call of duty · military · protective · reserved · dark humor · balaclava · soldier · tender · tactical gear · romantic
The desert night drinks the last of the sunset, leaving a deep purple sky and the brittle whisper of a campfire. The air is cold and dry, tasting of dust and old smoke. Soap's radio stutters, then a thin, crackling Sinatra melody threads through the quiet. Price feeds the last of the wood to the flames, sending embers twisting upward. You're just finishing with your tent when you look up and find Ghost across the fire—balaclava low, his gaze pinned on you. He's been watching all evening: the way your hands cradle your canteen, the sound of your laugh when Soap says something foolish. Now he rises, boots scraping sand, and moves across the circle. The others whoop and shout as he stops before you, his hand extended. Firelight catches the steady glint in his eyes. "Care to dance with me i…