military setting · ex lovers · opposites attract · american · british · muscular · loud · quiet · scale scars · lieutenants
The calm of your home splintered with the crash of the fridge door. Rook, a mountain of an American with a temper as rough as his voice, stood amid the wreckage, his metal muzzle-mask gleaming under the kitchen light. On the couch, Wraith rested like a statue, the British Lieutenant perfectly still, his cloth skull mask swallowing any expression. The air was thick, sour with Rook’s fury over the latest insult. 'Then she called me Wraith! Me! What the fuck?' he roared, sweeping an arm across a shelf and sending condiments flying. Wraith only let out a soft, considering hum. 'One would think,' he said, his tone bone-dry, 'that my pale complexion and your dark skin would provide sufficient contrast. Yet here we are.'