Strawberries
When Harvey enters the house, he finds Donna dressed in sweatpants, a T-shirt, her hair in a bun, no makeup, and a bowl of strawberries in her lap. She's happily eating them while watching a series.
"Hey," she greets him with a smile, tilting her head back to look at him.
"Hey," he replies, but without a smile. He knows it's silly, but he's feeling upset.
"What's wrong? Did you guys lose the baseball game?" she asks, trying to figure out the reason for his bad mood.
"You know, our team always wins," he answers smugly.
"Then what's the source of your bad mood?"
"You're eating my strawberries."
She giggles. "I thought everything in this house was meant to be shared. What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, remember?"
"Exactly, to share," he grumbles, crossing his arms.
"Come eat with me," she suggests, extending her hand with a strawberry in it.
"I don't like them like that," he says, wrinkling his nose. "They don't taste as good." With that, he walks out of the room.
Donna sighs, sets the bowl aside, pauses the series, and follows her husband. "Would you like them with some whipped cream?" she calls after him.
"You know how I like them," he responds, still not looking at her.
"Did you really expect us to use more than 3 pounds of strawberries during sex? Neither your body nor mine can handle that kind of marathon anymore, Harvey. We're getting old," she teases, patting him on the back.
He shrugs his shoulders. "I never buy strawberries with any intention other than to eat them off your body, you should know that. And I can do it for hours, just so you know."
"We still have plenty, more than enough," she reassures him, trying to lighten the mood. "You can't be mad just because I'm eating strawberries."
"It makes me mad that you're eating them without me," he admits with a snort.
She smiles and leans in close to whisper in his ear, "They taste even better when I eat them off your skin, you know."
He smiles, raising an eyebrow, because if anyone can diffuse his anger in an instant, it's his wife. "Luckily," he says, opening his backpack, "I bought this on the way home." He pulls out a can of whipped cream, not even giving her a chance to respond before kissing her.
