Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
Turning the key to his home, Greg wore a hopeful smile on his face. Opening the door he realized that she wasn't there. The smile fell as he trudged to the bathroom for a shower. He stopped short when he realized the laptop was on. Greg smirked as he closed the laptop, so as to respect her privacy.
There was still steam on the bathroom mirror and the rugs were still wet. She left not too long ago. And from the absence of the dryer on the counter, Greg knew that her hair was wet. He laughed as he turned on the shower water.
For the first time in a long time, Greg was genuinely happy. Not the kind of happy he felt was his duty to the team, the mask of happiness he wore at work. No, Greg was truly happy.
She couldn't believe she left home to pick up some damn ice cream. With her hair wet no less! No matter. What was done is done and now she had a great story about a little boy pointing and staring as she shook like a leaf in the frozen food isle.
Stowing the ice cream in the freezer, she walked down the hall to their bedroom. She grinned evilly when she saw that Greg was sleeping. Laying on his back, mouth slightly open, the poor man had no idea that there was a woman standing over him with a pillow in her hands.
She struck, smothering Greg with the pillow. He woke up almost immediately, as if expecting it. Instead of reaching for her arms or hands, he reached for her ribs and started tickling her. The grip on the pillow slipped and Greg could see her clearly now.
Yep, he thought. Her hair's wet. Greg kept tickling her, her laughter was music to his ears. He pulled her on the bed and tickled her some more.
"Greg, stop please!" She panted. "I can't breathe!"
He stopped, but she kept laughing. Her face was turning red.
"Heather," he said trying to be serious. "I told you not to sneak up on me like that."
She kept giggling as she rolled on her side of the bed.
"You left." Greg mumbled, burying his face in her neck. He didn't mind that it too was wet. "Where did you go?"
"Ice cream."
Greg immediately sat up and looked at her. "What kind?"
A sly grin graced Heather's features. "Cookie dough."
He jumped out of bed. "Why are we laying here and there's ice cream?"
"Greg, come back to bed." Heather said. "That's for when we wake up."
He was conflicted. Cookie dough was Greg's favorite. Maybe I'll sneak some when she's sleeping, he thought.
"Don't even thinking about trying to sneak some." Heather grinned. "You know I'm a light sleeper."
Accepting defeat, Greg crawled back in bed. With arms wrapped around each other, they fell asleep.