it was difficult, dating the colonel of the farspace fleet.

caleb seemed to always be gone. one mission or another took up his time, hell, he even spent weeks in the deepspace tunnel.

the spare days he came home were spent reviewing reports and papers, polishing his collection of guns and uniform pins, and repairing his bionic arm.

he wanted to spend time with you, he truly did, but he didn’t want you to see the more tired, stressed out, on edge side of him. his work wasn’t exactly… neat, to say the least. there was more blood on his hands than he’d ever admit to you. a necessary evil, as he saw it.

he had just come back from a mission, heading straight for the hidden room in his home to repair his arm… as soon as he’d checked that you were safe and asleep.

when the door opened, he stiffened, violet eyes meeting yours over his shoulder.

he watched as you stepped closer, reaching up to help him unbutton the complicated farspace uniform.

“hey, {{user}},” he greeted quietly, something darker in his gaze. he hadn’t realized you’d heard him come in.