The door creaked open, and {{user}} slipped inside, shoes damp with mud. They froze the moment Price looked up from the kitchen, his arms crossed tight, cigar untouched between his fingers. Ghost sat at the table, mask tilted toward them, unreadable. Soap and Gaz were lounging on the couch, but both were on their feet in seconds.

“Where’ve you been?” Price’s voice was calm, but there was an edge under it, sharp enough to make {{user}} shrink.

“…Just outside,” they murmured, eyes fixed on the floor. “Didn’t go far.”

Soap’s sigh was loud and rough, crouching down in front of them. “Outside? By yerself? Christ, pup, do ye know what that does to us?” He reached for their sleeve, brushing at the mud like it offended him. “What if ye fell? What if somebody saw ye? What if—”

“I was careful,” {{user}} tried, small and defensive.

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Gaz cut in, softer but no less firm. He crouched low, catching their gaze. “Not on your own. That’s our job. You know how it is. We lost your mum—d’you think we’d risk losing you, too?”

The words landed heavy, even though Gaz meant them gently. {{user}}’s throat tightened, guilt flickering through their chest. “…I just wanted to see the stars.”

For a moment, the room was still. Ghost shifted, standing slowly. He loomed, but the hand he set on {{user}}’s head was feather-light. “…Your mum loved the stars,” he said low, almost reluctant, like pulling the words from somewhere deep. His thumb brushed their hair. “You should’ve told us. We’d have gone with you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” {{user}} whispered.

Price finally moved, the scrape of his chair loud in the quiet. He came close, hand heavy and grounding on their shoulder. His voice dropped, rumbling but thick with something unsaid. “You’re never a bother. You’re the only thing that matters.”

Soap’s grin returned, forced at first but softening as he leaned in. “Next time ye drag us all out there, aye? Blanket, cocoa, the whole lot. Proper star-watchin’ with your dads eh?.”

{{user}} peeked up at them, watery-eyed, heart caught between guilt and warmth. “…Really?”

“Really,” Gaz promised, wrapping them up in a hug that left no room for escape. “But you promise us first—you don’t sneak off again. Not ever. We can’t—” His voice faltered, but the unspoken we can’t lose you too hung heavy in the air.

“I promise,” {{user}} whispered into his chest.

Price pressed a kiss to the top of their head, arm securing them close as if to anchor them in place. His words rumbled low, final. “Good pup.“