Home for Christmas (Kellex X Reader)
Y/N surprises her girls for Christmas.
The C-17 transport plane touched down at Joint Base Andrews just after dawn, the wheels hitting the tarmac with a jolt that seemed to jolt Y/N awake from what felt like a very long dream. Captain Y/N L/N pressed her forehead against the small window, watching the winter sun paint the Maryland sky in shades of pink and gold, and felt her heart leap into her throat.
Eight months. Two hundred and forty-three days, to be exact. Not that she'd been counting or anything.
"You good, Captain?" Sergeant Martinez asked from across the aisle, already on his feet and slinging his worn duffel bag over his shoulder. The rest of their unit was stirring, gathering their gear with the practiced efficiency of soldiers who'd done this too many times to count.
Y/N turned from the window and grinned—really grinned, for what felt like the first time in months. "Better than good, Martinez. I'm about to surprise the hell out of my fiancées."
Martinez laughed, shaking his head. "Man, I wish I could see their faces. You've been talking about this moment for weeks."
"Months," Y/N corrected, standing and reaching for her own pack. "I've been planning this since the day we deployed."
The truth was, the plan had actually come together only in the last two weeks, after their unit had completed their mission ahead of schedule. Y/N's commanding officer, Colonel Reeves, had called her into his office at the forward operating base with news that seemed too good to be true.
"Your team did exceptional work, Captain," he'd said, his weathered face creasing into a rare smile. "We're rotating you home early. Three weeks early, in fact. You'll be stateside by December twentieth."
Y/N had barely been able to process the words. December twentieth. That was today. That was right now. That meant she'd be home for Christmas—home for the USWNT Christmas party that Kelley had been talking about for months, the one that was supposed to happen while Y/N was still deployed, the one where she was supposed to appear via video call for a few precious minutes if the connection held.
She'd immediately asked for permission to keep the early return classified, and Colonel Reeves had raised an eyebrow but agreed. "Want to surprise them, do you?"
"Sir, my fiancées think I'm not coming home until mid-January. If I can surprise them at their team Christmas party..." Y/N had trailed off, not trusting her voice.
"Say no more, Captain. Surprise approved. And for what it's worth—thank you for your service. You've earned this."
The moment Y/N had gotten access to a secure line, she'd called Kelley's mom, Erin O'Hara, swearing her to absolute secrecy. Erin had gasped so loud Y/N had worried she'd blown an eardrum.
"Oh honey, they are going to lose their minds! Yes, yes, of course I'll help! Oh, this is the best Christmas present ever!"
Together, they'd coordinated everything. Erin would pick Y/N up from the base, let her shower and change at her house, then smuggle her into the W Hotel in downtown DC where the party was being held. Y/N had even had her dress uniform shipped to Erin's house weeks ago, just in case the early return came through.
Now, as Y/N processed through the arrival terminal with the rest of her unit, scanning faces in the crowd of waiting families, she spotted Erin almost immediately. The older woman was practically vibrating with excitement, clutching her purse like a lifeline and trying—unsuccessfully—to look casual.
The moment Y/N was through the final checkpoint, Erin rushed forward and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.
"Welcome home, sweetheart," Erin said, her voice thick with emotion. "Oh, let me look at you."
She held Y/N at arm's length, her eyes scanning for any signs of injury or hardship. Y/N knew what she saw—she was thinner than when she'd left, her tan deeper from months in the desert sun, her eyes carrying a weight that hadn't been there before. But she was whole, she was healthy, and she was home.
"I'm okay, Erin. I promise."
"Good. Now let's get you to my house. You've got about nine hours before the party starts, and you look like you could use a hot shower, a real meal, and maybe a nap."
Y/N laughed. "You have no idea how good that sounds."
The drive to the O'Hara house in Alexandria was surreal. Y/N watched the familiar landscape roll by—the highways, the neighborhoods, the strip malls and coffee shops and everything that represented normal life. Life without constant vigilance, without the weight of a rifle, without the sound of helicopters overhead.
"Have you talked to them recently?" Y/N asked softly, watching the suburbs pass by.
Erin's expression softened. "I was at your house two days ago. They're doing okay, sweetheart, but they miss you terribly. Alex has been throwing herself into training—you know how she gets when she's stressed. And Kelley..." Erin paused, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Kelley's been her usual self on the surface—joking around, keeping everyone's spirits up. But I can see it in her eyes. She's counting down the days until January."
Y/N's throat tightened. She pulled out her phone, scrolling to the group chat she shared with Kelley and Alex. The last messages were from three days ago, when communication had been spotty at best.
Kelley ⚡: Miss you so much babe. Can't wait until January. Only 26 more days!!!
Alex 💙: The house is too quiet without you. We FaceTimed with your mom today—she sends her love. She says you're doing great and staying safe.
Alex 💙: I made your favorite cookies today. Kelley ate half the batch before they cooled. She saved you exactly zero.
Kelley ⚡: That's a LIE I saved her at least three
Kelley ⚡: Okay maybe one
Y/N: You two are ridiculous and I love you more than life itself. Stay safe and have fun at the party. I'll be thinking of you every second.
Alex 💙: We love you. Come home safe.
Kelley ⚡: We're gonna hug you so hard when you get back. Like, prepare to not breathe for at least ten minutes.
Y/N had to close her eyes against the sudden sting of tears. In a few hours, she wouldn't have to stare at her phone and imagine their faces. She'd see them in person. She'd hold them.
At Erin's house, Y/N took the longest, hottest shower of her life, washing away months of desert dust and exhaustion. Erin had laid out fresh towels and the dress uniform Y/N had shipped ahead—the Navy Blue service uniform with all her ribbons and medals, the one that Kelley had said made her look "unfairly hot" and Alex had called "distinguished and very distracting."
After the shower, Erin insisted Y/N eat a real meal—not MREs or mess hall food, but homemade soup and fresh bread and a salad with actual crisp vegetables. Y/N nearly cried at the first bite.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "For all of this. For helping me surprise them."
Erin reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You're family, Y/N. You have been since the moment those two brought you home and we saw how they looked at you. How you looked at them. This is what family does."
