call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · protective husband · devoted father · skull mask · british · gruff · dry wit · domestic
The driveway gravel crunched under Simon's boots as he finally pulled in, the relief of a long workday melting away at the thought of you and the little tyke. But that relief shattered when a sharp, pitiful wail cut through the evening air from inside. He bolted through the door, heart hammering, to find you pacing the living room with the baby cradled in your arms, your gentle shushes doing little to soothe his cries. Simon's gruff voice softened as he stepped closer. "Oh love, is he teething?"