#Thena still laments that it could have gone smoother--sexier

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello love, how are you doing? 🩷🤍

I saw this meme today and i can only think of thenamesh

I feel like Thena would try to set up a romantic dinner for her husband, with candels and flowers, and she would also try to cook, she wants to make a perfect dinner for her perfect husband.

But when Gil arrives to the aparment it smells like burned food, the smoke detector is going off, Thena is on a chair trying to turn it off and the kitchen is a mess.

Gil checked his phone yet again. Thena had told him that she wanted to try being the one to take care of their anniversary this year. Exactly by what means, he didn't know, but she wanted to surprise him, and he thought it was sweet.

According to her, she had even left work early to set things up so that he could come home to things already in motion. He had to admit he was excited, if maybe cautious.

Things like this hadn't always worked in his wife's favour. Not for lack of trying, she did want to be the romantic one from time to time--spoil him with gestures and sweet words. But cooking wasn't her strength, she wasn't much of a poet, and sometimes she got herself more worked up than anything.

He always tried to tell her that she spoiled him when she agreed to marry him. Every little affection she gave and allowed was a gesture. And he didn't need her to do anything big or romantic to know that she loved him.

Thena wasn't one for words, but she did value loyalty and actions reflecting who a person was. That was what made them such a good team.

Gil got off the elevator. The first thing he noticed was the smokey smell in the air. And they didn't live in a building that allowed smoking. He picked up his pace a little.

The next thing that hit him was the sound of the smoke alarm. He picked up his pace even more. He had a bad feeling about this, and the further down the hall he got, the worse it set in.

He was right in his feeling, arriving at the door to their apartment and knowing the alarm was coning from inside. He fumbled with his keys in his rush to get inside. Without a thought to denting the wall behind it, he threw the door open, "Thena!"

There his wife was, in all her glory. She had flour all over her, something on her cheek and her sleeves. She was standing on one of the dining chairs trying to fan the smoke alarm with a towel that looked suspiciously charred on the corners. All the windows were open, but the oven was simply giving off too much noxious gas.

Thena looked up as he burst in. She attempted to smile, "hey...honey."

He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. On the one hand, his wife was safe, and that was all that truly mattered. But he couldn't completely drown out the cacophonous background surrounding them. The kitchen was a disaster, he could see candles and another possible fire hazard on the table--a vase of flowers that seemed a little sparse on one side. He didn't even want to imagine what was actually cooking in the oven.

Thena took his silence for condemnation. She pinched her lips closed, climbing down from the chair now that the smoke alarm was silent again. She wrung the ruined dishtowel in her hands. "I'm so sorry, Gil."

He just stared as she slinked over to him, her delicate shoulders bunched up tight.

"I really wanted to do something special for you," she admitted in a miserably small voice. Her throat tightened. "I studied this recipe, and I was going to have it ready when you got home, and I picked up flowers, and-"

He shook his head, pulling her into his arms at the first sign of tears. Thena wasn't much of a crier, but he knew that when it did happen, there was truly a huge amount of feelings stuck inside of her. He rubbed her back, "hey, hey, sh, it's okay."

"But-" she mumbled, smothered by the softness of his sweater. "You're always-"

"Sweetheart, I love that you tried to put on a big, romantic anniversary dinner," he chuckled, kissing her forehead. She pulled her head up to pout at him, unsatisfied with his lacklustre comforting. He smiled at her, though. "You really went all out!"

She sighed heavily, letting him turn her in his arms so they could truly assess the damage. "There's something of a pot roast in the oven."

"Pot roast, huh?" he mused aloud for the sake of it. He was already running through the recipe, wondering what on earth could have possibly tripped her up so much as to cause this amount of damage.

"I also attempted yorkshire puddings," she lamented, tilting her head up at him behind her. "I know how you love them."

He did love them--he had grown a fondness for a lot of English recipes, against all odds. And he could see how the scorching hot oil - as required for good, proper puddings - could have gone up in smoke.

