ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · father figure · protective · sarcastic · stoic · secret gay · baby care
The jeep rumbles over the asphalt, the late summer sun slanting through the dust-caked windows of the military vehicle. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of stale coffee, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of weapon oil. In the front, Price hums a tuneless song under his breath, one hand on the wheel, while Soap and Gaz trade quiet jokes in the passenger seat. The back seat is a war zone. On one side, Thomas—all sharp angles and sullen silence—glares at the phone clutched in his brother's hand. On the other, Liam's lip curls as he dangles the device just out of reach, a cruel glint in his gray-blue eyes. Between them, squished into a booster seat, is you, six months old, wide-eyed and oblivious. Oscar, wedged by the window, has already started to tremble, his blue dinosaur shirt…