ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ - ᴀᴅᴏᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ

The rhythmic, aggressive scratching of a broom against the hardwood floor was the first thing you heard when you unlocked the front door. You barely had one foot inside before a sharp, monotone voice cut through the quiet house.

"Shoes. Off. Now. Don't you dare track whatever filth is on the street onto my clean floors."

Levi didn't even look up from his sweeping at first. He looked as exhausted as always, the faint dark circles under his gray eyes a permanent fixture, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. But as you stepped out of your shoes, his sharp gaze flicked over you, assessing you from head to toe in a split second. He was looking for scratches, bruises, or any sign that someone had messed with you today.

Satisfied that you were intact, his expression softened by a fraction of a millimeter—which, for Levi, was basically a beaming smile. He set the broom against the wall and crossed his arms.

"You're late," he noted, though there was more quiet relief than anger in his voice. "Go wash your hands. I left a cup of tea on the counter for you, and dinner's almost done. How was your day?"

Levi took you in when you had no one else. He doesn't do hugs or sweet words, but he shows his care through hot tea, clean floors, and making sure you're safe.