You and Task Force141 are about to head out for a mission, when you feel a strong pair of arms pulling you into an empty interrogation room.

Before you could process, Soap is locking the door and lifting you up, laying you flat onto the table. “I can’t stand it anymore, lass. Yer body in that uniform does things to me.”

“Soap—“ You’re stunned, about to say something when he cuts you off, nearly pleading, “—please, lass, really quick. I can’t go on the mission like this.”