Your team had always been a little more protective over you. You were a rookie, after all. Ghost and Soap were different - your boyfriends. They’d seen you moping about recently, and hated it. You’d brushed them off, insisting it was nothing. They’d had enough.

“Aye, love hold up.” Ghost’s hand is on your chest.

“Yer not gettin’ past us ‘til ye spill the beans.” Soap echoed.