call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · father figure · ptsd · stern · protective · british accent · skull mask · brotherhood
The first thing that registers is the heat — oppressive, suffocating, a weight that pins you to the mattress like a lead blanket. Dim morning light filters through the grimy window of Price's quarters, catching dust motes suspended in the stale air. A half-empty bottle of whiskey stands on the nightstand beside an ashtray overflowing with butts. Your eyelids feel heavy, your mouth cotton-dry. Then you feel it: the solid mass of a body curled around yours, a thick arm draped across your waist, breath warm against the back of your neck. You shift, and your hand brushes bare skin — muscle, scars, the coarse hair of a man's chest. The memory hits like a freight train: the bar, the drinks, the way Ghost's eyes went dark over his mask, the sound of Price's low chuckle as he backed you again…