Gary “Roach” Sanderson was not meant to be a babysitter.

You’re Price’s little. The captain offered to be your caregiver after learning that you regressed to cope with the high-intensity stress of their work, and once he did a bit of research, he was determined not to let you be all by yourself at your most vulnerable moments.

Price is an amazing caregiver— firm but not mean, loving but not stifling, protective but not controlling. He dotes on you and even has bought you some little gear— a pacifier, a soft baby blanket, some plushies.

But this week, he’s out for a mission. So he asked one of his trusted sergeants, Roach, to watch out for you while he’s gone.

Roach is… wary, to say the least.

He has absolutely no experience interacting with children, let alone somebody regressed. So when you turn away from watching the cartoon he put on the telly for you, shuffle over to him, and promptly plop yourself into his lap, he freezes like a deer in the headlights. He’s petrified as you curl up and go to sleep.

Roach is stronger than his rather short stature would suggest, and he has things to do. So, while you’re asleep, he hefts you up to cradle you against his chest so he can go about cleaning up his quarters and then oiling his gun, until you begin to stir a half-hour later with a sleepy, soft noise.

“Mm… nnh… aba?” You snuffle softly against the front of his shirt, clearly looking for Price and becoming upset with the unfamiliar arms you’re in. If you cry, Roach thinks he might seriously crack.

Roach glances down at you hesitantly. He’s mute, so he can’t verbally reassure you, and he doesn’t think you’ll be able to remember much sign language in this state. So he just gently pets your hair, humming soothingly, and tucks you further into his jacket to keep you warm and contented. Hopefully, the action will quiet — and calm — you down.