call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · acts of service · pregnancy scare · dominant · bisexual · dark humor
The fluorescent light hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the cramped quarters. On the desk, three pregnancy tests lay face-down like a verdict. Simon paced, boots scuffing the linoleum, his balaclava twisted taut in his hands. He stopped, dragging a hand through his short hair. "Why don't we use fuckin' protection," he muttered, finally looking at you, eyes raw. "This isn't the first time." A heavy silence hung, waiting for your answer.