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writeforfandoms · 1 year

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Love Letters

Find my Halo masterlist

This is just a fun little gift for/brainrot with my lovely @chaoticgeminate who helped me plan out the idea and cheered me on. Love you darling! 💖

You never intended to actually admit your feelings to Master Chief. But your supervisor meddled, he knows, and you might be having anxiety. A silly cute one shot about developing feelings.

John-117/Master Chief x f!reader

Warnings: swearing, mild implied violence, tooth rotting fluff, Blue Team Supremacy

Word count: 5.7k

“You did what?!” You stared at your supervisor with horrified eyes, hands gripping the edge of your console too tight.

“I delivered that letter.” Your supervisor, Melinda, was a good supervisor. She ran a tight group. She was also a troublemaker who meddled and had a secret romantic side.

Which she had apparently used to send a letter that was never actually meant to be sent!

“Why?” You couldn’t keep the weight of despair out of your voice, half-pleading for her to be pranking you.

Melinda shrugged. “It was a nice letter. Very sweet. If nothing else, he deserves to know.”

“No! He was never meant to know!” You pried your hands off the metal and debated the merits of strangling Melinda. Pro: they’d court martial you so you would never have to face Master Chief. Con: you’d end up on a work colony planet and probably get shivved within days.

Fine, no strangling Melinda. Yet.

“Why not? I think your crush is adorable.” Melinda smirked in that particularly infuriating way she had.

You made a wordless noise of protest and despair, letting your head fall to your station with a little thunk.

“Go walk it off,” Melinda told you, slapping your back. (Ow.) “Take a break. That’s not a suggestion.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You sighed and stood as she walked away, trudging away from your station. Not that you had anywhere in particular in mind to go. The ship was not small, after all. But you had been told to walk it off, so… Walking it was.

At least until you rounded a corner and damn near ran into a very familiar armored individual. All you had to do was spot that particular shade of green and you damn near jumped out of the way.

“Sorry, sir!” Okay, so maybe you squeaked a bit, but. Really. You could not be blamed. Your heart couldn’t take this kind of stress, especially not with the stunt Melinda pulled earlier.

But Master Chief just nodded to you and continued on his way. Only once he was out of sight did you deflate with a whoosh, leaning back against the wall.

Okay. Either he hadn’t read the letter, or he hadn’t gotten it yet, or he had read it but was just ignoring you. What if you’d made him uncomfortable? What if he didn’t even know how to respond and you just fucked things up?

You groaned and covered your face with your hands. You were never going to recover from this disaster.

–

There was a letter on his floor. An actual, physical letter. Hardly anyone used those anymore - he’d used a notepad maybe a handful of times to take notes. (And once as a distraction. It made a lot of noise and left some very confused Unggoy.)

Point being, John was fairly certain he’d never received a physical letter in his life. But the envelope said “Master Chief” on the outside. And it had been left in his room.

He sat at the desk and opened it, fingers working carefully at the envelope to get the paper out.

The first thing he noticed was the handwriting. A little curly, a little scratched, it was almost… endearing.

And then he actually read the letter.

And stopped.

John was aware that some people found him attractive. While it wasn’t something he had ever encouraged or discouraged, not really, it wasn’t something he entirely understood, either. It was very rare that he thought of people in terms of attraction.

But this… This was not that. Not quite. This was far more emotional. In fact, the writer admitted to having not seen him without the helmet.

This was not physical attraction. This was something different.

He had no idea what to do with it.

For now, he folded it up and carefully tucked it away in his desk. Using every privacy protocol he knew of, he went into the database to search for reference material.

Half of which were old movies and shows revolving around the sending and receiving of these letters, usually with comedic or dramatic aspects.

John would never, ever admit to having watched one of them. It’s not like he needed a lot of sleep anyway.

But he was still at a loss as to what to do. Did he write back? Did he find this person and talk to them face to face? The sources available to him were… unclear on proper protocol.