Y/N managed a nap after lunch, though her nerves made it restless. She dreamed of Kelley's laugh and Alex's smile, of their house with its blue front door and the garden Alex had been so proud of, of Sunday mornings tangled together in bed with coffee and crossword puzzles.
When she woke, it was already getting dark outside. Erin was waiting with a knowing smile.
"Ready?"
Y/N stood, smoothing down her uniform and checking her reflection one last time. Her hair was regulation-neat, her ribbons perfectly aligned, her shoes polished to a mirror shine. She looked every inch the Army officer she was—but more importantly, she was about to see her family.
"Ready."
The W Hotel in downtown DC was lit up like a Christmas card, its facade decorated with thousands of white lights that reflected off the light dusting of snow on the ground. Y/N could hear music drifting from somewhere inside as she and Erin made their way through a side entrance, avoiding the main lobby where any early arrivals might spot them.
"Okay," Erin said, checking her phone. "The party started at seven. It's seven forty-five now. According to the schedule, they're doing cocktails and mingling for another fifteen minutes, then Secret Santa at eight-fifteen, then dinner. I think the best time for you to make your entrance is right after Secret Santa starts—everyone will be gathered in one place, and you'll have maximum impact."
Y/N laughed nervously. "Maximum impact. No pressure."
"Honey, you're a soldier who just got home from deployment to surprise your fiancées. This is going to be the highlight of everyone's night."
Erin led her through a maze of service corridors and back hallways, the kind used by hotel staff to move around without being seen by guests. Y/N's heart hammered against her ribs, and she had to wipe her sweaty palms on her uniform pants more than once.
Finally, they reached a small alcove near a service entrance that led directly into the ballroom. Through the crack in the door, Y/N could see inside.
The ballroom was absolutely stunning. White lights were strung everywhere, creating a canopy of stars across the ceiling. A massive Christmas tree dominated one corner, decorated in red and gold with a silver star on top. Round tables were scattered throughout the space, each with their own centerpiece of winter flowers and candles. A bar ran along one wall, and a buffet table along another, laden with food that made Y/N's mouth water despite her earlier meal.
But she barely noticed any of it, because her eyes found Kelley and Alex immediately, like magnets drawn to north.
They stood near the center of the room, champagne flutes in hand, talking with Christen Press and Tobin Heath. Kelley wore a dark green dress that hugged her athletic frame perfectly, the color making her eyes pop even from this distance. Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and she was gesturing animatedly as she told some story that had the others laughing.
Alex stood close beside her, elegant in a navy blue dress that hit just above the knee. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun with a few tendrils framing her face, and she had that soft smile that Y/N loved so much. Her hand rested on Kelley's lower back, a casual touch of affection that made Y/N's chest ache with longing.
But Erin had been right—Y/N could see it in both of them. Alex's smile didn't quite reach her eyes, and there was a tightness around her mouth that spoke of stress and worry. Kelley's laugh was just a fraction too loud, too bright, the kind of overcompensation Y/N had seen her use before when she was trying to keep everyone else's spirits up while hurting inside.
"How much longer?" Y/N whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from them.
Erin checked her phone. "Five minutes. Tobin's about to call everyone for Secret Santa. I'm going to go in and position myself near them. When you hear Tobin finish explaining the rules, that's your cue. Just walk in like you own the place."
"I'm terrified," Y/N admitted.
Erin smiled and squeezed her shoulder. "They're going to lose their minds in the best possible way. Trust me."
Y/N watched as Erin slipped into the ballroom, making her way through the crowd with waves and hellos. She stopped to chat briefly with a few people before positioning herself near Kelley and Alex, who both lit up at seeing her.
"Mom!" Kelley exclaimed, pulling Erin into a hug. "I didn't know you were coming!"
"Wouldn't miss it," Erin said, her voice carrying just enough for Y/N to hear. "How are my girls holding up?"
Alex hugged her too. "We're good. Just... you know. Missing Y/N."
"Twenty-six more days," Kelley said, but her voice wavered slightly. "Then she's home for good. Well, until the next deployment, but we're not thinking about that yet."
Y/N closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself. Twenty-six more days. They'd been counting, just like she had.
From inside the ballroom, Tobin's voice rang out. "Alright, everyone! Can we gather around for Secret Santa? Come on, don't be shy! Bring your drinks, grab a seat, let's do this thing!"
Y/N watched as the team congregated, some sitting on the scattered couches and chairs that had been arranged in a large circle, others perching on chair arms or sitting on the floor. Kelley and Alex found spots on one of the couches, sitting close together with Kelley's head resting on Alex's shoulder.
Tobin waited until everyone was settled, then grinned. "Okay, so here's how this is going to work. We're going old school—everyone draws a number, and we go in order. You open your gift, everyone oohs and aahs appropriately, and then we move on. Simple. Oh, and there's a fifty-dollar limit, but let's be honest, half of you definitely went over."
Laughter rippled through the crowd.
"Alright, let's get started! Number one, who has—"
That was Y/N's cue.
She took one last deep breath, squared her shoulders, and pushed open the door.
The service entrance led to a spot slightly behind and to the left of where most people were sitting, which meant Y/N had to walk about fifteen feet into the room before she'd be in everyone's line of sight. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure everyone could hear it, but she kept her pace steady and confident, the way she'd been trained.
The first person to notice her was Rose Lavelle, who was sitting on the floor and happened to glance toward the door. Her eyes went wide, her mouth forming a perfect O of surprise.
Then Mal Swanson saw her and gasped audibly.
Then Trinity Rodman elbowed whoever was next to her and pointed.
The wave of awareness spread through the room like wildfire, conversations cutting off mid-sentence as heads turned and people stood up. Y/N kept walking, kept her eyes scanning for the only two people who mattered.
Kelley saw her first.
The defender had been reaching for her champagne glass on the coffee table when someone near her—probably Rose, based on the angle—made a noise. Kelley looked up, following everyone's gaze toward the door, and froze completely.
Her champagne flute slipped from her fingers. Christen, still blessed with goalkeeper reflexes even though she wasn't a keeper, caught it before it hit the ground, but Kelley didn't even notice.
"Y/N?" The name came out as barely a whisper, choked and disbelieving.
Alex's head whipped around so fast Y/N worried about whiplash. The striker's face went through about five emotions in as many seconds—confusion, shock, recognition, disbelief, and finally, overwhelming joy.
