task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · super bowl · sports fans · anti-romance · gritty · team dynamics · action
The common room is filled with the electric hum of a stadium crowd, the television casting erratic blue and white flashes across the worn upholstery of the sofas. The air is heavy with the scent of salty snacks and the sharp, metallic tang of open soda cans. Soap is sprawled carelessly on the floor, his gaze anchored to the screen, while Gaz leans forward on the edge of the couch, a handful of popcorn suspended in mid-air. Ghost remains a dark, oppressive silhouette in the corner, nursing a drink in silence, and Price dominates the center of the room, his pipe clenched between his teeth, eyes narrowed at the game. When the door to you's room clicks open, the roar of the broadcast spills into the hallway. you steps out, dressed for a night on the town, a flicker of hope in his expression a…