His Spartans, he knew, would be no help with this. For various reasons. Not least of which being that they’d tease the hell out of him. So, alternate sources needed.

(And he couldn’t help the flash of pain at the thought that Cortana would have an answer, she’d find an answer for him, she always had answers–)

Captain Lasky had proven himself trustworthy and discreet. While not John’s first choice, he would do if further research yielded no results.

With a sigh, John closed everything down for the night. He needed sleep. At least a little sleep. Not sleeping led to being forced to take downtime, which was… a bad thing. A very bad thing.

He laid down and stared up at the ceiling, systematically going through his body and making sure there were no noteworthy aches. Then he closed his eyes.

The last conscious thought he had was that he liked your handwriting.

–

John purposely waited until after his next mission to bring up the letter. He had already decided this was a conversation he needed to have with the helmet on.

So, after debrief, instead of taking Lasky’s usual dismissal, John shifted his weight. “There is one more thing.”

Lasky looked up at him with a faint, concerned frown. “Speak freely, Chief.”

“A Spartan received a letter.” John spoke slowly, weighing each word. He didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t want to reveal the whole situation just yet. “Of a… personal nature.”

Lasky grimaced. “If someone needs to be spoken to–”

“No.” John tipped his head to the side. “It wasn’t a bad letter.”

Lasky blinked, caught off guard, and nodded slowly. “Then what is the concern of this Spartan?”

This would be the hard part. John stuck to the same tactic, in hopes it worked. “None of us are aware of proper protocols for responding to such letters, Captain.”

Lasky was completely silent for a long moment. And then he lifted one hand to rub his forehead, muttering to himself. (John knew he wouldn’t have been able to hear without his enhanced hearing.) “I am not equipped to handle this talk…” Lasky drew in a deep breath and looked back up at John. “Let me see if I have this right. A Spartan received a personal letter, but not an inappropriate one. I’m guessing a love letter or a confession letter of some kind. And… you want to know how to respond.”

“Correct, sir.” John didn’t move.

Lasky sighed. “Well. There are a couple ways to respond, I suppose, depending on how the Spartan in question feels. If they’re uncomfortable, they can ignore the letter or turn the person down. Or if the… feelings are accepted, they can write a return letter or tell this person face to face.”

“What would the contents of a return letter be?” John frowned, yet again glad the helmet was concealing his expression.

Lasky looked like he would rather be doing anything else. “That’s up to the person writing. Granted, letters haven’t been common for centuries, but… Stating your own feelings is pretty typical, or inviting the person to continue writing. Some people find it easier to write their feelings than say them out loud.”

John turned this new information over in his mind before he nodded once. “Understood. Thank you, sir.”

“Chief?”

John paused, half-turned away from the captain, and tipped his head back that direction.

“Let me know if this becomes a problem. Otherwise, I’ll assume all is well and I will not go looking for more paperwork.”

John nodded his understanding of that and left. He was scheduled to get out of the armor now and have some time to fuel and sleep.

But maybe…

Stepping into the Brokkr to get the armor removed was second nature by now, and John barely paid attention to the machinery whirring around him. He was instead still puzzling over the letter in his mind.

Lasky’s explanation had been sufficient for him to move forward.

Walking around the ship without armor always left John feeling exposed. He was so used to being in the armor, being a soldier, that being without was… odd. Fortunately, it happened infrequently enough that he still had some anonymity - although it was clear he was a Spartan, most of the crew didn’t equate him to the Master Chief outside of his armor. And that was just fine with him.

The mess was busy when he entered, but nobody bothered him as he took a tray, gathered food, and sat at an empty table well off to the side. Just as he preferred.

He spotted you sitting at a table not too far away, datapad in front of you, tray forgotten to one side. He watched as your brow furrowed, as you hunched closer to the screen as if that would help you, as you scrolled through whatever you were reading with just the very tip of your tongue poking between your lips.

