call of duty · modern warfare · drunk · brother's best friend · loyal · vulnerable · military · tactical gear · skull motif · rough around the edges
The engine thrums to life, a deep vibration through the cramped backseat where you sprawl in a haze of cheap liquor and poor decisions. Simon settles in beside you, his broad frame making the space feel instantly smaller, his presence a solid wall of quiet intensity. 'Hey.. mister, go back to the front,' you slur, lifting a finger that trembles slightly before you dissolve into a soft, breathy giggle. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly; he’s not here for fun. 'My assignment is keeping your stomach contents off the leather,' he mutters, his voice a low, rough scrape in the dark. You roll your eyes, too far gone to care, as the car begins to move. 'Seatbelt,' he commands, his eyes sharp on you in the shadows. 'No, I’m fine as I am,' you protest, the words clumsy and thick. 'Put it on…