tongue, and they wrestled back and forth, Berwald eventually, and obviously, winning. This did not stop Tino from playfully nipping at the taller man's lower lip and giggling playfully against the kiss as he was lifted into his husband's strong arms. Their evening greetings did not usually escalate this far.

"Berwald, what's gotten into yo-"

His sentence was cut off by a low hissing sound, followed by a sniff from his husband.

"What's that smell?" He mumbled, setting his wife down.

"What smell?" He sniffed the air as well, turning around and finally seeing the source of the worsening odor. The iron, which he had accidentally left unattended, was burning a gaping, iron-shaped hole through the white button-up, a patch of desecrated, fabric lay under the iron.

"Oh! The iron!" He ran to remove the burning hot metal from the fabrics. Tino switched off the iron through the smoke, and hurried to unplug it, yanking the cord in his haste. This caused the iron to fall off the ironing board and onto Berwald, marring the skin on his right arm and making it a dark pink.

The large man flinched at the impact. He was not a weak man, nor was he unaccustomed to pain. But, those were mostly cuts and stabs. Burns were a different story, and a different kind of pain. The lingering kind that got worse as time progress. The skin on his arm was welting and blistering.

"B-Berwald! Oh, my god, are you okay? Of course you're not okay, let me run some water on it! Oh, I'm so, so sorry, Berwald, I'll get your arm wrapped up and better right away, I'm so, so very sorry!" The younger was rambling out apologies and scrambling around the living room, trying to find the composure to drag Berwald into the kitchen to heal his wound. Berwald, calm as ever, was just trying to calm his wife down, telling him repeatedly that he was fine.

Eventually, of course, they made their way to the kitchen. Tino had just begun running water over the arm when the fire alarm began a shrill beeping. The room began to fill with a dark, opaque smoke, which they had somehow missed with the distraction of Berwald's burnt arm. Tino shrieked, leaving his present task to obtain two potholders—that matched the apron, though that was irrelevant at the time—and open the oven door, only adding to the thickness of the grey clouds. He removed the roast and dropped it on the stovetop; his eyes watered with smoke-exposure and frustration. The Fin began coughing violently.

Berwald, with his high tolerance for pain, put it aside to open the window and turn on the ceiling fan to air out the kitchen. Just as he turned toward his wife, he threw off the potholders in a fluster, knocking over a thick glass in the process. It shattered loudly upon hitting the tile floor and frightened Tino, who still stood on bare feet and was afraid he would step on glass if he moved. He was frozen in the middle of the kitchen floor, trapped in a vortex of strangling smoke and jagged glass. The shrill fire alarm still beeped and the open oven only created a thicker shroud of grey throughout the room. Tino—a small, timid soul who had a fear of such loud noises—was completely terrified.

"B-B-Berwald?"

Tino was swept up into strong arms and quickly carried out of the kitchen and into the living room. He was petrified, shaking and taking shelter against Berwald's chest.

"I-I'm sorry, Berwald…"

"Don't b'sorry, wife."

"But…" He quivered, his body wracking with sobs, "I-I am… I'm so sorry, Berwald… Y-you haven't even been home for five minutes, and look at all of the things I did wrong! I can't even welcome home my own husband right! I-I didn't mean to burn you, o-or burn the shirt or ruin dinner or break the glass! I'm so very sorry… I'm such a horrible wife. I'll try better next time… Just-just don't leave, or be upset. I'll clean everything up. I'll be a better wife, I swear." He cried against him, heartbreaking noises escaping his throat.

The Scandinavian still held the smaller blonde and stood in confusion. "Ya didn't ruin nothin', Tino. I just didn't want ya to get hurt."

"You… you're not mad?"

"'Course not, wife."

"But… I burned you. I burned dinner. That's never happened before! None of this has! I-I don't know what to do, Berwald. I-I.. I need to be perfect for you, or else you might leave and find someone who can take better care of you. I try to be so very perfect for you, but I can't, and I'm sorry…" He apologized for the umpteenth time and sobbed more, tiny fingers curling against the tear-stained dress shirt before him.

Berwald's head was spinning. He set Tino down on the couch and smoothed back his hair, careful of his throbbing burn. It took the backburner for his love. This was a rare moment, in which Berwald actually needed to speak. "Tino… Calm down, Tino. I never asked for perfect. All I ask for is you. But, I get perfect if I have ya. Because even if ya make mistakes, you're still ma perfect wife."