He’d never spoken to you, but he had looked you up after reading the letter. Clean service record, glowing compliments from multiple supervisors. You’d been in communications your entire career, and you were, by all accounts, good at it.

Despite the clear fluster you’d shown that day you’d run into him.

He tipped his head to the side a little, watching you mutter under your breath as you did… something on the datapad. You were… different. Cute, maybe. He didn’t have much of a frame of reference for cute. Or attractive.

When you finally looked up from your datapad, John was carefully not watching you. You seemed totally oblivious to having been observed for the better part of five minutes, and started eating with half your attention.

Depositing his tray after he was done, John made his way back to his room. He knew how he needed to proceed.

–

You weren’t paying attention as you walked back to your bunk, which was… not unusual. You shared with three others, and you all had rotating schedules, so you could usually get at least a little time to yourself.

But the crinkle of something underfoot when you stepped into your bunk was new. Frowning, you looked down.

There was a letter. On the floor. Partially under your foot.

Heart suddenly racing into overtime, you bent to pick it up. It was addressed to you in unfamiliar, blocky handwriting. This did not help your pulse at all, which was still thrumming hard and fast.

Double checking that you were alone, you dropped down to sit on your bed and opened the envelope with shaking fingers.

The letter was short, and for a moment your gaze caught on the name at the end.

John. John.

…Wait. John-117. Master Chief.

You were definitely going to murder Melinda.

Your letter was very kind, if unexpected. I've never received a letter like this before, and was uncertain how to respond.

I don't know you, but I would like to, time permitting. If you would like to remain discreet, further letters would be welcome. I am also open to suggestions.

Regards,

You stared at the letter unblinkingly for several moments. He… hadn't turned you down. He hadn't said no.

He'd… said yes?

You carefully put the letter back away. Put your face in your hands. And squealed.

Okay. Maybe you wouldn't kill Melinda, after all.

But wait. Now you had to decide what to do! Tipping over sideways, you hid your face in your pillow and shrieked. Just a little bit. (The walls weren't that thick, after all.)

…Wait. Now you had to figure out how to reply.

You were so fucked.

–

It took you three days to write a return letter to him. Partially because you had to figure out how to say what you wanted to say (and you definitely ended up scrapping two pieces of paper). Partially because work required actual focus, and you couldn’t always goof off. And partially just because it took you a bit to gather your nerves.

You’d never really intended to confess your feelings to Chief. To John. You were still figuring out how you felt about having been outed, more or less.

Finally, though, you gave up and just wrote the damn thing. It was late, you were mildly sleep deprived and running on a bit of liquid courage.

John,

I hope you don’t mind if I call you John now. I have one more confession to make.

I wrote the letter, yes, but I never actually sent it. I’m… a little intimidated now that you know. I really hope I haven’t overstepped.

But I would really like to get to know you. Whatever way you’re comfortable with, really. Letters are good with me. Honestly, they’re probably more coherent. I can ramble on for a long time if nobody stops me in person, my supervisor teases me about it sometimes.

I work in Communications, so my shifts tend to be pretty predictable. I’ve got the early shift at the moment - 0600 to 1500. It’s not bad, really, but it does mean I tend to go to bed early. I rarely have plans after my shifts. Although I do like to wander the ship. I have definitely gone into areas I was not supposed to. It’s kinda fun.

Alright, maybe I can ramble on paper just as well as I can in person.

I know your schedule tends to be a little unpredictable, so I guess just let me know if you want to do anything? Or we can stick to letters. Whatever you’re comfortable with.

Sincerely,

You didn’t let you second guess yourself, folding the letter and sealing the envelope. You stood, ready to go deliver it right then.

And realized you actually had no idea where his quarters were.

You stood there, stumped, momentary panic flashing through you. This was a terrible idea.

Your datapad chimed, and you set the letter down to check your datapad instead.

