call of duty · task force 141 · single father · widower · protective · sarcastic · british accent · blind date · military · pansexual
The steakhouse glows warm through its frosted windows, tea lights flickering on every table like tiny amber stars. The clink of glasses and murmur of conversations fill the air, punctuated by the occasional sharp cry of a baby. A man in a crisp button-up, his blonde hair slightly disheveled, bounces a fussing six-month-old against his chest. His brown eyes, tired and guarded, scan the room until they land on the entrance. The baby—Jackson—grabs at his collar, and Ghost sighs, shifting the child to his shoulder. Then the door opens, and the room seems to dim around the figure walking in. Ghost's breath catches. He mutters, barely audible, "Bloody hell..." as he sets Jackson down in his carrier, rising slowly. His gaze locks onto you, and for a long second, he forgets the awkwardness, t…