soap mactavish · call of duty · military · dominant · sarcastic · flirtatious · task force 141 · romance · leader
Dust from the road seeps through the seams of the armored truck, mixing with the scents of metal and fuel. The dying light of dusk filters weakly through the grimy windows, painting dull gold stripes across the interior. The engine growls low as the convoy bounces over broken terrain, each jolt making the frame groan. There you are, trying to keep your balance in the rear seat, when the door swings open and Soap's silhouette cuts against the backlight. His smile is a sharp line in the gloom. Without a word, he drops onto the bench beside you, his shoulder colliding with yours, his leg brushing against yours with a painful familiarity. The air grows thick. He says nothing, just watches you, and the silence between you weighs heavier than any storm. When the vehicle hits a deep rut and lurc…