You haven’t given me an update on your letter to Chief! Did he ever respond? If you need to go bug him, all the Spartans are on S-deck. He’s in 117, of course. Just walk like you belong and nobody will bother you. Have fun! :D

Sometimes you were really tempted to kill Melinda… but she had her uses.

One more deep breath to settle your nerves and you started for the nearest elevator, letter shoved into your pocket so you wouldn’t fiddle with it. Fortunately, there were plenty of directional signs on the ship. Which made sense, considering the size of the bloody thing.

It also suited you well in finding S-deck.

The elevator opened onto S-deck, and you stepped out cautiously. But nobody was around, not right then. Swallowing, you took a quick look around before you started walking. The first fork you came to was fortunately labeled: quarters to the left, rec room and gym to the right. You could hear activity from the right, but fortunately you needed to go left anyway.

The doors were all clearly labeled. Some few had actual personality on the outside - one person had attached some stickers to the outside of the door, while another had painted the numbers green.

Room 117 was in a little ways, but you found it. The door was plain, unadorned. You had no idea if he was in there or not.

But this was enough bravery for one day. You crouched and pushed the letter under his doorway, making sure it was all the way through and couldn’t be seen from outside the door.

Then you turned and very calmly fled.

(You didn’t even notice a Spartan further down the hall, eyes narrowed and focused on you. You turned a corner and vanished from sight, and the speculative gaze turned to Chief’s door instead. Hmm.)

–

John didn’t outwardly react as Linda fell into step next to him. She’d speak her piece in her own time, there was no point in rushing her.

“Did you know you got a letter, Chief?”

John didn’t break stride. But only through sheer force of habit. “I was unaware.” Which was true - he hadn’t been back to his quarters yet. But he had kind of hoped that he would find a letter.

“But you’re not surprised.”

Damn. He had hoped she wouldn’t pick up on that. The alternative was worse, so John just didn’t answer.

“John.”

“Linda.”

She didn’t huff, didn’t demand. Just kept steady pace with him. Metaphorically wearing him down.

Although, if he really wanted to be stubborn, that could take a long time.

John made the turn down to his quarters, weighing pros and cons. Then he nodded once and hit the button to unlock his door.

Sure enough, there was a letter just inside the door. He picked it up and then stepped out of the way, inviting Linda in with nothing more than a tilt of his head. She stepped through after him.

“This is the second letter I’ve received.” John tucked the letter, unread, into his desk. He would not be reading it with company present.

“Who from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Nobody uses letters anymore.” Her head tilt was all curiosity. And when Linda was actually curious about something, she dug until she got what she wanted.

There were a few different ways he could handle this. He could pull rank and tell her to back off. And she would. But it would not be graceful. That was his least favorite option, honestly. Any of his Spartans deserved better from him.

So he chose a variation of the truth.

“It’s personal.”

“Someone wrote you a personal letter.” The surprise coloring her tone was very faint, but there.

“Yes.”

“And you’re aware who it is.”

“Yes.” John didn’t move, watching her closely.

The two remained locked in a stalemate for a full minute, completely silent. Linda wasn’t willing to back down entirely. John wasn’t willing to give her more information just to assuage her curiosity.

Then Linda smirked, a faint tick of her lips, an expression that had John instantly on guard. “I’m sure it will be easy to find her name,” she murmured. “I’ll recognize her when I see her again.”

Shit. If Linda had seen you leaving the letter, then she would find you again. It would just be a matter of time.

And, intended or not, Linda could be… intense. They all could. John knew that, he’d seen the way the crew sometimes eyed them, unsure how to interact.

But he didn’t want Linda scaring you, even inadvertently. So he made a concession.

“You do not approach her about this. You do not investigate her.” He stared her down, waiting until she nodded her agreement to continue. Then he gave her your name.

Linda nodded once. “What is your end goal here?”

