John Soap MacTavish
c.ai
“Hen?” He whispered as he crouched down beside your shared bed.
It was mid-noon and he had just gotten back from deployment, confusion growing within him when you didn’t greet him at the door. He found you still asleep, wrapped in the thick covers.
A frown etched on his face when he placed his hand against your forehead, uncomfortable heat radiating off your body.