war has begun, and if they're not careful, a fatality will tear them down.
NO SMUT OR SEXUALIZING ━ if any of the triplets are uncomfortable with this fanfiction, it will be taken down immediately.
matt sturniolo x fem! oc x chris sturniolo (LOVE T...
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𝖝𝖝𝖎𝖛. The Debriefing
Maeve
MAEVE'S PARENTS quietly offer to accompany her to the debriefing. Emira does, too. But Maeve refuses. This is a military undertaking, all business, all for the cause. It'll be easier for her to recall in detail if her mother isn't holding her hand. She can be strong in front of the Colonel and his officers, but not Elise. She makes it too tempting to break. Weakness is acceptable, forgivable, around family. But not when lives and wars hang in the balance.
The kitchen clock ticks eight A.M., and right on time an open-topped transport rolls up outside the house. Maeve goes quietly. Only Weston follows her out, but not to join her. He knows he has no part in this.
"So, what will you do with yourself for the day?" she asks as she wrenches the front door open.
He shrugs, "I had a schedule up in Trial. Bit of training, rounds with the newbloods, lessons with America. After I came down here with your parents, I figured I'll keep it up."
"A schedule," Maeve snorts, stepping out into the sunshine. "You sound like a Silver lady."
"Well, when you're as good looking as I am . . ." he sighs.
It's already hot, the sun blazing above the eastern horizon, and Maeve strips off the thin jacket her mother forced her into. At the bottom of the house steps, her transport awaits. The driver behind the wheel pushes down his sunglasses, eyeing her over the brim. She should have known. Matt gave her all the time she needed with her family, but he couldn't stay away for long.
She's glad he didn't.
"Weston," he calls, waving a hand in greeting. The Kliffe boy returns the gesture with ease and a smile. Six months have killed their rivalry at its core.
Another figure hops out of the transport, smiling as he does so. He has his own pair of sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose and he walks with a casual ease that Maeve recognizes quickly, despite not knowing him very well.
Nick bounds up the steps, grinning. "Hey, Maeve," he says cheerfully. He turns his gaze to the boy next to her. If it's even possible, his smile seems to grow wider. "Weston."
"Hey," the Kliffe replies. Maeve doesn't miss the blush that coats his cheeks, and raises her eyebrows in question. He doesn't notice, his eyes on Nick. "What're you doing here?"
"What, you didn't hear?" the oldest Sturniolo triplet asks. He puts a hand to his heart in mock offense. "We're spending the day together!"
