#Fred 104

[itsbasil]

"So I heard you guys needed a pilot?"

John doesn't really make friends too often, so learning that his new boyfriend bestie is a civilian contractor he met on Zeta Halo has Blue Team more than a little curious.

I need Esparza to meet Blue Team so goddamn bad but 343 denies me this so I'm playing dolls in blender about it

[courtana]

@giftober 2023: day #5: friendship ↳ Fred and Master Chief in HALO 5: GUARDIANS (2015)

[empresskadia]

I have John-117 brain rot tonight and I'm sleep-deprived, so buckle up friends ;)

I've been thinking about how Spartans use their downtime after missions because regardless if they want it or not, they're gonna get ordered to take mandatory downtime. So it's not surprising when Captain Lasky tells Blue team to take a 48-hour rest period, even if John tries to protest and tell him they're fine. An order is an order.

So, Fred goes to catch up on paperwork, Kelly wants to go bully the IVs and Linda joins her on the promise that they'll go to the shooting range together and get a chance to play wargames, so she can test out a new modification she made to Nornfang.

But, all three know where John's going to go and that's to find his partner. They know the Chief won't admit it but they notice the slight slack of his shoulders as they leave debriefing and John's eyes flickering to the door as they get stripped from their second skin. They know the exact direction of your room and coincidentally that's the way Chief is heading after they've showered.

None of them say anything but exchange small glances of understanding. In a way, his partner was the only time he allowed himself to feel human, even if it was just a fraction. They'll all tease John about it in the morning when you both arrive for breakfast, but until then, they were grateful for the small reprieve you gave him.

So when your door swishes open after the bioscan confirms his handprint and the only light in the room is a dim glare from the projected screen playing a rerun of a show he's sure you've already watched and the body in the bed barely moving in response, he knows you're tired. There are no words said as he approaches, his partner giving him a simple hum of acknowledgment as you roll over to make room for his giant frame on the mattress.

John's movements are slow and careful not to disturb you too much. He sits on the edge, the familiar creak of the springs under his weight like a subtle greeting. You can hear the steady rhythm of his breathing as he begins to uncurl the laces of his boots as you instinctively reach out, fingers brushing against his forearm. It's a simple touch, but the question is there, asking if he's okay. He pauses for a moment, glancing back at you, and in the dim light, you can see those blue eyes soften slightly and the barest hint of exhaustion lay there.

No, he wouldn't say anything, but you could know and he lets you see.

He lies down next to you, his massive arm wrapping around your waist as you shift slightly for his head to rest on your chest. Your hand instinctively goes to his back, and running your nails up and down his back, taking a moment to gently brush over the divots of scars that you could tell apart from the augmentation ones to the ones he received from countless battles.

After a moment, you could feel him relax into your embrace, finding that perfect spot where your shoulder cradles his head. The gentle patterns on his back are seemingly like a lullaby for the Spartan. The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, the hum of the old show filling in as white noise.

John sighs, a deep, slow breath that you're sure he's been keeping in for a long time. You know he's holding a lot inside—memories of what happened to Cortana and the Didact, the constant need to keep going, and the result of New Phoenix. But here, in the quiet of your room, he can let go just a little, trusting you to hold the pieces together while he rests.

You keep tracing the lines on his back, your fingers gentle but deliberate as the room descends into total quiet and darkness. The air is warm, and the subtle scent of your shampoo mingles with the sterile smell of the Spartan's armor. You rest your head against his, the warmth of his skin bringing a small comfort to your tired mind.

It's not often you get moments like these—where the world outside doesn't matter, where you're not Spartans, but just two people sharing a quiet night together.

Downtime is as much a part of the job as the missions, and if it means spending it with you, he's not going to argue. Even if he had an easier time being a part of the armor, he could be human for a moment. Human for you.

