prompt: Rachel wrote a list of the ten things she wanted in her future husband when she was about seven eight. Jesse found it one day, ticked them off, and smugly framed it.
It’s their second day in their new home – a brownstone, like Rachel always dreamed of – and Jesse’s done about 90% of the heavy lifting. While he lugs in box after box, Rachel skips passed him with small items, a vase, some books, a bag of clothes. A smug smirk, too.
Some would say he’s whipped. Those who wouldn’t would be wrong.
His main task of the day has been to go to Rachel’s storage locker – which she’s had since she returned to New York – to pick up all the things from her childhood home. Her apartment was never big enough to fit her entire life into, but now that they have three floors and seemingly endless space, she’s decided it’s time to bring back the obnoxious yellow and unnecessary amounts of glitter.
Jesse is just thrilled.
Two and a half years into their relationship and a mere six months away from getting married, now seems like the perfect time to upgrade from their old apartment. Rachel moved in with him eighteen months ago, officially, and about two years ago in reality, and Jesse’s decided that his place just isn’t big enough to house the two of them and his Tony Award.