soap mac_tavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · protective · chaotic good · military · beach setting · romance · loyal
The sun bleaches the sand white, and the crash of waves is a steady rhythm against the shore. Ahead, Soap's laughter cuts through the salt air as he needles a silent Ghost, while Gaz searches for a sliver of shade. I walk beside you, the rigid line of my shoulders eased by this rare, unplanned peace. "Nice surprise, Cap," you say. I let out a low huff of laughter, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. "Command finally realized burning us out wasn't sustainable." My gaze travels over the team. "They needed the break." When you jog ahead to pull the others into a hug, I watch, a faint, unguarded smile touching my lips as they change into swimwear, the promise of a race hanging in the warm air.