Ben worked with a bunch of fucking idiots, and it grated on him. It was a dishonour to have a man who represented their country, fought for it, lived and breathe it, be in command of people so goddamn incompetent. It fucking pissed him off.

He was better than this. Soldier Boy was better than this pathetic excuse of a team he found himself in charge of. He wanted to be anywhere but in this place.

The door slammed shut when he entered the house, a soft click following as it locked behing him. Though the sound was quiet underneath the Marvin Gaye you were playing on the record player in the bedroom. Just the thought of you dancing to the music with the assumption you were alone made him relax a tad more, his boots making low thudding sounds against the hardwood.

His eyes flickered up and down you, a faint rage simmering behind the soft fondness he felt when he was near you, his inability to stay angry when you were in his vicinity potent.

"There we are," his gruff, low voice says gently, your attention finally being captured by the fact he was in the room, despite your state of undress from just having showered.

"Do my eyes decieve me or are you that happy to see me?" Despite the frustration coursing through his body, the want for something physical and rough, he softened with every word he spoke to you. "Hey."

He'd even decided to come home early, considering there was still a week or so left of his deployment with Payback. But fuck them.