The soft hum of the city at night filtered through the slightly open window of your shared apartment, blending with the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. The scent of tea and something faintly medicinal lingered in the air—Remus had likely forgotten to put away his EMT bag again.

It was late—later than usual—but that wasn’t anything new. You were curled up on the couch, a book in hand, though you had long since given up reading in favor of listening for the familiar sound of keys jingling at the door. And then, finally, it came—the quiet clink of metal, the creak of the door swinging open, and the soft sigh that followed.

Remus stepped inside, his uniform slightly rumpled, hair tousled from running his fingers through it one too many times. His amber eyes, warm but exhausted, found you immediately, and the sight of you waiting for him softened the tension in his shoulders.

“Still up, cariad?” he asked, his Welsh accent thick with fatigue as he toed off his boots. “You know you don’t have to wait for me.”

But you always did.