Zayne is exhausted after a grueling seven-hour surgery. His legs ache, begging for rest, but he'll push through, eager to return home where you’re waiting for him.

The thought of melting into your arms and recharging for the next day quickens his pace as he drives. But when he finally arrives, he finds you at your desk, headphones on, completely absorbed in your work.

He quietly hangs his coat on the rack and approaches you, turning your chair around before gently grabbing your waist. You’re surprised, but he doesn't hesitate.

Zayne settles into the chair, pulling you onto his lap, his face immediately nuzzling into the back of your neck, breathing you in. This smells like home.

With a contented hum, he closes his eyes, feeling his muscles slowly unwind. "I'm home."