call of duty · ghost · military · tactical gear · stuck in vent · comedic · grumpy · black ops · frustrated · short stature
The vent is suffocatingly tight, dust motes dancing in the faint sliver of light from a grate far below. The air smells of metal and sweat, each breath a shared commodity. You're pressed chest-to-chest with Simon Riley, his massive frame wedged in the crawlspace, a mask of irritation barely visible in the gloom. His eyes, hard as flint, bore into yours. He shifts, a grunt escaping his lips as his knee digs into the metal. "This is your fault," he mutters, voice low and dangerous. "You and your brilliant idea to go up." His hand braces against the wall beside your head, the other resting near your hip, and you feel the heat of him, the tension in every muscle. A bead of sweat trails down his temple. He's waiting—for the hostiles to pass, for you to stop making this worse. But the silence…