John shrugged, a tiny movement that nonetheless conveyed everything it needed to. Linda frowned a tiny bit, almost disapproving, before she released her breath in her version of a laugh.

“Don’t do anything foolish, John.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he drawled, completely dry.

Linda shook her head, just a little, and bumped her shoulder into his as she walked back out of his room.

John finally sat at his desk, pulling the letter out. Your handwriting was still a little chaotic, moreso than last time. As if you’d been writing in a hurry. He read the letter quickly the first time and then slowed, reading it again. Unbidden, his lips quirked.

Well. Your rambling, as you called it, was not anything that bothered John. If anything, he found it endearing.

Maybe he should mention that? Would it help to put you at ease?

Shaking his head a little at himself, John debated how to answer.

–

“Is that her?”

A tiny nod.

A single grunt. Keen eyes observed every movement, every flicker of emotion.

“She’s soft.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

Another grunt, quiet, contemplative.

It wasn’t until their quarry moved that they did.

“Think this will work?”

A soft sound, almost a laugh. “Chief is stubborn.”

A huff of acknowledgement. Really, that was all that needed to be said.

–

You groaned softly as you walked down a hallway, rolling your shoulders. It had been a long shift fighting with some misaligned repeaters. Coordinating with Engineering was always a pain, and today had been somehow even more aggravating than normal. Your shoulders ached with lingering tension, and you didn’t want to deal with people yet.

So, wandering the ship it was. You may have sneaked through a Jeffries tube to get two decks down without having to take the elevator. Look, nobody caught you at it, it was fine.

You weren’t even sure where you were going, but it felt good to just… go. Especially when you stuck to quieter corridors and less populated areas.

You’d find your way back. You always did. Not like you could get that far, after all.

Coming to a crossroads (and signposts), you blinked when you realized you were almost to the aft observatory. Well. That was… something. Huffing a little at yourself, you continued down that hallway, stepping quietly into the observatory.��

It was empty, and you breathed out a little sigh of relief, sinking down to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling viewports. The quiet and the calm helped, your shoulders easing down into a more relaxed position.

The door opened behind you and your heart plummeted. Maybe they’d leave. Or at least leave you alone. The floor shook a little under heavy, even footsteps, stopping next to you. You looked up… and up… and up, finally into a golden visor. You blinked, caught completely off guard.

“May I?” His voice was low and deep and calm, soothing to your nerves. Somehow.

“Oh! Sure! There are benches if you prefer.” You shrugged, a little bashful, still staring up at him.

He merely lowered himself to the floor next to you, surprisingly dexterous for a man wearing nearly half a ton of armor. (Not that you’d gone and looked up all the information you could get your grubby little mitts on about the Mjolnir armor.)

“Did you know I was here?” You tipped your head to look up at him, curious more than anything.

His head dipped in a nod, a little hesitant.

“Huh.” You blinked and then ducked your head. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here for me,” you murmured, warm, heart fluttering in your chest.

“I wanted to.” Still that even tone, matter of fact. But still soothing.

You nodded, peeking up at him again. He had shifted the tiniest bit, arms braced on his thighs, helmet forward again. Giving you space, you realized with a warm swell of startled affection.

“I think this is only the third time I’ve been here,” you started slowly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His head tipped, indicating he was listening. “The first time was an accident. I couldn’t sleep, just got switched from the overnight shift to first shift.” You paused to chuckle. “Had a few very blurry days before I adjusted, that was awful. But I was wandering around, must’ve been after midnight, and kind of blindly stumbled in here. It was so quiet - just the air filtration system, really. I sat down, figuring I’d do a bit of reading, and woke up with an awful crick in my neck and my alarm going off. Had to book it back up to communications.”

His shoulders bounced once in what might have been a laugh.

“Can I…?” You looked more fully at him, a little shy, a little hesitant. “Do you want me to tell you more?”

He nodded. “Whatever you can share.”

“You’re going to regret that one day,” you warned him with a little laugh. “I told you I can ramble.”

