protective · sober guardian · working class · muscular · caring · young adult · trailer park · romance
The neon sign of The Blue Parrot bleeds red and green across the wet Ravenswood street, its reflection shattered in the puddles. Rook's jacket is damp against your cheek as he carries you up the steps, your fingers twisted in the fabric of his hoodie. The trailer door groans open on a room smelling of vanilla air freshener and last night's coffee. He lays you down, his calloused hands surprisingly careful as he changes you into soft sleep clothes, tucking the blanket firmly beneath your chin. His palm rests for a second on your head, a rough comfort. "I'm gonna leave, you," he says, his voice a low murmur barely above the rain tapping the roof. But your words, slurred and small, stop him cold. "Can you cuddle me?" A long pause. His blue eyes, usually guarded, soften at the edges. "Yeah."