A/N- Hey, I had to take a break from Broken, not Shattered and this fluffy thing fell into my head. I'm considering writing more, but it will probably be little shots of Swan Queen progressing. This is totally AU with an established Swan Queen. Enjoy!

You run through the list once again, needing to remind yourself. Preparing yourself so you aren't surprised. When you see her you know that she'll be tanned, her cheeks smooth, she'll be thinner than you remember, and her lips will be devastatingly chapped from a combination of the harsh desert wind, sand, and mild dehydration. You know her hair will be longer and lighter from days in the sun, probably unevenly cut from August's attempts with a pair of medical scissors. You know that when she slips out of her ACU top and tan tee shirt tonight in the safety of your bedroom she'll probably have bruises from where her ruck and her vest have been digging into her shoulders, her hip bones will be far too prominent for your liking, and you know that when she holds you tight in a bed that's felt too big for the past eight months her ribs will press against your spine in the delicious kind of way that's a constant reminder she's finally back home.

You know she won't cry at the airport, but you will. You know that she'll be the last one off the bus, still in Army mode and needing to get accountability of her men. You know that when she does finally spot you, a small gentle smile will grace her face (the one you know she saves for you) and she'll walk singlemindedly to you. You know that she'll drop her duffle when you break out into a run so that she can catch you when you make it to her.

You know all these things from her past two deployments, and yet when the bus pulls up and soldiers begin streaming out, your eyes begin to tear up. All around you the young soldiers are being reunited with wives, husbands, children, and once the last pair of boots hit the ground, it's a moment before you finally see a shock of blonde hair emerge from the bus.

Her eyes are unreadable for a moment as she searches for you, and when you're eyes meet, she drops the last step out of the bus and weaves her way through the crowd to get to you. As predicted, she drops her ruck and duffle while you pick up into a run. It doesn't matter that you're in your typical heels and slacks. You launch yourself into her arms, nearly sending both of you to the ground, but that's not even close to being important right now. Now all that matters is holding her as tightly as you possibly can and never letting her go.

You wrap your legs around the younger woman's hips as hard as you can, wanting to touch every inch of her possible. You know that this conduct is 'unbecoming of the spouse of a senior non-commissioned officer' but you can't bring yourself to give a damn. You bury your face in the nape of her neck and breathe deeply, she smells like the desert and like sand, but also like the flowery soap you send her every month when she's deployed. It's familiar and vaguely you're aware of a shaking. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that it's your shoulders shaking because you're crying.

She laughs and rubs your back gently, "I missed you." She says into your hair. Even her voice is rough, tired from the past eight months at war.

You release your death grip on her neck just enough to pull back and study her face, her sunglass tan is horribly prominent, but her eyes are as bright green and rich as you remember. You cup her face in your hands before leaning down to capture her beautifully chapped lips. You feel her smile into the kiss and you take advantage of the opportunity to slip your tongue into her mouth, she tastes like peppermint and bad coffee.

After a moment, you reluctantly allow her to pull back and set you down on solid ground again. A few of her soldiers had shot the two of you amused looks during the exploit, one of them having the gumption to fake cough out the word 'hypocrite'.

You question this with a raised eyebrow at Emma, "I was responsible for giving the modesty talk before we got off the bus."

"Modesty talk?"

"Yeah, you know. The modesty talk." She raises her eyebrows to try to get her point across. You can tell Emma doesn't want to have to elaborate so you keep the puzzled expression on your face because this is going to be entertaining, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Emma."

Her face flamed pink, you've missed her blushing, "You know, it goes like: we know you've been gone for eight months, but don't dry hump your spouse at the station."

You have no idea how she had managed to give this talk to her soldiers without turning as red as a tomato like she is now, but then again you have no idea how she does most things that involve yelling at her troops. Especially considering how bashful she could be just around you.

But you're so incredibly proud of her, and so incredibly happy that she's finally home with you. So ignoring the whistles from numerous soldiers, you wrap your arms back firmly around her neck and tug her down to press your lips soundly against hers. You memorize every moment.

A/N- Let me know what you think, and if I should continue it!