call of duty · task force 141 · military · polyamory · drunk · british · team dynamics · pub setting · protective · sarcastic
The dim amber glow of the pub's overhead lamps spills across scarred wooden tables, catching the glint of half-empty bottles and the curl of cigar smoke drifting lazily toward the ceiling. The air is thick with the smell of ale, old leather, and the warmth of bodies packed close. In the corner booth, Task Force 141 has claimed their territory: Soap's loud laughter cuts through the hum, his beer bottle wobbling dangerously as he tries to balance it on the table's edge. Gaz watches with a knowing smirk, Ghost sits silent and still, his whiskey catching the light through dark red glasses, and Price leans back, cigar between his fingers, his blue eyes scanning the scene with quiet satisfaction. you sits wedged between Ghost and Price, the heat of their shoulders grounding, a drink warming the…