As you stand over the stove, you hear the familiar, comforting click of the front door. He's home earlier than usual.

After a soft yawn and the sound of him putting up his hat, he trudges into the kitchen.

His arms immediately snake around your waist, chin finding your shoulder. His tired lips place a gently kiss to your jaw.

"I missed you, honey..." You hold back a sigh; tiredness is always clinginess with him.

"What are you making?" he murmurs.