While she was out working, I stayed at her place—“the oven” we started calling it, to take care of some laundry. The only thing I needed to do was iron our clothes and put them in their respective drawers. I’d also do Stan’s, but Violet forbade me from even looking at them. I never got what her issue was. It had some of his underwear, but none of it was anything I wouldn’t see walking around the mall, and they were freshly clean. I didn’t want to get her all over my case because of it, so I left it well alone. She had been coming back from her work in a bad mood in the past week, so I wasn’t going to tempt fate.

Ironing was a bigger hassle than I thought it would since the heat of the clothes iron was making everything worse, but it was done, and I was happy I did it for her.

“Oh, this takes me back.”

While putting away clothes in our underwear drawer, I giggled at the thought I was calling it “our” and at the memories the violet bra and panties brought. I also wondered why she was still keeping the top part, seeing that it didn’t fit her anymore. Sentimental value perhaps? I didn’t expect that from her. Then again, she had been surprising me a lot in the past few months.

I’ll tease her about it once she comes back.

My mischievous thoughts were interrupted by a foul smell that came softly, but quickly grew in intensity.

“Urgh! Oliver!”

Poor thing had his belly upset by the food, and until he grew used to it, he was as much a skunk as he was a kitten.

He had been sitting by me, looking up with an innocent look until that moment. Once he dropped the bomb, he skipped out of the room, his tail up in the air like an antenna.

“Humph, at least this time he didn’t leave a present,” I grumbled, having to put up with the smell until it either faded away, or I finished my work.

“Hello again, Oliver.”

“Meow!”

My bad mood didn’t survive such a cute interaction between Stan and that tiny furball. Any time someone greeted him, he’d meow back, like if he was greeting too.

“She’s late again,” I grumbled, taking my phone out to see the time and if I had received any message from her that I hadn’t noticed.

The basket was empty, so I put it back to its original place and went to the living room. There, I found Stan sat on the couch in from of the only fan in the house wearing a plain white t-shirt, shorts and flipflops reading a hardcover comic with a certain duck in a sailor uniform. Meanwhile, Oliver was tossing up in the air and pouncing at an old sock stuffed with its pair, his nails making an audible clack on the floor. I was sitting by Stan after having turned on the rotating head of the fan when that crazy cat thudded one of the legs of the coffee table, causing it to shift slightly. Despite having bumped his head, he didn’t even flinch and kept on playing.

“Right, my beer,” Stan remarked, having seemingly forgotten about having picked it up from the fridge.

“Is that story that good?” I asked, pointing at the book he was holding.

He nodded and proceeded to tell me about it with a gleeful smile that made him look even younger than what he was. Like, we had a difference of fifteen years between us, but when he got like that, it looked like he had fifteen instead. And I’m not saying this as a bad thing. Truthfully, I’d say my dad needed something in his life giving him that amount of glee. Unfortunately, I didn’t know my own dad well enough to come up with something.

“You two sure have gotten close. Did something happen?”

He was prodding my relationship with his daughter quite shamelessly, wasn’t he? Didn’t he ever feel conflicted? I didn’t particularly care about it because I felt like bragging, but there was no one to hear me, except him now.

I was starting to calm down from a giggling fit to tell him about what she answered me when I asked her in her sleep, but the front door opened, calling me to action.

“Hehe, not telling,” I told him with my tongue out instead.

She was taking her shoes off and seemed upset. There would be no nagging today.

“Hi Abby,” she greeted, giving me a kiss on the forehead while I tiptoed.

I pulled her down and gave her two on the cheek, reminding her it was supposed to be me doing that now.

She remembered it, she was just in the mood for that and hugging me from behind apparently.

“Haah, I’m so tired,” she complained with her face buried on my hair as she rubbed the sides of my waist.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Don’t think about going to bed without eating,” I told her, pulling her along in an awkward walk. “I made you a brand-new sandwich, so you better eat it all up and tell me your honest opinion.”

I dropped Violet by Papa Stan to fetch her the food, him tapping her knee before initiating a conversation.

“—I didn’t know it came from a can instead of being fresh, so I did lie,” was what I heard her tell her dad, that little bit providing me the full picture of what had happened.

“Forget about it. Here! I made it with lots of love.”

“Oh, erm… thanks…”

I was divided between thinking that saying that was too much or not. It was something that came out in the spur of the moment and it had a large impact on her. Maybe it was a good thing. She was now figuring out what I had meant by it, so she was no longer mulling over the argument she had with the guest.

Her red face transformed again after she took a bite.

“Mmh! This is the best sandwich I’ve ever had!” she said, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Hehe. I made a paste using the leftover chicken, a bit of mayo, diced pickles, some salt and pepper.”

“It’s really good,” she said, taking another enthusiastic bite.

“What about the ones I make?”

“Sorry dad, it’s a close second, but she got you beat.”

“Hmm, looks like I found myself a rival.”

“Pfft, ah-haha! Bring it on, old man!”

We all laughed. Then, she hummed as she looked down.

