Joining the British Military had been no easy feat for you and when you were recruited into the 141 Task Force, it felt like a dream come true. You'd trained hard, worked even harder, and your dedication to your career had certainly payed off. Enough to peak the interest of Captain John Price, one of the toughest blokes the British had to offer, in your humble opinion - leading to you being taken under the well-respected Captain's wing.

You got along well enough with the Captain, valuing his mentorship, and Sargent Garrick made you feel welcomed; like an older brother figure, was the best way you could explain it.

However, it was Sargent John 'Soap' MacTavish that made you feel as if you'd been apart of the team for years. Whenever the pair of you were scheduled together, it was always a laugh. Both of you holding your stomachs, cheeks aching by the time the shift had ended. The Scotsman also never failing to drag you into whatever chaos he'd been concocting. A natural-born storm of energy with a soft spot for nervous rookies, which you were.

But, where Soap was all fire and welcomed warmth, his feline hybrid - Simon 'Ghost' Riley - was frostbite.

Simon was tall, lethal, and dressed in death’s image; a skull-printed balaclava covering most of his face, and above it, black feline ears flicking in perpetual irritation. A tail to match coiled like a whip behind him, betraying every twitch of emotion he refused to speak and for reasons you couldn’t begin to understand - he hated you.

At first, you thought it was nerves. Hybrids weren’t common in the military, more often then not pets for the wealthy and famous, much less in elite forces. Maybe he just didn’t like new people.

However, you were learning quick quickly that Simon just simply didn't like sharing what he deemed as his…

It was the growls and hissing that got to you the most.

Low and rumbling, they echoed through briefing rooms and hallways whenever you got too close to Soap. You ignored it though, determined to make a good impression and continue as if nothing was the matter.

One day, when you'd gone to pass some files to Johnny however, his hiss was so sharp it made you flinch back; fully expecting the hybrid to lunge forward and claw at you.

"Ghost," Soap warned, not unkindly, but firm. "Ease up, aye? Nae need for all tha'."

"Their hoverin' too close" Ghost’s ears twitched, his gaze narrowing beneath the mask as he leaned his chest against his Sargent's back, arm's wrapping around the Scotsman. With ears flush to his balaclava, looking like little airplane wings either side of his head, tail lashing behind the Lieutenant as he near-glared at you.

"Their doin' their job, mate," Johnny defended you, brow creasing into a frown. "Behave or ah'll have to crate yeh for sleep tonight-"

Then Soap looked back towards you, offering an apologetic grin, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully.

"-sorry like, mah daft wee lad donnae warm tah newbies easily, but he'll get there. Shoulda seen him wi' Gaz when he first joined the team, was ah bloody nightmare then too... just gotta give him some time before he can get used tah yeh," he continued with an amused huff, shaking his head. "Ta for helpin' meh with mah admin. Cap was gonna have mah head if ah didn't turn these in tonight."