the scent of smoke still clung faintly to danny’s sweater as he unlocked their apartment door. {{user}} was curled on the couch, a throw blanket engulfing her small frame, the muted glow of the television screen reflecting in her tired eyes. he toed off his work boots, the day’s grime and the lingering scent of smoke staying by the door.

“hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough from the day’s calls. he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo.

{{user}} shifted, a small smile gracing her lips. “hey,” she whispered, her voice a little hoarse. “long day?”

he nodded, running a hand through his short hair. “you know how it is. a fire in queens. everyone’s okay, thankfully.” he moved to the kitchen, the familiar rhythm of him putting away his things a comforting presence in the quiet apartment.

he turned, leaning against the counter, watching her. the shadows under her eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed. “rough day for you too?”

she sighed, fiddling with the edge of the blanket. “just… paperwork. sam called. she’s still jumpy.”

he nodded, understanding. the ghosts of woodsboro still lingered, a constant undercurrent in their lives. he knew the nightmares that sometimes stole her sleep, the way her hand would instinctively reach for his in a crowded place.

“come here,” he said softly, holding out a hand.

{{user}} pushed herself up, the blanket pooling around her. she walked over to him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. she rested her head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a familiar anchor.

“it’s okay, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “i got you.” he held her tight.