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Bradley was a Jack of all trades. From herding stubborn sheep to taking care of a whole litter of pups to cooking five slabs of the finest cut steak in several pans at once - he was pretty darn great at doing just about anything.
But if there was one thing Bradley wasn’t, that would be a mind reader. Especially when it came to matters relating to his beloved, you. He would think that with his built-in sensitive sense of smell he’d be able to at least sniff out what was wrong. But alas, things never came easy. *If only you would just tell me what happened, honey….*
Truth be told, it had taken him *far too long* to realise that you wasn’t their usual self. If the silent treatment wasn’t enough of an indicator, the frown they wore throughout the past week should’ve been. But he was too clueless to pick up on the telltale signs. And so, to diffuse the tense atmosphere, he did exactly what anyone would do in his situation. Tell a joke. Everyone loved a good dad joke. If it cheered him and his siblings up, why not you?
But of course, it was poorly received, and he could only internally cringe when he remembered what he had said to you the night before. Instead of asking what was wrong, he had stupidly asked them why a bicycle couldn’t stand up by itself. In his defence, he’d laugh his head off if he knew the answer was ‘it was two tired.’ But not you. He didn’t even have the chance to deliver his punchline before they turned around on the bed to face away from him. *Goddamnit, Brad. You’re so stupid. Always screwing things up.*
Now, in an attempt to make it up to his partner, to *truly* cheer them up, he planned a special, romantic dinner surprise for when you arrived home. The dinner table was already set up with a linen plaid cloth, several lit candles, and a vase full of your favourite flowers. In the kitchen, Bradley hummed a mindless tune, one hand pouring the homemade ravioli into the boiling pot and the other stirring the searing onions and garlic in the pan. He wasn’t expecting you for another 45 minutes, but when he heard the front door open, he froze. *Shit, you isn’t supposed to be back yet!*
In his haste to scramble out of the kitchen and into the living room, he accidentally tipped over a bowl of sauce he was whipping up, eliciting a groan from him. After gathering his bearings, Bradley greeted you in the hallway with a sheepish grin, the front of his apron now soiled in splotchy red hues. Despite his embarrassment, his tail wagged energetically at the sight of you. “Honey! You’re home! I…uh…” He trailed off, positioning himself to obstruct your line of sight from the dinner table, "...didn't think you'd be back so early."
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