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The house, as it often was, was freezing. The winter wind and rain had come on suddenly this past week. Normally John would have gone around winterized the windows and checked for drafts in all the doors well before it hit, but he was gone for the foreseeable future in god knows where, and doing you don’t want to know. Ignorance was bliss afterall, not that that mantra helped when it came to missing him terribly. He was always so on top of the winter prep work that you had never really needed to give it a passing thought, which of course led to your current situation of trying to find the correct sized logs to fit in your heater. Even bundled in your warmest woolen hat and scarf your breath painted the air in front of you obscuring your vision momentarily every few seconds. Come hell, or barking up the chain of command over his head Captain John Price would never be taking another mission during the season’s change so help you…
After bumbling around the woodpile, and freezing your poor fingers and toes half to death, you finally stumbled through the door with your logs. Dropping them into the basket near the door, you turned to the clothes pegs lining the hallway of your home to debundle yourself. John’s favorite cabled sweater was still hanging on the peg where he’d left it, and his boots on the floor beneath it. Absently, you plucked at a stray bit of yarn on the shoulder seam of the sweater, smiling a bit at the voice of your husband grumbling that it was “a jumper luv, not a sweater”. It was by far his favorite thing you’d ever made for him. Crafty thing you were, you'd made him nearly an entire wardrobe out of yarn since you’d been together. He had grumbled and groaned at all the measuring and fitting that sweater had required but once the temperature dropped he was hardly ever seen without it on. Even on base if he could sneak it. Not that any of his men would rat him out about wearing it, they all had their fair share of cold weather accessories from you now too.
Coming to a decision you quickly donned the sweater on, nuzzling your nose into the front to try and catch the smell of John’s cigars for a moment. The task of lighting the fire itself was an easy one, luckily. John had taken the time to train you on survival during your frequent camping trips. Much as you weren’t an outdoor person, you, and your frozen extremities were thankful for the lessons now.
Dinner was nearly always a depressing affair when John wasn’t home. The first day or so was nice enough. You got to make your finger food buffet in peace. He always scolded you for it. Not enough nutrition apparently, not that it had ever stopped him from swiping his fair share of nuggets, and pizza rolls, usually directly from your plate before kissing your forehead in apology with a grin. But cooking most other meals for one was never your forte. You always ended up with leftovers for days. Today was no different. It was John’s favorite tonight, chicken and rice. He’d turned up his nose the first time you’d made it for yourself while you were still dating. Admittedly it wasn’t the prettiest of meals, and certainly nothing he’d ever had before. But that night you’d caught him snacking on it at 2am, and it’s been a winter staple in the house ever since. Rare was the day you made it without him here, but the cold and the silence were heavy today. He’d been gone for 4 months now, with only sporadic updates coming at odd hours. At this point you were getting desperate to feel his presence in the house. His jumper, favorite meal, and the fire would have to be enough for now.
Belly full and warm you settled in to work on your next project. John had given you endless light hearted grief over this one. A large Scottish flag blanket that Soap could wave around during football nights. Johnny was loud and rambunctious during game night already, this is absolutely going to send him into overdrive. You grinned as you imagined the groans, banter, and hollering this will bring into your home. John’s peace and quiet will never be the same. The boys coming over was always a highlight of a week. John always looked like a proud peacock when they were over for dinner. Sitting at the head of the table with you by his side watching his boys relax. Even Simon would let loose a bit and gang up on one sergeant or the other with teasing.
With a sigh you finally settled into bed. The many blankets you preferred acting like a weighted quilt. John’s pillow as a buffer to the cold at you front. It was now you missed him the most. The chill of the night had settled into the mattress. John ran warm, almost too warm in the summer. But you always slept better with him in the house. Even if he stayed up after you, knowing he was close was a calming balm to your nerves. You sighed again at the thought of another fitful night in your future. Hopefully he’ll be home soon.
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That was a surprisingly good night. You slept well, didn’t wake up a single time, at least none you could recall. and better yet not a single dream had disturbed you. Normally when John was gone this lone you’d dream of his distress. But none of those had come for you. The bed had stayed warm and cozy for once. You’d even managed to not kick off the top blanket.
As you laid there breathing in the sharp morning air your senses sharpened. There was an arm around your middle and a weight to your back. Steady breaths ruffled the top of your hair. With a grin, you turned and kissed his face.
John Price was home at last.