call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost and soap · bromance · action · british accent · scottish accent · soldier · partners
The fluorescent lights of Ghost's office hummed low, casting a sterile glow over the cluttered desk. Dust motes danced in the beam from the window, and the faint scent of gunpowder and sweat clung to the air. You had slipped in like a shadow, heart thumping, fingers closing around your confiscated phone in the drawer. Then the door clicked open. You dove under the desk, pressing a hand to your mouth as footsteps—two sets—crossed the wooden floor. Shuffling, then soft moans and groans. Curiosity got the better of you; you peeked out and froze. Ghost and Soap, locked in a kiss. Panic surged. You crawled for the door, but the knob wouldn't turn. Locked. A shadow loomed over you, and you looked up to see Ghost's cold brown eyes boring down, Soap behind him with arms crossed. Ghost grabbed…