"I'm really not, though. I wish I could be more for you…" His head was down, tears dropping on his sweater.

"Ya already so much. I love ya, no matter how ya are."

Tino sniffled, obviously calmer now, "I'm still a bad wife, though…"

"No, ya not. You're the best wife anyone could ask for." Berwald nuzzled into his soft hair, kissing the top of his head.

A few more tears ran down his cheeks and he sniffed once more, "…Really?"

"Really. I love ya. So much. No matter what ya do."

"Thank you, Berwald. I love you too. I'm sorry I freaked out," He smiled shakily with cheeks tracked with pink tear trails.

"Stop apologizin', wife. 'S no problem. Nothin' bad happened. 'S all fine."

"But, it was your favorite shirt…"

"I got dozens of shirts. We got plenty of glasses. We can cook somethin' else for dinner." He kissed his lips lovingly. "'S only one you."

He gave a genuine smile this time, sitting up and hugging him. "Thank you, Berwald. I'm still sorry, though. Mostly for hurting your- oh! Your arm! I almost forgot about your arm!" Tino got up, leading Berwald to the bathroom and washing his burn with cold water. He put burn ointment on it and wrapped it in a large arm bandage.

The larger blonde kissed his nurse's cheek. "Thank you, ma wife. I'll be alright, don't ya worry."

He laughed quietly as he put away the first aid kit. "It's my job to worry."

"Why's that?"

"Because I love you. I'm a wife and a mother. I worry about the people and things I love. I care about them enough to worry."

"I love ya too. You're an amazin' wife."

"You're an amazing husband."

"I don't do nothin' special."

"Well, neither do I, but I'm still amazing to you." He giggled and replaced the first aid kit in its rightful place.

"Ya run a family."

"You provide for it."

Berwald shrugged, "It's ma duty. To care for ya, and protect ya."

Tino booped his nose and giggled, "It's my duty to do my job, too, silly."

"You're so beautiful." He kissed him lightly, catching him off-guard.

"You changed the subject..." Color flooded his cheeks and he looked away shyly.

"I can't help it. Ya are."

"Thank you. I think I need to clean up the house, now that it's all aired out." They soon exited the bathroom.

"Let me help ya. I'll sweep the glass."

"You don't have to, love. I'll put on shoes."

He gave him an authoritative look of disapproval.

"Berwald, really. I'm the one who dropped the glass."

He sighed, going to get the broom and dustpan.

"Berwaaaald. I said its fine!" He followed after him, his small legs trying to keep up with his long strides.

The tall man turned around at the entrance of the kitchen, broom in hand, and dipped Tino into a kiss. "So cute." He brought him back up, directing him into the living room with a light hand. He began to sweep, smiling to himself.

Tino, flustered and light-headed, giggled and went back to business. He slipped on some shoes and threw away the ruined shirt. He then cleaned off the iron and ironing board as well as he could, putting both of them away. The roast was stripped of its burnt skin, actually salvageable. Tino was currently in the kitchen (free of shattered glass), trying his best to make dinner as appetizing as possible. Two strong arms circled around his small waist, and a chin propped up on top of Tino's head.

Tino tilted his head back and smiled as he tried to see his husband. "Hi there."

"Hey," he mumbled into his wife's neck, kissing at the soft flesh.

Said wife hummed contently, barely craning his neck, eyes fluttering closed. "Feels good."

Berwald continued the line of kisses all the way down to his shoulder, stretching out the neck of the sweater just a tad. Tino gave several tiny, sweet-sounding moans, his face flushed with shy embarrassment at the noises his husband could draw out of him.

"Like it?"

"Yes, of course I do… You know…Peter's at a friend's for the night." He turned in his arms, kissing his jaw.

"Yeah?" He wound his arm tighter around his midsection.

"Mhm. And you know what?"

"Hm?"

He got on his tiptoes and whispered near his ear, punctuated by a moan.

"I want to show you how good of a wife I can be."

A/N: Yeah... No smut just yet. Rater T, just to be safe. And, to anyone who thinks all this bad stuff doesn't happen in succession like this: THINK AGAIN. This entire scenario almost EXACTLY happened to me in about five minutes. So, yeah. When it rains, it pours.

Thank you so much for reading! Please review, if you'd please. c: