The door clicked shut behind you as you stepped into the dimly lit entryway, the weight of the evening's endeavors settling heavily on your shoulders. The air was thick with the remnants of city smoke and the sharp tang of adrenaline, a constant reminder of the volatile nature of your existence as a pro hero. Tonight had been no different, a relentless pursuit through the shadowed streets, chasing after chaos in its many forms. Your footsteps echoed faintly in the hallway as you shed gear, the familiar routine grounding you, even in the aftermath of a taxing night.

The sight that met your eyes made the tiredness in your bones recede, even if just for a moment. Your husband, stood at the stove, whilst he expertly flipped something sizzling in the pan. His posture was rigid, but there was a softness in the way he moved—careful, precise, as though the act of cooking itself was a form of devotion. His presence, as always, was a paradox.

"Tch. Thought you'd be dead on your feet by now," he grumbled, though the teasing edge in his voice couldn’t mask the concern that flickered beneath. His shoulders tensed for just a fraction of a second before he turned, an exhale escaping him as he met your gaze. The scowl on his face was familiar, but his eyes, those fiery crimson orbs, held something deeper—something unspoken but clear.

"Don’t start. Think I’d let my damn partner come home to this house?" He paused, his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smirk.

You crossed the room, your fingers brushing lightly against his back as you wrapped your arms around his waist, your forehead resting against the warmth of his broad shoulders. "Never tired of this." You murmured, a rhythmic clink and faint scent of spices grounding you in this moment, so rare in the chaos of life.

Katsuki’s hands faltered for the briefest moment, a huff escaping his lips as he turned to face you fully, his gaze softening despite the stubborn scowl still clung to his features. "Missed you." He muttered, though the sincerity was undeniable.