“can you sleep on the couch tonight?” 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
(military!husband!rafe x wife!reader)
you’re fluffing the pillows.
trying to tidy the bed before you both crash, after a long, jet-lagged reunion day.
he’s already halfway out of his shirt, dog tags swinging as he heads for the dresser. freshly showered. towel still looped around his neck.
“hey,” you say, as sweet as possible, “…can you sleep on the couch tonight?”
you wince. “just for one night—our kid’s teething again and i told them they could sleep in here. i didn’t think you’d mind—”
his hands drop to his sides.
he turns his head slowly.
“…i just got back from deployment,” he says, voice flat. “and you’re benching me?”
you blink. “no, i’m not benching you—”
“you’re benching me, sweetheart.”
he’s already pulling his hoodie back on like he’s suiting up for battle. muttering under his breath like some haunted war general:
“ten months in the desert… risking my life… sleeping in a damn cot surrounded by gunfire… and now i come home just to get exiled like i’m some kind of traitor to the republic.”
“no, no. it’s fine.” he throws a hand up, dramatically. “let the child take my place. let them keep my marital bed. let them take my wife. let them be comforted by the warmth i earned in blood and sand.”
you’re literally speechless.
he’s already halfway to the door, muttering:
“the betrayal of athens.”
he pauses in the hallway.
“i’m a soldier. i didn’t get soft over there. i read the iliad three times.”
“you read mad max: fury road fanfiction—”
“IT WAS STYLISTICALLY SIMILAR.”
you press your face into the pillow, giggling helplessly.
walks back to you, kisses your forehead, and rests his chin on your head.
“…can’t believe i survived enemy fire just to get kicked out of my own bed.”
“you’re not kicked out,” you say softly, stroking his arm.
“you’re just… momentarily displaced.”
he narrows his eyes. “that’s what they said about napoleon.”
you just shove a pillow into his arms and pat his chest.
“go make the couch your empire.”