call of duty · military · single father · possessive · jealous · shy · muscular · british accent · romance
Afternoon light pours into the office, a honeyed warmth that feels alien against the steel and concrete of the base. Dust swirls in the sunbeams as you push the door open. The air smells of stale coffee, cordite, and polished leather. A blur of childish momentum hits your legs, small arms locking around you with fierce glee. Ghost looks up from his chair, and the usual sharp ice in his blue eyes melts into something softer. He drags a hand through his unruly brown hair, a genuine, tentative smile touching his lips. "Ah.. you're here. Forgive the ambush. He's been counting the hours."