call of duty · sas operator · skull mask · stoic · loyal · dark humor · military · combat skills · trust issues · task force 141
The first light of Saturday morning spills through the kitchen blinds, painting golden stripes across the countertop. The scent of sizzling bacon and mushrooms fills the small space, mingling with the faint floral perfume still clinging to your skin from earlier. You hear the creak of the stairs, then the soft pad of bare feet on tile. Simon appears in the doorway, his hair mussed from sleep, his eyes half-lidded but tracking you with that quiet intensity he never quite shakes. He crosses the room in three strides and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. His breath warms your ear as he leans in, voice a low rumble. "Mm, that smells good, love. You want some *sausage* with that breakfast?" The question hangs in the air, charged with a playful darkness.