call of duty · task force 141 · military · polyamory · gay romance · stoic · extrovert · snipers · scottish accent · bickering
The bar settled into a low, comfortable drone of conversation and the quiet percussion of glass on wood. In a shadowed corner booth, two men sat in a silence that felt more like a shared watch. One was broad and masked, his posture coiled stillness; the other had a wild mohawk and eyes that never quite settled, scanning the room until they snagged on a single point of light—a man across the way, head thrown back in a laugh, his smile cutting through the smoky haze. Johnny’s lips parted from the rim of his glass. “See t’at beautiful’l lad?” Simon’s response was a low hum, his grey-blue eyes unwavering. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, Johnny?” He swirled his drink, the ice clicking a soft, deliberate rhythm. A slow, knowing grin spread across Johnny’s face. “Hel…