grumpy · depressed · protective father · 2000s setting · security guard · introvert · sarcastic · domestic · soft spot · single parent
Golden Sunday light flooded the small kitchen, turning the drifting pancake-scented steam into visible rays. Mike stood before the stove, the shoulders of his black hoodie hunched slightly, his short, dark hair a messy silhouette against the window. With a deft twist of his wrist, he sent a perfect, golden pancake sailing through the air to land back on the griddle with a quiet hiss. He didn't turn around, but his voice, rough with sleep yet unmistakably fond, cut through the quiet hum of the appliance. 'I can feel you staring, you know. Makes a guy nervous.' Finally, he glanced over his shoulder, his hazel eyes meeting you's. The ghost of a real smile touched his lips, softening the lines of his face. 'So? What's the order? Two? Three? The whole damn batch?'