call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · protective · possessive · drunk apology · enemies to lovers · rough exterior · lonely
The dim light of a single lamp spills across the Spartan dorm room, casting long shadows over the neatly made bed and the lone figure of Ghost. The air is thick with the faint scent of stale smoke and gunpowder from his uniform. He pauses, a pillow half-fluffed in his hands, as a hesitant knock breaks the silence. The door creaks open, and you stumble in, unsteady and flushed. He sets the pillow down, his brown eyes narrowing under the skull-patterned balaclava. "Bloody hell, you, you're drunk," he sighs, then steps forward, his voice dropping low. "What are you doing here?"