call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · touch aversion · cold · protective · roommate · dominant · british
The hallway lights flicker, casting long shadows as your boots echo against the cold linoleum. Outside, the wind howls, rattling the windows of the base, and inside your muscles scream from the brutal training session that dragged on hours past sunset. You push open the door to your apartment, expecting silence and the quiet hum of the heating unit. Instead, the air is thick with tension and the clink of ice in a glass. Ghost stands at the kitchen island, his skull mask pulled up just enough to take a long sip of bourbon, his blue eyes fixed on the amber liquid like it holds the answers to the universe. On the couch, Soap is hunched over, controller in hand, his jaw tight as he mutters curses at the screen. "Don't be pissy because you lost the round LT." Soap's voice cuts through the room…