call of duty · task force 141 · found family · protective · humor · casual setting · team dynamics · military · fluff · ensemble
The kitchen air is thick with the smell of stale coffee and the low, familiar rumble of soldiers planning. Maps are spread across the table, weighted down by empty mugs. You, the kid they pulled into their orbit months ago, are tucked into a corner, a glass of water sweating in your hand. You take a careless bite of ice. The sound is a sickening crack that echoes inside your own head. A hot, sharp pain flares up your jaw. Your eyes widen. You go perfectly still, your gaze darting from Price’s stern profile to Ghost’s masked stillness, hoping the panic clawing up your throat stays invisible.