“I don’t mind.” He didn’t move, still relaxed, still waiting on you.

So you started telling him about another one of your rambles.

“...and I really wasn’t planning on going all the way to the hangers,” you told him, trying (and failing) to hide your mirth. “Especially not from the ceiling.”

“The Jeffries actually opened into the hanger?” He sounded… something. Dismayed? Disgusted? Something.

“Apparently, they weren’t supposed to.” You paused. “But that one definitely did. Spent a few minutes clinging to the ladder inside the tube. There was a lot of panicked shouting. They eventually got out a ladder that reached and got me down. The whole tube had to be closed for maintenance for four days before they found the malfunction. After Captain Lasky gave me the dressing down of my life, he grudgingly admitted it was a good thing I found that malfunction before it became a problem.”

John’s chest practically vibrated, his chuckle so quiet you could barely hear it. “That was you?”

“Oh god, you’ve heard of that?” You dropped your head, hiding behind your hands, though you were laughing. “How’d you know?”

“Roland almost asked me to go, decided on a Spartan-IV instead.”

You giggle-snorted, covering your eyes. “They were debating the merits of sending someone up with a jetpack to grab me until one of the Pelican mechanics found the ladder.” You paused purely for effect, peeking up at him between your fingers. “I never managed to tell them I’m afraid of heights.”

That time you heard the chuckle, low and rumbling and wonderful. You hid your face again until you could contain your own laughter.

Finally, though, you checked the time, dismayed to see how late it had gotten. (Well. Late for you, because you were the most boring person on this entire ship.)

“I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?” You twisted your fingers together, peering up at him, caught between worry and hope.

“No.” He shifted, facing you a little more directly. But still giving you space. Still giving you time.

“Okay.” You paused, chewing on your lower lip. “Have you eaten?”

He shook his head, silent, watchful.

“Do you want to?” You were quick to continue as the implications of what you’d just asked caught up with you. “We don’t have to, of course, or another time, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He paused and then his head jerked around to the doorway. “Later,” he said, getting to his feet with a fluid grace you frankly envied. But his hand reached back down to you, helping you to your feet like you weighed nothing. (To a Spartan, you didn’t.)

“Okay.” You weren’t going to push. Not about anything, really, but definitely not about this.

“Lasky’s calling Blue Team.” He offered the explanation without prompting.

Something in your chest relaxed, some anxiety you hadn’t even named. “I hope you won’t be late.”

“I won’t.” He sounded so easily confident, like he could bend the universe around him to his will. You half-believed he could. “Here.” He held out a letter to you. Where it had come from, you had no idea, but you took it with barely trembling fingers.

“I’ll see you soon?” You tried to keep the hope out of your voice. You failed.

He nodded once to you before he turned and strode out of the room, quick and purposeful. You stood frozen until the door closed behind him.

(Outside the door, the rest of Blue Team fearlessly faced down John, having kept everyone else away from the room so he could have his time. His head dipped, the barest amount, in recognition and thanks. They fell in behind him to make their way to Lasky. No words were needed.)

–

That meeting seemed to have signaled some kind of break in the ice between you and John. He found you more often than not after your shifts. Sometimes you two walked and talked. Sometimes you found a place to sit - the aft observatory became a favorite with you two. Sometimes you even had a meal together, although those times were more rare. John was still shy about being with you without the armor.

That was okay. He could take as much time as he wanted. You weren’t actually trying to jump him. You genuinely liked his company, no matter what he was wearing.

(When you told him so, quietly, one night while the two of you had a late snack in the observatory, his cheeks went pink and he ducked his head. But he also bundled you up into a hug before he left, which was warm and firm and the absolute best thing ever.)

And you may not have been the smartest person on board, or the most observant, but even you couldn’t miss the way the rest of Blue Team hung around. You made sure to wave at them any time you saw them. Not that you got a response out of them, most of the time, but still. You liked them.

