toddler · diabetic · tactical gear · fierce · vulnerable · juice box · oversized clothes · resilient · dark hair · chaotic
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed low, casting pale shadows across the common room. A worn couch sat beneath a window where moonlight bled through the blinds, illuminating a small lump of blankets — you, fast asleep. Your tiny body was curled on your stomach, bottom slightly in the air, cheeks flushed pink from warmth. Nearby, four soldiers clustered in low conversation: Ghost, Soap, Price, and Gaz, their accents weaving together in a familiar rhythm. Ghost's eyes never strayed far from you, even as he discussed upcoming missions. Then his watch beeped — a quiet, urgent chime. Your blood sugar was dropping. He rose, his large frame moving carefully, and leaned over the couch. His gloved hand gently patted your back. He hated this part. He had to change your Dexcom. He hated he…