"Oh my God," Alex breathed.
And then they were both moving.
Kelley vaulted over the coffee table—literally jumped over it—with all the athleticism that had made her one of the best defenders in the world. Alex was only a split second behind her, weaving through the gap between two chairs.
They reached Y/N at almost the exact same moment, and the collision nearly took all three of them to the ground. Y/N caught Kelley first because she'd launched herself like a missile, wrapping her arms around Y/N's neck and her legs around her waist with enough force to knock the breath from Y/N's lungs.
"You're here," Kelley gasped, her face buried in Y/N's neck, her whole body shaking. "Oh my God, oh my God, you're actually here. This isn't real. This can't be real."
"It's real, baby," Y/N managed, her voice rough with emotion. "I'm here. I'm home."
Alex crashed into them from the side, her arms wrapping around both of them, one hand fisting in the back of Y/N's uniform jacket while the other cradled Kelley's back. She was crying—they were all crying—and Y/N shifted her weight to hold Kelley with one arm while pulling Alex in tighter with the other.
"I can't believe you're here," Alex sobbed against Y/N's shoulder. "You're not supposed to be home until January. How—when—"
"Mission completed early," Y/N said, pressing kisses to whatever parts of them she could reach—Kelley's temple, Alex's hair, Kelley's cheek, Alex's forehead. "Got the clearance three weeks ago. I couldn't tell you because I wanted to surprise you."
Kelley finally pulled back just enough to look at Y/N's face, her hands coming up to cup Y/N's jaw. Her eyes were red and swimming with tears, her mascara running, and she'd never looked more beautiful.
"You asshole," Kelley said, but she was laughing and crying at the same time. "You beautiful, wonderful, perfect asshole. I thought I had twenty-six more days. Twenty-six more days of missing you and—"
She couldn't finish. Instead, she pulled Y/N down into a kiss that tasted like champagne and salt and coming home. Y/N kissed her back with eight months of longing, trying to pour everything she felt into that moment.
When they finally broke apart, Alex was there, her hand on Y/N's face, turning her gently. "My turn," she whispered, and then she was kissing Y/N too, soft and deep and devastating.
Around them, the room had erupted. The entire USWNT was on their feet, cheering and whooping and applauding. Someone—it sounded like Megan Rapinoe—let out a whistle so loud it could probably be heard in the lobby. Y/N was vaguely aware of phones coming out, of people recording the moment, but she didn't care.
All she cared about was the feeling of Kelley's arms around her neck, Alex's hands gripping her jacket, and the fact that for the first time in eight months, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
"I love you," Y/N said, looking between them both. "I love you both so much. Every day, every single day, you two were what kept me going."
"We love you too," Alex said, her voice breaking. "So much. More than anything."
Kelley had her face pressed against Y/N's neck again, her shoulders shaking with sobs. "Don't leave again," she mumbled. "I know you have to, I know it's your job, but just—not right now. Right now, just be here."
"I'm not going anywhere," Y/N promised. "I'm right here, and I'm staying right here."
Eventually—though it could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes for all Y/N knew—they became aware of the crowd around them. Megan was the first to approach, her signature smirk firmly in place even though her eyes looked suspiciously bright.
"Welcome home, soldier," she said, offering her hand. Y/N had to carefully unwrap one arm from her fiancées to shake it, though Kelley refused to let go entirely and Alex kept her hand firmly on Y/N's back. "Hell of an entrance. I'd say you upstaged Secret Santa, but honestly, this is way better."
"Sorry about that," Y/N said, but she was grinning.
"Are you kidding? This is the most romantic thing I've ever seen in my life," Rose Lavelle said, bouncing up next to Megan. "I'm literally crying. Look—actual tears!"
And she was. So were a lot of people, actually.
The next few minutes were a blur of hugs and handshakes and welcomes home. Every member of the team wanted to greet Y/N, to thank her for her service, to express their happiness at her return. Christen Press gave her a warm hug and whispered, "They never stopped talking about you. Every single day." Tobin Heath shook her hand with a firm grip and a knowing look. The younger players like Trinity and Sophia Smith were almost starstruck, asking questions about deployment that Y/N answered as best she could while being diplomatic.
But through it all, Kelley and Alex never strayed more than a foot away. Kelley kept one hand linked with Y/N's the entire time, and Alex's hand stayed on the small of Y/N's back, as if they both needed the physical reassurance that she was real and solid and actually there.
Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, Tobin called for everyone's attention again.
"Okay, okay! I know we're all emotional and this is beautiful and everything, but we've still got Secret Santa to get through! Y/N, you're obviously staying for the party, right?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Y/N confirmed.
"Perfect. Kelley, Alex, Y/N—you three take the couch. Everyone else, let's get back to it!"
There was some good-natured grumbling and rearranging, but eventually, people settled back down. Y/N found herself on the couch with Kelley pressed against her left side and Alex on her right, both of them holding on like they were afraid she might disappear if they let go.
The Secret Santa proceeded, though Y/N couldn't have said who gave what to whom if her life depended on it. She was too busy soaking in the feeling of being here, of Kelley's head on her shoulder and Alex's hand in hers, of the warmth and light and laughter surrounding them.
At one point, during a particularly funny gift reveal (something involving a ridiculous amount of coffee-related items for someone who apparently never shut up about needing caffeine), Kelley turned to whisper in Y/N's ear.
"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and this will have been a dream. Please tell me you're real."
Y/N squeezed her hand. "I'm real. I'm here. Feel my pulse if you need to."
Kelley did, pressing her fingers against Y/N's wrist and counting the heartbeats. When she was satisfied, she looked up with eyes that were still red-rimmed but shining with happiness.
"Okay. Real. You're real."
"Very real. And very much in love with you."
"Good. Don't stop."
Alex leaned in from the other side. "Are you two being disgustingly cute over there?"
"Extremely," Kelley confirmed. "Want in?"
"Obviously."
They rearranged slightly so they could all lean against each other more comfortably, Y/N in the middle with her arms around both of them. It was probably too much PDA for a team party, but Y/N couldn't bring herself to care, and based on the fond looks they were getting from their teammates, nobody else minded either.
