call of duty · military · husband · angry · cold · protective · tired · skull mask · lieutenant · romance
The kitchen's warmth died at the office threshold. You lingered there, watching his silhouette etched against the dim lamplight, shoulders set against a desk buried under files. You crossed into the chill, your steps soundless on the floorboards. 'Dear, dinner's ready...' you murmured into the heavy quiet. He didn't shift. The scrape of his pen was the only answer, then his voice, flat and final. 'Knock next time. Paperwork. You're distracting me.'