I found a few lines (used in the description) of a poem as a prompt intended for another fandom, but found that, to me, they worked well for Adrian and Trudy. That, in addition to my being unable to find a story that was from her perspective and/or angst-free combined to form this story. If you like it, please review.

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Trudy claps her hands over her mouth as she begins to giggle uncontrollably. Adrian has just put on a red apron that's fairly normal far as aprons go, but has somehow grown long white sleeves.

"What?" He asks, giving her a strange look. Trudy doesn't answer – she can't stop laughing. "What is it?"

"Your…apron," She manages to let out.

"What about it?" Adrian's face conveys a mix of is she okay? and what did I do now?.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. "It has sleeves attached to it. Most aprons don't have them." Trudy stares at her boyfriend for a moment. "Adrian, did you add those yourself?"

"Yes," he answers slowly. "So? They keep my shirt clean."

"I know, but you look kind of silly. Here," Trudy steps closer to Adrian, "I'll get them off for you."

He backs up. "But what about my shirt?"

Trudy shakes her head in fond exasperation. "You can just roll up your sleeves." She removes the apron sleeves (they were attached with Velcro) and rolls the shirt sleeves for him, making sure they're even. "There. You look much better."

Adrian shrugs and adjusts the oven's temperature. "If you say so."

She leans against a countertop. "I do say so. Why are you even cooking us dinner anyway? There's some leftovers in the fridge."

He stops, hesitates, and takes out a casserole from a nearby cabinet before speaking. "It's our anniversary."

"No, it isn't. Our one-year anniversary is in about two months," Trudy corrects.

"I know that," Adrian says, grabbing ingredients from the fridge, "but as of today we've been dating for ten months. Ten's better than twelve, right?"

Trudy considers it for a second before nodding. "I guess so."

There's a lull in the conversation for a few minutes. Adrian cooks silently as Trudy watches.

Then something catches Trudy's eye. "Aren't you allergic to tomatoes?"

"Yes, I am, but chicken cacciatore is your favorite. I can just have leftovers while you eat it."

She can't think of anything to say to that, and Adrian takes her silence as acceptance and continues cooking. In the future, Trudy will say that this is when she realized she couldn't imagine being without him. Now, though, she watches the sun shine on Adrian's bare arms as he makes her her favorite meal that he can't eat and knows that there isn't anywhere else she'd rather be.