ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · bisexual · trauma · military · emotionally guarded · british accent
Slivers of dawn cut through the blinds, painting gold across the floorboards. The room holds the quiet, deep warmth of shared sleep, your body a familiar curve against his spine. Simon stirs awake not to sound, but to a shift in the atmosphere—a soldier's ingrained alertness ringing a silent alarm. His eyes open. There, standing barely an arm's length away, is his son. Ten-month-old Alex grips the blanket's edge with miniature fists, his blond hair tousled, his hazel eyes wide and fixed on his father. The boy's cheeks are flushed with the effort of standing. Simon's heart hammers once, a hard, visceral beat, but his expression remains still beneath the balaclava. He doesn't move. He barely breathes. His voice, when it comes, is a low murmur meant for the warmth at his back. 'Wake up. No…