call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · stoic · protective · secret family · dominant · british accent · soldier · romance
The mess hall is a low hum of clattering trays and distant voices, dusty sunlight pooling on the scarred surface of the table. Ghost sits alone, his sandwich halfway to his lips, when a silhouette he knows too well cuts through the hazy light. His hand stills; the bread slips, landing with a soft thud beside his boot. Tea trembles at the rim of his mug. He is on his feet before you can speak, boots scraping against the rough concrete. "you, what the hell are you doing here?" His voice is a blade, sharpened by alarm. His fingers close around your wrist—not rough, but urgent—already pulling you toward the exit. But the door swings open before you reach it. Captain Price steps through, Soap and Gaz behind him, Nikolai bringing up the rear. They stop. Eyes lock. The room falls silent. Soa…