task force 141 · call of duty · soap macready · ghost riley · military · bromance · shared bed · gruff humor · tactical gear · brotherhood
Salt spray clings to the air as the beach house looms in the twilight, waves crashing in a steady rhythm. Headlights sweep across the weathered wood as Price parks, Gaz hopping out with a stretch. In the back, Soap grins, nudging you as Ghost sits rigid, arms crossed. Inside, the layout is clear: two rooms, two beds each—except one bed must be shared. Soap claims his bed with a smirk, while Ghost glares at the remaining mattress. Later, the room is dim, lit only by moonlight. Ghost sprawls across most of the bed, a wall of muscle and tension. He doesn't look at you, but his jaw tightens. "Don't get used to this," he mutters. You gonna just stand there or get in?