Authors note: This is a just one-shot, funny with two of my characters. One you see by reading, is Trick, and the other, written in first person, is Sierus. Yes, they're having yet another scrap in their relationship. If that didn't tip you off that it is male/male, then I need say nothing. Enjoy!

Somewhere in a kitchen not far away…

Trick was flipping through a rather large book on the counter and complaining. As usual. I, on the other hand, was trying to simply make sense of the matter. As usual.

“We don’t have the ingredients for ginger snaps,” He said shortly, scowling and flipping more wrathfully through the pages of the unfortunate recipe book, ‘seems we forgot to pick some up.” He added darkly.

I wasn’t sure what to say. It had only been a suggestion- a halfhearted cookie whim at best. It was turning into something suspiciously like an argument. I opened my mouth, but closed it again. To be flamed or not to be flamed, that was the question.

He stopped flipping and glared up at me. I was momentarily distracted by how attractive he was when completely pissed off. His silver eyes were so intense.

“So?” He demanded, snapping the book shut and me back to reality, and placing a hand on his hip. I was almost fearful to spontaneously burst into flame at his intensity.

“I’m… sorry?” I tried, with great hopes it sounded inoffensive. I had a vague idea that I was in a lot more trouble than I fathomed. I had no desire to repeat a night’s sentence on the couch. Once had been enough.

His eyes narrowed as response to my lack there of. Replacing the book back on the kitchen shelf above the stove, with a little more force than necessary in my opinion, my lover then tried a new approach. He leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly. Silently waiting for a confession of a sin that was still unbeknownst to myself.

All 5’7” of him was very intimidating when he wanted to be. I tried in vain to search my recent sins in hopes of selecting, at random, the problem one. I had the choice of categories A) Having said something distasteful B.) Having done something, either unwitting or conscious of, that was unpleasant, or C.) Having neglected an important promise and/or date.

Trick sighed despairingly and brought a hand to his temple. I could cross off category A; it would have been a full out yelling match if it were simply something I’d said wrong. This was a typical case of hurt in response to my actions or offending memory. I was putting my money on my notoriously criminal lack of ‘important dates’ knowledge.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” I took a hesitant step towards him. If I could just hug him, maybe I’d be off the death list for now.

He looked up, surprised.

“You remembered?”

I had it narrowed down to category C; I had forgotten an important something. It had to be a date.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, love,” He submitted to an apology hug, “I honestly did just forget, I wasn’t trying to spite you or anything. I’ll make it up to you another day, I promise.”

Trick sighed softly, letting his shoulders relax and leaning into my hug. Another victory! I rejoiced inwardly at my narrow escape. Had it been our anniversary? No, I frowned, that was already past. Perhaps there’d been some dinner plan.

“You know,” Trick said, breaking the hug off, “the store is still opened.”

I was now thoroughly confused. The first thing that came to mind was a strange sexual innuendo. Which confused me more.

Trick looked at me oddly, his smile fading. Then he frowned.

“You really didn’t remember did you?”

“Ah… no.” I confessed. Now I’d been caught trying to save my sorry ass. I resigned myself to the couch sentence solemnly.

“Marshmallows. You forgot to pick up the my marshmallows.” He pouted.

“Oh!” I laughed, to which he scowled suspiciously, “Is that all? I just left them in the car.”

He brightened considerably; sulk vanishing instantly, “Did you really?”

“Yea,” I smiled and kissed him on the cheek, “I’ll just go get them then. Why don’t you find a movie for us?” I called over my shoulder as I opened the door. I caught a glimpse of his smile.

If I were lucky, I’d be back from the store in five minutes and could use the excuse that I got distracted in the garage somehow.