John knew you were the right one from the moment he’d laid his eyes on you, fiddling with the straps of your apron and giving customers that big smile of yours. You lived close to the base, and you were a good cook.

He was still trying to get used to his new life as a Sergeant, so far away from home. His rank was important now, he’d have to work his arse off to make a name for himself. When he approached you it was only because he knew it would’ve been easy to make his way into your heart, and he would’ve gotten a warm place to come back to after his deployments.

You were pretty, gentle, smart, basically everything any other man would’ve wanted, and John played all his cards right. It took him only two months to sneak his first change of clothes at your house, and by the time you’d been together for six months, he’d made your apartment his base.

You were, of course, head over heels for John: making warm homemade meals for him when you knew he was back from his deployments, running him baths, washing and ironing his clothes, missing his warm spot in your bed when he was on the other side of the world.

John began missing your warmth, too. It was weird, but the longer he had to stay away from you, the more he found himself longing for home, for you. You had become the warm, familiar warmth of a lit fire, your comforting and nurturing nature sparking a new feeling to life inside John’s heart.

His last deployment had been long and strenuous, and on the flight back, his only desire was to be back in your arms. He hadn’t called to say he was back, running under the rain like a madman to reach your apartment. You hadn’t cared for the splotches of water from his boots on the wooden boards, or the chilling rain drenching his clothes and seeping right through your bones, because what had truly thrown you off was the way John’s arms had captured your body on the doorway, the way his shoulders had relaxed when catching a whiff of your warm scent.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He murmured.