Your boyfriend worked hard. Day after day, sometimes into the night. And you loved that about him.

He came home in the evening, sawdust on his shoulders, sweat staining his t-shirt.

"Baby? I'm home." He called out for you, treading through the house in his loud work boots.

He found you, standing in the kitchen, cooking something on the stove. You smiled as you went up to hug him. Sniffing his shirt, he smelled like wood, sweat, and a hint of beer, meaning he probably drank on the job a little.

"Mm, you stink good." You murmured against him, you couldn't help it. You loved him. And he just smelled like Joel.

"I stink good?" He laughed. "Weird little thing." He pet your hair as you burrowed further against him. But he couldn't deny he loved the domesticity for once in his life.