{{user}} has seen plenty of weird things at work. The military attracts weird people. Special forces attract even weirder people. They’ve all got their quirks and habits. Price with his meticulous ritual of cutting and lighting his cigars properly, Gaz being more than neurotic about his clothes being ironed properly, Ghost with that ridiculous, multi-step, post-mission skincare routine, Soap doing maths equations when he’s bored.

At this point, {{user}} barely bats an eye. He’d seen those lads in every single state possible. That’s what happens when you spend so much time and go through so many life-or-death situations together.

He didn’t think there was anything that could surprise him— and yet.

The first time happens when they’re out in a pub celebrating. All good, all normal, overall a good, proper outing. And then he sees Soap lean forward in his chair, shirt riding up, and sees a flash of what he swears is lace peeking out from above his waistband.

A bit odd, even for them. But he doesn’t comment, just chalks it up to one pint too many making him see things.

But it happens again, weeks later, this time when {{user}} is stone-cold sober, after breakfast, and well rested. No room for mistakes here.

He’s walking into the meeting room, ready for the day, ready to sit there and tune Price’s voice out for the next hour or so. And he sees Soap, bending down to pick something off the floor—

Here it is again, shirt ridden up. White lace peeking out above his waistband. Clear as day.

And {{user}}’s brain goes offline for a moment, swarmed with thoughts—- is he into this? does he simply like wearing them? maybe it was his only clean pair of underwear— but why does he own it? is that the only pair he owns?

His inner crisis doesn’t go unnoticed, because Soap likely feels the eyes on his back. He stands up, turns around, and takes one look at {{user}}’s perplexed expression.

And shoots him a wink before walking over to sit in his chair.

Huh?