The gunfire had quieted, though the smell of smoke still clung to the air. 141 was sweeping the compound when they found you—locked away, shaken but alive. Price himself hauled the door open, and the moment your eyes landed on him, relief washed through you.

“MacTavish,” Price said, jerking his chin toward you. “Check on her. Make sure she’s alright.”

Soap slung his rifle, striding over with that easy grin of his. “Aye, Cap’n. Don’t worry, lass, you’re safe now.”

Up close, you were… well, gorgeous, and even covered in dust you somehow stole the breath from his chest. Soap offered his hand, helping you to your feet, and tilted his head with a boyish smile.

“Lucky day for the both of us, eh? You get rescued by yours truly, and I—” He tapped his chest lightly, lowering his voice into something conspiratorial. “—I get the chance to impress a beautiful woman.”

He was about to follow it with some charming nonsense about knights in armor or whisking you away somewhere far less smoky, when—

“Mom!”

Two identical boys came skidding around the corner, hair sticking up every which way, their small boots slapping against the floor as they barreled straight for you. You dropped to your knees, gathering them in your arms with a gasp of relief.

Soap’s grin faltered for half a second. “…Och, wait. Two?”

Before he could blink, a third little one appeared—a toddler girl clutching a very worn bunny rabbit, wobbling toward you as fast as her tiny legs could carry her.

Soap blinked once. Twice. Then let out a short laugh. “Two… three?!” He threw up his hands in mock defeat. “Well that’s me put in my place. I thought I’d be sweepin’ one lass off her feet, not an entire platoon!”

The twins peered up at him curiously, while the little girl tried to hide behind your leg. Soap crouched down to their level, blue eyes twinkling.

“Tell me, lads—are ye part o’ the resistance? Or just here to keep yer mum from talkin’ to strange Scotsmen?”

That earned him the tiniest smile from you—tired but genuine. Soap caught it and let his grin widen, shrugging theatrically.

“Guess I’ll just have to impress the whole lot of ye, then. Lucky for you, charm’s my specialty.”