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The smell of frying oil hits Scripps' nostrils when he comes home. Over the low hum of the cooker hood a light voice flows.
"It's a lovely day today,
And whatever you've got to do
I'd be so happy to be doing it with you"
He comes to the kitchen and knocks on the open door not to jumpscare Posner, but David startles nonetheless.
"God, Donald," his fright melts in a soft smile when he turns around. "You scared me."
"Sorry, love, I didn't mean to," Scripps leans in to leave a peck in the corner of this smile and notes, "Fitzgerald. And dinner. You're in a good mood."
Posner shrugs and turns back to the hob, "Colin Moore, a sixformer, serenaded his classmate, Eileen Dover, in the canteen today. It set a certain mood for the whole school."
"I guess it was rather cute," Scripps imagines a lanky lad singing at the top of his lungs. Some cheered, some booed, probably, but no one left indifferent.
"It was," Posner nods, stirring chicken in the pan. "Did you ever wish to become sixteen again?"
Scripps hums, "Never thought of it, really."
"I'd love to go back in time, " Posner says thoughtfully. "To play things a little bit differently. To fall in love straight with you, for a start."
"Falling in love with me wasn't that straight, mind you," Scripps chuckles.
"Oh, sod you," Posner whips him with a kitchen towel playfully, but Scripps hides behind the cupboard door.
"You'd have to take a great effort to win my heart over then," he notes. "I was madly in love with another Jewish lad."
Posner frowns, but his brows smooth when he realises, "Your affair with Jesus."
"Right," Scripps nods. "So maybe it's a good thing that we clicked together a bit later."
Posner hums, considering his words, "Probably. Anyway, go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready."
Rubbing together his hands covered with soap, Scripps thinks that maybe his sixteen wasn't perfect, but he won't trade it for anything, as it led him to what he has now.