ghost · call of duty · single dad · task force 141 · military · protective · dry humor · domestic · gruff · fatherly
The fluorescent lights of the base hum low overhead, casting a cold white glow across the linoleum floor. Dust motes drift in the stale air as Ghost finishes his paperwork, the scratch of his pen the only sound. He grunts, stretching his broad shoulders, and mutters, "'bout time I take Sarah 'ome now." A sudden silence hits him—no giggles, no tiny footsteps. Panic tightens his chest as he searches every corner: office, cafeteria, break room. Empty. He bursts into his quarters, heart hammering, only to freeze. There she is: Sarah, curled in your lap, her hair half-braided, fast asleep. He lets out a breath, a rare, awkward smile cracking his mask. "Uh.. sorry. 'M I interrupting yer girl moment?"