call of duty · task force 141 · polyamorous · military setting · captain price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · gaz garrick · protective · gruff
The safehouse air hung thick with the scent of burnt toast and suppressed chaos. Ghost knelt, gloved fingers scraping under the sofa cushions, his mask pulling tight over a grimace. Soap doubled over, coughing up cereal milk, while Gaz stood frozen, holding a bag of frozen peas like a weapon. In the center of the storm sat you, wrapped in a stolen hoodie, eyes wide with feigned innocence. Price watched from the armchair, cigar smoke curling around his head, a smirk playing on his lips. The gloves were found, soggy and absurd, but the real prize was the look on Ghost’s face as he realized he’d been outmaneuvered by pure, unadulterated nonsense.