Nick had once read in Cosmo (while waiting for an appointment) that the first month after moving in with someone was the most challenging and somewhat of a test for the future. Couples went into the adventure thinking of it as a honeymoon period but quickly the curtains were pulled back to reveal the true colours of each partner. You didn’t really know what someone was like until you had experienced them first thing in the morning, just before bed and all the times in between.
Despite the fact that Nick had read that article from the first word to the last, he hadn’t kept it in mind when deciding to move in with Peggy. He had expected the honeymoon period and to a degree their first week together had been much like a honeymoon. He couldn’t deny how satisfying it was to once again be able to wake up every morning, roll over and have amazing morning sex.
For the most part that seemed to be what he and Peggy had done most. Whenever they got sick of unpacking they’d fall into bed or against any available surface and fuck like rabbits. They had always had a fairly exciting sex life, especially considering that their only chances to be together in the past usually were brief and centered around hotel rooms. They hadn’t had the chance to spend any real amount of time together and now that they could he was happy that their undeniable chemistry hadn’t wavered.
Just like the magazine had suggested though, it was the little things as their two lives merged into one that Nick seemed to find most surprising. Neither one of them had really found a way to bring it up but he had a feeling that Peggy was as unhappy with their current dresser situation as he was. She had left her dresser behind and at the time he didn’t see why they couldn’t share it. Now he was thinking he should stop wearing underwear all together rather than suffer the daily annoyance of having to sort through a pile of unfolded, lace thongs in order to find his boxers.
Though his girlfriend was incredibly put together most times he couldn’t have guessed that she would be the type to never fold her laundry. She continued to unpack clothes and shove them into drawers with promises that they would be ironed later when she needed them. His socks, underwear and t-shirts were lost in a sea of frills and pink and he worried they would never find their way out again.
Every morning when he got dressed (a pretense really since he had nowhere to be every day) he would pile handfuls of her things onto the top of the dresser without saying a word then watch later on as she would shove them back into the drawer. In the end though, if the only thing that bugged him about living with Peggy could be solved by getting her a dresser for herself then he could see them cohabiting quite successfully. He would still be having regular orgasms, would be able to find his underwear and everyone would be happier in the end.
“NICK!” he heard Peggy scream from the bedroom and the sudden sound made his heart jump into his throat. Without hesitation he ran upstairs, taking them two at a time. He stopped short once he got into the bedroom, seeing Peggy standing by the bathroom door in just a towel, already glaring at him.
“What’s wrong? Why were you screaming?” he asked innocently, not wanting to assume that he had done anything wrong lest she find something.
She spoke in a very slow, calculated voice, as though he would have a hard time understanding her otherwise. “Does this look like a hotel to you?” she asked.
“No,” he answered, already getting into a defensive stance by crossing his arms across his chest. “Why?”
“If you don’t think this is a hotel then I can’t for the life of me figure out why you can’t keep yourself from throwing your dirty, wet towels on the floor. There’s no maid coming in behind you to clean them up. When you dry yourself off you hang the towels back up to dry or put them in the basket.”
“I don’t need you to tell me how laundry works, I’m an adult.”
“Apparently you do,” she laughed though it was clear that she found nothing funny about the situation. “Because this is the third time I’ve had to ask you to pick up your fucking towels. And are you bathing with them? I don’t understand why they’re sopping wet.”
Nick shrugged, dismissing her flippantly, “I don’t really appreciate you talking to me like that. It’s not me that has an issue with them. So if you have a problem with it maybe you should pick them up and put them in the hamper. The amount of time you’ve taken to lecture me you could have done it ten times by now. Elizabeth never seemed to have a problem with it.”
He knew that casually throwing out the name of his ex-girlfriend was probably the wrong decision. If looks could kill he knew that he would be a pile of dust on the shiny hardwood floor beneath him. Of all the arguments he’d had with Peggy since he met her he was fairly certain this was the angriest he’d ever seen her.
He found it a little sexy the way her eyes had turned to slits as she sent him deadly glares and her chest was heaving with angry breathes. He always had a tendency to piss women off and he sometimes wondered if he didn’t do it on purpose because he liked to see them get riled up.
“Maybe you should call her then and ask her to come clean up after you because I’m not doing it. Oh wait, she cheated on you for most of your relationship then dumped you and married your friend six months later. She’s probably too busy to pop by and pick up after your nasty ass.”
Nick ran his tongue over his lips slowly - she had him, that was for sure. He only had two options: continue to refuse to pick up the towels and possibly never get another blow job for the rest of his life, or admit defeat and just clean up his mess. Terrified about the possibility of his sex life being impacted he let out a heavy sigh and marched past Peggy into the bathroom where he threw the wet towels and the boxers he’d been wearing when he’d gone in for his shower that morning into the laundry hamper.
“There, I picked them up!” he announced as he joined her in the doorway.
“Good boy,” she replied and he bit back a comment about her being condescending.
“I am good,” he agreed. “You should reward me by letting me watch you shower.”
Peggy rolled her eyes and pushed him away from the bathroom door, “You’re gross. I need to get ready to go.”
“Where are you going?” he asked. Neither of them had left the house for more than food and never separately since he’d moved to New York.
“I told you before, I’m meeting with my sister for lunch. What are you going to do this afternoon?”
Peggy’s opportunities to do things with her older sister were rare. She had been suffering from terminal cancer for longer than anyone liked to think about. She capitalized on the times when she was feeling good and jumped on the chance to get out of the house and do normal things with her daughters and her family. Nick assumed Peggy would be gone for the rest of the day and figured he could probably get away with setting up his X-Box and blasting some terrorists for a few hours by himself.
“Probably just unpacking,” he lied, almost anxious for Peggy to leave so he could get his game on.
