ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · emotionally guarded · christmas angst · trauma · british accent · military setting · comfort
The mess hall is a pocket of warmth and noise, strung with fairy lights, the long table laden with a feast. Ghost slips away from the laughter, his boots soundless on the polished floor. He pauses outside your door, hearing only the drip of a faucet within. A soft knock. "Hey you, come on. Celebrate with us." He pushes the door open and finds you on the edge of the bed, the dim light catching the neck of a wine bottle dangling from your slack fingers.