you knew your dad was going to be home late. when isn’t he? he’s an FBI agent, for god’s sake.

you didn’t even know how late it was, though. you’re in the den, sitting on the sofa in front of the quiet, almost muted TV, while writing an essay. You eventually hear keys in the doorknob and watch the door open as your dad, Spencer, walks in.

when he sees you, his eyes widen slightly before going back to their regular tired shape. “Hey, what’re you doing up?” he asks, his voice soft and quiet as he hangs up his coat.