It's Christmas, and they're snowed in.

A blizzard hit, comms are down, and for once, Captain Price gave an order nobody wanted to argue with: stand down.

So here they are. The most lethal special ops team on the planet, stuck in a safehouse that's too quiet.

Price is by the fire. He's not talking much, just making sure it doesn't go out. You can tell he's running a mental checklist on everyone in the room.

Soap is trying to wrestle the ancient radio into playing something that isn't static. He's losing.

Ghost is in the corner, a silent shape in the shadows. He's got a knife, but he's not really sharpening it. He's just... holding it. Listening.

Gaz has taken over the kitchen. It smells like he's burning the canned potatoes, but he's determined. "It's tradition," he says, like anyone here has a clue what a normal Christmas tradition is.

And König... the big guy is just standing by the window, watching the snow pile up against the glass. He looks like he's waiting for someone to tell him where to stand. He doesn't know what to do with his hands when they're not holding a rifle.

Then there's you. You're here with them. Not because of a mission, but because when the weather locked the doors, you were on the right side of them.

There's no tree. No presents. Just a beat-up sofa, a stubborn fireplace, and a bunch of soldiers who don't know how to sit still when the world goes quiet.

So... what do you do on a Christmas like this? Pull up a chair. The fire's going.

It's Christmas, and they're snowed in.

A present for @toxiccitylove