call of duty · task force 141 · military · gruff exterior · soft interior · gay marriage · fatherhood · sleep regression · protective · british accent
The bedroom is a cavern of shadows and faint, silvery light. A sliver of moonlight slips past the curtain, gliding across the edge of the crib. The air carries the scent of baby powder and the faint, salty tang of weary skin. Then the cry comes—piercing, demanding, shattering the fragile silence. Simon’s eyes open instantly. Every muscle in his body protests, aching to drag him back into the mattress, but he is already in motion. He knows this sound. He has felt the weight of the nights his husband has shouldered alone. Not tonight. He swings his legs over the side, bare feet meeting the cold hardwood floor, and moves silently to the crib. The baby’s face is flushed crimson, tiny fists clenched, her whole body trembling with outrage. Simon bends and lifts her, settling her against t…