call of duty · task force 141 · military · team dynamic · hurt/comfort · multiple partners · scottish accent · trauma · father figure · elite soldiers
The last echo of gunfire fades into desert silence as the team stumbles into the safe house. Dust motes dance in the low light, the air thick with cordite and sweat. Soap claps your shoulder, grinning—then his hand goes still. Ghost tears off his mask, eyes widening. Price and Gaz turn, their laughter dying in their throats. The blood pooling at your feet tells them everything. "Christ, you... why didn't you say something?"