The mission had already gone sideways long before the crying started.

It was supposed to be a routine sweep—quick in, quick out. But nothing about the abandoned compound felt routine. The silence was too heavy, the kind that pressed in on your ears. Even Soap had stopped cracking jokes, and that alone was enough to put everyone on edge.

Then came the noise.

A faint, uneven cry echoing down the concrete hallway.

Everyone froze.

“Tell me that’s not what I think it is,” Ghost muttered, rifle raised as he scanned the corridor.

Price held up a hand, signaling quiet. The cry came again—clearer this time. Not mechanical. Not a trap.

A baby.

“Bloody hell…” Soap whispered.

The team moved carefully, clearing each room until they reached the source—a small storage space, half-lit by a flickering overhead bulb. Tucked in the corner, wrapped in a thin, worn blanket, was an infant. Red-faced, tiny fists waving, lungs working overtime.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then you stepped forward.

You crouched, gently scooping the baby up with practiced ease. The crying didn’t stop immediately, but it softened, shifting into small hiccuping sobs as you adjusted your hold.

“Well,” you murmured, rocking slightly, “you’re a tough little thing, aren’t you?”

Price exhaled sharply. “We’re not leaving him here.”

“No arguments there,” you said.

—

Back at the barracks, things somehow got louder.

“What do you mean we can’t keep it?” Soap argued, pacing like a caged animal. “We found him!”

“He’s not a stray dog, Johnny,” Ghost shot back dryly from the corner, arms crossed. “There are protocols.”

“Protocols didn’t account for this, did they?”

Gaz leaned against the wall, watching the baby squirm in Soap’s very awkward hold. “You’re holding him like he’s a grenade, mate.”

“I don’t know how to hold a baby!” Soap snapped.

“That much is obvious.”

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “Enough. We need to figure out—”

The baby started crying again. Loud. Sharp. Unimpressed.

Soap panicked instantly. “Why’s it doing that again?!”

“Because you’re stressing him out,” Ghost said flatly.

“I am not—”

You sighed, stepping forward and plucking the baby from Soap’s arms in one smooth motion. “Give him here before you make it worse.”

Almost immediately, you shifted him against your shoulder, swaying gently. Your hand rubbed small, soothing circles along his back.

The crying stopped.

Just like that.

The room went quiet.

The baby let out a soft coo, tiny fingers curling into your shirt as he settled.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the stunned faces. “Really? That surprised you?”

Soap blinked. “He hated me.”

“He didn’t hate you,” you said, adjusting the blanket. “You were holding him like you expected him to explode.”

Ghost huffed a quiet laugh.

Price studied you for a moment. “You seem… comfortable.”

You shrugged lightly. “Six younger siblings. You either learn fast, or you lose your sanity.”

Gaz let out a low whistle. “Six? No wonder you’re not fazed.”

You rocked the baby again, softer this time, your expression easing as he relaxed completely against you. “I’ll take care of him. He seems to like me.” You glanced at the team, a hint of a smirk forming. “Besides, pretty sure I have more experience than you lot.”

Soap opened his mouth, then closed it. “…Yeah, I’ve got nothing.”

Ghost tilted his head slightly, watching the baby cling to you. “Looks like he’s made his choice.”

Price sighed, but there was a faint, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Temporary,” he said firmly. “Until we sort out proper arrangements.”

“Of course,” you replied—but your tone said you already knew how that would go.

The baby made another soft noise, nestling closer.

And just like that, in the middle of a military barracks filled with hardened soldiers, something shifted.

The mission might’ve been chaos.

But this?

This was something none of them were trained for.

And somehow… they weren’t entirely against it.