When Secret Santa finally wrapped up, someone announced that dinner was being served buffet-style. People began to migrate toward the food tables, but Y/N and her fiancées stayed put for a moment, just breathing together.
"I had a whole plan, you know," Kelley said eventually. "For when you got home in January. I was going to make your favorite meal—the lasagna with the fancy cheese you like. Alex was going to make her chocolate chip cookies. We were going to set up the backyard with all those string lights you keep saying you want to buy but never get around to buying. And we were just going to spend the entire night outside under the stars, all wrapped up in blankets, talking about everything and nothing until the sun came up."
Y/N's throat tightened. "That sounds perfect."
"We're still doing it," Alex said firmly. "Tomorrow night. Or the night after. Or every night until you have to go back, I don't care. We're doing all of it."
"About that," Y/N said carefully. Both women looked up at her sharply, and she realized they'd tensed, probably afraid of bad news. "I, um. I put in for a transfer. Before I even left on this deployment."
"A transfer?" Alex asked slowly.
"To the Pentagon. There's a position there—it's administrative, mostly, but it's important work. Strategic planning, policy stuff. It would keep me stateside. I'd come home every night. No more deployments to combat zones."
The silence that followed was deafening. Kelley and Alex were staring at her with identical expressions of shock and something that looked like hope but also fear, as if they were afraid to believe what they were hearing.
"Y/N," Kelley said carefully, "that's... that's a big change. That's basically giving up field work entirely."
"I know."
"You love field work," Alex added. "You've always said that's where you felt like you were making the most difference."
"I did love it," Y/N agreed. "But these past eight months, being away from you two... it changed my perspective. I still want to serve. I'm still passionate about what I do. But I realized that I can serve my country just as well from a desk at the Pentagon as I can from the field. And if doing that means I get to come home to you two every single night, if it means we can actually build the life we've been planning, then that's what I want."
"But—" Kelley started, then stopped, her eyes filling with fresh tears.
"When will you know?" Alex asked quietly. "About the transfer?"
"Probably a few weeks. There's an interview process, background checks, all that. It's competitive. But my CO put in a strong recommendation, and my record is solid. I've got a decent shot."
Kelley made a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "You can't just drop that on us like that. I'm already emotional. Now I'm going to cry again."
"Hey," Y/N said gently, turning to face them both more fully. "Listen to me. Whether or not the transfer comes through, we're going to be okay. We're going to figure this out. We always do. But I wanted you to know that I'm trying. I'm actively working toward a future where we don't have to do eight-month separations anymore."
"We would never ask you to give up your career," Alex said, her voice thick with emotion. "You know that, right? We love you exactly as you are, Army officer and all."
"I know. You're not asking. I'm choosing. You two are my home. You're my future. And I want to build a life with you that doesn't involve months of separation and wondering if every video call might be our last for a while."
This time, when Kelley kissed her, it was soft and sweet and full of promise. When Alex kissed her next, it was with a kind of reverence that made Y/N's heart feel too big for her chest.
"We love you," they said in unison, then laughed at the jinx.
"I love you both. More than anything."
They sat there for another few minutes, just holding each other, before Erin O'Hara appeared with three plates of food.
"I figured you three weren't going to move anytime soon, so I brought dinner to you," she said with a knowing smile. "Eat. You especially," she added, pointing at Y/N. "You're too thin."
"Yes, ma'am," Y/N said obediently, accepting the plate.
The food was delicious—some kind of chicken dish with roasted vegetables and fancy mashed potatoes—but Y/N barely tasted it. She was too busy watching Kelley and Alex, memorizing the way the light caught in Alex's hair and the exact curve of Kelley's smile when she laughed at something one of their teammates said from a nearby table.
After dinner, the party shifted into a more casual mode. The lights dimmed slightly, music started playing through the sound system, and people began to dance or cluster in small groups to talk. Y/N found herself pulled into conversation after conversation, answering questions about her deployment (the ones she was allowed to answer, anyway) and listening to updates about the team's season.
But the best part of the night came later, when most of the party had wound down and only the core group remained. Someone had claimed one of the empty hotel conference rooms, and about fifteen of them—the team's closest friends and family—had piled in with leftover desserts and drinks for a more intimate celebration.
Y/N sat on a couch with Kelley curled up against her left side and Alex on her right, listening to Tobin and Christen tell a story about some misadventure they'd had while visiting Portland. Megan was heckling from across the room, and Rose was recording everything on her phone for posterity.
"This is nice," Alex said softly, just for Y/N and Kelley to hear. "All of us together like this."
"It's perfect," Kelley agreed. She turned to look up at Y/N. "Are you tired? You must be exhausted. You just flew halfway around the world."
Y/N considered. She was tired—bone-deep exhausted, actually, in a way that came from months of high stress and poor sleep finally catching up to her. But she was also wired on adrenaline and joy and the simple pleasure of being surrounded by people she loved.
"I'm okay for now," she said. "Don't want to miss anything."
"You're not allowed to miss anything ever again," Kelley said firmly. "New rule."
"I'll do my best."
They stayed for another hour, soaking in the warmth and laughter and love that filled the room. Y/N learned about the team's latest victories and losses, about inside jokes she'd missed and drama she'd been spared. She heard about Kelley's new endorsement deal and Alex's latest youth clinic. She was updated on which couples were together, which friendships had deepened, which rookies were fitting in well.
It was mundane and ordinary and absolutely perfect.
Finally, around eleven o'clock, Alex caught Kelley's eye and then looked at Y/N with a meaningful expression.
"We should probably head home," she said gently. "Before Y/N falls asleep sitting up."
"I'm not—" Y/N started to protest, then yawned hugely, which completely undermined her point. "Okay, maybe I'm a little tired."
They said their goodnights, which took another twenty minutes because everyone wanted one more hug, one more expression of joy at Y/N's return. Megan pulled Y/N aside before they left.
"Seriously," she said, her voice lower and more serious than usual. "Welcome home. Those two—" she nodded toward where Kelley and Alex were saying goodbye to Tobin and Christen, "—they're my family. Seeing them happy like this... thank you for coming home safe."
"Thank you," Y/N said simply. "For being there for them while I was gone."
"Always."
The drive back to Alexandria was quiet, Alex at the wheel while Kelley sat in the back with Y/N, unwilling to be separated even for the length of a car ride. Snow had started to fall more heavily, fat flakes that caught in the headlights and made the world look like a snow globe.
