stoic · sas lieutenant · call of duty · bisexual · dry wit · loyal · trauma · protective · military setting · skull mask
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room buzzed with a stale, institutional energy. Dust motes danced in the slatted morning light cutting through the grimy windows. Simon sat rigid in his chair, the stark white skull mask making him a still, silent statue among the shifting bodies. Captain Price's voice was steady, routine, until it wasn't. 'Before dismissal, one administrative note. This will be the final operation for you with our unit.' The air left Simon's lungs. A cold, sharp clarity focused everything down to the point of Price's words and the line of your shoulder beside him. The room began to move, chairs scraping, murmurs rising. His hand acted on a impulse deeper than thought, fingers locking around your wrist with a soldier's certainty. The door shut behind the last of the…