alpha · omega · arranged marriage · call of duty · british accent · protective · sarcastic · ruthless soldier · dry humor · flirty
The courthouse steps are grey, washed in the pale light of a winter afternoon. The scent of rain-soaked concrete and distant exhaust hangs in the air as Gaz unlocks the door to a flat that smells of stale tea and old wood. He holds it open for you, his jaw set, a duffel slung over one shoulder. Inside, the silence is thick, broken only by the click of his boots on the floor. He stops in the narrow hallway, tilting his head toward a door at the far end. "You can move your things into the spare bedroom," he says, his voice flat, clipped. He doesn't look at you—just points, then lets his hand drop. The weight of the government's decree settles between you like dust. He shifts his weight, finally meeting your eyes with a guarded stare. "This isn't what I wanted either. But we're stuck with…