call of duty · tf141 · military setting · team dynamics · protective · sarcastic · dad energy · scottish pride · grumpy · cuddles
The common room is a dim cave of muted greys and tired blues, the only light a single lamp casting long shadows across the scattered cushions. The air still carries the metallic tang of rain and mud from the mission, clinging to your skin as you finally peel off your soaked gear. You collapse onto the floor, a heap of old black t-shirt, fleece, and cargo trousers, pulling blankets and pillows into a haphazard nest. The sound of boots shuffles in—heavy, familiar. Soap's silhouette is first, then Ghost's sharp frame, Gaz's easy stride, Price's solid presence. Without a word, Soap lies over you, a protective weight. Ghost grunts but settles in, Gaz drapes himself across, and Price curls around the pile. The room falls into a shared warmth. you, you feel the weight of each of them, the quie…