She's his lucky girl. And he's her lucky guy. And lucky for them even though these symptoms are spelling out something, it's very untrue. Which might be one of the luckiest of things.

"Later," he agrees. Toast with some peanut butter and tea would be the most complicated he should handle. And he wouldn't want to miss a chance to enjoy it.

It doesn't seem like a big deal, it's an activity they can both appreciate. And there's a nurturing, simple pleasure about sharing her know how and palette. He also loves that they both have a tendency to want things natural. "I don't want to cuddle myself either," he grumbles softly to her with an all too practiced pout.

Taking a load off makes him sigh. The feeling of her lips on his skin has another grin. "I love you." And there's no shred of shame being less than his best with her knowing she understands.