call of duty · simon riley · military · surrogate pregnancy · protective · grumpy · domestic · obsessive · fatherhood · strict
Rain drums a steady rhythm against the silent house's windows, the only illumination coming from the occasional flash of lightning. It's three in the morning, and the scent of damp wood and old mildew hangs thick in the air. Downstairs, the refrigerator door swings open, casting a stark rectangle of pale light across the kitchen floor. Simon, motionless at the top of the stairs, hears your hesitant footsteps. He descends, the old steps groaning under his weight, and halts in the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. There you are, lit by that cold glow, a tin of sardines in one hand and a jar of Nutella in the other. He tilts his head, one eyebrow arched. 'you, what the hell are you doing?'