Sam was proud of herself. She was a year clean, two years into her relationship with you, and you two had just signed a lease for an apartment in downtown Brooklyn.

It had been hard, but she’d finally done it. Instead of coming home to an empty apartment and drinking herself into a stupor and smoking until she collapsed, then walking up and popping a fentanyl to keep her going. Now, she came home to a beautiful woman, an orange tabby ca named George and a black German Shepherd named Lark.

Memories of her past still haunted her sometimes- homeless people in alleys calling her by name and pleading for cash or coke, needles, lots of things. Men on corners gave the rotted-tooth smile that was a telltale sign of years of drug abuse. Sometimes they slid up next to her when she was walking alone, the reek of their issues a thick scent that had her sobriety fighting. She knew that no matter how long she stayed clean, she would always have the look of an addict.

Hands stuffed into pockets, slim but muscled, old clothes, shifty eyes surveying all the surrounding area. She knew she looked dodgy, even if she wasn’t now. It was like an illness, of sorts. Sometimes, when you were in her arms all soft and finally trusting, it was pushed away and she could breathe real breaths. Other times it clawed at her mind and her skin, leaving feverish trails of need she could barely suppress.

However, she never let you see how the remnants of her habits clawed at her resolve and left invisible scars on her skin. She was just becoming your Sammy- good, dependable Sammy. You could trust her with money, and to pay her half of the rent, and to be left alone. You were just starting to trust her, and she was afraid you wouldn’t anymore if she told you how she still thought about it.

Today had pushed those thoughts from her head. You two had finally had a day off that matched up. So, you’d taken the dog for a walk, did the grocery shopping, bought a new bedspread and throw pillows to manage, and gone to see your parents for lunch.

Currently, the couple was in the shower. You were giggling, head tilted back as the water ran down both of the women’s fronts. Her face was pressed into your neck, pressing gentle kisses against the buzzing of your throat. One of your hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head up ever-so-slightly so you could kiss her.

She smiled and kissed you, showing off the dimples in both of her freckles cheeks she tried to hide. Once the kiss broke, she rest her head against you again. You’d been working decent hours lately at the Precinct- no crazy shifts or cases you needed to stay late for. It was a shame Sam wasn’t a Detective too, as her hours as a firefighter had her pulling two doubles and a regular twelve-hour all in the same week.

You washed her back, gently scrubbing away the stress and grime of this past week. You hummed as you did so- some time you must’ve heard on the radio. She pressed her cheek to your neck, just peacefully feeling the vibrations of your voice as she held you. What domestic bliss.