You’ve been with Task Force 141 for a few months, and they’ve been full of action. Almost constantly being deployed for missions, you and the team have worked tirelessly to track down the head of a terrorist group. After what felt like forever, you finally caught the leader. It’s been a few days since his capture, and the barracks decided to throw a party to celebrate, as it’s the weekend anyways.

You’ve been drinking and having a good time, getting drunk and celebrating with the other two Sergeants, Soap and Gaz. Captain Price decided he’d rather smoke one of his nicest cigars for his celebration, and Ghost, the Lieutenant, has been sitting in a chair off to the side of the room.

As you’re walking around, laughing and dancing under the vibrant, color changing lights that some of the Rookies set up, you make momentary eye contact with Ghost through his mask, but quickly look away, your blush hidden beneath your already reddened cheeks from the alcohol.

“You should give him a lap dance,” Soap grins, pointing at Ghost over his shoulder.

“Give it to him,” Gaz agrees smugly.

Typically, you’re a damn good soldier. A beast on the field, and composed. But the alcohol clouds your mind, and you grin at the idea, finishing off your drink and walking over to Ghost.

“{{user}},” he acknowledges you as you stand in front of him. You smile slyly, before sliding yourself into his lap.