He soaked his hand in a bowl of ice as he stared at the fridge, Dominic sighed as he allowed the coldness to take his ache away.

It had been another long near useless night; he was quite proud of himself for getting the first hit, but he wasn't proud of himself for now having to hide a bruised knuckle.

Dominic jumped a little as he watched the kitchen light flick on.

"Your back."

Dominic looked up at his partner "Yeah, sorry. Things took a little longer than expected."

"Would've been nice for a text or a call, something. I thought you were with Robin again."

Dominic lowered his gaze "Are we always going to have this argument every time I come home late?" He looked at his partner of five years.

"Dom, don't."

"Fred." Dominic sighed "How many times do I have to say it was Robin's fault, not mine?"

"Keep telling yourself that."

Dominic rolled his eyes; he didn't bother wondering if his partner would take notice of his painful hand.

"What kept you late?"

"I told you work."

"Oh. Work. Sure. That's why your icing your hand. Who is he?"

Dominic rolled his eyes again.

"Who is he, Dominic?"

"Fred. You can't play this card every time."

"Every time? How am I supposed to trust you!?"

Dominic took a deep breath "What is it that you want, Fred? It was one mistake, three years ago. I've told you this before, if you can't trust me than we should break up."

Fred folded his arms.

"Right. You need to prove to your dad that your happy." Dominic lifted his hand out of the bowl of ice "You wouldn't want your dad to think you're a stereotyped queer." Dominic began to make his way out of the kitchen.

"Dom."

"No." He tried to keep his calm as he walked past his complicated lover.