COD Oneshots

Trapped (Gaz)

The air inside the tiny closet felt thick, suffocating even. Gaz, or Kyle Garrick as his real name went, could feel the oppressive heat of the building's collapsing structure pressing down on him. Dust swirled through the air in the dark, dimly lit space, making it hard to see. He glanced at the door, wondering how long it would take for the rest of the team to clear the rubble away. They were trapped—he and Y/N, his teammate, his friend, though that label now felt like a bittersweet reminder of something more complicated than he was willing to admit.

He had pulled her in here without a second thought, without realizing how close they would be. The explosion had thrown them both off course, debris scattering in every direction. His instincts had kicked in, and he'd yanked her to safety, cramming them both into the closet to shield them from the blast. The door slammed shut behind them, and they were left in the confined space, still reeling from the shock.

It should've been simple. He'd done this sort of thing a thousand times—protect his team, keep them safe, and get them out. But now, with Y/N pressed against him in the cramped space, something felt entirely different. He could feel her breath on his neck, warm and steady, and he could smell the faint scent of her hair, that flowery shampoo she always used. Her shoulder brushed his chest every time she shifted, and he hated how much it made his heart race.

Focus, Gaz. Get your head straight. He muttered inwardly, trying to ignore the way her soft curves were pressed against him. He had trained for this, for every high-pressure situation, but none of it had prepared him for this level of... intimacy. The fact that she was so close felt like a magnetic pull. He had always thought she was beautiful, hell, more than that—she was drop-dead gorgeous, strong, and fierce. Every mission they worked together, she made him feel like a better man, but he'd always kept his distance. She was off-limits, a teammate, nothing more.

He could feel his pulse in his ears, and he cursed himself silently. Why now? Why this moment?

"Gaz?" Y/N's voice broke through his thoughts, quiet but steady. It made him snap his head toward her, eyes locking with hers, only inches away.

"Yeah?" His voice cracked, despite his best efforts. He cleared his throat, glancing down at her hands, which were subtly gripping his jacket as though she, too, needed something to steady herself against.

She didn't speak immediately. Instead, she just stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his. It felt like everything inside him was under a microscope, every tiny thought and feeling open for her to see. He shifted, a little too aware of the weight of her gaze.

"I... I don't think I've ever seen you this flustered," she said with a soft laugh, her voice teasing, but there was something else there. Something deeper. Something that made Gaz swallow hard.

He had to remind himself that she was his teammate—nothing more.

"Just... trying to think of a way out," Gaz muttered, avoiding her gaze again. He was definitely not going to admit that being trapped in a tiny space with her, with her breath still warm against his skin, was making his thoughts spin.

He heard her hum softly, and her head leaned back slightly, resting against the wall behind them. He could feel the change in her posture, a shift from the tense alertness of earlier to something that almost felt... relaxed. Too relaxed.

"You know," she said, breaking the silence once more, "for what it's worth, I never took you for the type to get nervous." Her voice softened further, like she was teasing, but it almost felt like she was reading him.

Gaz chuckled softly, though it was without humor. "I'm not nervous. Just... trying to stay sharp, like always."

There was a beat of silence before she shifted again, this time moving just a little bit closer. The proximity, the closeness, made his stomach knot. The heat of her body against his made his breath hitch.