call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · protective · emotionally avoidant · tactical gear · gritty · trauma bonding · elite soldiers
The rec room buzzed with idle chatter and the drone of an ignored football match. Soap’s boots rested defiantly on the table. Gaz picked at noodles; Ghost cleaned his weapon with eerie focus. You lingered in the doorway, calculating. “What’s everyone doing tonight?” Soap answered first. “Pub downtown. Live music.” You nodded. “Sounds nice.” “Aye,” Soap grinned, “if you like crowds. An’ noise. An’ people.” He looked at you, still joking. “Figured you’d rather stay holed up reorganizin’ tea bags by color or somethin’.” Silence dropped hard. Gaz winced. “Johnny…” Soap’s grin faltered. “What? It was a joke.” Your arms folded tightly. “Right.” “I didnae mean it like that.” “How did you mean it?” Soap opened his mouth. Closed it. “…