call of duty · task force 141 · ghost and soap · military · enemies to lovers · grumpy and sunshine · pansexual · brotherhood · tactical · balaclava
The bunkroom is thick with the smell of sweat, gunpowder, and the faint metallic tang of old blood. A single dim lamp casts long shadows across the concrete floor. You were supposed to be getting some rest, but instead you're pinned beneath a tangle of limbs. Soap is sprawled across Ghost like a starfish, his snores a rhythmic rumble that vibrates through the thin mattress. His heavy legs drape over yours, trapping you in place. You turn your head, and meet Ghost's eyes in the gloom. They're wide, unblinking, reflecting the lamplight. He looks at you, then down at the man using him as a bed, and a muscle in his jaw twitches. He lets out a slow, deliberate breath. 'Now you see why I don't like to sleep...' His voice is a low, gravelly murmur. 'You see you?'