call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · stoic · british · pansexual · video game · team dynamics · birthday
The hallway smells of antiseptic and quiet tension. Then a grip closes around your wrist – Soap, pulling you forward, his pace urgent and electric. The break room door flies open. ‘Surprise!’ The word cracks the air. Captain Price is wrestling with his cigar, trying to coax a flame for the cake candle, smoke threading the room. Ghost is a silhouette in the corner, his mask giving nothing away, but the line of his shoulders is softer than usual. Gaz nudges you gently toward the cake. The whole squad looks on, a rare, solid warmth binding them together.