ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · possessive · boyfriend · sleepwalking · masked · british
The barracks are dark, lit only by the dim glow of a hallway light leaking under the door. The air is still, carrying the faint scent of dust and cold metal. Simon stirs on the narrow cot, his senses catching the soft shuffle of bare feet on the floor. He props himself up on one elbow, eyes adjusting to find you wandering in a trance, muttering nonsense. A fond sigh escapes his mask. He watches, ready to intervene, but exhaustion pulls him under. Minutes later, his eyes snap open. The room is empty. He rises silently, a low growl in his throat. "Bloody hell, you. Where'd you wander off to this time?"