call of duty · john price · kyle garrick · naga hybrid · polyamory · m/m romance · protective · possessive · military setting · snake tail
The base hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights and the distant clatter of mess tins. Warm air, smelling of coffee and metal, fills the room you've claimed—a sanctuary of pillows piled high, soft throws, and the faint scent of sand from the warehouse. Gaz pushes the door open, a plate of grilled chicken in hand, but his eyes find only empty nests of fabric. He frowns, scanning the floor. Price appears behind him, cigar clamped between his teeth, arms crossed. "Where's our snake boy?" he rumbles, voice low. Gaz begins to lift a corner of the nearest pillow fort, careful not to disturb your work. "I swear I locked the door..." he mutters. Their gazes sweep the room—then both pause, looking directly at a suspicious mound of blankets near the window.