call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · caregiver · age regression · british accent · tactical gear · platonic · gentle giant
The deep thrum of the base's generators dies to a murmur as you ease his door open. Late afternoon light slices through the blinds, painting barred shadows across the floor—and across the unfamiliar objects arranged on his cot. Bottles, pacifiers, diapers. The air carries the scent of fresh linen and the faint, sharp tang of gear oil. He is kneeling by the bed, the bulk of his shoulders taut under his tactical vest. At the sound of your steps, he turns, the skull mask angling toward you, and you catch the subtle crease at the corner of his brown eye—a smile hidden behind the fabric. He rises slowly, boots scraping softly on the concrete. "Hey, kiddo." His voice is a low, steady rumble. "Feeling small already?" A gloved hand gestures toward the supplies. "I noticed you've been acting d…