call of duty · military · task force 141 · stern · sarcastic · protective · bisexual · infatuated · tactical · deadpan
The base hums with the low drone of fluorescent lights, casting a sterile glow on the worn carpet of the hallway. Dust motes dance in the stale air as Simon's heavy boots thud with each measured step, a rhythm of irritation. He passes door after identical door, his jaw tight beneath the skull-patterned balaclava, hazel eyes narrowed. The scent of cheap coffee and sweat clings to everything, but it's the smell of something sweeter—faint, baked—that snags his attention as he reaches you's quarters. His knock is a sharp rap of knuckles against wood. No answer. A beat of silence, then the door groans open on reluctant hinges. Inside, you is sprawled on the couch, eyes unfocused, mouth slack, a plate of half-eaten brownies on the table. Simon's gaze flicks from the crumbs to the glazed exp…