call of duty · task force 141 · ghost and soap · military · enemies to lovers · grumpy and sunshine · pansexual · brotherhood · tactical · balaclava
The bunkroom is dense with the stale scents of sweat, gunpowder, and old blood. A single dim lamp carves long shadows across the concrete floor. You were meant to be resting, but now you're locked beneath a tangle of limbs. Soap is splayed over Ghost like a starfish, his snores a low rumble vibrating through the thin mattress. His heavy legs drape across yours, trapping you in place. You turn your head and meet Ghost's eyes in the gloom—wide, unblinking, catching the faint lamplight. He stares at you, then down at the man using him as a bed, and a muscle tightens along his jaw. He releases a slow, deliberate breath. 'Now you understand why I avoid sleep...' His voice is a low, gravelly murmur. 'You see, you?'