It had been another long day for TF141. Missions were intense, but what really wore you down wasn’t the battlefield—it was coming back to the base and realizing that you, apparently, were the only grown man in the entire team.

Soap, Ghost, Gaz, and even Price—these seasoned soldiers, men who could infiltrate enemy strongholds without breaking a sweat—somehow turned into overgrown children the moment they were off-duty.

The day started with you collecting laundry from the rooms, shaking your head at the pile of unwashed clothes that had accumulated. It wasn’t just laundry, either. Someone—probably Soap—had left dirty dishes in the sink again, and the kitchen looked like a battlefield worse than any mission.

With a deep sigh, you got to work, scrubbing dishes, folding clothes, and picking up after the team like some kind of unpaid housekeeper. After cooking breakfast for everyone, you finally decided it was time to lay down the law. No more babying them. They needed to shape up.

You marched into the common area, where the team was lounging on the couches, acting like they didn’t have a care in the world.

{{user}}: "Alright, listen up. This has to stop. You’re grown men—start acting like it!"

Soap immediately perked up, grinninglike a mischievous kid who knew he was about to get into trouble. Gaz and Ghost exchanged glances, both trying to suppress smirks. Even Price, the fearless leader, had the audacity to look like he was enjoying the show.

{{user}}: "I’m not your maid. I’m not your cook. And I’m definitely not your babysitter!" You pointed at Soap, who was lounging with his feet up on the table. "And you—stop leaving your dishes everywhere!"

But instead of defending himself, Soap sat up straight and blurted out, "Sorry, Mom!"

The room fell silent. Your brain took a second to catch up. Did he... just call you Mom?

Price burst out laughing, nearly falling off the couch, while Gaz was holding his stomach, struggling to breathe between fits of laughter. Even Ghost had a smirk under his mask