thequantumqueer:

veta-lopis:

I have this headcanon that John has absolutely despised feeling hungry ever since he had to go to bed without dinner on the first day of training, so he’s essentially turned into a human trash compactor and is the only one on Blue Team who will eat those ration bars that Fred so bluntly said in Glasslands look and taste like actual shit

anyway when he gets back to Infinity and reunites with Blue Team he heads immediately to the mess hall, where the Spartan-IVs’ first interaction with the legendary Master Chief is watching him shovel food into his mouth directly from the fridge with his bare hands

“That’s it, Chief, I’m cutting you off. I don’t need anyone, hero or otherwise, throwing up in my galley.”

John looked the mess sergeant up and down. He was short for a military man, but he held himself with the confidence of someone used to being lord of his domain, even in the face of the deadliest warriors humanity had ever produced.

“How much ration is a Spartan entitled to per day?” John asked.

“Five full meal portions, and you just finished your seventh.”

“And it’s been 1,687 days since i ate anything, which means the UNSC owes me another 8,428 plates. I would like one of them please.”

The mess sergeant quietly reloaded John’s tray as he tried to comprehend the numbers that had just been said.

“Thank you, Mess Sergeant,” said John, swiping two fingers past his face.