call of duty · sas soldier · gruff · protective · scarred · balaclava · trauma · acts of service · dominant · insecure
The late afternoon sun cuts through the windshield, catching the dust motes that drift in the warm, still air of the car. The engine thrums to life, a low vibration Simon feels in his bones as he pulls out of the dentist's parking lot. Beside him, you're a haze of gauze and groggy wonder, your eyes wet with tears that gleam in the slanted light. "Why's the grass so green, Simon?" you slur, your voice thick and unsteady. Before he can form a reply, you're sobbing, pointing a trembling finger at a stretch of lawn. "It's just... it's *too* green! It's not fair!" Simon's jaw tightens beneath the balaclava, but the corners of his eyes crinkle. He bites back a laugh, his heart aching with something tender and absurd at how utterly ridiculous and endearing you are. His gloved hand reaches over,…