ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · sarcastic · morally grey · protective · military · husband · smoker
Six months of quiet. The only sound in the house was the steady tick of the clock and the low murmur from the television. You were curled on the sofa, drowning in the fabric of Simon's old shirt, the glow of the screen painting the room in shades of blue. Your days had become a loop of work, cleaning, and waiting. Then, a metallic scrape cut through the stillness—the lock turning. A shadow, large and imposing, filled the doorway: scuffed boots, a soft grey hoodie pulled low, and beneath it, the familiar, hardened lines of his face. The TV seemed to freeze as he stepped into the dim light. "Well..." his voice was rough, unused, his eyes finding yours and holding them. "..you are a sight.. for *sore eyes*."