Oliver had stopped playing to come and rest against Violet’s feet. It almost looked like he was smiling.

“Looks like he missed you,” I commented.

It was funny how attached he grew to us in such a short amount of time. Even on his first day here he would chase after us and start calling out when he lost sight of us.

“How’s his tummy?” she asked while taking another bite.

“Don’t jinx it,” was my answer.

◊◊◊

I was woken up with a pang in my stomach. At first I thought it was the sandwich Abby had done for me last night who was having a disagreement with my insides, but then I saw it had been almost twelve hours since I ate it. No, the reason was something a lot worse.

“Urgh!” I grunted, rolling to the wall side as I grabbed my stomach, another heavy pang being felt.

“What’s the matter?” she asked.

“They are back,” I told her.

I heard Abby leave the room for a moment, then coming back and calling me out.

I turned and saw her holding a bowl of cereal in one hand and a bottle of water and a pill on the other.

I ate what she brought me and took the painkiller like she told me before curling up in bed again, but she still wasn’t done with nursing me. Abby still wanted to give my belly a rub. It helped all the other times, so I gladly took her up on the offer. And like before, it did help and I somehow fell asleep again. I have the feeling I’d have woken up a lot after what I did, was it not for the sound of the vacuum cleaner close to the bedroom door.

It was well into the afternoon, so I got up despite not wanting to and, to my surprise, it was Abby doing the cleaning.

“Hey, sorry. Did I wake you up?” she asked, taking out one of her earphones.

“Erm, did you do my house chores for me?”

She confirmed she did in fact do them. She dusted the place, swept the floor, was finishing vacuuming and was going to start moping the floor afterwards.

“Abby, you don’t need to do all that.”

“But you were so tired and feeling unwell. Speaking of which, how are you feeling now?”

“Oh, erm, yeah, I’m feeling a lot better.”

“Hehe, good,” she giggled, stepping closer to me for a smooch on my jaw. “Lunch is ready if you’re feeling hungry. It’s on the kitchen table.”

“O-ok.”

“…Hehe.”

“What about you?” I asked, thinking that, maybe, she was also feeling indisposed.

“Me? Just feeling a tad bloated, otherwise I’m peachy fine.”

That was good to hear.

This whole situation felt so weird though. It was nice, don’t get me wrong, but really, it was weird. I just wasn’t used to having people take care of me, you see. And I must say, Abby was doing a splendid job. Just what had I done to deserve her?

“…What?”

“…Come here.”

I gave her a tight hug and even lifted her off the ground, spinning us around a couple of times—much to Abby’s amusement— before putting her back down and kissing her slightly sweaty face, finally thanking her for all she had done so far.

“Hehe, don’t mention it. Just trying to be a good… erm… you know.”

“Y-yeah… I’m… I’m really lucky… having you around…”

She had another of her giggling fits, pressing her face on me to hide her embarrassment while telling me to stop. How could I though? Abby was too adorable when she was happy, and right now, she was as happy as she could possibly be.

The nice moment was stopped by Oliver. He was observing us, peeking around the doorframe to the living room, making me feel self-conscious. How stupid is that? Getting embarrassed by a watching cat, good grief.

Us hugging wasn’t his main concert, the vacuum was.

“There you are,” Abby chirped after noticing me stiffen up and looking to where I was. “Don’t worry, I’m done with the noisy machine. I’ll be moping now though, so you have to go someplace where you have to stay still and not leave your pawprints around.”

He meowed what sounded like a protest, but Abby didn’t accept it, picking him up as she wondered out loud where she should put in.

I told her to drop him in our bedroom since I was now up and it was still a place she hadn’t cleaned.

“…”

“…What?” I asked, seeing her grin from ear to ear.

“Oh, nothing. Hehe.”

“…Ok… I’ll be going and eat then.”

“Yeah, you do that,” she told me, still all smiles.

It took me a while, but once I was midway finishing my food, I almost choked when I realised what had made her smile like that.

“Our bedroom”!? “Our bedroom,” you said!?

With how much time we spent together, it was normal for me to think it that way, right?! She wouldn’t think it carried a deeper meaning, right!? But she did! She did, but… she wasn’t exactly wrong, was she?

“What?” she asked, noticing me staring her from across the room.

“…Nothing.” I stumbled.

“Hehe, right, right. I totally believe you. Totally.”

So what if she did? It was the truth either way.

…I guess it’s our bedroom now.

And as embarrassing as it was, it also felt exciting and kinda right. So, as I repeated it to myself, it felt less and less weird and more of a natural progression of things.

Although… isn’t our relationship having a weird progression?

We started as friends, then we got more and more physical. We had yet to kiss, and before that, confess, but we were already touching private places, sleeping naked in the same bed and kinda living together. Yeah, our relationship was all over the place in terms of progression.

“…Haah, it’s whatever,” I grumbled as I washed the dishes and observed that girl hum as she moped the floor. If she was happy, I’d just go with the flow. I was too tired to stress about it anyway.