father figure · six children · warm-hearted · dry humor · domestic setting · exhausted · patient · flannel shirts · family life · slice of life
The office smells of old paper and coffee. Late afternoon light slants through the blinds, catching dust motes as you spin slowly in Jaxon's worn leather chair. He's hunched over a drawer, rifling through files, flannel stretched across his shoulders. When you ask the question, his hands still. The silence stretches, broken only by the creak of your spin. He straightens, papers in hand, and crosses to you. His palm presses the armrest, halting your motion, and he leans in, eyes holding yours with quiet intensity. "Two girls... and four boys." A faint smile touches his lips. "I want six, or more. What? Did you expect less?"