House: Ben/Ronan
[He searches for an hour (one hour, three minutes exactly) before heading home. Ronan had to come home eventually, right? He wasn't going to go stay at some shelter or a friend's house. Right? Right. Ben hopes that's true.
As much as hopes, curls that little flicker of a flame up in confidence and assuredness, he doesn't know until he gets the door open and follows the direction of the dogs (both with their heads facing the kitchen, tails still, bodies sphynx-like laying on the floor) into the kitchen.
If it was an intruder, they'd be barking. He steps past them, leaning down to run his fingertips over their heads, between their ears, giving Freki a little scrub behind his ears before he finally gets a good glance at Ronan. Blood stained, face starting to swell, bruises assured - he looks exactly what Ben expected him to look like and exactly how he never wants to see his boyfriend.] Oh, Ronan. [He takes a step closer, but then he's on the floor, crawling towards him until he can get his arms around him.]