Y/N watched it fall, feeling the weight of the day—of the entire deployment—finally starting to lift from her shoulders. She was home. She was safe. She was with the people she loved most in the world.
"What are you thinking about?" Kelley asked softly, her head resting on Y/N's shoulder.
"Just... how lucky I am. How grateful."
"We're the lucky ones," Alex said from the front seat, catching Y/N's eyes in the rearview mirror. "You came home. That's all that matters."
When they finally pulled into the driveway of the house in Alexandria—the house with the blue front door and the garden Alex loved and the big backyard where they'd talked about maybe getting a dog someday—Y/N felt something settle deep in her chest.
Home.
The door burst open before they even reached it, and two dogs came bounding out—Scout, the golden retriever they'd adopted two years ago, and Franklin, the small rescue mutt they'd found at a shelter six months before Y/N deployed.
"Oh my God, the dogs!" Y/N dropped to her knees in the snow, letting Scout jump all over her while Franklin spun in excited circles. "Hi babies, hi! I missed you too!"
Scout was trying to lick her face while simultaneously wagging his entire body, and Franklin was making a high-pitched whining sound of pure joy. Y/N laughed, really laughed, for what felt like the first time in months.
"Okay, okay, inside!" Alex called, laughing too. "Before we all freeze!"
They tumbled into the house in a tangle of humans and dogs, snow melting off their shoes and leaving puddles in the entryway. Y/N straightened up, looking around at the space that was so familiar and so dear.
Everything was exactly as she remembered. The photos on the wall—including the one from their engagement, all three of them on the beach with matching smiles and tears. The couch where they'd spent countless Sunday mornings. The kitchen where Alex cooked and Kelley claimed she was "supervising." The little mudroom where Y/N's military gear had always cluttered up the space.
"Welcome home," Kelley said softly, coming to stand beside her. Alex appeared on her other side, and the three of them stood there in the entryway, just looking at each other.
"Thank you," Y/N said. "For waiting. For loving me. For being my home."
"Always," they said together.
And then they were all kissing, hands tangled in hair and uniforms and dresses, trying to get closer even though there was no more space between them. The dogs barked excitedly around their feet, probably confused but happy about all the activity.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and giddy, Kelley grinned.
"So," she said. "We've got about eight months of missed time to make up for. I vote we start right now and don't stop until at least New Year's."
"I second that motion," Alex said, reaching for Y/N's hand.
Y/N grinned, letting them lead her toward the stairs. But then she paused, looking back at the entryway, at the home they'd built together.
"Wait," she said. "Can we just... sit for a minute? I know that sounds crazy, but I just want to be here. With you. In our house. Doing nothing."
The love in Kelley's eyes could have powered the sun. "That doesn't sound crazy at all."
They ended up in the living room, Y/N still in her dress uniform, Kelley and Alex in their party dresses, all of them curled up on the oversized sectional that had been Kelley's one splurge purchase when they'd moved in. Scout and Franklin immediately claimed their spots—Scout sprawled across Y/N's lap despite being far too big for it, and Franklin wedged himself between Alex and the couch cushions.
For a while, nobody spoke. They just sat there, hands linked, breathing in sync, letting the reality of being together sink in. Outside, snow continued to fall, blanketing the neighborhood in white. Inside, the Christmas tree in the corner—which Y/N hadn't even noticed when they first came in—glowed with warm white lights.
"You put up a tree," Y/N said, her voice thick with emotion.
"Of course we did," Alex said. "We were going to video call you on Christmas Day. We wanted you to see it, even if you couldn't be here."
Y/N had to close her eyes against the sudden burn of tears. "I can't believe I'm actually here. I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and still be in my bunk at the FOB."
"You're here," Kelley said firmly, taking Y/N's face in her hands. "You're home. You're safe. And you're ours."
"I'm yours," Y/N agreed. "Always."
They talked for hours—really talked, in a way that hadn't been possible over spotty video calls with time delays and other soldiers listening nearby. Y/N told them about the parts of deployment she could share: the brutal heat, the sandstorms that got into everything, the small kindnesses that had kept morale up. She told them about the soldiers in her unit, about Martinez and his terrible jokes, about Private Chen who'd received care packages from both his own family and theirs and had cried happy tears.
Kelley and Alex told her about the season, about wins and losses and injuries and triumphs. They told her about the lonely nights when the bed felt too big, about wearing Y/N's old Army t-shirts to sleep, about the countdown calendar Kelley had made that marked off each day until the expected return date.
"I'm sorry I made you wait," Y/N said quietly. "I'm sorry for all the nights you spent worrying."
"Don't apologize," Alex said firmly. "This is what we signed up for when we fell in love with you. We knew what your job was. We knew there would be separations. And we'd wait a thousand times over because you're worth it."
"Every single day," Kelley added. "Every single day of waiting was worth it to have you here right now."
Somewhere around two in the morning, Y/N finally couldn't fight off sleep anymore. The adrenaline had worn off, replaced by exhaustion so profound she could barely keep her eyes open.
"Bed," Alex declared, standing and pulling both Y/N and Kelley up with her. "Now."
"Bossy," Kelley teased, but she was already leading the way upstairs.
Their bedroom was exactly as Y/N remembered—the king-sized bed with its navy blue comforter, the photos on the dresser, the chair in the corner where they always meant to put away clothes but usually ended up just draping them over. It smelled like home, like the lavender detergent Alex preferred and the vanilla candles Kelley was addicted to.
Y/N started to unbutton her uniform jacket, but her fingers were clumsy with exhaustion. Kelley gently pushed her hands away.
"Let us," she said softly.
They undressed her carefully, reverently, removing the uniform piece by piece and folding it neatly over the chair. Y/N stood there, swaying slightly with tiredness, and let them take care of her. When she was down to her underwear and undershirt, Alex handed her one of her old Army PT shirts that had been washed soft from years of use.
"Better?" Alex asked.
"Perfect," Y/N murmured.
They changed quickly—Alex into sleep shorts and one of Y/N's sweatshirts, Kelley into an oversized t-shirt that might have belonged to any of them—and then they were all climbing into bed.