[doom-dreaming]

take my humble offering of various low-quality halo character textpost memes

Ferrets under the cut

and as a gift for @poisonheadcrabsalesman

[pechu-0]

Did some toy photography out on my college campus :D

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

Lo, another halo trash meme dump upon ye

[tackelsholocron]

[whotookmytomato]

Three AM thought here, but you know how in America as kids in school you used to write to soldiers at war? Does the UNSC have children write to their soldiers? And do specific classrooms get to write to Spartans? How unhinged does it get?

Like Emile opening his 80th 'tank you for killing the covenant'

John opening one that says "have a good war" and the letter spills glitter everywhere

Fred getting one that says "dear spartan, thank you for dying for humanity, but I really like humanity so I'm glad you're dead"

Carter getting one that says "I'm sad you died when your planet was glassed" and it's a drawing of a covenant ship glassing some planet.

Kelly opens one that says "I'm sorry your girlfriend left you, that's what my dad says what happens when you become a Spartan"

All of these were inspired by pat loller on tik tok, and I desperately need my moots to add their own experiences of writing these letters. I was going to make one that was all happy and have a pop up thing where you accordion the paper and stick it on each side of the card so a butterfly and flower pop up when you open it but my classmate stopped me because it would scare the soldiers because they have PTSD. If only child me understood the mash episodes my mom was watching I could've given them some mash quotes.

[noblesixjm04]

I can't get this out of my head. It's just something that ive had rattling around. If this doesn't make much sense I'm sorry lol but.

Do you ever think about if the Spartan ii's ever met one of those siblings without realizing it?

Like. John meeting a young female marine. She's quick witted and wicked smart. There is almost nothing she will back down from. At least not until she gets a "win." She will never leave one of her teammates behind. She's also known among her friends for her dry sense of humor.

One day she runs into John whiles he's out of armor. She never realizes that he's the Master Chief as they stare at one another. Blue eyes look into blue. The roots of her hair are blonde. Contrasted against a dark brown. They share the same smattering of freckles. Dusted along their face and down to their arms. Petering out along the backs of their hands.

And when she smiles there's a gap in her front teeth. (One tooth is chipped from a hard won game of King of the Hill.) She jokes that they match.

Apparently her brother had to. Her parents told her about him. How he had passed a few years before she was born. Her mother told her about her and her brothers shared a constellation of freckles.

Maybe Kelly runs into a pair of twin engineers. One is a girl. The other a boy. The girl has her hair cropped short. It's faded green. The boy has long hair. Held back in a tight braid. It's blue.

They strike up a conversation with Kelly one day. Mostly out of boredom. At one point talking about how they had been on their schools track team. Twin Terrors they had been called. They were the fastest in the entirety of their schools career.

They are the only two out of the group of engineers and scientists that could match her humor.

Kelly never sees them again after that. But she thinks about them often enough. About how they all shared the same accented voice.

About the day they all raced.

She won. Of course. But something about it made her feel like she was missing something. She matched it to the same feeling to her younger years with the rest of the ii's on Reach. On some of the few days they had true fun.

Linda was sent to therapy. Well. Not really sent. It was... Suggested. That she go.

Linda did. This time. For the first time. The last time.

She met an older man. Her elder by about three or four years. With the same red hair, that has streaks of white at the temples, and piercing green eyes.

Those eyes that looked at her like she does down the snipers scope. Those eyes that seemed to know her own.

She could see them widen. Hear the hitch on his breath as they flicker to a photograph and then back to her.

He...

Maybe she had seen him in passing once. Despite him never having been on this ship before.

He has been the one to pull the trigger.

"I don't think I'm the right match for you." His voice rumbled in a familiar way.

When she left. Linda tried to stop thinking about the worn, frames photo on his desk. The one with a boy. About eight or nine. With a shock of bright red hair. He held an archery trophy in one hand. In his other. The hand of a little girl. Close to five. With that same shock of red hair and green eyes that seemed to see you even through the cameras lense.

Fred meets a medic after a nasty injury. The Odst's and Marines in his company joke that he has as getting the best medic around.

He was a young man. Kind and deeply empathetic.

Those same Marines also joked about how the two of them could be siblings in a different life. With how they shared the same sloped nose and sharp jaw. The same, soft manner of speaking.

