A/N: Okay, so I was out for the weekend from Thursday to Sunday so I missed that day. No Wednesday posting was sheer laziness on my behalf.

As reparations, have this chapter that I totally didn't just pull out of my butt and definitely didn't ignore all of my requests for! Vague-natured motivations are the bomb, if you ask me. I want you guys to think more.

"Babe," Andy walks forward, a package in his hand approaching the pouting, angry-looking shape of his wife. Well, maybe not her shape. Then again, a lot of her is angry.

"What?" she bites back instantly.

As it turns out, work had been hell and April just wanted to relax. Andy thought that meant with him, but she brushed past him in a mild fury that sent him, sadly, away. He wasn't unused to being rebuffed when April was especially angry, but every time it made him sad. April usually made up with him later, but he always wonders. He's not as stupid as people seem to think, though he kinda is sometimes, so he knows stuff that bothers her really gets to her and burns her up.

"Oh, I, um, thought you were kinda angry and stuff so I got you something," he presented her a neatly wrapped package after talking, looking away from her and then back with a grin on his face.

"Andy-"

"I know, I know," he mutters. "You said it wasn't about buying you stuff but you seemed super upset and y'know, that thing we talked about-"

"And?" she interrupts, eager to stop him from talking about something that was clearly a struggle to think about, and something that he was struggling to deal with too. Together they'd figure it out, though.

"And, I figured you'd want me to do something," Andy smiles. "C'mon, open your presents!"

The thing is that Andy notices small changes, like these subtle shifts in people's moods. He's always been super good at that, and April is no exception. She's probably even more on his radar than anyone else, but the point is that Andy sees a weaker smile and a dimmer look at him. At first, the one, tiny sliver of his mind that bothered thinking about sad things went to a disastrously morbid corner, assuming she was done with him but that isn't it. At least, Andy hopes it isn't.

What it probably has to do with her sitting around in pajamas more often than was already normal (just about to the last second of going in to work and all day after to "accidentally" forgetting to change halfway through the drive to work) and she just sort of existed around him and didn't seem at all happy with something.

"Is this-?"

"Y'know, I can do some of that stuff," Andy scratches the back of his neck. Then he clears his throat and speaks in what he thinks sounds forceful but probably came out confused, "Open that."

April's eyes lit up for the first time in days and she peels back the paper slowly. By the time she reveals the two, floral and crazily patterned skirts her face shifts from excitement to confusion and then, finally, a dour grimace.

"You bought me clothes?" she asks with a chuckle, unfolding the bluish-green skirt with half of it covered in a bold, literal flower, a sickly shade of green for some reason, in the fabric.

"I mean, I said I wanna treat you like a queen and I got a paycheck and-"

"Andy, you don't need to do any of this," she murmurs.

"You are so bummed out," he answers back with a sigh, "and I dunno. You could, like, wear 'em?"

April smirks, and holds them up again. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, you'll wear 'em," he tells her this time. April's face clearly shifts to a slight amusement and a tiny thing of a smirk at his sudden change in his tone, and Andy realizes how easily it comes out of him. "That was good, right? Do I need to-?"

"No, it's a good first try," she smiles weakly and walks over to him. Leaning up on her toes, April gives him a peck on the lips and turns around to go to their bedroom.

The next day, April seems so happy wearing that hideous skirt and doesn't say a word about any of it to people because, really, what are they going to ask her?

Andy thinks he's done something right, but he has no idea. This is all so new to him that all he does is sigh, pick up the notepad labeled Ideas for April and bites his cheek because, for the life of him, he can't remember where he put that pencil. It takes him about forty minutes to realize it was in his pocket the whole time and, by then, the lunch hour is over. Likewise, April's been back and that gleam in her eyes tells him that he did do something right.

Not that he expects this to solve everything - hell, he doesn't get how this helps her but he's going to try until he does - but it's, like she said, a good start.