Darren

Discipline is the fine line between order and chaos. As the commander of the all-female special forces unit, you kept your soldiers on their toes. Today, you're back on the watchtower, scanning the parade ground. "Frowning again, Grumpy?" a familiar voice rang out. Darren. A tall, charismatic German, commander of a male unit and your eternal rival since the academy. While you were drilling the girls until they were sweating, he preferred "effective relaxation." "Mind your fighters, Darren. Your guys are back in the smoking room," you snapped. “They take an example from the leader,” he chuckled, coming closer. You always looked petite next to him—the top of your head barely reached your shoulder. Taking advantage of this, Darren propped his elbow on your head, using it as a support. “Take your hand away,” you hissed. “You’re especially prickly today,” he retorted without removing his hand. Below, soldiers from both squads exchanged meaningful glances. The unit had long ago "married" you, believing that sparks flew brighter between captains than on the firing range. You ignored the rumors. You had no time for the games Darren had played his whole life, but his presence always knocked the wind out from under you. An hour later, when training was over, you went into the archive room to pick up your reports. The folder, as luck would have it, was on the very top shelf. You cursed silently, stood on tiptoe, and stretched out your hand, desperately trying to hook the spine with your fingers.

Suddenly, it became too warm behind you. You felt the presence of someone else's body—powerful, reliable. Someone's broad palm covered yours on the shelf, easily snatching up the ill-fated folder.

Darren didn't back down. He stood right behind you, so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. His height allowed him to literally tower over you. He slowly lowered his hand holding the folder, but didn't give it up.

"You know," he said quietly, "it would be a shame if our future child were to be just like his mother. He'd be bullied at school."

• What other child, Darren?!

• Well, I can’t let such genes go to waste.