Y/N ended up in the middle, which had always been her favorite spot. Kelley curled into her left side, head on Y/N's shoulder, one arm draped across her stomach. Alex pressed against her right side, her face buried in Y/N's neck, her breath warm against her skin.
"This," Y/N said, her words slurring with sleep. "This is what I dreamed about. Every night."
"We're here," Kelley whispered. "We're not going anywhere."
"Love you both. So much."
"We love you too," Alex said. "Now sleep. You're home. You're safe. We've got you."
Y/N was asleep within seconds, dragged under by exhaustion and comfort and the overwhelming relief of being exactly where she belonged.
******
She woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains and the smell of coffee brewing downstairs. For a moment, she was disoriented, her mind scrambling to figure out where she was. Then she felt the weight of Kelley's arm still across her stomach, saw Alex's long hair spread across the pillow next to her, and remembered.
Home. She was home.
She didn't want to move, didn't want to risk waking them, but she also desperately needed to see their faces in the morning light, to confirm this was all real.
As if sensing her wakefulness, Alex stirred, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw Y/N looking at her, she smiled—a soft, sleep-rumpled smile that made Y/N's heart stutter.
"Morning," Alex whispered.
"Morning," Y/N whispered back. "Did I wake you?"
"No. I've been half-awake for a while. I kept checking to make sure you were still here."
"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
Kelley chose that moment to wake up, groaning dramatically and burrowing deeper into Y/N's side. "Too early. Go back to sleep."
"It's almost ten," Alex pointed out.
"Way too early."
Y/N laughed, carding her fingers through Kelley's tangled hair. "Come on, sleeping beauty. I smell coffee."
"Bribery," Kelley mumbled, but she was already starting to wake up properly. She tilted her head back to look up at Y/N. "You're really here. I didn't dream it."
"Really here. Promise."
They eventually made it downstairs, though not before spending another twenty minutes just lying in bed together, talking and laughing and stealing kisses. The dogs were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, tails wagging hopefully.
"I'll take them out," Y/N offered.
"You sure?" Alex asked. "You just got home. We can—"
"I want to," Y/N interrupted gently. "I want to do all the normal, mundane things. Walking the dogs, making coffee, doing laundry. All of it."
So she walked Scout and Franklin around the neighborhood, marveling at the normalcy of it all. Neighbors were out shoveling snow from the night before. Kids were building snowmen. Someone had their Christmas lights still on even though it was mid-morning. It was peaceful and ordinary and perfect.
When she got back, Kelley and Alex had made breakfast—or rather, Alex had made breakfast while Kelley had "supervised" and stolen bites of bacon. They ate at the kitchen table, the three of them and two dogs begging shamelessly for scraps, and talked about nothing in particular.
"So," Alex said as she poured second cups of coffee. "What do you want to do today? We're completely free. No practice, no obligations, nothing."
Y/N thought about it. "Honestly? I just want to be here. With you two. Maybe we could watch movies? Order takeout? Just... be together?"
"That sounds perfect," Kelley said. "But first—" she pulled out her phone, grinning mischievously. "We're getting so many texts. The team group chat is blowing up. Everyone's asking how you are and if you're settling back in okay."
Y/N leaned over to read some of the messages:
Rose 🌹: Tell Y/N we're all still crying about last night. Most romantic thing ever!!!
Mal 💫: Seriously though is she okay? Does she need anything? Food? Coffee? A parade in her honor?
Megan 👑: Give her some space, children. Let them have their reunion in peace.
Tobin 😎: Translation: Megan is also dying to know how she is but is pretending to be cool about it.
Megan 👑: RUDE. But accurate.
Christen 🙏: We're just happy you're home safe, Y/N. Love to all three of you.
Y/N felt her throat tighten with emotion. "Can you tell them I'm good? That I'm exactly where I want to be?"
Kelley typed out a response, then showed it to Y/N before sending:
Kelley ⚡: Y/N says thank you all for the love. She's good. We're all good. Better than good. We'll see you guys soon but right now we're going to hibernate and be disgustingly domestic for a while. ❤️
The responses came flooding in immediately—hearts and happy emojis and promises to give them space along with demands for photos and updates.
They spent the day exactly as Y/N had wanted—curled up on the couch watching movies they'd seen a hundred times, ordering Thai food for lunch and pizza for dinner, talking and laughing and just being together. The dogs sprawled across various pieces of furniture, and snow continued to fall outside, creating a perfect cocoon of warmth and safety.
At one point, during a lull in conversation, Alex disappeared upstairs and came back carrying something. She sat down next to Y/N on the couch and handed her a box.
"We, um. We got you something. For Christmas. We were going to mail it to you, but then we thought we'd wait until you got home in January and..." She trailed off, biting her lip.
Y/N opened the box carefully. Inside was a framed photo—one she'd never seen before. It showed the three of them at the beach, taken by someone (probably Kelley's mom) on the day they'd gotten engaged. They were silhouetted against the sunset, arms around each other, and even in shadow you could see the joy radiating from them.
But that wasn't all. Underneath the photo, engraved on a small plaque, were the words: "Home is wherever we're together. Welcome home, always. Love, K & A"
Y/N's vision blurred with tears. "It's perfect. You're both perfect."
"We have something else," Kelley added, pulling out her phone. "We've been adding to it while you were gone."
She opened up a video file and pressed play. It was a compilation of short clips—Kelley and Alex saying goodnight to Y/N on days when video calls hadn't been possible, the dogs doing cute things with captions like "Scout misses you!" and "Franklin is guarding your spot on the couch," moments from games and practices and everyday life.
But the final clip, dated just three days ago, showed both of them in their bedroom, clearly late at night.
"Twenty-six more days," video-Kelley said, her voice soft. "Twenty-six more days and you're home. We can do this. We've done eight months; we can do twenty-six more days."
"We love you," video-Alex added. "So much. Come home safe."
They both blew kisses at the camera, and then the video ended.
Y/N was full-on crying now, not even trying to hide it. "I love you both so much. I don't even have words for how much."
"You don't need words," Alex said, wiping away Y/N's tears with her thumbs. "You're here. That's enough."
As evening fell and the snow finally stopped, they migrated to the kitchen. True to her word from the night before, Kelley started pulling out ingredients for lasagna while Alex preheated the oven.
