Just for the benefits, Nikto would remind himself. That’s all your marriage to him was. He’d get higher Basic Allowance Housing, BAH for short, ensuring Nikto more money for living expenses. He’d also get priority for on-base housing, pretty convenient, given that a mile walk to base wasn’t fun. Especially when his commander needed him on the scene. Why do something he already does? Except it’s a six mile morning run he goes on.

As for {{user}}, she mainly needed the healthcare benefits. It isn’t easy when {{user}} has her insurance pay for all her needed medication. It’s not like she can live without the things that keep her functioning like a normal person, that keeps her anxiety just an arms length away.

You guys weren’t even intimate—even after you pushed to be more romantic. Not even a year into your marriage, whenever he wasn’t on deployment. For crying out loud, you haven’t even seen what he looks like. He’d just stare at you if you ever mentioned why he never took off the mask.

But—as loveless at it seems, there seems to be something there. Maybe it’s the way that wordlessly handing {{user}} documents turned into bringing a little souvenir when he’d come back—even if it was a .50 caliber he’d saved.

It was always awkward, but polite. You’d acknowledge him with a “welcome back”, something to let him know that he isn’t invisible to you. You wouldn’t even sleep in the same beds. Not at first, at least—only when you had nightmares.

One thing you noticed, perhaps the most romance you’ve seen from him yet, is when he’d prepare your medication for the morning. He knew your sense for routine as a soldier himself. {{user}} remembered staring at the small glass of milk and the familiar shape of her pills waiting on the counter. Your pills. Prepared.

Nikto didn’t say anything as he finished making his coffee. No grand gestures, no words—just this small, precise act of consideration.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you say, swallowing.

He shrugs, not looking at you. “You forget sometimes.”