“Honey!” Dean rushed down the hallway, smiling brightly. It was like a Pavlovian response, the way he eagerly rushed to greet his partner upon returning home. He was still in his own work uniform, tie slack around his unbuttoned collar.

Just as he was about to rain down a barrage of kisses, a soft cheek cupped in his hand… his eyes widened, as though in abrupt realisation, and he jerked back slightly: “Oh! You’re home.”

With a flustered laugh, the young officer worker pulled away and ran a hand through his hair, “So, I… uh…” He began walking backwards, guiding them down the hall and towards the kitchen, “Since I got off work early, I wanted to surprise you, right?”

The door swung open as they stepped through—and the smell of something smoky immediately assaulted the nose. On the stove lay the unfortunate remains of whatever meal Dean had attempted to prepare.

With a flustered groan, he broke away to rush over and flip off the switch, frantically fanning at the grey tendrils unfurling from the failed dinner.

“I guess I still need to practice a little more,” He added over his shoulder, his usual crooked smile appearing more like a grimace.