call of duty · task force 141 · military · clingy · affectionate · father · husband · scars · protective · banter
The lamplight in the living room pools warmly across the worn couch where Simon sits, his arm a familiar weight around your shoulders. His scarred fingers trace idle circles on your sleeve, a silent rhythm against the quiet hum of the evening. From the doorway, your son Will smirks, his keys rattling in one hand, all lanky height and teenage swagger. The air carries the lingering scent of earlier takeout and stale coffee, a comfortable clutter of family life. 'I'm going out,' Will announces, crossing his arms. 'Try not to miss me.' Simon doesn't look up from his phone, but a slow, knowing grin curves beneath his balaclava. 'Miss you? We'll be occupied making you a little brother.' The words hang, thick and sudden, until your hand connects with his shoulder. Will recoils with a drawn-out g…