HOME | DD

Description

Setting: On earth. Your house.

Premise: You have known Whis for several years. you are in a stable relationship and you are married.
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“I have a surprise for you!” you shouted, arms in the air and you led Whis into the kitchen. His nose approved.

Whis had become fairly acquainted with your kitchen as of late and often took it upon himself to raid the fridge whenever he deemed that there was ‘just enough’ left. Mind you, he would also volunteer to replace it but then initial shock of having fewer desserts often led you to forgetfulness.

“Well, it smells good”, he stated, bending down to look through the oven window, “Ah, what are those things called again?”

“Cinnamon rolls—er-- buns”. He nodded in approval.

“Rolls or buns?”

“Buns”, you replied, “There is a bun in the oven”

Apparently, he wasn’t sure as to just what you were talking about and had bent down to looks through the glass screen again. “__________”, Whis sweat-dropped, “I count 6”.

“Well”, you made your way over to him, “I am sure that there is one”

“Would it make you happy if I said that there was one?” Whis asked.

You nodded eagerly before replying, “Yes” . It hadn’t dawned on you until now, though, that Whis was in fact from a different planet and had not interacted with very many people.

Whis, in an effort to act ‘proper’ turned you around so that your back was turned to him, covering your face with his hands.

“This will make you happy?” he asked again.

“Yes”

He laughed to himself before pulling away and heading towards the oven. You could hear him chewing—obnoxiously. This was not what you meant.

No. No. He’s going to eat them all. You spun around to confront him. Whis held the second to last cinnamon roll/bun in his mouth, gave you a short wave, and then scarfed it down just like he had the others.

Whis then gave a thumbs up before pointing to the one bun left in the oven. “Now, there is a bun in the oven”

“That’s not what I meant, Whis” you said dryly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something”

Your eyes wandered as you noticed that he was going for the last cinnamon roll. You could not believe it. Actually—you could. His stomach was a bottomless pit.

“___________, hmm?” He waved the cinnamon bun, hopping it from one place to another like a desperate rabbit. Perhaps he didn’t intend on sharing today either.

You started to protest and that’s when he shoved the roll into your mouth. Sure, yeah, it was good--- but it was that fresh out of the oven good that required you to shove it down your throat because it felt like it was 100 degrees in your mouth.

Whis’ forefinger was pointing on the bun as if to stop you from possibly spitting it out. You pushed it away and placed the other half of the cinnamon roll onto the tray.

“This is about our bun in the oven”

Whis glanced over at the half that was left. You could see it written on his face. He was debating on whether or not he would eat it.

“You don’t really seem to like these that much,__________”. He leaned his head over to one side and just stared at you. “I actually find them delicious”. That’s when he reached down for the remaining half and plopped it into his mouth.

You were slightly perturbed to say in the least. “Our bun in the oven” you repeated.

That’s when Whis, feeling rather awkward, opened the oven door again in the hopes that perhaps there was something that he had missed. After taking your look of disapproval into account he pointed towards the microwave before opening the door.

Microwave oven…. He’s never seen me put those things in the microwave…

“Buuuuuuuuuuun in the O-V-E-N” you drawled out, somewhat exasperated.

“Does that have some special meaning here on earth?” he asked bluntly. Whis’ hands were up in the air in defeat. You were about to reply when he pulled out his staff so that it could possibly translate the meaning of the statement.

His eyes darted over to you quickly after looking into the sphere.

“So”, you reached out for the staff, placing your hands in between his, “What does it mean?”

“Well” Whis started sheepishly, “would you like six more?”

Mouth agape you turned to the staff, daring to tap your fingernails on it. Perhaps it was just translated as something literal.

“They are not all for YOU!” you shouted, pushing him away. Somehow he must have known that you had a second pack in the fridge.

He laughed. “But they are all for me!”

By this point you had left him and now stood in the living room. Why was he acting like such an idiot? Why was the staff such an idiot? Why were you surrounded by idiots? Why was it so hard to say that you were pregnant?

You could feel him wrap his arms around you from behind. He rested his head above yours and began to rock you from side to side. “And this one”, he pointed towards your stomach, “is our bun in the oven”

You glanced up at him cautiously. His eyes were closed and he had a sort of smile on his face.

“I love you, _________” he whispered into your ear. "And I'm always going to be there for you. And I'm going to support you all the way through"

Description

Setting: On earth. Your house.

