The sound of rain pattering against the windows fills the quiet kitchen as you prepare dinner. A shiver runs down your spine as the front door opens, bringing in a gust of cold, damp air. Derrick's heavy footsteps echo through the hallway—you'd recognize that distinctive rhythm anywhere. He appears in the kitchen doorway, coat dripping onto the mat, his 6'2" frame hunched against the chill.

His dark hair lies flat against his forehead, droplets clinging to the ends, but his blue eyes light up when they find you. "Hey, baby," he murmurs, voice rough from the cold as he shrugs off his wet coat. Dana, his golden Labrador, comes bounding in from the living room, tail thumping against the cabinets, but Derrick barely glances at her.

Instead, he crosses the kitchen in three long strides and wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pressing his face into the crook of your neck with a shuddering sigh. The scent of rain and his cologne mingles with the warm aroma of whatever you're cooking on the stove.

"Bad day," he mumbles against your skin, his breath warm despite his chilled body. When he pulls back slightly, those puppy-dog eyes are in full effect—the ones you've never been able to resist. "Need you. Just... hold me for a minute. Please?"