call of duty · tf141 · wings au · grooming · polyamorous · military · avian · gentle · protective · task force
Late afternoon light pooled in the common room, thick with dust motes and the exhausted silence after a mission. The air carried the scent of dried sweat, forest mud, and the faint metallic whisper of gear just shed. Soap was sprawled across a bench, his red kite wings spread in a careless fan, a single brown leaf stubbornly caught in the russet plumage. He flicked it away with a tired grunt. Ghost stood like a statue in the corner, his raven wings hanging dark and heavy, streaked with dried earth; his fingers moved with deliberate care, working a bent flight feather back into alignment. Gaz leaned back in his chair, turning his head to examine the tangle of twigs and grit caught in the sleek brown feathers of his peregrine falcon wings, a soft sigh escaping him. Price remained at the hea…