A/N: Hello, killjoys! I just wanted to let you guys know that updates will be kind of slow again. This isn't from lack of inspiration or anything, it's because I'm working on three other stories at the moment. For a while, I had nothing to work on, which is why I updated like twice a week, but now this is a side project again like it originally was.

It's been a year since my husband, Mikey, has been diploid to Europe for the war. I got a letter last week letting me know he'd finally be coming home. A year I've waited to kiss him. A year I've waited to hold him close.

A year I've waited to tell him I love him.

And now, I have an hour. One hour until I can finally see him. It'll be the slowest hour of my life, that much I know.

I busy myself by setting the table and checking on the chicken I have in the oven. It's been a year since he's had a good home cooked meal. I run upstairs and make sure everything is okay with my surprise. Before I know it, I hear the front door squeak open. My heart pounds fast in my chest as I race down the stairs, stopping dead in my tracks when I him, standing tall in his uniform. He drops his suitcases as tears spring to his eyes.

"Mikey!" I cheer as I run up to him. He picks me up and spins me around before placing me on my feet to hug me tightly.

"Oh, Y/N! I missed you so much!" He cries.

"Sweetheart, I'm so happy you're home!" I squeeze him tighter. I pull away and kiss him passionately, missing the taste of his lips.

Once we pull away from each other, he caresses my cheek, "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

He picks up his suitcases and heads over to the stairs, "Shh!" I warn, "you'll wake the baby!"

He turns around to face me, a new light shining in his eyes that wasn't there before, "B-baby?"

I smile at him, "Would you like to meet your son?"

In all the letters I wrote, I never mentioned to Mikey that I found out I was pregnant two weeks after he left. It's his baby. Michael Jr.

More tears well behind his eyes, "I-I have a-a son?"

"Yes, yes you do. He's two months old." I guide him upstairs into Michael's room, where he's laying quietly in his crib.

Mikey peers down at him, and his hands cover his mouth as tears run down his cheeks. Tears fill my eyes as I witness this. "Can I hold him?" Mikey asks, his voice muffled behind his hands.

"Of course you can, he is yours." I chuckle.

He gently scoops his arms until Michael and lifts him up slowly into his chest, "Hi." Mikey whispers, a large smile on his face. He looks at me, "What's his name?"

"Michael."

His smile gets bigger. Both Mikey and I look down, seeing that Michael, though asleep, is gripping onto Mikey's finger, his little lips forming a smile.