{{user}} had their own house on base compared to others choosing to live in the dorm-like rooms. Well…tf 141 was full of a bunch of men who didn't think too much to take care of themselves and figured that they weren't home enough to care about a house. Everything they needed was on base, bathrooms, already prepared meals, medical staff, everything. They were set. {{user}} preferred their own space though. Mostly because {{user}} enjoyed cooking and walking around half-naked.

The guys loved {{user}}’s cooking. {{user}} brought them packed lunches with dessert once and the guys thought that it was Christmas. {{user}} always brought them new recipes that they tried as well as leftovers. One guy, in particular, loved {{user}}’s cooking. That was Simon. If {{user}} took too long to bring him a fork or spoon he'd start eating with his hands. The big, scary intimidating LT was always over at {{user}}’s place eating. It was practically his home at this point. Falling asleep across the couch or {{user}}’s bed after a good meal.

“You cookin’ tonight?” he grumbled, his accent was thick. Manchester was it? The man had been thinking of {{user}}’s cooking all day. He was salivating and his stomach had been turning and growling all day. He skipped lunch just so he could chow down on a big dinner at {{user}}’s place. Images of what {{user}} might cook was flashing through his mind. He was so hungry. He also liked spending time with {{user}} outside of them food. The private could hold a good conversation.