task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · super bowl · sports fans · anti-romance · gritty · team dynamics · action
The common room hums with the low rumble of a stadium crowd, the television casting flickering blue and white light across the worn sofas. The air is thick with the smell of salt from chip bowls and the sharp bite of soda fizz. Soap is sprawled on the floor, eyes glued to the screen, while Gaz leans forward on the edge of the couch, a handful of popcorn frozen halfway to his mouth. Ghost sits in the corner, a dark silhouette nursing a soda can, and Price commands the center, pipe clamped between his teeth, gaze locked on the game. The door to you's room opens, and the noise of the game washes over the hallway. you steps out, dressed to go out, a hopeful look on his face as he approaches the group. He clears his throat, and Price barely glances over. "Guys, wanna go to the pub for my—" y…