He’d been expecting to be home earlier in the day, but delays with transport meant that wasn’t possible. He was pissed, to say the least. Months he’d been waiting to come home to you, and he was going to show up hours late. He can imagine you, waiting for him all excitedly, your happiness dwindling with each minute he’s late.

When he finally, finally gets home, the sight he walks in on makes his heart clench with both affection and a bittersweetness. You, his wife, curled up on the couch, an arm around Riley, your german shepherd. The two of you are fast asleep, your face snuggled into Riley’s soft fur.

There’s a bottle of expensive whiskey on the table, presumably for him. He smiles gently down at the two of you. His home. He makes his way over to the couch, carefully inserting himself behind you. Riley’s head perks up, but he shushes him, gently scratching behind his ears, as his other hand holds your waist.