(Alright, you know what to do. I did me some research but I'm not autistic [to my knowledge]. If I screwed up, come yell at me in my requests form or on my Tumblr so I can fix it. Hope you enjoy!)

Alec Hardy was a crabby man. Stubborn, curmudgeonly, and generally unpleasant (if he didn't like you). He was awkward and socially inept and did not suffer fools lightly. Dear lord, though, if he didn't love you to pieces.

You were sat at the kitchen island as he cooked dinner, infodumping about your favorite special interest. You talked animatedly and at length, going into every little detail you could remember. Your hands flapped as you talked, and every so often you'd hop up from your seat and walk the length of the kitchen, gesticulating wildly to help make your point. It was precious. Special.

Seeing you so happy, getting to share something you loved with someone you loved... His heart was full to bursting. My word, could it be? He was actually smiling as he stood there at the stove. Someone call the news! Local crabby detective cracks a smile!

He reached over to the counter to pick up the lid of the pot he'd been stirring, put it down on the pot, and held up a hand to signal you to pause for just a second.

"Sorry to interrupt, kiddo, but... I just want to tell ye that I love ye. You know that, right? How much I love ye? How much I love listenin' to ye talk an' seein' ye so happy?"