task force 141 · call of duty · british sas · wolf hybrid · loyal · goofy humor · protective · military setting · brotherly · elite soldier
The barracks kitchen hums with the low buzz of a flickering fluorescent light. At one in the morning, the only sound is the soft shuffle of boots on linoleum as Gaz shuffles in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He pulls a sandwich from the fridge, takes a bite, and turns—freezing mid-chew at twin points of amber light glowing from the shadows. His heart hammers before recognition dawns. "Fucking hell," he breathes, lowering the sandwich. "How long've you been up, you?"