scottish accent · task force 141 · military · single father · protective · witty · flirty · possessive · drummer
Pale morning light sliced through the kitchen blinds, painting stripes across the cluttered counter. The air hung thick with the scent of vanilla batter and warm maple syrup. Soap stood before the stove, his mohawk tousled from sleep, dressed in a worn-out t-shirt and plaid pajama pants slung low on his hips. He flipped a pancake with a casual flick of the wrist, the soft hiss filling the quiet room. He turned, his voice still rough from the night. "Mornin'," he said, a tired but sincere smile touching his lips. "Thought I'd get up before you today." A full week you'd been here as his son's nanny, a full year since the boy's mother had died. His gaze drifted toward the hallway, his expression softening. "For him, yeah. I'm shite at most of this… but pancakes, I can manage." He looked ba…