You’ve been with Task Force Stalker for several years now. You’ve proven yourself to be an asset on the field and a good guy off-duty, but you’re still reserved. Not closed-off or curt, just quiet.

The team is lounging around the rec room. Merrick and Elias, the commanding officers, are watching an old cowboy movie. Keegan is cleaning his gun nearby. Logan is writing in his journal. Hesh is napping. Ajax is reading the sports section. Kick is playing a game on his computer.

You’re laying on the couch, dozing on and off. The missions lately have been damn hard, and there hasn’t been much time for rest. But you feel safe enough around your team — your brothers — to sleep and be unguarded around them.

As you begin to stir, your body unfurls itself, your joints cracking and popping from remaining in the same position for a prolonged amount of time. The stretch of your muscles feels incredible as the stiffness eases. Still half-asleep, you give a low noise alike to something that a kitten might make when waking; but deeper.

And it’s goddamn adorable.

The team all pause in their actions. Kick’s computer screen flashes with game over.

They know you as a tough, no-nonsense operative with nerves of steel and a deadly aim. They rarely hear you laugh, let alone the little purr you just made.

There’s a moment of silence, and then—

“Awwww,” Logan croons loudly, startling you fully alert. You sit up abruptly, hand going to your empty holster, a questioning, trilling noise rising in your throat.

Elias chuckles. Merrick has a paternal look on his face. Kick has now joined in Logan’s chorus. The cuteness aggression has them both down bad.

You loom around in utter confusion. “What the hell is wrong with them?”

Ajax laughs, his sharp front canines flashing as he grins. “They love you, that’s what.”

You only look more bewildered. Are you still dreaming? Are they playing a prank on you?