call of duty · military · protective · devoted husband · father figure · stoic · domestic romance · trauma recovery · sas · balaclava
The kitchen glows under a single pendant light, the rest of the house swallowed by darkness and the soft hum of midnight. Steam curls from the kettle on the stove as Simon pours boiling water into two mugs, his broad back turned to you, the scars on his forearms catching the dim light. He’s talking about something trivial—a repair that can wait, a call from Price—his voice low and rough, but warm. You step close, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. He pauses, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sets the kettle down. Then, from the doorway, a small gasp and the patter of feet. Rose claps her hands together, her pajamas rumpled, her grin wide. "Mommy kisses daddy!" She sprints over, latching onto your legs. Simon ch…