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You and Bobby had been dating for a few months, and tonight, he was making you dinner. You watched as he diced veggies up and bounced between the island you were sat behind and the stove and back again every few minutes. Neither of you had said anything in a while, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. You just loved to watch him cook, and he tended to hyper focus when he was in the kitchen.
Though, before he had started cooking you could definitely tell something had been on his mind, but in Bobby fashion, he seemed to refuse to talk about it. You watched him for a few more minutes before letting out a wistful sigh.
He turned around to look at you, brown eyes warm as he took you in. His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you, before murmuring, "What's on your mind, y/n?"
"I could ask you the same thing. you've been... tense ever since you got here." You reply, playfully squinting at him.
He let out a deep sigh, holding up his index finger to indicate he needs a moment, before turning back to the stove, making sure dinner was alright to sit by itself for a moment. Then he slowly turned back to you, the gears in his head obviously turning.
His dark eyes pinned you to the spot you sat, before he finally spoke again, "Is it weird that I'm so much older than you? I could be your father, for god's sake."
You grin playfully before responding, "Well, I do have daddy issues." You joke lightly.
He frowned and shook his head. "No, seriously. Do you ever worry about the age difference between us?"
You take in the look of earnestness and concern on his face, and realize that this has something that really has been weighing on him. You hadn't really given the age gap that much of a thought... You'd liked the maturity that he had, though you weren't sure if that was a result of his age, or just the shit he'd been through.
You stand up from your seat and make your way around the island to get closer to him. You lift a hand to run your fingers through the closely cut hair at the side of his head, before lightly cupping his cheeks in both your hands. You gaze into those dark brown eyes, currently clouded in concern, before speaking. "Bobby, if I had an issue with our age difference, I wouldn't be here."
He took a deep breath, then insisted. "Well, besides the age difference, you know, all the baggage... I'm still dealing with the death of my wife and kids..." His eyes clouded over with grief as he looked down at you. "I'm afraid it's too much for you to take on. Maybe I'm better off alone, but with the 118 as my family?" His eyes were rimmed with tears, and he adds, voice wobbly with emotion, "Am I too broken...?"
You shook your head vehemently, still holding his face in your hands, squeezing just a bit, trying to get him to focus on you and not the thoughts of the past. "Bobby, I have baggage too. Sure, it's not the death of my family, but I do still have my own problems. No one is perfect. Everyone has their own shit. Besides, you know I am always here if you need me." You gently pull on his face, signaling that you want him to bring his face to yours so you can kiss him.
He obliges, snaking an arm around your waist and bringing his lips to yours, kissing you sweetly at first and then the kiss slowly ignites and deepens. He pulls you in tighter, your body flush against his. He backs you up so your back is against the island that stands between the two of you.
You gently press your hands on his shoulders, lightly pushing him away from you before grinning slyly up at him. "Besides, you're not too old or too damaged to give me what I need physically, so I can't really complain."
He smirked down at you, before a sizzling sound from behind you caused his eyes to widen. He swivels around to the stove to check on dinner, trying to rescue it from absolute ruin.
"You're way too distracting, y/n."
You didn't respond, just chuckled playfully and watched as he worked at the stove. Even through the sweater he wore, you could see the muscles of his shoulders work while he worked at the stove.
He may have been old enough to be your dad, but he was in way better shape than most guys his age were, and you couldn't help but watch him appreciatively.
Once dinner was finished, you sat down to eat in your dining room, and ate while talking about your day. Bobby talked about the ridiculous cases he went on today, each more crazy than the last. You laughed as he was telling you about Buck getting knocked nearly off the ladder on one of the cases, funny now that you knew he was okay, but probably not funny in the moment.
You told him about finding out that your ghost tour job was legitimately haunted. He shook his head disbelieving at you as you regaled him with the tale of hearing people talk and seeing people's shadows in a room that definitely was completely empty.
"I don't know how you do it. I could not work in a haunted building." He shook his head, chuckling a little.
You shrugged. "You know me, I love horror movies." You smile while replying.
You can't help but gaze at him as he eats, beautiful even when he's stuffing his face. The way the light overhead hits the grey in his hair makes it look like it's laced with glitter. The big smile he has on while he eats, both because he loves your presence but also because he just loves food so much... It warms your heart.
Before you can stop yourself from saying it, you murmur softly, "Bobby, you know I love you, right?"
He drops his fork onto the plate with a loud clatter and his head whips up to you, eyes filled with shock and surprise... and something else you can't quite read. "Y... you do?" He takes a deep breath. "You love me?"
You smile and nod, before adding, "I do. I love how you take care of the 118 like they're your family, I love how much you love to cook, and to eat, I love the way your eyes crinkle up when you smile, and I love the smattering of grey in your hair. I love you. Trauma or no trauma."
His eyes rim with tears and he laughs a little before replying, a little waterlogged, "I love you, too."