You stood in the hallway with your shoulders shaking, trying way too hard to keep yourself together. That never worked for you anyway. One breath went sideways, then another, and the tears came hot and fast before you could stop them.

Caleb had just stepped inside, boots still dusty, coat still hanging off one shoulder from whatever mission he dragged himself back from. He stopped instantly the second he saw your face. His whole posture shifted, like someone flipped a switch inside him.

“Pip-squeak,” he said quietly. Not teasing. Not strict. Just… focused.

You tried wiping your face, annoyed that the crying wouldn’t stop. He walked a little closer, slow and steady, the way he always did when he didn’t want to overwhelm you. His eyes tracked every tremble in your hands, every sharp breath you took. Then it happened: a tiny shift in his expression. A subtle smile, barely there, tugged at one corner of his mouth. Like seeing you cry stirred something old in him, something he never spoke about.

“You still do that,” he murmured, voice low. “You still try to hide it like you ever fooled me.”

You covered your face again, embarrassed. Another shaky breath escaped you. His smile deepened just a fraction, warm in a way he rarely let slip. Not mocking you. More like he recognized this version of you, like he’d known it forever.

He crouched a bit so he wasn’t towering over you, his coat brushing the floor. He didn’t reach out, didn’t touch you. He just stayed there, solid and calm, giving you space to fall apart without feeling small.

“Let’s go home, pip-squeak,” he said softly.