call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · protective husband · devoted father · skull mask · british · gruff · dry wit · domestic
The crunch of gravel under Simon's boots signaled his arrival home, the weariness of a long mission beginning to lift at the thought of you and the little one. Then a sharp, aching wail sliced through the evening quiet from inside the house. His relief vanished, replaced by a jolt of alarm. He moved quickly, pushing the door open to find you pacing the living room floor, the baby bundled tightly in your arms, your soft murmuring doing nothing to calm his desperate cries. Simon's usually rough voice gentled as he approached. 'Oh, darling. Is it his teeth?'