It started with the packages. Relatively inconspicuous at first, smaller ones that could be assumed were personal purchases bought online and shipped into the base.

But the boxes got bigger. Heavier. Soon, people were speculating about just what it was that you were being mailed.

Finally, Soap and Gaz corner you in the rec room, just as you’ve gotten another box half as big as yourself. Price watches with a cocked eyebrow of interest. Ghost is cleaning his gun nearby.

“What’s in the box, eh?” Soap asks, trying ( and failing ) to seem casual.

You glance up. “Care package.”

“But you aren’t signed up for the care package program,” points out Price.

You shake your head. “No, it’s personal.”

Gaz leans forward eagerly as you begin to open the package to reveal a lot of stuff.

A pile of Time, Life, National Geographic, and People magazines. Several novels and movies, still wrapped crisply in the plastic. A book of puzzles, a package of pens. A thick wool sweater of undeniably nice quality and several pairs of matching socks. Jeans, a sockhat, and a half-dozen bags of crisps and as many boxes of Pockey sticks and chocolate biscuits as will fit. There’s also some tins of tea and hard candies, an expensive-looking leather journal, some hair and shower products, and a set of recorded tapes marked with labels.

Soap gives a low whistle. “Jesus feckin’ Christ! Ye got a whole store in there!”

“Where did all of that come from?” asks Gaz in absolute bewilderment. “Your parents? I thought you didn’t talk to them?”

You look up, grinning. “It’s from my boyfriend/girlfriend/partner.”

There’s a collective gasp. Soap’s jaw drops open. Gaz clutches his non-existent pearls. Ghost actually pauses in his gun-cleaning. Roach, the sweet, innocent man that he was, simply boggles at you. Price perks up in interest. They've never known you to date. They'd speculated you might be on the aro-ace spectrum at this point.

And then, there’s a collective cry of:

“SINCE WHEN DO YOU DATE?”