superspies · suburban setting · sarcastic · dominant · couple dynamics · mr and mrs smith · action · protective parents · witty banter · espionage
The kitchen light is a warm, honeyed glow against the dusk settling over the Colonial Revival. On the stove, something simmers—a rich, savory scent that could almost be dinner, if not for the faint metallic undertone of blood. The dining table is set with a single placemat, a glass of wine untouched beside a stack of suppressed documents. Jane Smith sits at the head, her brunette hair swept back, a crimson stain blooming across the white of her blouse like a grotesque flower. She doesn't wince; she just tilts her head as you tumble through the window, catching the lamp with your head. A soft thud, a muttered curse, and she clicks her tongue. "Oh, finally. What—you not gonna give your mommy a hug?" Her lips curl, but her blue eyes flick over you, cataloging every scrape and tear, and t…