Idiot

You fumble around, cursing, as your face wash clatters to the floor.

This happens every time you get in the shower. Something falls off the ledges. Every. Single. Time. Maybe you should just reorganize.

"Babe?" you hear you boyfriend call through the bathroom door, "did you drop something again?"

You can hear the amusement in his voice, mocking you because he knows damn well that's what happened and he wants you to admit it. Jerk face.

"No!" you call back, trying to play innocent.

There's silence as a reply until he says, "You're a terrible liar."

"Okay, fine! I might have dropped the face wash... Maybe... Okay, most definitely."

You hear him chuckle and you're half tempted to get out and find some way to smack him with said dropped face wash, but you're still halfway through the shower and covered in suds.

"Shut up!" you hiss to him, now irritated.

"I didn't say anything," he responds coolly, but still with that annoying lilt in his voice that indicates he's laughing at you.

"I didn't mean with your mouth, I meant with your brain," you snarl. He was most definitely making jokes in his head.

"So can I use my mouth?" he asks, and you wish that your boyfriend wasn't such a smartass all the time.

"No!" you yell back.

"That's not what you said last night when I was-" he begins.

"I will break up with you!" you interrupt sharply, sucking in a breath.

He laughs again, and while you want to be mad at him, all you can muster is mild irritation.

"I love you too," he calls softly before you hear his footsteps fade into another direction.

"Idiot," you mumble as you finish up.

That's what he was. And an asshole. And a snarky, sarcastic, smartass who drove you crazy every day but somehow still managed to make you feel loved and special. It was embarrassing to admit that even when you were mad at him, all he had to do was give you a smile, maybe make some stupid joke and all that anger would dissipate like you never had any control over it at all.

So even though he was an idiot, he was your idiot, and you were okay with that.

As you step out to dry your hair, get dressed, and meet him downstairs, a smile begins to grow on your face. Just because he was the one you loved didn't mean you had to let him get away with everything.

You quickly grab the object that caused this situation and creep down the stairs.

"Babe," you call in a light, sing-song voice, "come here."

It was time to enact your revenge.