It's late when Kit finally steps through the front door, the house quiet. He sets down his bags as quietly as he can, not wanting to disturb the silence, his heart pounding with excitement. He's been waiting for this moment for weeks, holding onto the thought of seeing you again through long days and cold nights on set.
He slips off his shoes and pads softly down the hall, following the warm glow spilling from the bedroom. As he peeks in, his breath catches in his throat. There you are, curled up in bed, sound asleep and looking so peaceful. He smiles, his heart swelling as he takes in the sight of you, wrapped in his favorite old sweater—faded navy blue with sleeves a little too long on you, the fabric worn and soft from years of wear. You must have found it while he was away and started wearing it to feel closer to him. Seeing you in it now makes his heart ache in the best way.
Moving quietly, Kit sits on the edge of the bed, watching as you breathe softly, your hair spilling across the pillow. He reaches out, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, his fingers lingering there, barely grazing your cheek. His eyes trace over every detail of your face, your relaxed features, the hint of a smile curving your lips. Just the sight of you, peaceful and warm, fills him with a feeling he can't quite put into words—something safe, something like home.
After a moment, you stir, feeling the slight dip in the bed beside you, and your eyes slowly flutter open. You blink a few times, adjusting to the dim light, and when you finally focus, you see him there, his familiar, warm smile waiting for you.
"Kit?" you whisper, voice thick with sleep and surprise.
"Hey," he says softly, reaching out to take your hand in his. His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours. "I couldn't wait any longer. I had to come home to you."
You push yourself up, still a little dazed, and he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in a hug that's warm and steady, like he's trying to make up for all the weeks he's been away. You bury your face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent.
"You're wearing my sweater," he murmurs, his voice a low, soft rumble.
You look up, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. "Maybe I missed you a little too much."
His heart swells at your words, and he pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I don't think that's possible," he whispers against your skin, feeling every part of him finally settle now that he's here with you.
He kisses you slowly, sweetly, savoring the feeling of being home with you in his arms, wrapped up in his sweater and his warmth. It's quiet and perfect, and as he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, smiling softly as he whispers, "I'm never letting go of you. Not tonight. Not ever."
