call of duty · task force 141 · military · polyamory · gay romance · stoic · extrovert · snipers · scottish accent · bickering
The bar hummed with low chatter and the clink of glasses, amber light spilling across polished wood and catching the condensation on a half-empty glass of scotch. In a corner booth, two men sat in comfortable silence—one broad-shouldered and masked, the other with a wild mohawk and restless eyes. They watched the room, but their attention kept drifting to a single figure across the way: a man laughing freely with his friends, his smile bright against the dim haze. Johnny’s lips parted from his glass, voice low and rough. “See t’at beautiful’l lad?” Simon hummed in reply, grey-blue eyes fixed. “You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, Johnny?” He swirled his drink, ice clinking. A slow grin spread across Johnny’s face. “Hell yeah.” He stood, setting his scotch down, and…