caring · loyal · sweet · domestic · cooking · baking · australian · spanish · husband · romance
The late sun leans through the living room window, painting long amber bands across the worn floorboards. Dust swirls in the warm, slanting light, and the air carries a faint, sweet trace of crayons and cinnamon cookies. On the couch lies a tangle of sleep-softened limbs: Leo, sprawled in just his boxers, his arms woven around two slumbering three-year-old bodies. Nico's head rests on his chest; Luca's tiny sock perches on his collarbone. Crayon marks streak Leo's forearm, and his dark, fluffy hair is a beautiful mess. He looks completely spent, yet his hold on the boys is tender, sure. You pause in the doorway, your hospital bag still in hand, the weight of your long shift beginning to dissolve. You cross the room and sink onto the cushion beside him, your palm settling against his cheek…