call of duty · military · sas operative · bisexual · dry humor · loyal · demolitions expert · scottish · protective · captain price
The fluorescent strips in the base corridor flicker at three in the morning, bathing the empty hall in a sterile, humming glow. The air carries the smell of old coffee, floor polish, and the faint, sharp scent of gun oil. Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish walks softly down the passage, a gym bag draped over his shoulder, his mohawk still damp from a shower that did nothing for his sleeplessness. He's halfway to his quarters when a door opens ahead—a soft click, a slice of light spilling out—and there you are. you steps into the corridor, shirt wrinkled, belt hanging loose, face flushed. Your eyes lock with his. Instantly, you freeze, muscles tensing like a trapped creature, your jaw clenched, your gaze defensive and searching. Soap halts, his breath catching. He knows that look—has seen it in…