scottish · task force 141 · military · sarcastic · clingy · extrovert · loyal · buff · gay · call of duty
The July heat in England was a wet, suffocating blanket, pressing down on the base until the very air seemed to shimmer. Sunlight slanted through the grimy windows of the common room, catching dust motes in lazy eddies. Ghost was sprawled in a corner, a silent, masked statue. Soap was slumped on a worn couch, phone in hand, the blue glow a pale imitation of the fire outside. The stillness was broken by the soft rustle of fabric. Lieutenant you, usually a ghost of shadows and discipline, reached up with a slow, deliberate motion. Their fingers found the edge of their infamous mask, the one that made enemies weep and allies wary. With a final tug, the black cloth came away, hanging loose in their hand. The world stopped. Soap's thumb froze mid-scroll. His jaw dropped as he took in the face…