#mwf2

The morning air was cold and thick with the scent of brewing coffee and dusty curtains. You winced, pulling yourself from your cocoon of quilts and comforters. You reached for the knitted sweater you left on the floor with a yawn, still tasting last night's bourbon on your tongue. You scratched the back of your head, tangled hair falling down your back. A pleasant sting in your muscles drew you further into consciousness. The intricate tattoos stretching over the scarred skin was a prideful mapping of your stories and ancestry. A permanent reminder of what you cherished most. 

You made your way across the familiar path of your bedroom, your socked feet creaking across the worn wooden floor boards. You thumped down the stairs to squint away the morning light shining through the fogged windows. Tracing your nails across the scratches in the wooden railing. Your farm house was quaint, nestled into a vast, rich, valley that was folded into the ocean cliffside. If you were lucky and the morning mists parted in time, you could see the sun kiss the churning waters golden. The property had been in your family for decades, the imprint of different generations found in the old oil-stained recipe books stored over your stove, the tablecloths and plaid quilts your grandmothers had sewed together by hand, the worn-in farming tools that you had been teaching your sisters to use, and in the welcoming promise of security you returned to after every deployment. You cared for this home, the same way it had cared for you and your sisters. So when money grew scarce and your mother abandoned the property, you joined the military, trained as a combat medic, and sent the majority of your checks back to the farm and into your sister's schooling. Little did you know that in joining the army and eventually qualifying as an SAS soldier, you would find yourself under the command of Captain John Price along with the other chosen candidates for the coveted 141 squad. In which you had managed to find the comfort of home far away from it. 

You had found it in their smiles and their hearty laughter. In Johnny's jabs at Simon for his British mannerisms and in your conversations with Gaz regarding his nightmares surrounding the night he first met the captain. You found it in your Price’s encouraging rants about bravery and in his habit to always make sure the team had eaten at least one thing that day. You found it in random bars and around a deck of cards, in the bottom of cheap beer bottles and the barracks of the different bases you were rotated between. When you first joined, you believed that you had only two goals, make sure none of these men die, and if they do make sure they don’t die alone. It was only through the many bullets you had to dig out of their muscles and the frantic stitching of open wounds did you begin to see these men as your brothers rather than colleagues. You cared for them with disciplined tenderness, never treating them as broken but always ready to help fix and mend their wounds. And as your first year on the team stretched into three you eventually had invited them to spend a few nights at the farm. Before, only Gaz, Roach and Johnny found time to make the trip. It was only now that you had convinced everyone to come up for at least one night, with Price and his wife meant to be driving up that evening. It was meant to symbolize how far you had come as a team but also a merging between your two homes. A celebration of your camaraderie and friendship, or that's what you told yourself as you stocked up on ibuprofen for the inevitable hangovers you would have to deal with. Your sisters were ecstatic, to have someone else in the house to talk and play with other than you. You couldn’t blame them. In your phone calls with Marigold in the days leading up to your flight back, she couldn’t stop talking about how happy she and Emi were to see their uncle Johnny and to finally meet the mysterious Simon Riley you talked so much about. 

Your lieutenant was someone you knew didn’t have a home like yours to return to. You had never forced Simon into feeling obligated to accept your offer, even if you told him every holiday and summer season that he was welcomed in your home and that your sisters would love to meet him. So, when you made your way to the kitchen and saw from across the tiled counter that your youngest was sitting at his side, asking feverish questions about his tattoos while tracing them with her small chubby fingers, you felt a mixture of relief and pride bloom in your chest. ‘Morn’in… you sleep well?’ Gaz asks who stands at your coffee maker, pouring himself a cup. You smile, realizing that the tension that held his shoulders back and his jaw tight had finally dissipated. The cream cable-knit sweater was pulled up to his elbows so as to not get the fabric dirtied with coffee grounds. 

‘Of course.. How could I not after last night?’ He smirked, dumping fresh grounds into the machine. You were referencing the long card game you had played the night before. All of you finally went to bed when Roach’s slurred speech was entirely indiscernible, elated from the bottles of Geniuss Johny had brought from his trip into town that day with Simon. 

‘Well, you are still the only one who has managed to stay sober, that might change tonight once captain gets here’ Gaz says, you snickered as you pulled the fridge open, finding the coffee creamer. You handed it to Gaz, knowing he is the only one who likes the stuff, you stocked up. In a trade, he handed you a cup of coffee of your own. You took a generous swig, the dark liquid burned down your throat, waking you up. 

‘Y/N!’ The squeal of your little sister's voice made you smile widely, giggling at the way she perked up from Simon’s arms, finally noticing you. Her bright red hair was messy and tangled. Your old shirt she had chosen to sleep in hung from her small body with the tube socks bunching down her calves. You set the cup down before crouching down to pick her up and swing her into your arms as she ran into the kitchen, peppering her freckled cheeks and forehead with kisses. After coming back from every deployment, you tried to give your sisters as many kisses and hugs you think they missed when you were away.