Premise: You have known Whis for several years. you are in a stable relationship and you are married.
==================================================================================

“I have a surprise for you!” you shouted, arms in the air and you led Whis into the kitchen. His nose approved.

Whis had become fairly acquainted with your kitchen as of late and often took it upon himself to raid the fridge whenever he deemed that there was ‘just enough’ left. Mind you, he would also volunteer to replace it but then initial shock of having fewer desserts often led you to forgetfulness.

“Well, it smells good”, he stated, bending down to look through the oven window, “Ah, what are those things called again?”

“Cinnamon rolls—er-- buns”. He nodded in approval.

“Rolls or buns?”

“Buns”, you replied, “There is a bun in the oven”

Apparently, he wasn’t sure as to just what you were talking about and had bent down to looks through the glass screen again. “__________”, Whis sweat-dropped, “I count 6”.

“Well”, you made your way over to him, “I am sure that there is one”

“Would it make you happy if I said that there was one?” Whis asked.

You nodded eagerly before replying, “Yes” . It hadn’t dawned on you until now, though, that Whis was in fact from a different planet and had not interacted with very many people.

Whis, in an effort to act ‘proper’ turned you around so that your back was turned to him, covering your face with his hands.

“This will make you happy?” he asked again.

“Yes”

He laughed to himself before pulling away and heading towards the oven. You could hear him chewing—obnoxiously. This was not what you meant.

No. No. He’s going to eat them all. You spun around to confront him. Whis held the second to last cinnamon roll/bun in his mouth, gave you a short wave, and then scarfed it down just like he had the others.

Whis then gave a thumbs up before pointing to the one bun left in the oven. “Now, there is a bun in the oven”

“That’s not what I meant, Whis” you said dryly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something”

Your eyes wandered as you noticed that he was going for the last cinnamon roll. You could not believe it. Actually—you could. His stomach was a bottomless pit.

“___________, hmm?” He waved the cinnamon bun, hopping it from one place to another like a desperate rabbit. Perhaps he didn’t intend on sharing today either.

You started to protest and that’s when he shoved the roll into your mouth. Sure, yeah, it was good--- but it was that fresh out of the oven good that required you to shove it down your throat because it felt like it was 100 degrees in your mouth.

Whis’ forefinger was pointing on the bun as if to stop you from possibly spitting it out. You pushed it away and placed the other half of the cinnamon roll onto the tray.

“This is about our bun in the oven”

Whis glanced over at the half that was left. You could see it written on his face. He was debating on whether or not he would eat it.

“You don’t really seem to like these that much,__________”. He leaned his head over to one side and just stared at you. “I actually find them delicious”. That’s when he reached down for the remaining half and plopped it into his mouth.

You were slightly perturbed to say in the least. “Our bun in the oven” you repeated.

That’s when Whis, feeling rather awkward, opened the oven door again in the hopes that perhaps there was something that he had missed. After taking your look of disapproval into account he pointed towards the microwave before opening the door.

Microwave oven…. He’s never seen me put those things in the microwave…

“Buuuuuuuuuuun in the O-V-E-N” you drawled out, somewhat exasperated.

“Does that have some special meaning here on earth?” he asked bluntly. Whis’ hands were up in the air in defeat. You were about to reply when he pulled out his staff so that it could possibly translate the meaning of the statement.

His eyes darted over to you quickly after looking into the sphere.

“So”, you reached out for the staff, placing your hands in between his, “What does it mean?”

“Well” Whis started sheepishly, “would you like six more?”

Mouth agape you turned to the staff, daring to tap your fingernails on it. Perhaps it was just translated as something literal.

“They are not all for YOU!” you shouted, pushing him away. Somehow he must have known that you had a second pack in the fridge.

He laughed. “But they are all for me!”

By this point you had left him and now stood in the living room. Why was he acting like such an idiot? Why was the staff such an idiot? Why were you surrounded by idiots? Why was it so hard to say that you were pregnant?

You could feel him wrap his arms around you from behind. He rested his head above yours and began to rock you from side to side. “And this one”, he pointed towards your stomach, “is our bun in the oven”

You glanced up at him cautiously. His eyes were closed and he had a sort of smile on his face.

“I love you, _________” he whispered into your ear. "And I'm always going to be there for you. And I'm going to support you all the way through"