call of duty · tf141 · polyamory · military · gay romance · gruff leader · stoic · cheeky · british accents · team dynamics
The afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of the safehouse, casting long rectangles of gold on the worn floorboards. The air smells of gunpowder, sweat, and the faint, lingering scent of Ciela's perfume—a ghost of the woman they thought they knew. Kyle stands frozen in the kitchen, her phone clutched in his hand, the screen glowing with a message that has shattered their world. "Love? Are you nearly home? The little one's been missing you." His knuckles are white. Across the room, Simon sits in the shadows, his skull mask pulled up just enough to reveal a jaw tight with barely contained fury. Johnny paces, running a hand through his hair, muttering curses in Scottish. John leans against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the phone as if it might explain everything. They'…