"Seriously Lieutenant. Just give the Doc the same hair cut. Could fool me that's for sure."

The medic said that he did have a brother. One that he has never met. That he had passed away a few months before he had been born .

But he and his parents visited his grave every year on his brother's birthday. And that this was the first year that he wouldn't be able to.

"He's be turning thirty three today." The medic had just finished Fred's stitches.

"Oh." Fred spoke it before it could be stopped.

"Oh what?" The medic had asked.

"I turned thirty three today." It was one of the few things he remembered. Something he rarely thought about. Because something around it had made his heart hurt.

"Here then. Happy birthday." The medic handed Fred a chocolate granola bar.

[alice-130]

Don't talk to us or our children ever again

[bluehoodedmousebane]

Thinking and thonking about Spartan II self-conceptualization. Because that's a sentence that totally makes sense.

[itsbasil]

Kelly-087. Fred-104. Linda-058. John-117, the Master Chief himself.

They speak very little, they move in perfect concert, the whole execution of every objective the wargames protocol spits and Miller calls out for them is ruthlessly, antiseptically clean.

If Crimson is like a rocket launcher, the Spartan-IIs feel like a goddamn tactical nuke.

Directing Blue Team is a rush.

My contribution to Potluck!! Wanted to do something for @bloodgulchblog's very good fanfic Touchstone: Blue Team tackle a Promethean Knight in a training sim on the Infinity.

[caffeineyum]

”We’re Spartans what could possibly go wrong?” Fred after falling to Reach’s surface

MY GUY you know FUCKING ANSWER TO THAT

[empresskadia]

Happy Valentine's day! I lowkey wanna write a drabble for today, but I have nothing planned out. But-

I think it would be cute to give the Spartans Valentine's Day chocolates.

John would be puzzled, like why? He doesn't understand the concept of celebrating love and affection to the world, it was just another day for him until you gave him the small box and told him "Happy Valentine's Day." John's seriously confused but accepts his partner's gift with a subtle nod, not wanting to dismiss your gesture. It wasn't until he noticed others at the base receiving similar tokens from their partners that his confusion deepened. Why were people exchanging gifts today? What made it so special?

It's Cortana who has to jump in and explain the origins and significance of Valentine's Day, how it's the idea of expressing love and appreciation, and how it's a tradition to exchange gifts on this special day with the one you love. This was so foreign to him but he tries to understand, at the very least for you.

John goes MIA for a solid hour, like you honestly can't find him and no one has seen him. So when he appears before you with a bouquet of wild roses and presents them to you, the first thing you notice are the thornless stems and John's dirty hands. It's clear he had gone out of his way to personally gather these flowers.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he says, presenting you with the wild roses. His typically stoic expression softened, John might not have fully understood the concept of Valentine's Day, but his actions spoke louder than words about his commitment to you.

Though Linda didn't fully grasp the significance of the day, she understood the origins, having overheard about it from Marines in passing. She'll blink when you offer her the chocolates, giving you a raised brow before taking them. Girl is 100% secretly excited about it, she's not going to boast or react over it but the rest of Blue team can see a bounce to her step.

This was a pleasant surprise and she honestly didn't expect her partner to go out of their way for her. Linda makes it a personal mission to find something to gift you, yes she could have Roland help her buy something, and get it to the UNSC infinity, but she also wants it to be special. Maybe she could make you something with a piece of her armor? Or find something you might like during a mission?

Poor Fred was stuck with paperwork when you happened to bound into his office with a box of chocolates. He's surprised and curious when you present him with the gift, giving you this adorable head tilt when he opens it. Did he miss something? Was today an anniversary he happened to forget? The confusion is pretty evident when he asks "What's this?"

When you explain it, it clicks that he's heard about the holiday from commanders before. Honestly, the day slips his mind, it had never really held much significance to him and he only remembers it exists every once in awhile. Despite his initial confusion, Fred's expression softens into a grateful smile as he thanks you for the chocolates.

