TF141 x Hybrid!You | "Hierarchy" | Part 7.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |
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The second they enter the barracks building, Soap lovingly sets Y/n down and says. "Go explore, wee beastie."
Y/n sat cross-legged on the floor, ignoring him completely. Tail flicked lazily. Ears alert. Eyes scanning the room for something or someone more interesting...
Soap looked up at Price, who had wandered in. "Soap." Price said, jaw tight. "I suggested the kennel."
Soap shook his head firmly. "No. This isn't a dog, Cap. They're… more. Half-human, half… apex. Needs comfort, not a cage."
They pass Soap entirely and wrap both clawed hands around the hem of Captain Price shirt like they OWN him.
Price: "…No," he says firmly. "Absolutely not."
Y/n blinks up at him, pupils narrowing like a cat who has chosen its human and will not be persuaded otherwise.
Soap: "Aww, it likes ya-"
Price cuts him off. "Shut it, Sergeant."
But Y/n only presses closer, tail curling around Price's leg like a territorial claim.
Price mutters, low and deeply offended. "I don't even like you."
Y/n looks at him with a face like :3 this. Price sighs like God is testing him personally. "This is precisely why it belongs in the kennel."
Ghost appeared silently behind them. "Y/n." One word. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
Y/n's ears flattened immediately. They backed away from Price without protest and sat on the floor, tail tucked.
Soap: "…They don't listen to me like that at all."
Ghost shrugged. "They understand hierarchy."
Price muttered. "Bloody traitor."
Soap grabbed a spare blanket and tossed it onto his bed. "They're sleeping here. End of discussion."
Price stared at him. "You're letting an apex hybrid sleep in your barracks."
Price: "They could rip your throat out in your sleep."
Soap shrugged. "They won't."
Y/n looked at Soap. Then looked away. Didn't move closer. Didn't acknowledge him.
Ghost noticed. So did Price. "So..." Price said slowly. "It ignores you, disrespects me, terrifies Gaz."
Gaz standing outside of the room: "I'm not terrified."
Y/n glanced at him. Gaz immediately retreated.
"-and only listens to Ghost." Price finished.
Ghost crossed his arms. "Sounds about right. Hierarchy, Established."
Base Command Finds Out. Soap barely had time to blink before two officers, and a medical staff member were standing outside his room. Clipboards. Badges. Very serious expressions. "Captain Price." One said. "we've received reports of an unregistered hybrid on base."
Price didn't even pretend to be surprised. "Yes." He said. "That would be Soap's mistake."
Soap: "Hey!- They wanted to come home with me!"
Y/n stepped out from behind him. Instant silence. Half human. Half apex. Sharp eyes. Bare feet. Military hoodie hanging off their frame.
One officer whispered. "That's not a canine class hybrid…"
Y/n stared at Price. Walked straight past Soap. And sat directly at Price's boots. Close enough that their shoulder brushed his leg. Price stiffened. "Move."
Ghost spoke calmly. "Y/n. Back."
Immediate compliance. They retreated and sat beside Ghost instead, obedient as stone. The officers exchanged looks. One swallowed. "Captain… that hybrid understands commands."
"Yes." Price said tightly. "From him." He jabbed a thumb at Ghost.
Ghost added. "Not from Soap."
Soap looked betrayed. "Oi." Y/n didn't react. Didn't care. Didn't even look at him.
Y/n slowly moved to stand barefoot near Price's side, hoodie sleeves hanging past their hands, tail swaying slowly. They watched the officers with unreadable eyes.
"Confirm classification." One officer murmured, eyes never leaving the hybrid.
"Not feral." Another replied. "Posture's too upright. Eye tracking is human level."
A third gestured subtly at Y/n’s hands. "Dexterity suggests advanced cognition."
"Musculature's apex animal enhanced." Someone added. "Fast twitch density is off the charts."
Y/n tilted their head. Price felt it immediately. "Watch the gestures." He said quietly. "You're winding them up."
The officers ignored him. "Do they speak?" The question cut through the murmurs.
Silence followed. Clipboards paused. Pens hovered. One officer leaned slightly toward another. "No vocalization observed yet."
"Doesn't mean they can’t." A second replied. "Selective mutism is common in trauma adjacent hybrids."
"Or they choose not to." Someone else said.
