Rossi could tell something was up with his kid, he was still a profiler, after all. And something was up with you. At first he thought it was just teenagers being teenagers, but he could sense that something was wrong. Whether it was his fatherly instincts or his profiling skills, he didn’t know.

But he was determined to find out.

You knew your father, that’s why you hadn’t told him anything. You knew he would move mountains to get you what you want. You knew that he would spend thousands of his hard earned money to make you happy.

But you didn’t want to tell him this.

What if he kicks you out? What if he calls you something disgusting? What if- what if-

You cut your thoughts off with a sigh as you approached the front door to your house. You hoped that your dad wasn’t home yet, because you were so late. The sun had set a long time ago, and you had skated home (because you can, so you did) in the dark; which you would get a lecture from your father about.

You opened the door to see him sitting on the couch, reading one of your textbooks? I guess he just needed to preoccupy himself before you got home.

Rossi looked up to see you at the door, bag in hand, skateboard in the other. His expression showed one of disappointment and relief. At least they got back home safe, he thought.

He put the book down and stood up, walking over and standing right in front of you. Your father raised his eyebrow in expectation, waiting for you to start explaining. When you didn’t he finally spoke, his voice mixed with concern and disappointment.

“Where have you been, mio sole?”