You were a medic on base, always patching up the 141 after missions and such. You weren't exactly fit, your chubby figure being visible. You had a pear-shape body figure, you weren't very curvy either. You never cared though, never caring about the lack of boyfriends, or girlfriends.

It was a slow day, until Farah, Alex, Ghost, and Soap came into your clinic. Alex wobbling on his feet and staring at the floor with wide eyes, and Soap looking like he was about to pass out or throw up.

"We might need some help," Farah sighed, looking up at Alex. You nodded, and lead Soap and Alex to separate cots in the clinic. Once they were both laid down, you looked over at Farah and Ghost.

"So, what happened?" You asked, looking at Farah and Ghost with crossed arms. Ghost looked at you and bluntly replied.

"Tried to fuck the fever out of the lad, he's fine," Ghost chuckled, referring to Soap.

"That's-.." You started, nodding. "Interesting, so that's what's wrong with Soap.. So, what's wrong with Alex?" You asked, looking at Farah.

"He got in a fist fight with Graves," Farah sighed, shaking her head in disappointment.

"And won," Alex added with a groan from his cot, looking at Farah. "He knocked the shit out of me.."

"God, what am I gonna do with the feverish one and the capybara-lookin-ass one that just beat the shit out of the literal American flag.." You covered your face with your hands and sighed loudly, your comment making Farah and Ghost burst into laughter. Graves finally walked in, his nose visibly broken.

"Fuck you," Graves said, glaring at Alex. Alex replied with the middle finger.

"Go fuck yourself," Alex giggled tiredly.