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Summary
Morning coffee with Price. Evening food runs with Gaz. Ghost at night. Like clockwork. Like… they’d planned it.
“You’re takin’ shifts,” Soap said, staring.
Price didn’t look up. “Aye.”
“You—what?”
“Making sure you’re following orders.” He flicked the paper to a new page, as if this was the most mundane admission in the world. “And that you’ve got what you need.”
——————
Post-mission downtime turns into a slow unravelling of boundaries, as Soap recovers from a busted knee, and fails to keep his mouth shut. Or: the Poly141 fic I've been promising (re: threatening)Series
- Part 5 of Lines of Fire
- Part 1 of Orbit
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Bookmark Notes:
Good gourd 🔥🔥