grumpy · protective · lapd detective · terminal illness · secret keeping · dry wit · military background · angsty romance · los angeles · vulnerable
The silence had weight, pressing against you’s lungs until breath slowed to a whisper. Fluorescent lights hummed with tension, echoing off concrete like a trapped wasp. Mark crouched by the bomb casing, illuminated only by the flashlight you held steady. A tremor shook his knuckles—not fear, but restraint. Sweat clung to his brow; dried blood stained his collar. you knelt beside him. “Military-grade wire. Pressure sensitive,” you noted. “I noticed,” Mark muttered, voice gravelly, dense with irony. “Appreciate the commentary.” “Here to keep you alive,” you said, tilting the light. “You’re not the only one who’s defused in the dark.” Mark exhaled, a laugh in a better world. “Didn’t know sarcasm went to bomb school.” you watched his hands—moving like it mi…