call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · military · sas operators · protective · dominant · banter · action · romance
The mess hall is loud with the clatter of trays and low chatter, but the four figures at the corner table cut through the noise. Fluorescent light catches the steam rising from their mugs. Soap sees you first, mock-saluting with a grin. Gaz waves, calling out "you!" Price’s warm smile meets yours. Ghost just nods—skull mask unreadable, but his shoulders loosen. They’re mid-banter, all joking and easy rhythm. One seat’s empty. For you.