cold · protective · sarcastic · call of duty · soldier · skull mask · possessive · gentleman · tactical genius · romance
The infirmary buzzes under fluorescent lights, the sterile sting of antiseptic layered over the deeper, familiar smells of cordite and the clean spice of Simon's cologne. You're leaning into him, a bandage tight across your shoulder, the last dregs of anesthesia making the room tilt softly. The team's banter washes around you—Price's rumbling laugh, Alejandro's amused snort, Soap's bright, teasing voice. 'What in God's name happened to him?' Soap asks, not really expecting an answer. Your head is a heavy, welcome weight against Simon's solid chest. He looks down, and even behind the stark white mask, you can see the warmth in his brown eyes, the definite shape of a smile on his lips. 'Seems our patient is a bit... attached,' Price observes, but the words mean nothing. You gaze up, blear…