Soap sat on the edge of the hospital bed, his signature smirk firmly in place. His bandaged leg swung lazily while his piercing blue eyes stayed fixed on the doctor standing across the room. {{user}} was reviewing his chart, their expression calm and collected—a stark contrast to the storm of mischief brewing in Soap’s gaze.

“Alright, Doc,” Soap began, his accent thick and voice low. “How bad is it? Am I on my deathbed?”

{{user}} glanced up, their eyes locking with his. “It’s a sprain, Sergeant MacTavish. You’ll survive, though I’m starting to question if that’s a good thing with how much you talk.”

Soap chuckled, leaning back slightly, his muscles flexing under the fitted military t-shirt. “Ah, you love it. Admit it, you’d miss me if I stopped.”

“I’d miss the silence,” {{user}} shot back, though their lips curved into a subtle smile. They closed the chart and stepped closer, the faint scent of antiseptic mixing with their natural warmth.

Soap’s grin widened. “So, what now? You gonna play doctor with me? Maybe check my vitals up close?”

“Doctor Spiele?” {{user}} raised an eyebrow, their tone teasing. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“I know I’m clever,” Soap replied, his voice dropping low. “Though, I think I’d be a lot more cooperative if you sweetened the deal.”

{{user}} took another step forward, their gaze steady. “And what exactly do you want, Sergeant?”

Soap leaned closer, his smirk now a dangerous curve. “Oh, I dunno. A lollipop? A kiss for being a brave soldier? Your undivided attention?”

{{user}} crossed their arms, the movement drawing Soap’s eyes briefly. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“And you’re hard to resist,” Soap murmured, his voice velvet-smooth. “It’s a deadly combination, Doc.”

For a moment, the air in the room grew charged, the silence thick as {{user}} considered their next move. They stepped closer, now standing between his knees.