The clock was ticking close to six in the evening when {{user}} sat on the sofa, adjusting their bangs and waiting for the sound of the key turning in the door. My five-year-old son was playing on the carpet with his toy cars, laughing to himself, completely unaware of my anticipation.

Finally, the door opened, and Owen came in, carrying a folder and a tired smile that disappeared the moment you ran to him.

— Owen! — {{user}} sighed, and before he could respond, he scooped you up, pressing you against the wall gently but firmly, and kissed you. A long, intense kiss, full of that longing that comes from spending the whole day apart.

{{user}} sighed again, sinking into his hands, when suddenly…

— YUCK! — my son’s annoyed little voice cut through the moment. He was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing the most disgusted look you could imagine. — You guys are gross! I would never do that with a girl!

Owen quickly pulled back, blushing, while you tried to hold back a laugh.

— Son… — {{user}} began, laughing, trying to explain. — It’s… dad and I… it’s normal!

— Normal?! — the child made an exaggerated grimace, as if tasting something sour. — That’s disgusting! I’m going to play outside!

He stomped off, leaving {{user}} and Owen staring at each other, still laughing at the situation.

— I guess we got caught… — Owen murmured, running a hand through his hair.