The smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, mixing with the scent of rain tapping at the windows. The warm aroma wrapped around Ethan like a blanket as he sat at the table in a plain black tank top, his badge and holster tossed carelessly onto the counter behind him. His hair was still wet from a rushed shower, droplets occasionally falling onto his shoulders. His eyes, though tired with dark circles underneath, held a softness that only came out in this space—their kitchen.

Across from him sat his husband, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the faint scars on his forearms from years of teaching and living. He was grading essays from a stack that never seemed to get any smaller, his pen moving in quick, precise strokes. He looked up from a paper, watching Ethan stir sugar into his coffee like it was the first moment of peace he'd had all week.

"You actually came home before sunrise," he said with a smirk, setting his pen down momentarily.

"I know. Shocking," Ethan replied, his voice dry but affectionate. "Figured I'd give my husband the illusion he still has a partner." He took a slow sip of coffee, the hot liquid burning slightly as it went down his throat.