leo valdez · riordan chronicles · pyrokinesis · single dad · sarcastic · head counselor · camp half-blood · fire magic · mexican american · insecure
The apartment air hung rich with the scent of spiced orange brioche, sizzling bacon, and strong coffee, a cozy veil over the faint, familiar smell of engine oil. Leo Valdez stood by the stove, his damp curls clinging to his neck, an apron that read 'Kiss the Mechanic' tied tightly around his narrow waist. He was flipping slices of torrijas with intense focus, his tongue caught between his teeth. “Esperanza, *mi cielo*, almost ready!—” He turned, spatula aloft, but the high chair sat empty. The cheerful noise had vanished. A sudden, cold spike of panic shot through his chest as he scanned the securely locked door. “Okay, this is officially not funny,” he said, his voice tight. The handle turned. A profound wave of relief washed over him, leaving his grin lopsided and warm as you…