(part two of here comes the sun: poly 141 x medic reader where you might as well be the sun to them)
Soap wasn’t subtle about it.
The moment he was cleared to leave the med tent, he started pushing. Hard, even if he knew there wouldn’t be much, actual opposition.
“Price,” he said, leaning against the captain’s desk like he wasn’t still healing. “John. We need her.”
Price didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “You need to sit down before you tear that wound open again.”
“I’m serious,” Soap insisted, gesturing wildly. “You saw her. She’s sharp, steady. Quick hands. Disnae panic under pressure. And-”
“And she’s not ours,” Price cut him off, finally looking up. “She’s stationed with another unit.”
“She could be ours,” Soap shot back, undeterred. “We need a medic. She’s the best one I’ve seen.”
Price gave him a long, measured look, and Soap could tell the captain was already considering it even before Soap burst into his office.
“She’s bright.” Price said after a beat, tone flat but amused, and sat back in his chair.
Soap grinned. “Aye. Easy ta spot.” What you, yourself, had said to him when he’d woken up in that tent. He kept going through that day again and again.
Price exhaled through his nose and reached for his phone, and Soap left feeling quite satisfied.
You arrived two weeks later.
The announcement was casual- just another personnel transfer- but the 141 treated it like the sun itself had walked into their orbit.
You stepped into the briefing room with the ease of someone who had faced fire and walked out the other side. Your bright gear stood out starkly against the muted greens and browns of the others, like a flare shot across a starless sky, and it reminded them so much of the day they had met you on that battlefield.
Gaz was the first to speak, offering a low whistle as he leaned back in his chair, offering you an easy smile. “Looks like it’s true. They really did send us the sun.”
You smiled at that, shoulders straight but relaxed, clearly used to the nickname by now. “I’ll try not to blind you, Sargeant.”
Soap’s eyes never left you. His grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and before he could think better of it, the words slipped out- low and rough like an ember still burning.
You blinked, turning to him, but he quickly looked away and scratched at the back of his neck like it hadn’t meant anything. It did, though, and he knew everyone in the room had caught it.
“Well,” Price finally said, breaking the moment. “Welcome to the task force, medic. Let’s hope you live up to your reputation.”
You raised an eyebrow, that sharpness returning to your gaze as you stood a little straighter. “I don’t plan on letting you down, sir.”
Soap’s heart stumbled. That steady confidence- it was the same tone you’d used when you’d saved his life, the same fire he’d seen in your eyes as you’d pulled him back from the edge.
Here comes the sun, he thought again, and this time it didn’t feel like an omen.
And now, you fit into the 141 like you’d always been there.
It didn’t happen all at once- trust like theirs was hard-earned, built in layers of sweat, blood, and battlefield grit. But it started quickly enough.
Price made it clear from day one. He didn’t just treat you as part of the team; he expected it. No fanfare, no hesitation. “You’re one of us now,” he said after your first successful op, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t forget it.”
Gaz took to you next, easy and natural. He lingered near you during drills, cracking jokes and testing your reflexes like it was a game. “Just making sure the sun doesn’t burn out,” he’d tease with a grin. But the way he always had your back in the field- never too far, always watching- spoke louder than words.
Soap made it impossible to keep your guard up, of course. He pulled you into conversations before you even realized it, throwing compliments and nicknames around like confetti with an easy grin. “The sun’s shining bright today,” he’d say whenever you joined a room, all charm and laughter. It was easy to laugh with him, easier still to trust him when things got serious.
Ghost was different. Quiet. Watchful. You never caught him outright staring, but you felt his presence. He didn’t say much at first- just short nods and simple instructions during missions. But then there were the small things. The way he passed you ammo without being asked. The way he moved closer during tense moments, his silence as steadying as any words.
And when he finally spoke up, it was never casual. “Good work,” he told you after a long, brutal mission. It wasn’t much, but it felt like everything.