Especially after Kelly grabbed a letter from you as you were taking it to John’s room and bolted away. You found out later that John had been sent on an unexpected mission, and Kelly had just gotten the letter to him before he’d gotten in the Pelican.

You kind of assumed that meant they liked you, too.

But it wasn’t all good all the time.

While John was gone on this super secret mission, comms went down to most of the rest of the universe. Meaning a pileup of crew who had messages they wanted to send home who couldn’t.

And it was nobody’s fault. But somehow you were blamed (and the rest of the communications staff). The whole department was working around the clock to get it fixed, but it looked like the problem wasn’t even with the Infinity, but with a relay elsewhere in space.

Meaning there was quite literally nothing you could do.

But a handful of ODSTs didn’t like that answer.

“I got people to talk to back home,” one of them, the ringleader of their little group, grumbled at you. He was taller than you, using his height to try to tower over you. (That might have worked a few months ago, but now? Not a chance. John had inadvertently seen to that.)

“I told you, there’s nothing I can do,” you insisted. But you took a step back, hoping you could escape to the mess or somewhere else populated. “The problem isn’t on the ship, and we’re not headed towards the relay to fix it.”

“Yeah? Why not? You think it’s okay to just make us wait?” The ringleader took a step closer to you.

“That’s not–of course not!” You puffed up as much as you could. Which was… not a lot. “You think we don’t have family, too?”

“I don’t think you do,” one of the others jeered, just to be cruel.

But the remark still landed, and you still flinched. The other two drew in closer, like wolves scenting blood.

“Seriously,” you tried again, pushing your shoulders down and back, “if you have a problem with the outage, talk to my CO. She’ll tell you the same thing I did. There’s nothing we can do until another ship gets to the relay.” You did your very best to glare them down.

Either your glaring skills had improved or they got tired of taunting you, because one of them nudged the ringleader, and they all backed off in a hurry. Actually, it looked like they scrambled away from you. Which was… confusing. But. Hey! It worked!

Turning, you hummed as you continued on to the mess. You really needed food now.

(Behind you, Fred let out a slow breath from where he’d stepped behind some machinery to get out of your line of sight, after scaring off the ODSTs. That had been close. Too close. He made a mental note to talk to Linda and Kelly about assigning you a permanent shadow until this communications issue was cleared up, or Chief got back. You had the self-preservation instincts of a lemming.)

–

The first thing John wanted to do after debrief was find you. But he took the time to get de-armored first, carefully not fidgeting through the process. He got dressed and was out in record time, completely ignoring the armor techs.

He had missed you during this last mission. And that was… new. And odd. Not unacceptable, because he had felt this ache before. But it still scared him, a little, this need to see you. To be near you.

But for once, he went with it, rather than fighting it. Even though it had been a long time by now, Cortana’s words about one of them being more human than machine still rang in his mind.

He was finally making the decision to be more human.

He found you in the aft observatory, Kelly standing guard by the door. He nodded to her, and her return nod was easy. Good. No issues worth mentioning, then.

The door opened and he stepped inside, finding you immediately. You were sitting with your knees up near your chest, arms loose around your legs. You looked… sad. Lonely.

He could fix that.

John didn’t say a word as he strode over to you, not even returning your sputtered greeting as he sat behind you. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back flush to his chest so he could curl himself around you as much as physically possible. He could feel your heart beating hard, could hear your stuttered breath. But you relaxed into his hold almost immediately, curling one hand around his. John breathed out slowly, steadily.

For now, this was enough. He would need to explain more to you later. Maybe in a letter if he couldn’t get himself to speak the words.

But for now? This was all he wanted. You, safe and warm and protected in his arms, the tension leaving the both of you. He tucked his head down into the crook of your neck, listening to your heart steady out.

Yes. This was enough.

#john-117 x reader #master chief x reader #f!reader #this is just for fun

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