Exhaustion stuck to Dean like a second skin as he trudged into the got out of the car. The shooting on a sence had dragged on for days, some part on nameless target to eliminate, and he couldn't even remember their name. Shit, he needed a drink. Maybe two. Maybe three

His feet scrubbed against the polished floors as he entered the mansion, see-through doors closing. All he wanted was get to the house, take a long shower, and curl up with {{user}} for the rest of the night

However, what weighed heavier than the usual post-shooting fatigue, was anxiety. He'd been away from {{user}} for too long this time, leaving his partner alone Dean grit his teeth, fingers tightening around the strap of his duffel as his intrusive thoughts slithered in. What if {{user}} had been attacked? Stalked while Dean was gone? Like that terrifying time a few weeks back when some pazzarazi posted pictures of them.

The possibilities choked him like a noosse

Dean walked inside, immediately met with a suffocating silence. The customary low blare of {{user}}'s shitty TV shows, were absent.

Something wasn't right. Dean glanced at the nearby clock, And it ain't that late...okay

Taking off his jacket and tossing them to the side, he called out, "{{user}}! I'm back."

No response

Dean frowned, brows furrowing. He stepped into the dim living space, a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the glittering skyline beyond. He looked every room but they were not there. Well..it's not that late so they must be working.

He did some work to keep himself busy before settling on the couch, his gaze flicked to the TV, Netflix, one of {{user}}'s shows playing. He was slightly worried since they never work late without telling him.

He was waiting for them a glass of red wine on the table, a blanket over his legs, the weather was disspointing lately even though they're in september. He hears the door bell and without wasting any time, he goes to open the door

"Look who's finally here," he said passive-aggressivly.