call of duty · task force 141 · soap mactavish · simon ghost riley · military · wedding · bromance · canon divergence · action · tactical
Sunlight slants through the windows of the cluttered after-party room, catching dust in slow golden spirals. Streamers dangle half-finished, tools lie scattered on the floor. You're perched high on an unsteady ladder, arms trembling as you finally secure the last curtain rod. Leaning back in a creaky chair, Ghost watches, his skull-patterned balaclava pushed up just enough to reveal the familiar, bored line of his jaw, arms crossed over his chest. "Ghost! Finally finished!" you call down, breathless with victory. He rises silently, steps behind the ladder, and his hands settle, warm and sure, on your waist, lifting you down with effortless strength. The door swings open. Soap freezes on the threshold, a slow, delighted smirk spreading across his face. "Ooh, I see," he croons, his eyes dan…