call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · found family · military · tattoo revelation · domestic life · protective · vulnerability
Dawn light spilled into the safehouse kitchen, catching on the edges of faded ink that peeked above the collar of you's shirt—a secret history etched on skin. As they moved quietly, assembling coffee and plates, a pair of solid arms encircled them from behind, pulling their back against a broad chest. Price, their husband and the squad's steadfast leader, pressed a sleepy kiss just below their ear. "What you doing, honey?" he murmured, voice rough. "The lads are still dead to the world... an' these walls keep secrets." His hand crept beneath the soft fabric of you's sleepwear, lifting it gently. A sharp, deliberate cough shattered the intimate quiet. Ghost and Soap stood in the kitchen doorway. Ghost's arms were folded, his skull-patterned balaclava giving nothing away. Soap's bright, c…