‘There’s my little lass! What were ya do’in with our Simon there lovie? This early in ‘da morn’in?’ You cooed, brushing back the frizzy strands from her bright round face. Her arms pat your shoulders in her built up excitement. ‘He- He was tell’in me ‘bout the dwa’ins on his a~arms.. It’s like yours!’ She said pointing back at Simon, who sat idly on your couch. The one requirement you gave him was that he wasn’t allowed to wear his ski-mask in the house. You wanted your sisters to know the real Simon, not the soldier. You chuckled, looking back at your lieutenant, his lips drawn upwards as he looked down at his hands. Gaz reached over and ruffled your sister's hair before kissing her head and turning back to switch on your old stove and pulling out a large pan from your cupboard. ‘Was he now? That is just… huh’ You said fake-surprised. Only your baby sister could have gotten Simon to smile so easily. Gaz softly chuckled as you set your sister on the island counter. You heard Simon scoff, leaning back on the couch. You winked at Gaz, realizing that you and him now had the best blackmail for when you were back on base. ‘What do you want in your pancake’s Emi?’ Gaz asked you sister, fishing out the carton of eggs, fetched yesterday by Marigold from your coop. 

‘Chocolate please.. And blueberries’ Emi said, swinging her feet ‘Is Roach and Soap up yet?’

You ask both of them, fetching another mug and pouring a cup of coffee for Simon. Carrying the fresh cup over to your lieutenant. ‘Kid’s knocked out cold.. really can’t handle his liquor. Johny’s up though.. Took Mari out to chop would I think’ Simon said, nodding as he took the steaming porcelain cup into his large hands. ‘Did he? We should fetch them in a few.. wanna get started on dinner prep after Gaz finishes up’ You say, looking out the window expecting to see your sister and Johnny with arms filled with pine logs, trudging through the thick build-up of snow. You sip your coffee, fat lazy flakes of white drift down from the hazy sky. In the distance you can see the plump black bodies of your cows stomping through the blanketed fields, swaddled in their winter coverings. The soft crackle of the wood stove in your living room blended together with the muted conversation struck up between Emi and Gaz. Emi asking him if he had cows and chickens in Birmingham like we do here. You turned at the shuffle of Simon standing beside you. One of his hands in his sweatpants pocket with the other wrapped around the rim of his mug. You smiled, hoping that Simon felt the same collective comfort you felt any time you would look out from this window. ‘My sister would never! She.. Sh-’ ‘Oh but she would! She’s an absolute menace lassie..’ You groaned, leaning your head back. Johnny’s voice carried from the back porch. Only now did you realize that having your teammates and your sisters in the same room meant they now had every reason to share the many embarrassing stories of you they had collected over the years. You took another swig of your coffee, smiling at the sound of Marigold's high-pitched laughter as Johnny recounted one of the nights he had to drive you home from the bar with you entirely shit-faced, trying to grab hold of the steering wheel from the backseat. You smiled down at your cup, downing the last of the hot liquid. ‘I’m really glad you're here Si’ You say, just loud enough for the two of you. Looking up at him, you couldn’t tell if the softening of his eyes was from the coffee kicking in or your comment. Either way, to see your Lieutenant so relaxed was rare and welcomed. You were proud that you could give this to him. Repayment for all of the times he had listened to your rantings about your mom’s non-involvement in your sisters lives. For the late-night walks around the different bases after one of you had a nightmare. For the constant reassurance that you could stick behind him and the rest of the team for protection and certainty. He turned to you to say something, only you had turned away at the crack of the porch door opening and snowy boots being kicked off.

You woke to the rays of golden sunlight piercing through the curtains of your bedroom. For a moment, you just lay there, lost in the stillness and the light. There was no alarm blaring, telling you to jump into action, nor was there angry shouts echoing through the apartment. For the first time in months, it was calm – a feeling you had almost forgotten could exist.

You rolled over in bed to find the space next to you empty and cold. You were shocked when the feeling of disappointment didn't appear. He was gone. He was gone for months now, and for the first time you felt a wave of relief wash over you.

The smell of coffee being freshly brewed perked your senses and encouraged you to get out of bed. It took a moment for you to remember, but your new boyfriend had stayed the night. Sebastian Krueger, soldier, mystery man and doting boyfriend.

You embarrassingly had 'an episode' as you called them. You had broken a plate last night while cleaning up, and started to panic expecting Sebastian to react like him. You profusely apologize – for breaking your own plate – and Sebastian just stood there, confused and worried as the tears had welled in your eyes.

“Hey... Liebling, why are you crying?” He has asked in his gravelly, but tender tone as he approached you.

You had felt like a complete idiot explaining to him that you were sorry you so clutzy and that it wouldn't happen again; which only served to confuse him more.