"I'm helping this time," Y/N announced.
"You sure?" Kelley asked. "You're supposed to be relaxing."
"I've been relaxing for eight months worth of nights that I should have been here helping you cook. Put me to work."
So they cooked together, the three of them moving around the kitchen with the easy familiarity of people who'd done this a thousand times. Y/N chopped vegetables while Kelley prepared the cheese mixture and Alex made the sauce. They talked and laughed and sang along terribly to the Christmas music playing from someone's phone.
At one point, Y/N looked up from her cutting board to find both Kelley and Alex watching her with identical expressions of contentment.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," Alex said. "Just... this. This is what we missed. Having you here for all the little moments."
"The big moments are great," Kelley added. "But it's the little ones that kill you when someone's gone. Making dinner together. Fighting over who gets the last cookie. Arguing about what to watch on TV."
"Then let's make up for lost time," Y/N said. "We've got at least a few weeks before I have to report back to base, and I intend to be here for every single little moment."
They ate dinner at the table, lit by candles that Kelley insisted on even though Alex said it was "excessive for a Tuesday night." They talked about plans for the holidays—Christmas was in five days, and Y/N's family was already texting about when they could see her. New Year's Eve was coming up, and the team was planning another party.
"Is it okay if we're selfish for a little while longer?" Alex asked quietly. "I know everyone wants to see you, and we'll do all of that, but..."
"But right now, we just want you to ourselves," Kelley finished.
Y/N reached across the table to take both their hands. "I am one hundred percent okay with being selfish. The world can wait a few more days."
After dinner, Kelley made good on her promise from the night before. They bundled up in coats and blankets and dragged every string light they could find out to the backyard. It took an hour to get them all hung, with much laughter and several near-falls off the step ladder, but finally the backyard was transformed into something magical—lights strung between trees and along the fence, creating a canopy of stars.
They spread blankets on the patio furniture and curled up together, three bodies tangled into one under a mountain of fleece and flannel. The temperature was just above freezing, their breath visible in the air, but none of them wanted to go inside.
"This is what I imagined," Y/N said softly, looking up at the lights above them. "Every night, lying in my bunk, this is what I saw when I closed my eyes."
"Tell us," Alex said. "Tell us what you thought about."
So Y/N did. She told them about the letters she'd written but couldn't send because of operational security. She told them about the photo she kept in her pocket, of the three of them at Pride last year, all wearing matching rainbow. She told them about the night after a particularly difficult mission when she'd gone to the chapel at the FOB and just sat there, thinking about them, drawing strength from the knowledge that she was fighting to get back to this.
"There were days when it felt impossible," Y/N admitted. "Days when the heat and the stress and the fear felt like too much. But then I'd think about you two—about Kelley's laugh and Alex's smile and the way we fit together like puzzle pieces. And I'd remember why I was there. What I was fighting for."
"What were you fighting for?" Kelley asked softly.
"This," Y/N said simply. "This right here. The chance to come home to you. The chance to build a life together. The chance to grow old with you both and have boring Tuesday nights and exciting Saturday adventures and everything in between."
They sat in silence for a while, just holding each other under the stars and the string lights.
"I got the interview," Y/N said eventually. "For the Pentagon position. It's scheduled for January fifteenth."
Both women tensed, then relaxed.
"That's good," Alex said carefully. "That's really good, right?"
"It's very good. It means they're seriously considering me. My CO said he thinks I have a strong shot."
"But..." Kelley prompted, because she could always tell when Y/N was holding something back.
"But it would mean a big change. Not just in my career, but in my identity, I guess? I've been a field officer my entire career. Taking a desk job, even an important one... I'm excited about it, but I'm also scared. What if I'm not good at it? What if I miss the field too much? What if—"
"What if you're amazing at it?" Alex interrupted. "What if you bring all your field experience and tactical knowledge to policy decisions that save lives? What if you thrive in a role where you can see the bigger picture and make strategic impacts?"
"And what if," Kelley added, "even if it's hard sometimes, even if you do miss the field, you come home every night to us and that makes it worth it?"
Y/N felt tears prick her eyes again. "When did you two get so wise?"
"We've had eight months to think about this," Alex said. "To think about what we want our future to look like. And the conclusion we came to is simple: we want you in it. Every day. In whatever form that takes."
"We're not saying it'll be easy," Kelley said. "Change is hard. Adjusting to a new role will be hard. But we'll figure it out together. That's what we do."
"Together," Y/N echoed. "I like the sound of that."
They stayed outside until they couldn't feel their toes anymore, talking about the future—about wedding plans that had been on hold during deployment, about maybe buying a bigger house with more yard space, about the possibility of kids someday down the line. They talked about trips they wanted to take and dreams they wanted to chase and all the beautiful mundane moments they wanted to share.
When they finally went inside, fingers and toes numb from the cold, they went straight upstairs. This time, when they climbed into bed, there was no exhaustion pulling Y/N under immediately. Instead, they stayed up late into the night, relearning each other, reconnecting in ways both physical and emotional, making up for months of separation with whispered words and gentle touches and the kind of intimacy that only came from truly knowing and being known by another person.
"I'm home," Y/N whispered at some point, with Kelley curled against her side and Alex's arm draped across them both. "I'm really home."
"You're home," they confirmed together. "And we're never letting you go."
The next few days passed in a beautiful blur. They ventured out occasionally—to the grocery store, to walk the dogs, to grab coffee at the shop down the street that made Alex's favorite latte. But mostly, they stayed cocooned in their house, making up for lost time.
Y/N's family came to visit on the twenty-third, her mom crying the moment she saw her daughter and her dad pulling her into a bear hug that lasted a full minute. They stayed for dinner, exclaiming over the house and the dogs and how happy Y/N looked.
"You're glowing," Y/N's mom said, watching her daughter laugh at something Kelley said. "I've never seen you like this."
"That's what being home does," Y/N replied simply.
Christmas Eve, they hosted a small gathering—just immediate family and Erin O'Hara. They cooked too much food, drank too much wine, and sang terrible karaoke versions of Christmas carols that had everyone in tears from laughter.
