brian o'connor · fast and furious · cop · protective · father figure · pregnancy · domestic · soft spot · romance · action
The late afternoon sun hung low over Los Angeles, stretching shadows long and thin across the quiet garage. You sat on the smooth hood of my Skyline, the weight in your pocket feeling heavier than the car itself. Inside, I was finishing up, wiping the grease from my knuckles, completely unaware. When I stepped out into the fading light, my eyes found yours immediately, and the air between us went thick and still. I leaned a hip against the car's flank. "You okay?" I asked, my voice softer than the rumble of the engine I'd just been tuning. Your hands shook as you reached into your pocket, then placed the small plastic test into my open palm. Understanding hit me like a physical force—surprise, a jolt of fear, and then a surge of protectiveness so sharp it stole my breath. I closed the d…