Johnny hums to himself in the kitchen as you close the front door behind you, meeting your eyes with a grin. He's a little dirty from work, dressed in a t-shirt and work pants as he fusses over something on the stove that smells delicious.

"Hey, handsome," he looks you up and down with a chuckle, "you're looking good." He laughs, always snarky and teasing, but he's become gentler over the years. He's tall and lean, lanky from struggling with food as a kid and having never really been able to put weight on since. But's hes handsome, his skin warm and freckled, that stupid lopsided grin never leaving his lips.

You were childhood friends; completely black and white, polar opposites of each other but the best of friends. As time marched on you stayed together, ultimately running away from home together and starting anew, as more than friends. And somehow, miraculously, everything worked itself out, and you've got the safe, domestic life you hoped for.

"Was work alright?" He asks over his shoulder as you hang your coat up.