Hunter Malone had always hated plane rides but in the past few years he had begun to loathe them. In his mind they were times when he had no contact with Scarlet; when he was on base he could call her or write to her, when he was at home he only had to walk into the next room, but when you were at a cruising altitude of thirty-five thousand feet there was literally no way that he could possibly reach her and that was something that Hunter was not at all comfortable with. Still the good thing about plane rides was that they got him home, back to Scarlet, back to where he actually wanted to be. Today’s plane ride had been one of the ones that he had dreaded and looked forward to in equal measures; whenever he got on a plane he always thought how terrible it would be if it went down just as he was going home, to have hope snatched away from every single person on the plane and every single person waiting for them. It was times like that when Hunter reverted to the childish superstition of touching something wooden, just in case. Thankfully nothing like that had happened today. He had managed to make it back to Scarlet in one piece and her smiling face as he had landed gave him reason enough to fly the world just so he could come home.

It was one of the only perks of the job, this coming home business. Every time Hunter stepped off the plane he felt like he and Scarlet were getting another chance, it was the excuse he gave every time Abby moaned about how her foster parents behaved like teenagers in love. In truth Hunter still felt like a teenager in love, or rather what he assumed a teenager in love must have felt like. His own, rather pathetic, attempts at High School romance had been curtailed by his brother’s death and his own subsequent enlistment. It was rather hard to fall in love when you were hundreds of miles away and a little preoccupied with trying not to get shot at. Which was why Scarlet, and what he had with her, mattered so much to Hunter. Scarlet gave him an aim, a reason to put up with the plane ride, a reason to dodge the bullets everyday. If Hunter had found out how good coming home was when he was twenty one he would have come home for good then. Now of course the war had escalated to such an extent that he couldn’t leave it; it made it all the more difficult to sustain a relationship but at the same time it made what he had with Scarlet all the better.

Take today for instance. It was Hunter’s first evening home and he knew that they didn’t need to go out to celebrate. They could just stay in and cook good, homily food before snuggling up on the couch and just catching up with each other. They didn’t need to spend sixty-or-so dollars on a meal that they would only pick at, in a restaurant where they weren’t allowed to stop eating half way through the main course because they decided to indulge in a small kissing session. Hunter loved coming home. Although Scarlet had trusted Hunter to cook which he didn’t think the wisest option. It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook but that his entire out look to the subject was to throw everything into one big pan and see what came out after twenty minutes or so of cooking. It meant that his meals were more about luck than skill, everybody in the Malone house could still remember the day he had managed to mix chilli, milk and steak and come up with something edible. Every time he actually tried to follow a recipe it ended up as a small black shape at the bottom of the pan but whenever he was given a freehand with the ingredients he always managed to produce something. It was just one of life’s little quirks.

Today his meal seemed tame compared to some of the others he had produced in the past; a rather warped version of cappellini al pomodoro just didn’t compare to the ’meatloaf bake’ as Frankie had loving dubbed another one of Hunter’s meals. Still, it was the effort that counted, he thought to himself as he finished laying the table. Not only had he managed to find the candles and the candle sticks (considering he hadn’t been home in a couple of months that was an achievement) he had also shaved and changed into the nicest of his flannel shirts. Okay, so his hair was a little messy and the new scar he had acquired still showed red against the tanned skin of his arm but it was a start. Speaking of starts, if Scarlet didn’t come down for dinner soon it would get cold, ”Scarlet honey.” he called out, walking to the door of the kitchen so that his voice would carry further, ”You coming down?”

Since she'd literally run to Hunter's arms at the airport and had subsequently brought him home, Scarlet had been in their bedroom trying to decide what to wear that night for dinner. Sure, they were staying in, and sure, it wasn't going to be anything incredibly fancy or extravagant, but the fact remained that it was their first meal together in a really long time, and it was partially a celebration of his return from overseas. Though she'd imagined what it would be like without him around the house, she hadn't been prepared for how truly lonely she'd been despite Abby's presence. There had been times when Abby had been out and about, and Scarlet had been left in the home alone -- it was probably safe to say that they had been some of the most distressing experiences of her life. She was a naturally outgoing and social woman, and it was kind of hard to be social when one had no one to be social with. Of course, that was pretty obvious.

She had finally decided though, on a very, very simple ensemble. Rummaging through her closet, she'd managed to find her favorite pair of jeans -- and Hunter's favorite pair for her to wear -- and a plain black T-shirt with slight rhinestone detailing in the shape of what probably used to be a heart. Sure, the shirt had gone through the ringer -- it was about seven years old or something, and some of the rhinestones had been lost in the black hole that was the washing machine...and it had nothing to do with the fact that Scarlet barely knew how to work the washing machine. It couldn't possibly have been that she'd tossed it in on the wrong kind of cycle and the defenseless rhinestones had mercilessly been ripped from the fabric, never to be seen again. Honestly. It couldn't. Of course, just because she'd finally gotten dressed didn't mean that she was anywhere near being completely ready. She still had her hair to do.

