The bar was dim, crowded, and loud with chatter in a dozen languages. Torch slid another shot across the table with a wolfish grin.
âCâmon, Russ. Legal here. Eighteenâs the cut. Youâre behind schedule.â
Keegan sat stiff as ever, the kidâs usual blank stare fixed on the glass like it was an IED.
Grim leaned back, smirking. âWhatâs the worst that happens? He loosens up? God forbid the quiet one actually speaks.â
Merrickâs sigh was audible over the noise. âYou two are bastards. Leave the kid alone.â
But Torch and Grim were relentless, and eventually Keegan gave in.
An hour later, Merrick was pinching the bridge of his nose as the normally stoic sniper leaned across the table, animated as hell.
âYou donât get it,â Keegan insisted, jabbing Torch in the chest with a finger. âI could beat you in a fight. I just donât want to. Because, â He trailed off dramatically, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. âBecause I respect my elders.â
Torch wheezed with laughter, clutching his side. âOh, heâs a smartass drunk. I love it.â
Grim nearly spit his drink. âListen to him! Heâs got bite.â
Merrick groaned. âKid, drink some water before you dig yourself deeper.â
Keegan turned toward him with a squint that was supposed to be serious but came off as tipsy determination. âYou know what, Merrick? Youâre like a father to me.â
Merrick froze, mid-sip. ââŠIâm three years older than you.â
âYeah,â Keegan said solemnly, patting his arm with surprising tenderness. âFather.â
Torch collapsed against the table, howling. Grim banged his glass down, tears in his eyes. âThatâs it. Thatâs it. Heâs yours now, Merrick. Congratulations, youâre Dad.â
Keegan leaned closer, his words starting to slur. âYouâre my dad now because mine took off. You didnât. You stayed. That makes you a good dad.â
For a rare moment, Torch and Grim shut up. Merrickâs face softened before he shoved it back under steel. He cleared his throat. âJeez, okay, kid. Iâm your dad. But I liked it better when you were a quiet introvert.â
The walk back to base was worse.
Keegan refused to simply walk, he insisted on doing âpatrols,â darting into alleys and crouching behind mailboxes like he was on op. At one point, he made Torch stop so he could âinterrogateâ a stray cat.
âTell me your secrets,â Keegan whispered at the confused feline. âI know youâve seen things.â
Merrick finally dragged him upright by the collar. âRuss, enough.â
Keegan blinked at him owlishly. ââŠSorry, Dad.â
Torch and Grim were no help, both doubled over laughing as Merrick dragged the tipsy sniper the rest of the way.
The night had already gone sideways, but it truly hit disaster level once they finally got Keegan back to the base.
Heâd passed out almost instantly, sprawled diagonally across the bed like a corpse dropped mid-mission. Merrick stood there with his arms crossed, debating whether to just throw a blanket over him or drag him into the recovery position.
Thatâs when Torch elbowed Grim. Both men grinned the same devilâs grin.
âYâknow what we gotta do,â Torch said.
âEuro Shopâs still open,â Grim agreed.
Merrick frowned. âNo. Whatever youâre planning, no.â
But by the time he came back from brushing his teeth, Torch and Grim were gone.
Twenty minutes later, the door creaked open, and they tip-toed in carrying a plastic bag like contraband smugglers. Merrick caught the glint of foil and groaned.
âOh, for Christâs sake.â
Torch ignored him, already pulling out the haul: a shiny blue balloon reading Itâs a Boy! In german, a frilly baby bonnet, and, god help them, a pacifier.
Grim went to work like a field medic. They swaddled Keegan in a blanket with surprising skill, snug as a burrito. Torch tied the bonnet under his chin, then gently popped the pacifier between his lips. Grim tied the balloon string around his wrist for the finishing touch.
The kid never stirred, just snored softly in his cocoon.
Torch stepped back, hands on his hips. âLook at him. Perfect.â
Grim snapped a photo on his polaroid and wrote on the bottom: Itâs a boy. Name: Merrick.
Merrick rubbed a hand down his face. âYou two are actual children.â
Torch beamed. âNah. Heâs the child. Youâre the proud papa.â
The next morning, when Keegan awoke tangled in blankets with a ribbon mark on his wrist and Torch cackling in the corner, he swore heâd never drink with them again.
Keegan sat at the mess table pale as a sheet, head in his hands. Torch and Grim reenacted his âinterrogationâ of the cat for the entire squad.
Merrick dropped a bottle of water in front of him. âYouâre never calling me Dad again.â
Keegan groaned without lifting his head. âCanât promise that⊠Dad.â
Torch nearly fell out of his chair laughing.