Idk guys I’m sick
T gave you just about everything you had wanted. A stronger body, muscle mass, a five o’clock shadow, thick fuller hair, a deeper voice, and even squared out your jawline.
The only thing it hadn’t done was make you any taller. Which your teammates seemed especially fond of.
Soap had taken to calling you “Wee Lad” among various other small centered nicknames.
Ghost had settled for the classics calling you short.
Gaz preferred fun size, and little guy.
And Price, thankfully kept the nicknames to a minimum. Though, the expanse of short jokes never seemed to run dry when you were involved.
You couldn’t even win a fucking argument, the minute those assholes sensed they were losing they’d simply end it with a “well you’re short.” As though that best out everything,
Soap was by far the worst instigator. He liked to lean on you, elbow flat on your head like you were no more than a desk. He liked to offer to send you into vents as needed as well.
“Aye, well he’s the smallest, an’ we’re no’ gonnae fit in there. C’mon on, send in the mouse.”
And you were unfortunately good at it. It was how you got your callsign after all.
Mouse.