However, his mind was already racing, searching for a way to reciprocate the gesture. While he couldn't immediately think of a suitable gift, he recalled Roland mentioning that the UNSC Infinity's Memorial Park atrium was holding a dance that evening and he could do a public event for you. The idea formed in his mind, that it was a thoughtful way to show his appreciation, and a shared experience at the dance might be a meaningful way to celebrate Valentine's Day together.

I will say when Kelly finds out about the dance being held in the Memorial Park atrium, she is on her way to find her partner. Like full-on sprinting through the ship [it took Fred a minute to realize who just blurred by his office in a rush, asking if he's seen her partner.] So before you even start searching for her to give her the chocolates, Kelly has already found you first.

She was so ready to ask about this dance thing and what was going on until you gave her that sweet smile and handed her the box. Her expression transformed from eager anticipation to surprise and then delight when she opened the chocolates. Her eyes held most of her emotion, they almost seemed like they were glittering and she smiled when you explained the reason behind the gift and the upcoming dance.

Of course, she accepted your invitation with a tease, that mischievous glint in her eyes. Unbeknownst to you, she had already set aside a gift for her partner when she learned about the holiday a week beforehand from Commander Palmer. It was a small token of her affection, carefully chosen with Roland's help to express her appreciation and love.

[doom-dreaming]

High Flakes Combat

“Blue Lead,” Linda’s whisper cuts across TEAMCOM, crisp and several degrees colder than the icy landscape. “Hostiles approaching your position.”

Fred, tucked behind the trunk of a towering pine tree, exhales a slow, measured breath. Waiting. Listening. Without his motion tracker, only the crunch of footsteps in the snow—and Linda—could tell him when their opponents were closing in.

There. Fifteen meters out. He motions to John, positioned behind an adjacent tree. On my signal.

…ten meters…

Cover me. Go high.

…five meters…

John nods. Fred tightens his grip on his weapon.

Now.

As one, they pivot, breaching cover. Fred drops to a knee, attacking swiftly, before their adversary has a chance to retaliate.

The snowball hits Ash directly in the center of his chestplate. Active camouflage flickers briefly, then recalibrates, as the young Spartan crashes dramatically to his knees before sprawling backward, motionless.

Fred doesn’t let the theatrics distract him. The other two had to be nearby and the round wasn’t over until— A snowball whizzes past his head, followed by a sharp curse—out loud, close. He catches a shimmer of white on white as Olivia leaps to find cover and “reload,” but John is faster.

The snowball hits her thigh before she can complete her maneuver and she slides to a dejected halt in a snowbank. “Dammit! Mark!” she calls out. “You’re on your own!”

Fred doesn’t hear a verbal response. He knows he won’t, Mark’s too good to give away his position— Thwap. Fred’s vision goes fuzzy and white as Mark’s snowball connects with his visor, splattering on impact. Fred groans and flashes a red status light across his team’s HUDs. He’d be out until the next round.

“He’s on the move!” Linda barks over the comms.

Fred folds himself cross-legged into the snow and wipes his visor clean just in time to see Kelly bounding over a nearby ridge, clutching a snowball in each fist.

“I’ve got him!” She goes streaking across the snow toward a barely-visible figure—also sprinting.

Mark wouldn’t be able to outrun Kelly—a fact Fred knew the S-III was well aware of—but he was certainly trying his best.

Kelly nails Mark with both snowballs, one in the shoulder, the other in the back. He stumbles just enough that Kelly’s momentum sends her into him at full force. The clack of their colliding armor echoes like a shot as both Spartans go tumbling to the ground, sending up a minor flurry in their wake.

“Aaaaaaaand match!” Roland’s voice rings out over the simulation deck, followed by a buzzer. “Blue Team takes the win!”

“Again,” Olivia grumbles, pushing to her feet and dusting snow off her armor.

“It’s three against four,” Ash reminds her, still lying on his back a few feet from Fred.

Olivia crunches her way over and offers him a hand. “Can we make Kelly sit out the next round?”

“If you’re not having fun, leave,” John quips.

