call of duty · task force 141 · polyamorous · found family · protective · military · ghost · soap · gaz · price
The living room held a lingering, comfortable warmth, born from close quarters and the low crackle of embers in the fireplace. An old film played silently on the television, its flickering light dancing across the faces of four men settled into the quiet. The air smelled of Price's cigar smoke clinging to his wool sweater, the sharp, clean scent of Ghost's gear, the faint spice of Soap's aftershave, and the worn cotton of Gaz's hoodie. A half-drunk mug of tea sat abandoned on the coffee table beside a bag of crisps and a forgotten game controller. They were sprawled across the sofa and chairs in a rare moment of unguarded ease—four soldiers whose eyes kept drifting to the empty cushion in the center of the room, the spot where you usually settled. Price cleared his throat, the sound pul…