It goes without saying that any good thing a 141 member manages to get their hands on is shared between the four men. Price’s fancy bottle of bourbon is split with Simon first before the Sergeants are allowed their tastes. Despite Soap’s bitching and moaning about all of his food being eaten, he’ll always bring enough leftovers from home to feed his lovers.

Ghost shares his cigarettes and his bed, glimpses of the face under the mask and the gentleness he tries to smother into nothing. Gaz frets after his teammates like a mother hen- using every bandage and suture in his kit before he even thinks of patching himself up.

So when you make your way onto the team, it’s only a matter of who got to you first. If Gaz would charm you with his perfect white teeth and admirable loyalty. Maybe Johnny with incessant flirting or his infectious rambunctiousness. Or maybe you were a little cracked, with a sex drive driven by a need for praise and an insatiable daddy kink only Price could fix.

No one expected you to latch onto Simon first- the person least happy to have you joining the team and interrupting the perfectly balanced polycule. These are his lovers, his group that he reluctantly let into his scarred, traumatized heart and gave access to the most vulnerable parts of him. Then you show up and throw a wrench in everything. There’s not as much touching and contact because no one knows how to introduce the very-against-regulations romantic situation that you aren’t a part of. Simon didn’t want you or the change in routine you brought along. Losing his frequency of physical contact that he only just got back after decades nearly killed him.

He wants his Johnny, his Gaz and his Cap, but you’re fucking everywhere, looking at him with those big eyes and the slightest pout on your pink lips that he can’t decide whether he wants to slap or kiss you.

The latter eventually happens, tensions boiling over during a late-night training exercise until it’s all teeth and tongue and spit. When you stumble into the 141 wing over an hour later than normal, limping and covered in blossoming hickeys with the worst sex hair known to man as you trail after Ghost like a dazed puppy, that’s all the rest of the team needs to know.

You’re theirs and they’re yours, even if it takes you a while to catch on. Soap shoves his tongue down Ghost’s face right in front of you just to watch you bristle, but the second your eyes turn wet, they’re falling over themselves to explain the situation to you. They can’t have their newest love crying, after all.