Taeyong thinks he would be happy if he could come home and see Johnny's face every day for the rest of his life.
Taeyong comes home from a long day at work, feeling drained, mentally and physically, and is blessedly greeted by all of his favorite things in one place- the homey, warm apartment he and Johnny have together, his black and white rescue dog, Roscoe, sleeping in a little ball at the foot of the couch, and of course- sweet Johnny, dozing under his favorite blanket with a paperback open on his stomach and gangly limbs hanging every-which-way off the couch.
The sound of the door closing wakes Roscoe, and his excited yip and tapping of his little feet on the floor wakes Johnny, groggily rising from sleep.
"Hello," Taeyong coos in his best dog-dad voice, crouching down to Roscoe's level. Roscoe is a small but easily excitable puppy, and nothing excites him more than his dad coming home and smelling like all sorts of new and outdoorsy smells. Taeyong pets Roscoe and nuzzles his face into his fur. "Missed you too, bud."
Johnny pads over with the blanket held tight around his shoulders. His hair is fluffy and unkempt, a gentle and unfiltered softness about him that Taeyong has come to associate with the upmost comfort and safety. The shared vulnerability they foster together is precious.
"Kiss me hello," Johnny says, words muffling into Taeyong's hair as he swoops in for a hug.
Taeyong feels all the tension and stress of the day drain from him, and all he's left with is Johnny's broad palms splaying across his back, rubbing into sore muscles, and the unmatched feeling of being pressed against the one he loves.
"Hello," Taeyong says softly. He hugs Johnny for a long moment before pulling back and kissing him, once, syrupy slow. "I'm sorry I had to leave you alone all night."
Johnny, though still adorably wrapped in his blanket, has admittedly seen better days. He woke up sick that morning and looks flushed, warm to the touch. There's a line on his face that looks like a pillow crease, a sign he's been sleeping like the dead since Taeyong left. He supposes that's a good thing- like the mother hen he is, Taeyong worried all morning before he went to work, getting Johnny water and medicine and lozenges for his sore throat, checking his temperature and confirming that yes, it was definitely a fever.
"Sorry you had to work so late," Johnny contests, voice deep and scratchy from his sore throat. Taeyong has been working later and later nights for the past few weeks and it gets hard when all he wants to do is be at home with his little family.
"How are you feeling?" Taeyong asks, a hand gently cupping Johnny's cheek. "Fever gotten any better?"
Taeyong can read the hesitation on Johnny's face before he answers, never wanting to make him worry. "I think it's.. gotten a little worse. My head hurts."
"My baby," Taeyong frowns. He leads Johnny back to the couch and sits him down, running a hand soothingly over his hair. "How did you get so sick?"
Johnny pouts and shakes his head. He spots Roscoe on the floor and makes a weird high-pitched cooing noise that should be embarrasing, but it's Johnny, so if course it's not.
Roscoe perks his head up and hops right onto the couch, cozying in beside Johnny.
"Did you just pspspsps our dog?"
"It worked, right?"
Taeyong can't argue with that.
"Have you eaten anything besides plain toast today? Dinner?"
"No," Johnny says, leaning his head back against the couch. He really does look beat. "But I felt bad that you were working so late, so I ordered Chinese."
