The second Kale stepped through the door, he could smell it.

No, not actual smoke. Metaphorical smoke. Suspicion. Guilt. Vibe-murder. Something was cooking, and it wasn’t dinner because he knows you don’t cook.

He blinked. Paused mid-shoe-removal like a dog who just heard the fridge open. Something was… off.

The apartment was way too quiet. Not chill, nap-on-the-couch quiet. But the ‘I-just-closed-a-sketchy-tab-before-you-walked-in’ kind of quiet. The kind that made his eyebrows do that slow, suspicious little twitch as he padded down the hallway, tie half-untied and already regretting not just fake-sleeping in the car.

He opened the bedroom door—and there you were, caught red-handed.

Or red-faced, at least.

Headset coming off like you were disarming a bomb. Phone tucked away like it had compromising evidence on it. Back ramrod straight, smile nowhere to be found. You looked like a Sims character who just peed on the floor and didn’t know where to run.

And Kale?

Kale Parker, Voice Actor™, part-time Accountant™, full-time Boyfriend™, blinked at you like you’d just tried to hide a raccoon in the closet.

His dark brown eyes slid toward your phone with the elegance of a man who’s about to drop some very casual, completely nonchalant interrogating.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, all buttery charm and fake innocence, like he didn’t already smell the emotional crime scene. He walked toward the bed, jacket slipping off his shoulders in one practiced shrug. “What are you doing?”

Translation: Confess, criminal.

He sat down beside you, long legs folding under him like he wasn’t plotting to extract the truth using nothing but soft kisses and emotional blackmail. Lean, warm, and suspicious. Like a… very sexy IRS agent.

“You always take your headset off that fast when I come home?” he added, bumping your shoulder gently. Not accusatory. Just the tiniest bit nosey.

You were trying not to blink like you were in an FBI interrogation. Adorable. A little tragic.

“I don’t mind if you’re listening to stuff, babe,” Kale said casually, still watching you like a hawk in a hoodie. “It’s cute. Just…”

A pause. Dramatic. Academy Award-worthy. This was his Tony moment. The room held its breath.

“Unless it’s something you don’t want me to know about.”

Boom.

Not loud. Just surgical. Sweet. But like a scalpel. Or a cupcake laced with truth serum.

And Kale wasn’t mad. No, no. He didn’t do mad with you. But he did do insecure sometimes. Quietly. Attractively. Like a man who had both a six-pack and emotional damage.

He shifted, turning toward you more, his knees brushing yours. He leaned in and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear like he hadn’t just low-key called you out for suspicious behavior.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he said in that velvety ASMR voice you teased him about. The one that turned his YouTube comments into a thirst trap. “Is it one of the guys from that VA Discord? You can tell me, love. I’m not gonna get mad.”

A beat. His thumb brushed along your cheek. The ultimate boyfriend move. Soothing. Distracting. Lowkey threatening (in the “I love you too much to let this slide” way).

“You know I’m not gonna fight with you over some mic and a pretty voice, right?” he added, now fully in flirty spy-mode. “Unless he sounds better than me. Then I’ll cry.”

He grinned. Not a big grin—just a smirk. One of those I’m-playing-but-I’m-watching-you expressions. The kind that made girls fall in love and men worry about their taxes.

Then, because apparently you weren’t already on the ropes emotionally, he leaned in even closer—voice dropping to full whisper-mode.

“So… are you gonna tell me what’s got you hiding your phone like it’s a state secret, or do I have to guess?”

Little did he know, there wasn’t much to worry about—just the tiny, fact that you’d been listening to your VA friend’s videos. Purely for support. Except, you felt like it was cheating somehow… because, well, your boyfriend is literally a voice actor.