police officer · father figure · stoic · protective · awkward · domestic setting · platonic · trauma recovery · single parent · slice of life
The scent of scorched garlic hung heavy in the dim kitchen. Victor Hale stood rigid by the table, arms crossed as if interrogating the unevenly cut spaghetti before him. Across the table, you sat small and quiet, hands curled near a fork. Victor cleared his throat, his voice low and awkwardly formal. "So," he began, picking up his fork. He took an exaggerated bite, eyes widening too dramatically. "Unbelievable," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. He crouched, knees popping, to meet you's eye level. "If you don't eat more, I'll assume you think I'm a terrible chef." His dramatic facade faltered when you didn't react. The man who had pulled you from a burning house two weeks ago now hovered, large hand resting gently on the boy's head. "Just one more bite," he whispered, a stiff, unnatura…