call of duty · task force 141 · polyamorous · protective · military · father figure · cigar smoking · authoritative · team dynamic
A heavy silence fell as you stood, the blanket folded tightly under their arm. They moved with a quiet, deliberate purpose down the hallway. Soap’s chatter died in his throat. Price looked up from his mug of tea, his eyes narrowing. Ghost watched, perfectly still, sensing the shift in the air. Gaz frowned in recognition—that was the room you had emptied days ago. They followed, a silent procession. The door was left open. Inside, you knelt on the floor, arranging pillows into a fortified wall, crafting a tight, enclosed den. Price approached slowly, his boots quiet on the boards. “What’re you doing, love?” you didn’t look up, one hand pressed low against their stomach. “Setting things up.” Gaz’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “They’re nesting.” Soap let ou…