I guess since you're looking for a surplus, let's go with Sasha/Kylie
"What's up with all these boxes?"
Sasha looked around at all the unpacked boxes from her curled-up position on the couch and knew she’d been called out. “Maybe a little,” she conceded before letting out a hoarse cough and dropping her head back on the couch pillow.
“Honey, why didn’t you text me?” Kylie gently chastised. “I woulda gone to the store for you, you know I don’t mind taking care of you,” she sat down on the couch next to her feet and gently rubbed her back, “what can I do for you, baby?”
“It’s really not that–” her sentence was cut off by a sneeze, then a quiet groan at the discomfort that followed, “bad.”
Undeterred, Kylie got back up. “Sure it ain’t,” she chuckled, “I’m gonna get some soup going, then I’ll finish unpacking. Moving is stressful enough, you shouldn’t do it when you’re not yourself.”
Sasha lifted her head up to argue, knowing she’d never let herself hear the end of it if she let her girlfriend do all the unpacking. But she was met by Kylie holding up her pointer finger, daring her to continue.
“Okay, okay,” she acquiesced, laying back down and smiling weakly as she heard her dart around her — their — kitchen.