“Or maybe you should switch Kelly to our team and see how it feels,” Livi bites back, helping Ash haul himself to his feet.

“Fighting over me?” Kelly rejoins the group with Mark close behind. “I’m flattered.”

Fred chuckles. It was good to see Olivia trading barbs with John. The Gammas had warmed up to him quickly—and he to them—and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Fred was sure the S-IIIs had given him some new streaks of gray hair, but at the same time, they made him feel younger. He hoped they were having the same effect on John.

“So…” drawls a familiar voice, raised just loud enough to carry, “this is the reason my fireteams can't train today? A snowball fight.”

Every Spartan in the simulated snowscape whips toward the entrance. Commander Palmer stands at the far edge of the scene, arms crossed. She looks odd and out of place, a lone figure in a techsuit against the stark white surroundings, but no less intense than usual.

“Thought we’d try something different from the typical drills, ma’am,” Fred coughs. He’s not sure why he feels guilty; they’d requested the time and blocked out the schedule and followed protocol…even if they hadn’t said precisely what they’d be doing…

Before anyone else has a chance to speak, a snowball goes sailing over Fred’s shoulder, on a collision course for Palmer. She’s too far away to hit, but the aim is dead-accurate and it lands with a wet plap several yards directly in front of her.

Even at this distance, Fred sees her eyes narrow. The vague guilt solidifying in his gut crystallizes into ice. He knows who threw that and he’s already, reflexively, preparing for the necessary damage control—and for Linda, no less. Kelly he was used to, but Linda?

Palmer shifts her weight and fixes the seven of them with a hard stare that lasts long past the point of being uncomfortable. “Don’t go anywhere,” she eventually orders, leveling a finger in their direction. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Without leaving any opportunity for rebuttal, she turns on her heel and swiftly disappears from the deck.

Immediately, Linda’s status light starts blinking rapid-fire green across Blue Team’s HUDs. Kelly follows suit.

“Really?” Fred grumps over TEAMCOM.

“Can you blame her if it worked?” Kelly retorts.

“Yes! You’re making an assumption and setting a bad example.” He switches to his helmet’s speakers. “Gammas, don’t throw things at your commanding officers.”

“Unless you’re sleeping with them,” Kelly adds, with enough tact to keep the comment on Blue Team’s private channel.

Another green light from Linda.

Fred willfully ignores both of them.

“...we’re not in trouble, are we?” Ash removes his helmet and shakes out his hair. “To be honest…I don’t know what just happened.”

Kelly seats herself on a tree stump, legs akimbo, smugness oozing from every seam of her armor. “Palmer’s getting suited up to come play with us.”

Ash seems unconvinced but Mark shrugs. “She’ll balance the numbers. We might even start winning.”

Only Blue Team can see—and appreciate—the red light John flashes in silent response.

**********

As threatened, Palmer returns exactly ten minutes later, fully armored aside from the helmet tucked into the crook of her arm. “Okay, here’s the official story.” She strides up to the group. “We’re running an unorthodox but fully sanctioned training exercise all day.”

“I’ve cleared the schedule and put out an open invitation,” Roland chimes in. “As requested.”

Palmer nods her approval. “Figured I’d let you have your fun on the condition that the rest of us could get in on it too.” She raises an eyebrow. “Sound fair?”

“Fair enough,” Fred answers, echoing the array of green lights on his HUD. “Alright. Ground rules—we’re running blind for this, Commander. No motion trackers.”

She looks pleased. “I like a challenge.”

“If you get hit, you’re out for the round,” he continues. “Once you’re out, you can’t help anyone still standing. Round ends when a whole team goes down.” Fred nods toward the ceiling. “Roland’s keeping score.”

“Huh,” Palmer hums. “So you knew about this, too, Roland?”

“I…was informed the exercise would require a scorekeeper instead of a handler,” the AI answers, somehow managing to achieve the verbal equivalent of tip-toeing. “And I volunteered a mere fraction of my copious attention to the task.”

Palmer just rolls her eyes.

Ash clears his throat and steps forward. “If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am, we’d greatly appreciate it if you joined our team.”

