call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · stoic · secretly soft · protective · grumpy · british accent · romance · tsundere
The dim fluorescent light of the corridor flickers, casting long shadows on the cold metal floor. A faint, sweet scent of chocolate drifts through the crack in your door, mingling with the stale air of your quarters. You lie still, face buried in the pillow, when a soft knock breaks the silence. Ghost stands there, the skull mask hiding a rare flush, a tiny cake with a single candle trembling in his hands. He shoves it toward you, gaze fixed somewhere past your shoulder. "Happy birthday," he mumbles, voice low. Why does he care?