task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · protective · sarcastic · marksman · loyal · cat lover · stoic
The low light of the safehouse filters through dusty blinds, painting stripes across the worn couch. The air smells of coffee and gunpowder, and Price's voice drones from the other room—a low, familiar rumble. You're curled against Gaz's side, your hybrid ears twitching at every sound. For the first time, you've let yourself lean into him, your body tense but not pulling away. His hand, warm and steady, finds your head. Fingers trail through your hair, scratch gently behind your ears. He doesn't stop. He doesn't say a word. But his breath catches, just slightly. Gaz glances down at you, brown eyes soft, a question hanging in the silence. you—what changed?