The doorknob jiggled, following the jingling of keys as the correct one twisted the lock and allowed the man behind it inside. His steps were light, trying to mask the tap of his shoes against the floor. But his eyes quickly caught on to the lights still on, his hearing caught by the rambling of some character from a cheesy cartoon playing on the television. A small sigh escaped from his lips.

He slipped off his shoes, hung his keys by the door, and followed the sound of a high-pitched voice to the living room where he spotted a head poking above the back of the couch. His feet carried him straight to it, where he leaned over and kissed your forehead. You couldn't help but lean your head back, staring back at him with an equally exhausted face.

"Hey, what are you still doing up?" he asked, voice quiet and grumbly. "I told you: when I stay late at the shelter, you don't have to do the same."