Usual disclaimers apply: I own nothing but this ficlet.

DOMESTICITY by Jayne Leitch
2005

It is, finally, the end of a long day at work. David hangs his keys on the rack inside the door, sets his briefcase on the floor under the coat rack, and toes his dripping overshoes off onto the mat in the closet. He lands on the couch, pulling at his tie with one hand while the other picks up the remote from the coffee table and turns on the TV. He takes off his shoes to the sound of Ian Hanomansing, and makes irritated rebuttals to the latest from the Gomery inquiry.

By the time the front door opens and closes again, he's settled deep into the couch cushions and the last ten minutes of the news. His sock-feet are up on the coffee table, his ankles crossed; when the thick spice smell of take-out Thai wafts to his attention, he wiggles his toes.

Noah drops the bag of food in his lap as he passes behind the couch, pauses long enough for a "Hi" and a kiss, then continues to the kitchen for dishes and silverware. When he comes back he drops down beside David, hands him a plate and fork, and demands the chicken curry.

They watch Coronation Street while they eat, their feet side by side on the coffee table.

End.

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