Not that she ever really spent a whole lot of time on her hair. Usually, she just washed it, let it dry, and do its own thing. But tonight seemed to call for her to actually put some effort into her appearance...but then again...Hunter seemed to like her best when she was just her. No frills, no fluff, just plain, unadulterated Scarlet. And so, after much deliberation, the brunette simply decided to go with her usual course of action. Retrieving her hair dryer, she'd just finished blowing her hair dry when she heard her husband's voice -- a sound far more angelic than any damn seraphs with stupid freaking harps -- calling up the steps to her. In typical Scarlet fashion, she made her way to the top of the steps and peered down at him, her hands on her shapely hips, a giggle bubbling in her throat, and a devious little grin on her face. "Maybe," she chirped, before bounding down the steps and into the kitchen.

Quickly making her way to Hunter's side, she flung her arms around his broad center, nestling her head against the solid expanse of his chest. "I've missed hearing you around here," she confessed, her fingers gently brushing across his back. It was entirely true, too. She'd missed hearing his voice, she'd missed the smell of his aftershave, she'd missed the feel of his worn, soft flannel shirt against her cheek...though not too much, considering she'd been like a child and slept with one of them every night, clutched in her hands like a security blanket. Not that she'd confess that -- she didn't want him to feel even more guilty than he already did about having had to leave. Scarlet understood his duty, really she did. She understood that it was necessary for him, a veteran soldier, to step up once more in defense of his country, to provide leadership to the young, inexperienced soldiers. She just didn't like it very much.

But now, she didn't have to think about that, because he was home, and she was hugging him, and they were going to spend time together catching up and just being together. Oh, and having dinner.

There had been a time in Hunter’s life when he actively avoiding leave, he had gone out of his way to make sure that he stayed as far away from St Peters as was humanly possible. Then he had been persuaded into coming home for a week and he had run into Scarlet. From then on it was more a case of persuading him to go back. Even now he hated to leave her, he counted the days he had left till leave, he wrote to her as often as possible and carried her letters with him everywhere. He had once overheard one of the privates saying that if you wanted to get on Captain Malone’s good side all you had to do was hand deliver a letter from his wife. It was true that Scarlet’s letters had a genial affect on Hunter but that was because Scarlet was one of the few people Hunter knew who could write letters that actually sounded like her. It was like having a little bit of home right there with him.

And now he was actually home. Home with Scarlet, home with Abbey and Frankie. Home. From the minute Scarlet had run at him in the airport right up and he had caught her up in his arms just like he always did Hunter had felt at home again. Considering he hadn’t even felt like he’d had a home between the ages of seventeen and thirty that was a vast improvement. But then again that was only one of the ways his life had improved since he had met Scarlet. Scarlet with her rhinestone addiction and her insatiable love of coffee, her captivating smile and the way she didn’t need him to be anyone else but him. She was just that person he was allowed to be Hunter Malone in front of, not Hunter Malone with added trimmings.

The sound of Scarlet’s maybe made Hunter grin in a way that only she could. Switching off the heat under whatever food he had now managed to produce began to look around for something to dish it up on. Before he could decide upon anything he found himself under attack from none other than Scarlet Malone. Wrapping his arms around her he smiled down at the top of her head, he’d missed this. ”Did you only miss hearing me around here?” he asked, eyebrow raised. Normally Hunter wasn’t the joking kind, normally the only type of humour that he dared dip his toes into was well constructed cynicism, today, however, he was happy and carefree for the first time in a long while. ”Of course if it was only my voice you missed then guess I can leave a load of recorded messages lying around the house this September.” Hunter suggested, his face almost poker straight. Almost being the operative word here, the twinkle in his eyes and the still raised eyebrow being sure signs that he was teasing Scarlet.

That had to be one of his favourite activities, the banter that the two of them had managed to perfect over the years. It just wasn’t the same in her letters, the impact of the quick replies lessened somewhat by the wait of the week it took for the letter to get from St Peters to wherever he was. Which was why Hunter was choosing to indulge in it right now, it was like a reward for coming home alive. Not that he needed any other reward than then smile of his wife and the way she felt in his arms. Stepping back from her momentarily he gazed at his wife, taking in all the things he had missed,[ b]”You look beautiful,”[/b] he said quietly, ”Just like the Scarlet Malone that I left here.” he smiled slightly and then pulled her close again, stooping to kiss the top of her head. ”Missed you.” he murmured, revelling in the moment.
A sudden thought of the food he had prepared caused him to break the perfect re-reunion, ”The pasta is ready but we don’t have to eat it right now.” he said, ”I want to hear what my girls got up to while Frankie and I were away,” he paused, ”So we can eat and talk or we can sit and talk or we can just…sit.” he grinned at the last word, all of these options sounded pretty appealing to him.

"Well why else would I have missed you?" she teased right back, resisting the urge to giggle, intent on keeping her face just as poker-straight as his own was. "I mean, hearing you means that Abby and I don't have to try and ward off the throngs of men willing to throw themselves at our feet, because you're around to scare 'em all off by being you, all tall and imposing," she replied, unlooping her arms from around him to allow her hands to rest on his chest.

>> more to come <<