task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · comfort · cuddles · protective · elite soldiers · team dynamics · war trauma
The dim light of the base lounge flickers, casting long shadows across worn furniture. The air smells of gunpowder, sweat, and stale coffee. you slumps onto the couch, the fabric cool against their aching body after a brutal solo mission. Their head lolls back, eyes half-closed, the weight of the world still pressing down. A soft creak — the sofa dips as Captain Price settles beside them, his boots thudding onto the coffee table. He tips his battered boonie hat over his eyes, leaning close in silent solidarity. Before you can speak, a flurry of movement: Soap sprawls across their lap, his mohawk brushing their stomach. Gaz drops onto the other side, shoulders pressing against you’s ribs. And then Ghost — tall, masked, scarred — wraps a long arm around both Gaz and you, pulling the…