Call of Duty Oneshots

Snow Mistake (Requested 1st Platoon)

"This snow could melt any time now," you grumbled, treading through the thick powder.

"It's not that bad," Zussman tried to cheer you up.

"Besides the fact we freeze our asses off, of course not," Aiello groaned.

"You babies," Stiles taunted.

"Gimme your jacket and see what you think then," you stopped, ready to snatch it if he let you. Stiles only rapidly shook his head. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Come on, we gotta focus," Daniels told the group, continuing to walk towards camp.

You silently picked up a small pile of snow, forming it in between your palms. "Wanna see something funny?"

Zussman shrugged. "Give it your best shot, but if you lose your head don't blame me."

You moved forwards until you were within accurate distance of plastering Daniels with the snowball. Throwing the ball as hard as you could, you watched it soar past the intended target to hit someone else. Lieutenant Turner. Right in the shoulder blades.

"Shit," you muttered, hearing Zussman and Stiles choke on laughter behind you.

Turner calmly turned around, his eyes scanning the group of boys behind him. When they finally landed on you, your bright cheeks had to give you away. You grinned, praying he wouldn't be too harsh to punish you.

"Look out!" Aiello exclaimed as he also threw a snowball at Turner.

The Lieutenant let out a loud grumble and then bent over to return the fire. His shot was perfect at hitting a shocked Daniels. The younger man then crouched to throw a snowball back, missing by inches as Turner crouched.

"Snowball fight!" Zussman grinned.

The six of you started an all-out fight of flying snow. It was brutal between fit arms and highly competitive participants. You managed to never get hit, instead landing every shot you took. The boys would run around and use trees for cover, laughing when they delivered and crying when they received.

You scooped up a bit of harder snow, packing it so that whoever received the ball would get a good bruise the next day. Without looking at the movement to your right, you popped up from your hiding spot and then threw the snowball. The thing hurled into the figure with a hard thump.

Everyone around you froze, looking wildly at who the target had been. When you realized who you'd hit, fear coursed through you. The man was clearly pissed.

"We don't have time for foolish games!"

"On my call we do," Turner told Pierson sternly. "A little snowball fight wouldn't hurt anyone."

Pierson mindlessly rubbed his chest where the snowball had hit. "I can disagree."

"Pierson, sir," you stepped forwards to apologize, but the man shot you a glare so fierce you went backwards.

"Lighten up," Aiello chuckled, clearly teasing.

The cheeriness didn't help Pierson at all. If anything, the look he had on his face said death would be close to your cot tonight. You only swallowed as he turned and left the proximity of the snowball fight.