[for Meredith]

It's not often that Sean comes home in this state anymore, with that old swagger in his step that comes from too much focus spent keeping it steady, but really, that's what makes the times when he does go all out all the more worth it. That's what he tells himself, anyway. The guilt that he feels when he drinks is a rather unwelcome recent addition, however, fading echoes of a fight with Meredith that he barely remembers always ready to creep up on him as soon as he lets his guard down, and there's only so much rationalizing he can do after he's had a few. Which leads to more drinking, which leads to nights like tonight. It doesn't seem fair, somehow, when he's finally getting over the depression that had plagued him for months, to be brought low by something so utterly ridiculous, but at least it tends to fade away pretty reliably somewhere during the short walk home. These are good days he's living in, good times, and these nights are the exception as opposed to the rule now. Which makes them all the more worth it.

He pauses in the yard to ruffle Doc's fur when he gets home and the damn mutt nearly gets him rolling around on the ground with him by the time Sean drags himself through the front door. "Hey you," he drawls fondly when he spots Meredith and heads over to a chair, draping his jacket over the back of it before taking a seat with a heavy sigh. "We should have a couch. Why don't we have a couch?"