You learned to move with them like clockwork. They learned to rely on you the same way. Missions came and went, and somewhere in between the chaos and quiet, you stopped feeling like the new addition and started feeling like home.
It wasn’t the colors of your gear that made you stand out anymore. It was the way you fit beside them- bright and steady, a fixed point in their orbit.
Soap caught himself watching you more often than he should’ve.
It wasn’t just the colors, though they still hit him first- those impossible reds and oranges that stood out like fire on a battlefield. They reminded him of sunrise after too many nights spent in the dark, of flames warding off the cold, and he didn’t think there’d come a day where the colors don’t surprise him. But it wasn’t just that.
It was the way you moved.
Steady. Deliberate. Like hesitation wasn’t in your vocabulary. You worked with purpose, not a single wasted motion, and it drew his eye every damn time. You stood out in ways that had nothing to do with the bright gear- like light breaking through fog, cutting through smoke and haze to reveal solid ground.
And he wasn’t the only one who saw it.
Price started calling you their beacon during briefings. At first, it had sounded like a joke, a casual nod to the nickname you’d earned, but it simply stuck.
“We follow the sun,” Price said once, tone half-serious, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “And if we lose track of her, we’re done for.”
Soap had laughed along with the others, but the words lingered.
Gaz, for his part, never made any effort to hide how much he liked having you around. He hovered close more often than not, easy-going and quick with compliments.
“It’s just the colors,” he’d insist whenever someone called him out for it. “You’re hard to miss.”
But Soap caught the way Gaz’s tone softened when he said it, like maybe it wasn’t just the colors after all.
Ghost… Ghost was different.
He didn’t flirt, didn’t tease- not like the others. But Soap had spent enough time with him to notice the shift. The slight tilt of his head whenever you spoke. The way his shoulders relaxed when you were in the room. The rare moments he let you touch him, patching up a wound or tightening a bandage, as if he trusted you without question.
Soap had nearly choked when he’d caught Ghost staring once, lingering too long while you tied off a suture on his arm. For all his jokes about Ghost being unflappable, even Soap couldn’t ignore the look he’d seen- the way Ghost had leaned just slightly into your touch, like he’d never wanted to leave it.
Because no matter how much the others admired you- how much they trusted you, relied on you- he’d seen you first.
He’d been the one bleeding out in the dirt, thinking his time was up. He’d been the one who saw you cut through the smoke and fire like something out of a dream. And that fact burned in his chest like an ember that refused to go out.
Sometimes, he thought about what might’ve happened if you hadn’t been there. If you hadn’t run straight into hell to get to him. But those thoughts never lasted long- because all he had to do was look at you to remind himself that you had been there.
You’d saved him. And now, every time he saw you, with those bright colors and steady hands, it hit him all over again.
Here comes the sun, he thought.
And this time, he didn’t want to look away.
It was late one evening when it happened again.
The mission had gone south- not as badly as last time, but bad enough. They’d made it out, but Gaz had taken a hit, and comms had failed halfway through.
By the time they stumbled back to the evac point, Soap was covered in dirt and sweat, exhaustion weighing heavy in his limbs. But then-
You came running, gear catching the fading light, colors flaring like fire in the dusk.
He couldn’t stop thinking it. It looped through his head like a mantra as you fell to your knees beside Gaz, hands already moving, voice low and steady as you worked. The others lingered nearby, hovering but trying not to get in your way.
Soap stood frozen, watching.
Watching you save another life, same as you’d saved his.
It was Ghost who spoke first, breaking the silence. “Told you,” he murmured. “Sun’s hard to miss.”
Gaz let out a weak chuckle, though his voice was tight with pain. “Yeah… can’t look away, can you?”
Price didn’t say anything, but his expression was clear enough. Relief. Trust.
And Soap- Soap felt it more than ever.
The sun. Warmth in the cold. Fire in the dark.
He knew now, without a doubt, that they’d follow you anywhere.
(You’d never lead them wrong.)
