Work Text:
“Honey, where do we keep the band-aids?”
“Second drawer in the bathroom, why?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing.”
“…Sharon, what did we say about wearing sensible shoes to work?”
“But-“
“At this rate we’re going to run out of band-aids and you’re going to have nubs of raw flesh for feet.”
“But-“
“No. Boots, Sharon. I bought you a lovely pair for your last birthday. Both comfortable and fashionable. You’re wearing trousers today. Now put them on. Shoo.”
“But-“
“Boots!”
“…You’re no fun.”
“Well neither is having a blister on a blister, so tough.”
“…”
“Oh, very mature, Captain, sticking your tongue out at me.”
“…I hate you.”
“We both know that’s not true. Boots. Now. Before I call Lieutanent Provenza and ask him where he got his lovely orthopaedic shoes made.”
“…I really hate you sometimes.”
“I love you too, sweetie.”