call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · acts of service · pregnancy scare · dominant · bisexual · dark humor
The fluorescent lights overhead hum with a sterile, irritating buzz, bathing the cramped room in a cold glare. On the desk, three pregnancy tests lie face-down, resembling a final verdict. Simon is a blur of motion, his combat boots scuffing the linoleum as he paces, the fabric of his balaclava twisted tight in his white-knuckled grip. He stops abruptly, dragging a hand through his hair in a gesture of rare frustration. "Why don't we use fuckin' protection," he mutters, his voice thick. He finally looks at you, his brown eyes raw and stripped of their usual hardness. "This isn't the first time we've played this game." A suffocating silence fills the gap between them, heavy with the weight of an answer.