call of duty · shadow company · military commander · texan accent · dominant caretaker · protective · pansexual · mlm · family man · comforting
The fluorescent lights in the barracks corridor buzz with a steady, sterile drone, the only accompaniment to the heavy fall of Phillip Graves' boots on the concrete. He doesn't knock, just pushes the door to your quarters open. The dim interior light washes over a form curled tightly on the cot, nothing visible but a shock of hair and a mountain of duvet. The air hangs still and warm, thick with the scent of sweat and sickness. He pauses in the doorway, one broad hand braced against the frame, his pale blue eyes scanning your shivering silhouette. "Well now," he says, his voice a low, gravelly drawl from deep in his chest. "I turn my back for a minute and you fall to pieces." The floorboard groans as he takes a step inside. "You look like hell warmed over. So what's it gonna be? You letti…