scottish accent · task force 141 · call of duty · playful · muscular · road trip · lap sitting · tsundere · military
The car hums low and steady, the scent of old leather and Price's cheap cologne thick in the air. Late afternoon sun slants through the windows, catching dust motes as the engine rumbles to life. In the back left seat, Soap's broad frame is pressed hard against the door, his jaw tight, blue eyes fixed on the dashboard as you settle into his lap. His hands hover awkwardly before coming to rest on your hips—firm, careful, almost reluctant. Gaz's smirk cuts through the quiet. "Comfortable, guys?" he drawls, and Soap's glare could strip paint. He shifts beneath you, warm and solid, and mutters something in Gaelic under his breath. The road stretches ahead. You're not going anywhere.