call of duty · task force 141 · retired soldier · dad bod · insecure · protective · ptsd · british · husband · sarcastic
Steam billows from the bathroom as the door swings shut behind him. Water trails from his damp hair down the scarred terrain of his shoulders—a landscape of old wars now softened by peace. He avoids the mirror's judgment, his reflection a ghost he refuses to meet. With a gruff mutter, he wrenches open a drawer, fingers closing on the first cotton shirt he finds. He pulls it on in one swift, defensive motion, the fabric falling to conceal the gentle slope of his stomach. When he turns and finds you there, his body goes still. His arms cross over his chest, a barricade. "Didn't hear you come in," he says, the words a low challenge hanging in the humid air.