rodrikstark's headcanons (part 3)

a. barber + spring cleaning

"andy?"

"yeah?" he straightens and flexes his shoulders, a tired smile sprouting on his face as he puts down the scrubbing brush.

you observe the apron cinched at his waist, the yellow gloves obscuring his forearms. your smile remains tucked away behind the door frame. "i have a surprise for you."

he tilts his head. "why are you so shy about it?"

you hurry to his office and guard the door. the rubbery gloves splat on the edge of the sink as andy removes them and washes his hands.

he finds you with your arms hidden innocently behind your back, the round door knob enclosed in your palms. you shrug shyly at his confused look before twisting and revealing your project waiting inside.

"um..." you start, watching andy take in the twenty new photo frames—meticulously arranged, you used a ruler and everything—on the white wall opposite his desk. "i just hated that they were all sitting in that box in the closet."

he's silent.

"it's too much," you supply for him. your eyes rapidly scan the photos, which are so old you had to dust them off with a cloth before choosing which ones to hang. "i can move it. there was just so much empty wall space here."

"honey," he murmurs, his gaze briefly darting to you. "i honestly can't decide if i wanna look at it all day, or if we should rotate my desk so it's in the background of my calls."

you pout. "oh. really?"

"we'd have to swap a couple of these so they're not in frame, though." andy chuckles, pointing at one in the second-to-last row. its color stands out from the rest, the orange lighting of a favorite bar near campus warmly illuminating you and andy, your face buried in his neck as he grins at the camera. "remember that night? you were so wasted."

you pinch his waist, frowning. "hey."

"lightweight."

"well, you look like a baby." you can't remember the last time andy was clean-shaven.

his arm snakes around your hip. "just a couple of stupid kids."

"who are now homeowners," you say, a bit of dread in your voice. andy squeezes you, reassurance and solidarity. "do you need help with the bathroom?"

"nah, i got it."

"i'll start cleaning the kitchen," you offer, craning upwards to kiss him.

after a pause, he turns back to the wall, slowly studying every memory. "meet you there."