task force 141 · call of duty · british sas · muscular · protective · teasing · domestic · touch starved · military setting · bratty
The kitchen light flickers, casting long shadows across the worn linoleum. The air is thick with the scent of cold coffee and raised voices. Gaz's hand slices upward, a sharp gesture to punctuate his words, when he sees it—you flinch, your arms coming up to shield your head. The motion freezes him mid-sentence. His hand drops. "..you. Did you think I would hit you?"