When Lane got back to the apartment, Damien was already home. Busying himself around as always, of course.
"You're back?" he asked, popping his head out from the bedroom. "Dinner is almost ready, I just need to put the laundry in first."
"Mn, great. When did you come back?"
"Hmm? Around half an hour ago."
Lane lifted his brows, leaning against the door frame as he watched Damien sort the dirty clothes, both his own and Lane's.
Half an hour ago. Only half an hour, and he had already almost finished making dinner, and was even taking care of the laundry? Right after an undoubtedly busy day at work, which was preceded by a few days spent in a dungeon, defending against the monsters without even proper preparation or equipment…
That was some dedication!
"You'd make a good wife!" Lane chuckled.
It was just a joke. It was supposed to be. But unexpectedly, Damien's hand froze midair, with a piece of clothing in his hand.
