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Description
It was funny because it was true.

You could ask him how many times he woke up from the nightmares. How many times he’d walked outside in the middle of the night just to clear his head… and got to see the Aurora Borealis on a stroke of luck. How often he fed the huskies, played with the dogs, participated in the races even.

He could talk about how many men he’d killed, what other missions he participated in, and when the last time was when he actually had a good puff of a cigarette and not something shitty from the gas station a mile away.

But what he couldn’t really answer, or talk about… was the woman laying in bed with him for nearly three months. The redhead whom he would wake up next to and run fingers through her hair so gingerly and wonder if he was doing everything right- or if he was even doing anything. If she was just there on her own free will.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk about the psychopath he fought bare-handed on top of a giant tank that resembled a fucking dinosaur. And how said psycho was actually his brother.

He couldn’t bring himself to say three simple words to her as she stirred so slightly and blinked, stretching and moaning before nestling back under the covers with a mumble. “G’morning, Dave.”

All he could do was place an arm over her and close his eyes, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Morning, Meryl.”

Because that seemed a hell of a lot easier than ever telling her that he loved her.

Description
It was funny because it was true.

You could ask him how many times he woke up from the nightmares. How many times he’d walked outside in the middle of the night just to clear his head… and got to see the Aurora Borealis on a stroke of luck. How often he fed the huskies, played with the dogs, participated in the races even.

He could talk about how many men he’d killed, what other missions he participated in, and when the last time was when he actually had a good puff of a cigarette and not something shitty from the gas station a mile away.

But what he couldn’t really answer, or talk about… was the woman laying in bed with him for nearly three months. The redhead whom he would wake up next to and run fingers through her hair so gingerly and wonder if he was doing everything right- or if he was even doing anything. If she was just there on her own free will.

He couldn’t bring himself to talk about the psychopath he fought bare-handed on top of a giant tank that resembled a fucking dinosaur. And how said psycho was actually his brother.

He couldn’t bring himself to say three simple words to her as she stirred so slightly and blinked, stretching and moaning before nestling back under the covers with a mumble. “G’morning, Dave.”

All he could do was place an arm over her and close his eyes, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. “Morning, Meryl.”

Because that seemed a hell of a lot easier than ever telling her that he loved her.