Fluff

Prompt: "domestic au involving a marshmellow gun war"

Derek steps into the dark house, creeping across the wooden floors with bare feet. His jacket is already discarded by the door – too loose, too much noise, and he’s already at a disadvantage, all he can rely on is his stealth. He grips his pump-action shotgun close – he’s grateful for Braeden’s trip to the shooting range earlier in the week, now – and wills his heart to calm down. He needs to remember his training, needs to call on everything that Allison ever taught him if he has any chance of finding her again. He swallows dryly, remembering the note he’d found next to the gun, the note that changed their quiet evening forever.

Loser cooks dinner.