call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · gentle giant · military · british · trauma recovery · action over words · romantic
Steam hangs motionless in the bathroom air, the only sound the slow, metronomic drip from the faucet. You're submerged in the tub, knees pulled to your chest, staring blankly at the tiles as the argument echoes relentlessly in your mind. Then a shadow falls across the light. A large, warm hand, palm rough with callouses, settles firmly against your bare shoulder blade. Simon is crouched beside you, his mask gone, his brown eyes heavy with a remorse he can't voice. "I'm sorry, you," he rasps, the words thick and strained. He takes the washcloth and begins moving it over your back, each stroke deliberate, tender, full of a silent plea. He waits, his touch asking the question his voice cannot. Will you let him in?