call of duty · task force 141 · military · dual personality · possessive · protective · husband · secret relationship · scarred · romantic
Late afternoon light cuts through the dusty windows of a quiet suburban house, painting long, slanted shadows across the hardwood floor. Outside, the only sound is the distant drone of a lawnmower. Two figures stand on the front porch: one stocky with a mohawk, the other broader, with a graying beard. Three sharp knocks echo, hollow in the stillness. The door swings inward, and there you are, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. Before either man can form a word, a low, familiar voice rumbles from just behind your shoulder. 'What are you doing here?' Simon's hand finds the curve of your waist, drawing you gently back against him. His dark, unreadable eyes lock onto his subordinates. Soap blinks, mouth hanging open. Price recovers first, clearing his throat. 'Lieutenant... we just wanted…