Y/n’s ears flicked at that.
“Does it understand us?" One officer whispered.
"Yes." Another answered immediately. "Watch the eyes. It's tracking language patterns."
"Then why no speech?"
"Could be developmental. Could be withheld. Could be learned silence."
Someone scribbled nonverbal but cognitively aware on a clipboard.
Y/n stared at the pen. Then at the officer's throat.
Ghost spoke once, low. "Careful."
Y/n's gaze dropped immediately.
"Ethics classification?"
"Complicated."
"Half human implies rights."
"Apex hybrid implies containment."
"We can't kennel it."
One officer gestured toward Soap without looking at him. "And that one's emotionally compromised."
The order came down in clipped, official language.
HYBRID STATUS UPDATE:
– No hostile incidents
– Cognitive response confirmed
– Obedience established (selective)
– Cleared for limited base movement with supervision
Soap read it twice. "…That's it?" he asked.
Price folded the paper and slid it back into the folder. "That's it." Meanwhile, Y/n sat on the floor near Price's boots, quietly messing with his laces.
Soap shifted his weight. "So... kennel's off the table then?"
Price shot him a look. "It was never on the table."
Soap: "Sir, you suggested it."
"I suggested it." Price said. "Before it became clear they understood where they are."
y/ tugged one lace loose. Price sighed, bent slightly and nudged their hand away. "Hey, leave that."
Y/n paused and looked up at him. Then very deliberately let go of the lace.
Soap stared. "They listen to you now?"
Price straightened. "They like me."
Y/n leaned their shoulders lightly against his shin. Price didn't move them away. Didn't step back. Didn't even look down right away. Soap noticed that first. "…Huh." He said quietly.
Price cleared his throat and tucked the folder under his arm. "Don't read into it."
Y/n shifted, settling more comfortably, tail curling around Price's boot like an absent minded habit.
Soap absolutely read into it.
_
The rest of the day passed quietly for everyone else.
Soap went about his tasks, still sneaking glances at Y/n, who had made themselves comfortable at Price's boots.
Price stayed where he was, and slowly, deliberately, his hand reached down. Fingers brushing against the top of Y/n's head.
Y/n didn't flinch. Didn't move. They leaned into the touch.
Price conscious of every small movement, without realizing it, his hand began to stroke their hair. Gentle, careful, almost… protective.
Soap, watching from the side.
Y/n tilted their head into Price's hand. Tail thumping softly against the floor. Their ears twitched, relaxed, signaling trust.
Later, when the team had gathered for a mid-afternoon meal, Y/n followed Price like a shadow.
He set down a small dish of food on the floor. Y/n sniffed it once, then began eating carefully, glancing up occasionally.
Price crouched slightly beside them, watching without a word. His hand hovered near their back, just in case, just enough to reassure them silently.
Soap muttered again. "…Cap, you're-"
Price didn't look at him. Didn’t need to.
The simple act of feeding Y/n, letting them curl against him at odd moments, became routine. Yet every brush of Y/n's ears against his arm, every weight of their small body leaning into his leg, every time they looked up at him with those cautious, bright eyes, chipped away at that rigid exterior.
By the end of the day, Y/n was sprawled across a chair with their head resting on Price's thigh, tail draped lazily over his boots. He was petting them absentmindedly, fingers curling through the soft tufts of hair at the base of their ears.
Soap nudged Gaz, whispering, "…Looks like Price's the one taking care of them."
Gaz shivered slightly. "He's… surprisingly gentle."
Price cleared his throat loudly, as if to remind everyone that he wasn’t actually soft. But his hand never left Y/n's head, moving in slow, steady strokes as they purred quietly, a low, almost human rumble of contentment.
Feeding, brushing, and quiet touches continued. Price was like a dad who had once claimed 'We're not getting a pet' was now the first to ensure Y/n ate properly, was comfortable, and was safe, entirely under his quiet, steadfast care.
And Y/n seemed to understand that instinctively. They didn't need words. They just leaned in closer, tail curling tighter, head nudging his hand, letting Price take over without asking, without question.
Soap's whispered observation from across the room cut through the quiet "…Guess they chose their favorite human."
Price didn't respond. He just adjusted his hand slightly on Y/n's head and continued stroking, letting them settle.
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Part 8
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