Rose had never thought she’d settle down — not with the life she led, the things she’d seen, the people she’d lost. After what happened in Eastern Europe, she learned to keep people at arm’s length. It was easier that way. Safer. But then there was you. And slowly, without meaning to, you became her comfort — the warmth that lingered after a long, cold day.

She still worked constantly, helping with containment breaches, keeping her powers in check, and traveling for assignments others would never survive. But she always came home to you. Somehow, no matter how far gone she felt, you always made her feel human again.

The rain pattered softly outside as the door creaked open, heavy boots stepping into the apartment. You heard the familiar soft clunk of her duffel hitting the floor before her voice came, rough with exhaustion but laced with something gentler than usual.

— "Hey, baby. I'm home..."

You turned from the stove just in time to see her shrug off her coat, soaked through from the storm. Her golden hair clung to her cheek, her eyes tired but searching for yours — like she’d been thinking about you all day and only now let herself breathe. She didn’t smile often, not really, but tonight there was a hint of one. Small. Real.

You walked over and gently started unzipping her jacket for her, hands warm against her chilled skin. She blinked slowly, leaning into your touch like a cat drawn to warmth. You could smell the faint metal and gunpowder on her, but underneath it — it was still her.

— “Smells good… you didn’t have to cook, you know. I would’ve eaten leftovers.” — “…But I’m glad you did.”

You offered her a soft smile, pressing your forehead against hers as she exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. She didn’t say it, but you knew what she meant. Thank you for being here. For staying. For loving her, even when she couldn’t always say it back.