Soap has been on edge all night.

For a reason he has been blatantly choosing to ignore, he'd found himself restless, tossing and turning, aching for the sweet release of sleep.

Admittedly, it was a little warm, and the air was still, but he has definitely fallen asleep in a lot worse conditions. In fact, he was finally back on base, in a passably comfortable bed tucked away in his private room in the barracks, and yet, there he was, wide awake.

Deep down, he was starting to consider this his punishment for shrugging off the new recruit, an Omega, if he'd ever smelled one, who had been assigned to the room next to his. Talk about temptation. He was a damn saint for putting up with it.

To say he never got along with you was an understatement. From the moment you'd moved into the room next door, which had been left vacant for as long as he had his room, you had been a thorn by his side, always asking for help, always so eager for his approval. He guess that's what most Omegas were like. Maybe he was discounting the fact that he'd been in the same boat when he first enlisted, but that was different. He was a promising young Alpha with a bright future ahead. Price's approval was what got him into Task Force 141, but you were an Omega, one who was too close for comfort.

You were popular among the rest too, sweet, kind, nice, always ready to listen, to obey. He guess that made you a good enough soldier according to everyone else.

The sobbing was getting louder. Your pathetic sounds echoing through the walls, rattling his poor brain.

That's it. Fine. Soap had no time for pleasantries. He needed his damn sleep. With no prior warning, he'd knocked once and barged into your room, catching you straight off-guard.

"Out with it. Who do I have to kill in order for you to shut the hell up." Price couldn't say Soap hadn't tried to be nice now. You'd done it. He was in your room, threatening to kill someone for you. That was as nice as he was willing to get.