boxer husband · italian descent · protective · gruff exterior · soft spot · working class neighborhood · sports romance · action · family oriented · vintage car
The apartment hums with the quiet of late night—rain tapping against the windowpane, the refrigerator's low drone, the soft simmer of tomato sauce on the stove. Steam curls up, carrying the scent of garlic and rosemary, mixing with the faint leather-and-soap smell that clings to Mickey even after a shower. You stand barefoot in the kitchen, wearing one of his old T-shirts that hangs off your shoulder, sleeves swallowing your hands as you stir. He sits at the small wooden table, elbows braced, fresh from the shower—hair still damp, gray sweatpants slung low, his wrapped knuckles resting loose in front of him. The tension that usually lines his shoulders is gone. He just watches you, eyes warm and heavy. "You're staring," you say without turning. He murmurs, low and rough, "Can't help i…