“They’ve been wiping the floor with us,” Olivia adds, somewhat ruefully.

Palmer looks back and forth between Blue Team and the Gammas with a hint of a smirk. “Well.” She slips her helmet on. “Allow me to level the playing field.”

**********

And indeed, the tide began to turn. Quickly. It wasn’t that the Gammas couldn’t hold their own, but Palmer was a different flavor of ruthless and even numbers did make a difference.

Kelly, as Blue Team’s sole survivor, was in the midst of a valiant stand, but she was up against Palmer and Olivia and they were going in for the kill. Up to this point, Kelly had been relying on her speed to evade them, but Fred doubted that would be able to carry her any further.

Palmer and Livi split around the back of the snowbank Kelly had hidden behind, falling into synchronized step with each other, timing their paces perfectly. Palmer’s boots fall heavier and louder, covering Olivia’s near-silent glide around the other side.

The strategy is obvious, at least from Fred’s position of passive observation—Palmer would draw Kelly’s attention, Olivia would come up on her flank and take her out. And it would work, too…on anyone less observant than Kelly. Fred has a feeling she’ll see right through it. But one of them was going to hit her either way, so it didn’t really matter as far as the outcome was concerned.

Surprisingly, a third option presents itself. Fred realizes after a few seconds that he’s been holding his breath, expecting Kelly to explode out of the snow and make a run for it, but…she doesn’t.

Palmer reaches the other side of the snowdrift and slows, confusion evident in her body language. She paces around the area, making sure not to stay still for too long, obviously reluctant to let her guard down completely. Fred can see the hazy mirage of Olivia’s SPI suit still moving in with careful deliberation.

There was no way Kelly could have moved. She hadn’t had enough time. More importantly, she would’ve been spotted if she’d tried to flee, so why couldn’t—

Palmer disappears. One second, she’s standing on the other side of the snowbank, visible from the waist up, and the next second she’s gone. Fred can’t see much of anything, but there are sounds of a scuffle and the blur of camouflaged armor as Livi sweeps in to assist with whatever the hell had just happened.

Barely a breath later, Roland announces the end of the match. “And Gammas-Plus-Palmer emerge victorious! …or should I say Olivia, specifically, seeing as she is the last Spartan standing. You know, you really oughta come up with a better name for your team—”

There’s a burst of indignant exclamations and flustered cursing from Palmer. She reappears only to rip her helmet off and kick some snow back in the direction from which she’d escaped.

Olivia removes her own helmet; Fred is surprised to see her laughing. “She got you good!” There’s a giddiness in her voice that Fred’s never heard before, but she seems to remember who she's talking to a moment later. “...ma’am.”

Kelly pops up beyond the ridge. She remains helmeted but Fred knows there’s a shit-eating grin on her face just from her posture alone.

“What happened?” He shouts the question out loud.

“She buried herself in the fucking snow and pulled my legs out from under me,” Palmer growls as she trudges over.

“And then I hit Kelly point-blank in the face!”

Olivia’s gleeful comment is backed by Kelly’s laughter over TEAMCOM. “Worth it.”

“Hey!” A different voice cuts into the conversation, once again pulling everyone’s attention toward the entrance. “Heard there was some kinda free-for-all goin’ on in here?” Gabriel Thorne stands flanked by the rest of Fireteam Majestic, all in full Mjolnir. “Got room for another team?”

Palmer waves them in. “Come on up, Majestic. We’ll get you briefed on the rules.” She sighs and fits her helmet back on. “Hope you’re ready to get your asses kicked.”

**********

An hour later, after Majestic had carved out a few victories of their own, Crimson shows up. Rules are recounted, home bases are realigned, play resumes. Within another two hours, there are four more Spartan fireteams on the field. Alliances are formed, both openly and secretly. Several hours are devoted to building snow forts. Play evolves. Forts are defended and captured, sabotaged and reinforced.

And then Lasky arrives.

“Captain on deck!” Roland bellows.

