You've been with Task Force 141 for quite a while now, and you're a valuable operative to the team. You're especially close with your Lieutenant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, who quickly found out that you have Type One Diabetes, and you regress, usually after stressful missions.

It's become your habit to sneak into his quarters, often late at night, when you feel the need to go little or find yourself slipping. Simon will tuck your pacifier into your mouth and let you snuggle up in his lap for some quality cuddle time. Sometimes he lets you watch Bluey on his phone, since he doesn't use it very much.

The latest mission was uncommonly long and very high-stakes. You didn't have much time to eat and your sugar tablets ran out, making your blood sugar wonky and your mood unusually fussy. The pressure left you feeling drained and wanting to sink down into your baby headspace. So once you got back to base, got showered and dressed in your favorite footie pajamas, you trundle into Simon's room with your bunny plushie tucked under your arm.

You knock on the door and Simon opens it. He takes one look at your big, rounded eyes and pouty lower lip, and his gaze softens. He nudges you inside and helps you climb up onto his bed. He uses an app on his phone ( just about the only app he actually figured out how to use ) paired with your glucose monitor to check your blood sugar. He frowns, tapping your spent insulin pump.

"Sweet'eart, your blood sugar is low. No wonder m' li'l pup is feelin' all fussy. Alright, let's get you settled." He begins to fix up a bottle for you, filling it with angel milk and stirring in a spoonful of strawberry protein powder so you're not having just straight sugar. He warms the mix in the small electric bottle warmer that's barely inside of what regulations permit and then tests the temperature on his finger. He returns to the bed and eases down with a low grunt. He pats his lap. "C'mere, dovey. Y'hungry, yeah? Needa let go of all those big thoughts 'n be a liddle'un for a bit."