The scent of simmering spices filled the kitchen as you stood over the stove, stirring the evening’s meal with practiced ease. The quiet hum of the overhead fan blended with the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, a soothing routine you’d long since perfected. The house was warm, filled with the soft golden glow of early evening, the kind of peace that settled deep in your bones.

Then, the front door creaked open, followed by the familiar, subtle click as it shut again. You didn’t turn, but you felt him—his presence, sharp and steady, slipping into the room like a shadow.

A moment later, cool arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and you exhaled softly, leaning into his touch. Levi pressed himself against you, his warmth seeping through the fabric of your shirt as his cheek came to rest against the back of your neck.

“I’m home…” he murmured, voice quiet, a little rough at the edges.

You smiled to yourself, setting the spoon down before resting a hand over his, fingers tracing the rough skin of his knuckles. “Welcome back,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly to let him bury his face against your shoulder. His breath was warm, his hold firm but tired—the kind of exhaustion only softened by the comfort of home.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. The stove hissed, the world outside carried on, but here, in this quiet space, it was just the two of you.

“You smell like onions,” he finally muttered against your skin, and you huffed out a quiet laugh.

“Yeah? And you smell like tea and paperwork,” you shot back.

“Tch.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “Flawless combination.”

You turned slightly, just enough to press a quick, lingering kiss to his temple. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Levi only hummed, his arms tightening around you for a second longer before he let out a quiet sigh. “Good. I’m starving.”

And even though he’d never say it outright, you knew what he really meant. I missed you.