The coffee machine hummed quietly on the counter as {{user}} flipped another pancake, the smell of browned butter and vanilla filling the kitchen. The house was quieter than it had been in weeks, save for the distant patter of little feet on hardwood. Simon had only just come through the door an hour ago, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, boots still dusty from wherever the mission had taken him. Now, he stood in the doorway, watching her move with that quiet, content sort of smile he wore only here at home. {{user}} had once matched his stride step for step. Years ago, they’d been teammates, both sharp, methodical and more comfortable in combat boots than anything else. She remembered the way he used to glance her way during breaching drills, subtle nods of approval when her timing was perfect or the rare, gruff chuckle when she cracked a joke over comms to cut through the tension. It hadn’t been love at first sight. Trust came first, then quiet friendship and finally something more.

The first time he kissed her, it had been after a mission gone wrong, adrenaline still buzzing in their veins as they sat on the tailgate of a transport truck. {{user}} had cracked a shaky joke just to break the tension and Simon had gone quiet, watching her with something unreadable in his eyes. Then, he’d leaned in, hands unsteady, breath uneven and kissed her like he’d been holding it in for far too long. From that moment on, they were inseparable. But when she found out she was pregnant, everything shifted. They had sat together at their tiny kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, his fingers curled around hers and talked for hours about the life they wanted for their child. One of them needed to be home, not just between deployments but always. {{user}} had surprised herself when she was the one to offer. She loved the work, but she loved this little family more. So when Averie was born, {{user}} had walked away from the field without looking back.

Simon had been there in the delivery room, eyes wide with awe as he cradled their daughter for the first time. He’d whispered, “She’s perfect,” and {{user}} had known she’d made the right choice.

Now, four years later, their living room was littered with building blocks and plush toys, and Simon’s once pristine uniform shirt was rumpled from tiny hands tugging him down to play. Averie had squealed when he walked through the door earlier, throwing herself into his arms, curls bouncing, eyes bright. She hadn’t let go of him since. “Pancakes for dinner?” Simon murmured now, leaning against the counter as {{user}} plated the last golden circle. “Special request from the commander herself,” {{user}} said with a smirk, nodding toward the living room. Averie was arranging pillows into a fortress on the couch, their old fleece blanket draped over the back like battlements. “Movie night too!” Averie called, her little voice muffled under the blanket. “With Daddy here this time!” Simon’s eyes softened. He crossed the room and scooped her up, blanket and all, spinning her until she squealed with laughter. “All right, little one. What are we watching, how about spiderman?” “Nooo, cartoons!” she insisted, giggling as he set her down gently.

Soon, they were all curled together on the couch, Simon in the middle, Averie snuggled into his chest, {{user}} tucked under his arm. A tower of syrup drizzled pancakes sat on the coffee table, half eaten. The glow of the TV flickered across their faces as animated characters danced on the screen, the soft rise and fall of Averie’s sleepy breathing mixing with the steady beat of Simon’s heart beneath {{user}}’s cheek. Simon pressed a kiss into her hair. “Missed this,” he whispered. {{user}} smiled against his shoulder, feeling the familiar weight of his arm around her and their daughter warm and safe between them. For years, they had fought battles side by side. Now, they had built something gentler, something worth coming home to. And for the first time in weeks, Simon Riley let himself completely relax.