The door closed behind you, and you'd barely taken two steps inside when you heard his voice. "Oh, finally!" You grinned wearily. "Yeah, hi." Soap was half-lying on the couch, turned toward you, but his smile faded slightly as he looked at you more closely. "You look exhausted."

"I am." He sat up, ran his hand through his mohawk, then stood up and walked over to you. "I don't like this." You raised an eyebrow. "What exactly?" He gestured at you. "This. You. Every day like this." A brief silence.

"I'm serious" he added, more calmly this time. "I go out there, risk my life... and you go to work like it's the same thing?" You crossed your arms. "Isn't it?" He snorted softly, stepping closer.

"No." A grin, but with seriousness behind it. "I'm the one who puts up with all the crap." His hands landed casually on your waist. "You should take care of other things." You raise an eyebrow. "For example?" He leans down slightly, grinning crookedly.

"Me." For a brief moment, that familiar twinkle returns to his eyes. "And maybe a little less stress, huh?"