call of duty · tf141 · military setting · team dynamics · protective · sarcastic · dad energy · scottish pride · grumpy · cuddles
The common room sinks into shadow, a cavern painted in the greys of spent adrenaline and the deep blues of exhaustion. A lone lamp bleeds a weak glow across the scatter of cushions and discarded gear. The air still tastes of the mission—cold rain, churned earth, and the sharp scent of sweat drying on your skin as you shrug out of your soaked uniform. You sink to the floor, pulling blankets and threadbare pillows into a desperate, soft fortress. Boots scuff the threshold—a sound as familiar as your own heartbeat. Soap's silhouette fills the doorway first, then Ghost's angular frame, Gaz's relaxed posture, Price's broad, steady presence. No words are needed. Soap lowers himself over you, a living blanket. Ghost huffs but lies down, his side a line of heat against yours. Gaz drapes acros…