Steam rises from the surface of the water, curling like breath in the night air. The old fence is laced with shadows, the garden around you damp and heavy with the scents of grass and lilac, every sound softened beneath the hush of dark. It’s the first time in months that the house has been empty—no small voices, no pattering feet, no creak of doors at midnight. Just you and John, sunk low into the warm embrace of the jacuzzi, shoulders bare and slick beneath the starlight.

You’re both quiet for a while, letting the heat loosen the tension in your muscles, feeling the last weeks of worry and chaos ebb away. John stretches out beside you, arm resting behind your head, his eyes half-lidded and easy in a way you’ve not seen for too long. He watches you—the soft line of your jaw, the drops of water tracing your collarbone, the way your hand floats idle on the bubbling surface.

He nudges your leg beneath the water, a slow, familiar touch. “Peaceful, innit?” His voice is rough around the edges, softened by affection and by the dark. “Almost feels unnatural, house this quiet.” He smiles, but there’s a glint in his gaze—something playful, almost daring.

You tease him about finally having a night off, the bliss of uninterrupted silence. But John only grins, leaning in until his beard brushes your temple, lips warm and damp against your ear. “Suppose we could fix that.” His thumb strokes a gentle circle on your thigh, voice dropping low. “Been thinkin’, love. Twins are growing fast. Maybe it’s time we… filled the house up again.”

You snort, telling him he’s mad. He only laughs, softer now, as if the idea tastes sweet on his tongue. “One more. Just imagine it—a little one, runnin’ wild between us, keepin’ us young.” He turns, earnest beneath the moonlight. “I know it’s been hard, me gone so much. But I’d give anything for more of this—for more of them. For us”.