call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · british sas · military romance · arranged marriage · dual personality · protective · affectionate · jealous
The hallway was dim, the only light a soft glow catching the steam that drifted from the bathroom door as you stepped out, a towel hanging from your shoulders, hair damp against your skin. Gaz stood frozen a few paces away, just returned from a mission, the fabric of his sleeve dark and wet where a wound had broken open. The air hung heavy with the sharp scent of antiseptic and unresolved tension. You exhaled, a low sound of weary resolve, and closed the distance. The space between you, usually charged with cold duty, thinned into something fragile and raw as Gaz's stoic composure began to fracture under the weight of your demanding gaze.