The silence that blankets the simulation deck is instantaneous and absolute. Nobody moves. If the snowballs already in flight could have frozen in midair, they probably would’ve. Instead, they land in a chorus of muffled thwumps.

Lasky stands there for a few seconds, small and unimposing by the distant doors, sporting his trademark expression of beleaguered amusement—presumably at being called out. “Don’t stop on my account,” he eventually says. “I just wanted to watch. …unless there’s a team looking for a liability,” he jokes with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Everyone on the field exchanges glances and shrugs. A sea of status lights blink across Fred’s HUD—most amber, some green. Finally, someone from Crimson waves Lasky over. “We’ll take you, Captain!”

He seems genuinely surprised by the invitation, but begins the trek across the snow. “Try not to kill me, alright?”

That draws laughs from most of the Spartans, but it’s John who actually banters back. “No promises, sir.”

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Advice... Again

Fred-104 was sprawled on a moth-eaten couch that had seen better days, probably around the time the Covenant thought humans were an easy target. He was idly flipping through a digital magazine, "Cuisine for the Super-Soldier Soul," a title so absurd it had to be military issue.

Kelly-087 was beside him, her legs thrown over his lap in a casual display of affection, her attention on a holoscreen displaying a list of 'Top 10 Quiet Getaways for the War-Weary Soldier.'

"Look at this," Kelly said, pointing at a blip on the screen. "There's a place that serves a dish called 'The Master Chief.' It's essentially a steak so tender it sneaks up on your taste buds."

Fred chuckled, the sound gruff but warm. "Sounds like something John would accidentally invent and never realize it's named after him."

Their banter was abruptly interrupted by a sound resembling a Warthog crashing through a supply depot. Except this depot was their living room window. Glass sprayed across the room, a makeshift reminder that peace was always temporary.

John-117, the epitome of Spartan stoicism and the most unlikely window-smasher, lay amid the chaos he'd created, looking momentarily perplexed by his own entrance. Fred and Kelly, veterans of countless battles, could only stare.

"John, ever heard of knocking?" Fred finally said, his tone dry enough to make a desert jealous.

Kelly, ever the pragmatist, was already calculating the cost of replacing the window. Again. "Or, you know, using the door like a normal person?"

John rose, shaking off glass like a dog shedding water. "Apologies for the dramatic entrance. I require... assistance."

Fred raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Did you run out of doors to knock on?"John's gaze was serious, a storm brewing over an ocean of uncertainty. "It's Linda. I need to ask her out. On a date."

Silence enveloped the room, punctuated only by the distant hum of the station's life support systems. Kelly and Fred exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them.

"You flew through our window... for dating advice?" Kelly's voice was a mix of incredulity and amusement.

John, unfazed by the absurdity of his actions, nodded. "Yes."

Fred stood, adopting the stance of a mentor about to impart wisdom upon a wayward student. "Well, step one: don't start by breaking her personal belongings. It tends to set the wrong tone."

Kelly, finding her voice again, added, "And maybe try using words. 'Linda, I value our time together both in and out of combat. Would you be interested in exploring a more... personal mission with me?' See? Easy."

John considered this, his brow furrowed in concentration. "No tactical overlay? No mission brief?"

"Definitely not," Fred deadpanned. "Try to sound less like you're planning an assault on a Covenant stronghold and more like you're, you know, human."

A moment passed, then John nodded, a determined glint in his eye. He turned, assessing the room with a tactical eye that unfortunately included the remaining intact window.

"Not again," Kelly sighed, already knowing what was coming.With the grace of a Spartan (which, in domestic settings, translated to 'bull in a china shop'), John made his dramatic exit through the second window, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

Fred and Kelly, now facing the prospect of explaining to UNSC property management why two windows needed replacing due to 'Spartan relationship advice,' couldn't help but laugh.

"Dinner and window shopping, then?" Fred quipped, offering his hand to Kelly to pull her up from the couch.

"Let's just hope the restaurant has a discount for heroes," Kelly replied, accepting his hand with a smile. "Because at this rate, we're going to need it."