Christmas morning was just the three of them and the dogs. They opened presents in their pajamas, drinking coffee and hot chocolate and taking turns reading the tags to see who each gift was from. Y/N gave them both matching necklaces with tiny gold coordinates engraved on them—the coordinates of the beach where they'd gotten engaged. Kelley gave Y/N a leather journal with "Our Adventures" embossed on the cover. Alex gave everyone custom photo albums filled with pictures from the past three years.
They spent the afternoon at Erin's house with Kelley's family, eating more food than should be humanly possible and playing board games that got way too competitive. Y/N won at Pictionary, mostly because Kelley and Alex had developed a weird telepathic ability to understand each other's terrible drawings.
That night, back at home, they lit a fire in the fireplace and curled up together on the couch.
"Best Christmas ever," Kelley declared.
"Agreed," Alex said.
"Can't argue with that," Y/N added.
The week between Christmas and New Year's passed in much the same way—quiet days at home, punctuated by visits from friends and teammates. Rose and Mal came over for brunch. Christen and Tobin stopped by for dinner. Megan and Sue sent a care package full of ridiculous gag gifts that had everyone howling with laughter.
******
On New Year's Eve, they went to the team party—this time with Y/N fully present and accounted for, not a surprise appearance. She met some of the newer players she hadn't met at the Christmas party, reconnected with veterans she'd known for years, and spent the whole night with Kelley's hand in hers and Alex's arm around her waist.
When midnight came, they counted down with everyone else, but when the clock struck twelve and everyone erupted in cheers and kisses, Y/N only had eyes for her two fiancées.
"Happy New Year," she said, kissing first Kelley, then Alex.
"Happy New Year," they echoed.
"To new beginnings," Alex added.
"To coming home," Kelley said.
"To us," Y/N finished. "Always to us."
******
The interview at the Pentagon came and went. Y/N was nervous but prepared, and she left feeling cautiously optimistic. Now there was nothing to do but wait.
In the meantime, she had two weeks of leave left, and she intended to make the most of every single day.
They went to museums and movies. They had lunch at their favorite restaurants and dinner at new places they'd been wanting to try. They spent lazy mornings in bed and adventurous afternoons exploring parts of the city they'd never seen.
But Y/N's favorite moments were still the quiet ones at home—making breakfast together on Saturday mornings, doing laundry while singing along to their favorite songs, falling asleep on the couch during movie nights with the dogs sprawled across them.
"This is what I want," Y/N said one night, lying in bed between her fiancées. "This. Every day. For the rest of our lives."
"Then that's what we'll have," Alex said. "Whatever it takes."
"Whatever it takes," Kelley agreed.
The call came on January fifteenth—the same day as the interview, though five hours later when Y/N was sure she wouldn't hear anything for days.
"Captain L/N?" The voice on the other end was professional and brisk. "This is Colonel Martinez from the Pentagon Strategic Planning Division. I'm calling regarding your interview this morning."
Y/N's heart stopped. Kelley and Alex, who'd been reading on the couch next to her, both looked up sharply.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm pleased to inform you that we'd like to offer you the position. Your field experience and tactical knowledge are exactly what we're looking for, and your commanding officer's recommendation was exemplary. We'd like you to start February first, if that works with your current station."
Y/N couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. She looked at Kelley and Alex, who were watching her with wide, hopeful eyes.
"Captain? Are you there?"
"Yes, sir. I'm here. I—yes. Yes, I accept. Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."
They discussed logistics for a few more minutes—start date, reporting procedures, security clearances—but Y/N barely heard any of it. All she could focus on was the fact that she was getting to stay. She was getting to build the life she wanted.
When she finally hung up, she looked at Kelley and Alex.
"I got it," she said, her voice shaking. "I got the job. I'm staying."
The explosion of joy was immediate. Kelley launched herself at Y/N, nearly knocking her off the couch. Alex was right behind her, and suddenly they were all crying and laughing and holding each other so tightly it was hard to breathe.
"You're staying," Kelley sobbed. "You're really staying."
"I'm really staying. No more deployments. No more eight-month separations. Just... us. Every day. Coming home to each other."
"Every day," Alex repeated, her voice full of wonder. "Every single day."
They celebrated that night by ordering way too much food from their favorite Italian place and opening the bottle of champagne they'd been saving. They called their families, called their friends, sent messages to the team chat that resulted in an explosion of congratulatory emojis and GIFs.
But eventually, the excitement settled into something quieter, something deeper. They ended up back in their favorite spot—curled up together on the couch, the dogs at their feet, the house quiet around them.
"I know the past eight months were hard," Y/N said softly. "I know there were nights when you wondered if it was worth it. If I was worth waiting for."
"Stop," Kelley interrupted. "You're always worth waiting for. Always."
"But we don't have to anymore," Alex added. "That's the point. We don't have to wait. We don't have to count down days. We just get to be together."
"We just get to be together," Y/N echoed, letting the reality of it wash over her.
They sat there in the quiet, in the safety of the home they'd built, and Y/N felt something shift inside her. For the first time in her entire military career, she wasn't thinking about the next mission, the next deployment, the next separation. She was thinking about tomorrow morning, and next week, and next month, and next year.
She was thinking about wedding planning and house hunting and maybe getting that third dog Kelley kept begging for. She was thinking about birthday celebrations and anniversary trips and mundane Tuesday evenings. She was thinking about growing old with these two incredible women who'd chosen to love her through everything.
"Thank you," Y/N whispered. "For loving me through the distance. For waiting. For making this place feel like home."
"You don't have to thank us," Kelley said. "You're our home too. Whether you're here or halfway around the world, you're still our home."
"But it's better when you're here," Alex added with a smile.
"It's definitely better when I'm here," Y/N agreed.
As the night deepened and they eventually made their way upstairs to bed, Y/N took one last look around the house—at the photos on the walls, at the Christmas lights still twinkling outside, at the life they'd built and would continue to build together.
She'd served her country with honor. She'd done her duty. She'd made sacrifices and faced challenges and proven herself time and again.
But this—coming home to love, to laughter, to the two women who held her heart—this was her greatest victory. This was what she'd been fighting for all along.
"I love you both," Y/N said as they settled into bed, finding their now-familiar positions with Kelley on her left and Alex on her right.
"We love you too," they said together. "Welcome home."
And Y/N, finally, truly, completely, was home.
