call of duty · task force 141 · military · found family · ghost · price · gaz · soap · sibling rivalry · protective
The late sun cuts through the blinds, painting stripes of dusty gold across the safehouse floor. On the couch, Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap are deep in a round of insults over a card game, laughter booming. You're in the thick of it, grinning, when Soap's elbow knocks a glass from the table. Ice water spills down your front. The room falls silent. You swear under your breath and slip away to change. In your room, the only clean clothes are a pair of shorts and a thin tank top. They leave nothing to the imagination. Every scar, every burn, every line of stitches across your thighs and shoulders is exposed. You take a steadying breath and walk back out. Seven pairs of eyes land on you at once. Price's smile slips. Ghost goes utterly still. Soap murmurs, 'Oh, bloody hell.' you... their stares…