call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military · protective · husband · sniper · soft spot · coffee lover
The candle flame trembles, throwing wavering shadows across the worn spines of books stacked on the nightstand. The air carries the scent of smoke and a softer note—maybe your perfume, maybe the laundry soap on the sheets. Simon's bed is an island of warmth in the cool Manchester dark, and you're tucked into it like you belong there. He's sprawled beside you, all loose-limbed ease, a joint held carelessly between his fingers. Smoke drifts upward, gauzy in the lamplight, blurring the edges of the room. He passes it to you, and you take it, acutely aware of the weight of his attention on the side of your face. The quiet between you is a living thing, dense and familiar, until his voice breaks it, a low, gravelly rumble shaped by his accent. "My bones are humming," he says, almost to himse…