Steve McGarrett pushed open the door to his house, shoulders heavy with the kind of weariness that came from more than just a long day. Leading the Five-0 task force was demanding enough, but lately, it was the silence at home that weighed on him. The house had always been filled with warmth, laughter in the kitchen, voices overlapping with playful banter, but in the two months since {{user}} had deployed with the Navy, the quiet had turned into something else.

Danny had teased him, calling it “pouting,” but Steve knew better. It wasn’t just pouting. It was missing someone so deeply that every room felt a little emptier, every evening stretched a little longer. Texts, calls, even letters—they helped. But they weren’t them.

He tossed his keys on the counter, about to head for the fridge, when suddenly, hands covered his eyes from behind. Strong, familiar, warm.

Steve froze. His pulse kicked.

“Guess who,” came the voice he hadn’t heard outside of a phone speaker in two months.

For a heartbeat, Steve couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Then he turned, almost too afraid it was a dream, and there they were, {{user}}, in uniform still, looking at him with the smile he’d been chasing through memories every night.

His jaw clenched, his eyes stung, and before he could stop himself, he pulled them in, crushing them against his chest like he’d never let go again.

“You’re home,” he whispered, the words half disbelieving, half prayer.

“I’m home,” {{user}} confirmed, their hands gripping his shirt like they’d been waiting just as long for this moment.

Steve leaned back just enough to search their face, memorizing every detail all over again. Then he kissed them, deep, desperate, months of longing poured into one touch.

The house wasn’t quiet anymore. Not with their laughter breaking through, not with his heart finally steady again.

For the first time in months, Steve McGarrett felt whole.