“Did you cut yourself?” He as asked trying to make sense of the situation. His hands grabbed yours and he examined them carefully, looking for scrapes or blood.

Looking back on it now, as you planted your feet on the cold floor of the bedroom, it was almost comical. You spent the better part of a half-hour in a panic trying to explain to Sebastian what the problem was, waiting for his voice or hand to raise in your direction.

It never happened.

Sebastian simply closed the distance between you two and gave you a long, warm hug and rubbed your back. “Shh, liebling. Its just a plate, its not important.” He consoled you.

After releasing you from his embrace, Sebastian simply moved you out of the way and carefully cleaned up the broken pieces.

As you approached the kitchen, Sebastian stood at the counter, focused on pouring you both a perfect cup of coffee. He was still wearing his clothes from last night, and they cut an impressive figure – the strong lines of his shoulders, and muscular frame were clear even from a distance.

You looked over at the couch to see he had already folded the sheets and stacked the pillows neatly too. You smirked and shook your head. He never would have done, that. He... never would have settled for the couch.

When he finally noticed your arrival, he turned and gave you a soft smile. “Guten Morgen, hübscher.” His piercing brown eyes scanned you intently.

“Good morning,” You replied with a yawn.

You grabbed the mug of coffee and gave an appreciative nod. The coffee smelled almost as invigorating as Sebastian.

“Are you hungry? I've started making some omelettes.” He asked as he turned back to the task at hand.

“I am.” You mumbled. You blew on the coffee before taking a long sip.

You worked your way over to the kitchen table and took a seat, watching Sebastian cook breakfast for the both of you.

You felt guilty and a knot that formed in your stomach. Sebastian was your guest, he was your boyfriend and you were supposed to wait on him. Right?

You gave him a weak smile as he placed the food down and sat opposite of you. “Enjoy.” Is all he said before digging in.

You watched him from across the table – saw how he methodically chopped and chewed every bite, his gaze focused on his plate. He definitely ate like a soldier.

It made you uncomfortable; the calmness of it all, like the build up to a fight.

Your fork scraped across your plate and Sebastian's attention focused on you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked in a calm voice.

Talk about what? Last night? Or the mounting insecurity of this breakfast?

You parted you lips to say something, and then let out a sigh. You frowned and looked down at your plate. “I'm sorry.” You murmured as you played with the last of your – admittedly delicious – omelette.

“For what?” Sebastian inquired with a furrowed brow.

He placed his fork down on his plate before sliding it out of the way. He rested his arms on the table and leaned in, and he waited attentively for an answer.

“For me.” You finally shrugged. How could he not see it? You were the problem in the last few relationships. “For... not being a better boyfriend to you.”

That took him by surprise and he sat back in the chair with a confused and shocked look in his eyes.

“You're a wonderful boyfriend.” He contested with a shake of his head. "You've made this old soldier feel special."

'Old.' It was nearly enough to make you laugh.

“But I broke the plate last night, and you cleaned it up. You slept over, and slept on the couch. You woke up and made us coffee and breakfast.” You replied as you listed your most recent failures.

Sebastian let out a gruff laugh and shook his head again. It made you a little angry, like you were being dismissed.

“Accidents happen, liebling. I'm just happy you weren't hurt. And I enjoyed making coffee and breakfast for you.” Sebastian retorted with a smirk. "I like taking care of you! I like making you happy!"

He leaned back in and rested his elbows on the take.

“As for sleeping on the couch...” His eyes held a glint of mischief, “I slept on the couch out of respect for your personal space, but I'd be happy to join you tonight if you really want me to.” he remarked in a seductive tone.

You damn near choked on your coffee.

Sebastian laughed loudly as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. “Liebling, I am happy with the way our relationship has developed.” He confided as his thumb worked its way over the back of your hand. “I know your last boyfriend was cruel to you, but I promise I will never treat you like that. I will never raise my hand or fist to you. I will give you any space you need to feel comfortable. If that means sleeping on the couch, that's fine. I'll still get to see you in the morning over breakfast.”

“But what about what you want?” You inquired, your voice low and shaky.

“What I want is to be with you. As I said, you make me feel special.” Sebastian's words carried a sincerity you weren't used to. “All I care about is that you tell me what you need, when you need it, okay?”

He gripped your hand in his own firmly.

“But what if I fuck up?” You ask timidly.

“Then you fuck up, and we work it out together.” Sebastian shrugged. "That's what partners do, yes?"

“You really mean it? You really like being with me? You're okay with taking things at my pace?” You prodded him more, still in disbelief.

Sebastian gave a curt nod. “I mean all of it.”

“Then... could we... cuddle on the couch later?” You flashed an uncertain smile.

Sebastian's eyes lit up, “I would love to cuddle with you, liebling!” He exclaimed. “It feels like a good Saturday to be a bit lazy, sit on the couch and have a cuddle.”