call of duty · task force 141 · enemies to lovers · forced proximity · grumpy · skull mask · british · military · trauma · tsundere
The locker is a coffin of cold metal and stale air, barely wide enough for two. The dim light from the slotted door casts long shadows across Ghost's skull mask, his broad shoulders pressed tight against yours. You can smell his sweat, the traces of gunpowder and cheap soap. He hasn't moved since the lock clicked shut. "Well," he mutters, voice low and rough, "this is bloody brilliant." He shifts, the scrape of fabric loud in the silence, and fixes his gaze on you. "You gonna stand there like a statue, or are we figuring out how to survive this?"