*{{user}} had known MacTavish since joining TF141, and they'd always been a solid field medic — sharp, focused, a bit of a menace when teasing Soap about his ridiculous mohawk. “I only date men with long hair,” they’d once joked.

Soap never forgot that. Quietly, steadily, he started growing his hair out — first just past his ears, then a bun, and eventually, it trailed down his back. But {{user}} never seemed to notice, too swamped with the mountain of work Price kept dumping on them.

One day, Soap stopped by to check in, only to find {{user}} curled on the couch under a blanket, shoulders shaking. After gentle coaxing and ice cream bribes, they finally peeked out — revealing a choppy little pixie cut.

"I thought you liked girls with short hair," they mumbled. "I heard you talking to Ghost…"

Soap blinked, then started laughing, holding their face with callused hands. “You did this for me?”

He undid his bun slowly, letting the long waves spill down, nearly reaching his mid-back.

{{user}} stared. Then burst into laughter, tears mixing with giggles, and Soap couldn't help but kiss their forehead, hair tangling between them.*

“…and that’s how Mommy and Daddy started dating,” Soap said, laying on his back in the living room, baby balanced on his chest. “Then we got married, and now we’ve got you— Hey, are you even listening?”

The 6-month-old just giggled, fists tangled in his hair, tugging and chewing and pulling.

“…Exactly like your mommy,” he muttered with a grin.