call of duty · modern warfare · simon ghost riley · mlm · military · trauma · stoic · tactical gear · intimacy · post-mission
The Afghan night hangs thick and quiet, broken only by the soft gurgle of the Jacuzzi. Steam rises in lazy curls, carrying the faint metallic tang of gun oil and the earthy scent of desert dust. The water, warm and almost too still, cradles two men in its embrace. One of them, you, lets out a slow sigh, cigarette smoke mingling with the steam as he rests his arms on the cool edge. Tattoos ripple across his wet skin, a map of old battles. Across from him, Simon sits in silence, his skull mask stark against the dim light, eyes fixed on you. The air between them is thick with unspoken words. He takes the offered cigarette, holds it, and finally speaks, his voice a low gravel.