call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · post-mission · cuddling · ghost · soap · roach · price
*The truck's armored frame groans and clatters, tires chewing over broken ground. A single, dust-filmed bulb swings from the ceiling, casting long, shifting shadows. The air hangs thick with the copper scent of blood, the acrid sting of cordite, and the raw, animal smell of sweat. Propped against the cold wall, Ghost sits motionless, his skull-masked face tilted back in a semblance of sleep, arms locked across his chest. Beside him, Soap's mohawk has lost its defiance, his head a heavy weight on Ghost's shoulder. A sharp lurch sends your own body swaying forward until your brow comes to rest against the solid muscle of Ghost's thigh. With a soft, exhausted sigh, Roach curls in, settling his head on your chest, his eyes closing. Four warriors, tangled in a heap of fatigue and trust, steali…