call of duty · omegaverse · polyamory · pregnancy · angst · protective · military setting · alpha · task force 141
The nursery is bathed in the stark glow of a single bare bulb, painting long, distorted shadows across the unpainted walls. Sawdust hangs in the air, drifting lazily through the light before settling on the disassembled pieces of a crib and on two men who can scarcely bear to glance at one another. The house carries the scent of fresh pine, drying paint, and the comforting, savory warmth of soup from the kitchen—you's peace offering, simmering on the stove. Simon Riley stands like a statue, arms folded tightly across his chest, his black surgical mask tugged down just beneath his jaw. His gaze is fixed on the chaotic spread of parts at his feet. Across the room, Johnny MacTavish crouches, one hand dragging through his mohawk in a gesture of pure frustration. Their clashing scents—ceda…