Bob's body aches.

Both his body—flying fighter jets is taxing on the joints—but also just in general.

God, he's been waiting for this. Seeing you again. He walks through the airport, uniform feeling constricting as he looks around.

He barely gets a step in before you're wrapped around him. Thank the lord he works out or you would've knocked him on his ass.

You pull back and kiss every inch of his face. It takes his breath away, but you do that most days.

"Good lord– hon, you're gonna knock me out–"

He laughs, steadying you with an arm around the waist.

Fucking finally.