"I'm sorry," she sighed again, going back to burying herself in his chest. "This isn't the anniversary surprise I intended."

He kissed the top of her head again, swaying them with his arms around her. "Are you kidding? You made pot roast and homemade puds?--with your track record?"

She gave his side a pinch, which was a good sign.

"This is amazing," he rested his cheek on her hair. Thena hated cooking of any kind, and not just because she was bad at it, and she wasn't bad at it just because she hated it. But despite that, she had tackled what even seasoned home cooks dreaded, just for him.

She sniffled away the last of her self pity, pushing at him. "You should go and rest. You've had a long day. Let me clean up my mess."

"Nice try," he chuckled, as if his teeny-tiny wife was going to be able to push him anywhere. Thena was stronger than she looked, sure, but he was stronger. He captured her around the waist again. "We're gonna get this cleaned up together. Then we're gonna get some fresh clothes on, and you can find us a place that makes the second-best yorkshire puddings in town."

"Second best?" she challenged.

He scratched the base of her spine in the way that made her shiver. "After mine, obviously."

"Obviously," she murmured as he lifted her off her feet just enough to walk them over to the sink. "You don't have to help me."

"For better or worse, sweetie," he reminded her as he bent to take a look at just what had happened in his precious oven. He used the dishtowel - singed as it was - and an oven mitt to retrieve her labours of love.

All things considered, the pot roast looked pretty good, although maybe the vegetables surrounding it were a little black on the edges. And to his surprise, despite the black stains of inflamed oil all along the bottom of the oven, the puddings did actually puff. He plucked at one with his fingers, and it wasn't stuck in the least.

"Gil?"

He even managed to pop it into his mouth. "Y'know, I've had worse."

"You're not serious," she droned. Although, when he offered her one, even she couldn't deny that the colour and shape of it wasn't grotesque. She sniffed it.

"So, you made a smoked pot roast," he shrugged, chomping on another pudding. "It's pretty good, babe."

She took a more critical bite of it, staring him down the whole time, looking for any indication that he was lying to spare her feelings. But she conceded her pleasant surprise as she chewed. "it's not awful."

"I think it was just the oil," he shrugged. If she had used olive oil, which he was guessing she did, it would have started smoking immediately, and it did explain the slight bitterness to the outside of them. But that aside, they really weren't bad little pastries. He took another one, "I'd say you did a bang up job!"

She rolled her eyes at him, as she always did when he tried to put on some form of a bad cockney accent. But she smiled as she swiped away some crumbs from his lips. "Thank you, love."

He leaned in, capturing her lips, sharing in the taste of bitter olive oil and yorkshire pudding dough. "I should be thanking you. This is one hell of a surprise."

"Hm," she pulled away, looking from the kitchen to the dining room table, still set, although at least the candles were extinguished. "I wouldn't say it was positive."

"Hey," he nudged her, asking for another kiss (which she granted). He touched his forehead to hers. "You're supposed to say 'happy anniversary, Gil, I love you too'."

Thena laughed, which completely drowned out the rest of the stress of the mess they had to clean and anything that could come out of the rest of the night. Her hands found their home on his chest as he kissed down her temple to her cheek, "happy anniversary, darling."

"That's more like it," he grinned, finally arriving at the angle of her jaw and the curve of her neck. She pushed at him again before he could distract them both from the task at hand. He pouted at her.

"Mess," she ordered, with her hand trailing lovingly over his arm. "Then food, then fun."

His eyes sparked, "fun?"

His blonde fox of a wife gave him a look that was both sly and coquettish as she unwrapped his apron from around her. "This was not the only component I had in mind for you. And it would be truly impossible to light the other part aflame."

"I dunno, I feel pretty hot under the collar," he chuckled as he eagerly started running the tap. He would scrub the oven out properly this weekend. For now, he had a lovely evening to spend with his wife.