call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · dry wit · trauma · bisexual · partner dynamics · british
The break room hangs thick with the stale scent of old coffee and unresolved tension. Harsh fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting sharp-edged shadows across the worn linoleum. In a makeshift cradle—a cardboard box lined with a discarded jacket—a tiny infant stirs, its soft mewling the only sound cutting the heavy quiet. Ghost stands rigid against the counter, arms crossed, the porcelain skull of his mask giving nothing away. Soap holds the baby up like a live grenade, shoving it toward his partner. "You're always busy," Soap grumbles, voice edged with impatience. Ghost's head tilts slightly. "And?" The baby squirms, a small fist escaping the blanket. Both sets of eyes—one hidden, one glaring—slide to you.