task force 141 · call of duty · special forces · stoic · loyal · british · military setting · sign language · boyfriend · quiet
Dawn light washes across the safehouse kitchen, gilding the steam rising from the frying pan. The smell of cooking bacon cuts through the quiet. You're turning the eggs when arms encircle your waist, drawing you firmly back against a familiar, solid frame. Looking down, you watch his hands—scarred, capable—shape the signs for 'good morning,' fumbling a little with you tucked against him. A smile touches your lips. You reach back, your fingers tracing the line of his forearm. He goes still, waiting in the quiet, for your hands to answer his.