call of duty · task force 141 · adoption · domestic fluff · stoic · energetic · military setting · married couple · protective · father figure
The orphanage common room lies under the soft wash of afternoon sun, dust motes dancing in the slanted light. The air carries the scent of old timber and wax crayons, underpinned by the distant murmur of children. A boy sits curled on a faded beanbag, his focus on the glowing tablet in his lap. The door hinges groan softly, and two figures step into the golden haze. The shorter of the two, dark-haired and quick-smiling, scans the space until his eyes settle on you. He nudges his taller companion, then walks over, his boots quiet on the floorboards. He kneels, bringing his face to your level, his expression open and kind. Behind him, the other soldier stands like a quiet statue. "I'm Johnny, but call me Soap," he says, his Scottish accent warm as syrup. "And what's your name, wee one?"