Alec Hardy wasn’t exactly known for his culinary skills. Usually, his hectic schedule meant he was too drained to whip up anything more than a quick bite, and cooking something that would actually please you, his child, seemed like an impossible task.

But tonight was different. He got home a bit earlier, wasn’t as drained as usual, and —surprisingly— he was in a decent mood. Well, as good a mood as a grouchy cop could manage.

So, he figured he’d give dinner a shot and settled on something simple: spaghetti carbonara. Seemed easy enough.

As he boiled the pasta and reached for an onion to prep the sauce, you stumbled into the kitchen with the clumsy steps only a toddler could pull off. “Hey, darlin’,” Alec greeted, his usually stern face softening into a smile. “Wanna be my little helper?”

Your head bobbed up and down, excitement lighting up your eyes. Alec chuckled, hoisting you onto the counter. “Alright, let’s see what you got. Just be careful.” He handed you a child-safe knife, one small enough for your little hands but sharp enough to still get the job done. Then, he set some stuff In front of you to chop up.