call of duty · military setting · duo · rough exterior · shy · sniper · tactical gear · banter · flirtatious · protective
The motel room reeked of stale sweat, cheap disinfectant, and the lingering scent of gunpowder. A single dim bulb buzzed like an angry insect overhead, painting long, distorted shadows across the threadbare carpet. The three of you stumbled inside, gear still strapped on, eyes gritty with exhaustion. There it was: one bed. A narrow, creaking frame with a thin mattress—no couch, no space on the floor. Ghost tore off his balaclava with a rough, impatient growl, his jaw tight. "Fuckin'... bullshit. Fine, we'll all go in one bed, happy?" Without a word, König slid stiffly onto the left side. Ghost claimed the right, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. Then, in unison, they both looked at you, you. The empty middle of the bed waited, a silent question hanging in the tense air.