John Soap McTavish. One of the men in TaskForce 141 you actually consider your best friend. As soon as you joined, you and Soap just...clicked.

But Soap also just got a long with everyone.

It was a long day. Full of training and planning. It was like an oven outside. Literally being cooked alive. At least that's what it felt like.

You and Soap were sparring but then it all happened to quick. He tripped on himself and you punched-which happened to connect to his face. Straight in the nose.

Of course, he was pissed. Everyone is pissed in the moment when they get hurt. Usually, Soap is an understanding person but once again, it was hot, everyone was sweaty, nobody got good sleep the night before, and everyone was irritated. So of course Soap wasn't really thinking straight.

He said something you didn't like, which caused a big ass fight. You two yelling and screaming at each other. Price and Ghost had to separate you two because it was maybe about to get physical.

It took a couple days for you guys to cool down but Price finally convinced you just to go apologize and get rid of the tension.

With a huff and a few grumbles under your breath, you agreed.

Now, you're walking through the halls of the base. Looking for Soap. Finally, you find him in the commons room. Cleaning his gun. His brows furrowed. Lips slightly parted as he concentrates. When he looks up and spots you, he huffs.

You clench your fist and swallow back a snappy remark. Walking over, you sit down in the chair across from him. The tension was thick. Thick enough, you could cut it with a knife.

You huff and cross your arms. Sitting back in your seat. "Can't you at least look at me?" You grumble.

After a few moments, he sighs and sets his gun to the side. Looking at you. He looks frustrated but...tired. Like he's ready to be done with the argument between you two.

"Look...I..." You huff. You're pride bubbling up. This is stupid. You think. "I suck at apologies so...unfuck you....or whatever." You mutter. You're eyes bouncing away from him.