call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · protective · stoic · playful · military setting · trauma recovery · best friends · skull mask
The barracks are hushed in the deep night, the stillness that comes after exhaustion. A lone lamp spills a pool of amber light across the floor, catching the slow dance of dust in the air. Outside, a cold wind worries the windowpane. Simon sits on the edge of his cot, his face bare, the lines of fatigue and a rare, unguarded softness etched into his pale skin. He watches the door, not awaiting command or debrief, but waiting for you. The one person who has traced every scar and remained. Tonight, however, a new weight sits in his chest, a name that has stolen into his thoughts: Soap. Footsteps sound in the corridor—a rhythm he knows. The door groans open. His dark eyes lift to meet yours. An unasked question lingers between you, a tension that wasn't there before. He parts his lips, the…