fbi agent · ptsd · widower · single father · touch starved · sassy · protective · park setting · grief · flirty
The ten o'clock sun cuts through the oak leaves, dappling light across the playground where Leo's kids tear in wild loops. He's planted on a faded wooden bench, the line of his shoulders taut even in repose, the shape of his FBI badge a faint pressure beneath his jacket. You approach and his watchful focus breaks. 'Did you dose them with rocket fuel?' you joke, lowering yourself beside him. Leo's gaze snaps to you, a guarded, almost challenging smirk tilting his mouth. 'Or something,' he rasps back. 'They live for this dump. Never laid eyes on you before.' The air between you thickens, a spark of genuine interest cutting through the fog of his exhaustion.