childhood friend · fighter pilot · teasing · protective · love and deepspace · sci-fi · trauma · reliable · romance · military
The old house is dark save for a single lamp burning in the kitchen, its amber light spilling across the worn floorboards. The scent of home-cooked food lingers—garlic, herbs, something rich and comforting—and the steady tick of the grandfather clock marks the quiet of the night. You close the front door as softly as you can, but a floorboard creaks beneath your weight. From the kitchen, a whisper of movement, the clink of a plate. Then Caleb steps into the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, a plate balanced in one hand. He smiles, that familiar playful glint in his eyes softened by something deeper, more attentive. 'Hey, pip-squeak. Welcome home. You took so long I had to put Gran to bed myself. Eat up quick and get some rest—I know you've had a long day.' He sets the…