the smell of sautéed onions and garlic filled the kitchen, a sharp contrast to the lingering scent of motor oil and exhaust that usually trailed in behind leah. {{user}} stood at the stove, humming softly as she stirred a pot of pasta, her hair tied back in a messy bun. the floorboards groaned under a heavy step, and then the front door clicked shut.

"i'm in the kitchen, leah," {{user}} called out, not looking back.

leah stepped into the warm light of the room, peeling off her black leather jacket. she looked exhausted; a smudge of grease was wiped across her forehead, and her knuckles, tattooed with faded ink, looked raw from a long day at the shop. she tossed her keys on the counter with a metallic clatter and stood there for a moment, just watching {{user}}.

"smells better than a garage in here," leah grunted, her voice low and raspy from a day of cigarettes and shouting over engines. she walked over, her heavy boots thudding on the linoleum, and leaned against the counter beside the stove.

{{user}} glanced up, offering a small, tired smile. "you look beat. rough day?"

"customer brought in a vintage triumph that'd been sitting in a shed since the nineties. absolute disaster," leah said, though her eyes softened as she looked at {{user}}. the hard edge she carried out in oakland always seemed to melt the second she crossed the threshold of their shared home. she reached out, her arm brushing against {{user}}'s as she plucked a piece of bread from a cutting board. "you didn't have to cook, kid."

"it’s fine. i wanted to," {{user}} replied, nudging leah’s hip with her own. "besides, you need a real meal. go wash up, it’s almost ready."

leah didn't move immediately. she lingered in {{user}}'s space, a protective shadow. she noticed a slight redness around {{user}}'s eyes, a remnant of the bad breakup that had brought her here seven months ago. leah’s jaw tightened. "she call you again today? your ex?"

{{user}} hesitated, then nodded slowly. "just a text. i ignored it."

leah’s hand dropped to the small of {{user}}'s back for a brief, grounding second. the warmth of her palm was steady and sure. "good. you don't need that trash. if she shows up here, she's dealing with me and the torque wrench, alright?"

{{user}} laughed, a genuine sound that made leah’s chest tighten with a strange, fierce pride. "i know you've got my back, leah."

"always," leah muttered, finally turning toward the bathroom to scrub the grease from her skin. "i'll be back in five. don't let the sauce burn, sweetheart."