Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The 141 needs a pack omega Price. I can’t help you keep avoiding it for much longer. It’s starting to look like an issue of discrimination,” Laswell was up on the screen looking a bit more strained than usual.

“It’s not!” Price was irritable for multiple reasons, one of which is the problem Laswell had been helping him avoid so far. He’s always appreciated Laswell, and perhaps it wasn’t fair for him to ask her to help him put this off for so long.

“I know that, but the higher ups don’t. Just look over the list of candidates I’ve sent, okay? Watcher-1 out.”

The screen went dark.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want an omega in the 141. He did. They needed it.

Ghost was snapping at recruits, especially new pups trying to prove themselves by challenging him. Gaz would growl at both of them especially after missions when adrenaline was high.

Sure, they could scent each other. It wasn’t out of the question. As the head alpha Price would often fill that role, but it doesn’t do anything to solidify their bonds.

From the outside they looked like a cohesive and efficient unit, but on the inside they were fractured. The three higher ranking alphas of the unit would share meals together less and less, getting to where they’d only communicate during briefings.

The glue that was kind of holding them together for the moment was their one beta in the upper ranks within the 141. But betas can only do so much.

Price would often have to argue the point that it’s not an issue of bound or unbound omegas. Medical science, especially in the military, has advanced as far as breaking bonds. Those surgeries are not ideal, but omegas aren’t as much of a liability as they were in the past, not that Price ever viewed omegas as a liability.

The problem is that role of an omega in the military— especially the 141– is a large gap to fill, and not just any omega can fill the job.

They have to be able to stand off against other alphas, so being a dominant omega was an unspoken requirement. They had to be able to physically keep up with the workload. And they also had to be tough enough to handle themselves on solo missions. A fearless rabbit that can stroll into a wolf’s den and stake their claim in the pack.

Regardless of his opinions though, the empty hole could not continue long term. Price knew that better than anyone. He’s just seen one too many rabbits that got too big for their breeches get eaten alive.

Laswell dug deep for this batch of personnel files because even she doesn’t want someone to be voluntold to fill this position being a dominant omega herself who had to fight her way into her place in the military.

She fought harder than anyone which is why she is so well respected. One of the first omegas to make it to her position. It’s also why Price trusts her judgment on the files. His diamond in the rough, his bad ass rabbit, was somewhere in this stack.

Price sighed as he looked over the files getting increasingly frustrated….

“The lads would eat this one alive... This one doesn’t seem like a fit... Too inexperienced…”

…Until he ran across a file that caught his attention. A Scottish omega described as headstrong, loud, insubordinate, but has the highest marks in demo and sniping.

It was unusual for a military omega to score high in skills needed for combat. They were more there to keep the lads from going red, losing control, snapping at their own teammates, shedding pack blood post combat.

Another archaic view of the role, but is the unfortunate reality. Laswell being the exception, not the rule.

Too many omegas have been eaten alive by adrenaline driven alphas or multiple alphas hitting rut at the same time. Too many COs that would rather cover up assault as opposed to dealing with the audits and removal of personnel.

As he continued to look over the file, Price was also struck by the fact that he’s a pretty omega, even in the black and white pictures they put in files. He felt guilty that this crossed his mind, but it’s not like this omega can’t back up that pretty face. As a matter of fact he far exceeds the expectations Price has.

Price called Laswell immediately.

“Price?” Laswell asked. It was unusual for him to call her back this quickly.

“I have a candidate, and I want him here as soon as possible,” Price indicated the file.

“I was hoping you’d pick him,” Laswell signed off so she could push the paperwork. This omega desperately needed to be moved, but he was way too talented to just be put anywhere.

Plus, he was going to need a new CO with a lot of patience and understanding. Laswell knew that better than anyone else in their ranks would ever be able to fathom.

Soap was pacing around the obstacle course again, scratching at the damn scent patches he had to wear constantly.

His unit had a successful mission. He did his best job, by the book, so why does his CO insist on tormenting him?

He stopped following orders he didn’t agree with once he realized he’d never make the man happy. Soap was never really one to go along with something he didn’t agree with. Not usually, but he wanted at least a shred of praise.

It especially hurt when his CO would hype up his alpha comrades, to the point that it felt intentional sometimes. Just once, with how brilliantly he did on this last mission… just once even if it was just a “good job, Soap,” he wanted some semblance of praise.

It never came. He didn’t know if it was his inner omega itching for approval or if it was the fact that he was a bit of an overachiever, but it stings.

Of course, he can’t mention it, otherwise he gets brushed off. “The emotional omega wants attention again. Boohoo…” it was bullshit. All of it. But he did his best to accept it because to him this was all normal.

He was pacing outside at the obstacle course instead of in the safety of his room because his CO sent the lads in rowdy, drowning his own scent out of his room. He stopped nesting because everyone seems to want to not just disturb it but tear it apart, taking his things. Likely because it had omega scent and some of these alphas were desperate for it.

As much as his skin crawled, as anxious as it made him, Soap just forced himself not to. What would be the point? Nothing is sacred, not even the privacy of his own room, his own nest. He did his best to make something that the alphas would respect or praise him for, but again none of it mattered.

He could also smell the rut on a couple of them when they raided his room for the umpteenth time. If it weren’t for their deployment those ones would have been benched. But sometimes that’s not possible and Soap did not want to be a victim of another incident. So he left his space hoping his room would be empty by the time he walked back.

He was tired… bone tired, but he was even more tired of being used and abused. Still… this was somehow better than his home situation growing up.

Soap swallowed a cry of frustration. If he stayed there any longer he was going to go crazy. He hated how his inner omega cried out, he’d often ask it, “Why do you even still get upset this isn’t anything new…”

As to whether or not it was normal, again, Soap had no clue. He didn’t exactly have any omega role models. His alpha father forbade his omega mother to have “the talk.” The man didn’t want to acknowledge that his only male child presented as an omega.

The schools didn’t do any better because the attitude was the parents were responsible for explaining things. So as far as he knew this was all normal alpha behavior, so it almost seemed silly to be hurt by it. He thought he was the abnormal one.

One of the recruits trotted up to him, “Captain wants to see you in the conference room.”

Great… what did he do this time…

He knocked on the door, entering. “Sir?”

“Pack your shit MacTavish. You’re being transferred,” the ‘finally’ the captain said under his breath didn’t go unnoticed and he had to swallow another wounded sound.

Yeah, Soap was going to go crazy there, but what if he’s going from bad to worse. It also didn’t feel very good that his CO was happy to get rid of him. Why did he even care though?

Soap sighed as he entered his room. It was trashed for the most part. He panicked a little rushing to his closet. He pulled out a loose board in the floor. Good, it was still there… It was the very first thing that went into his bag.

He just let out another breath and set to cleaning and packing. Even though he didn’t trash the place, he didn’t want another mark on his record for something he didn’t even do.

The only things he had to pack, aside from the one thing that was most important to him, were the clothes he enlisted in, some of his personal blankets, and his journals. Not one shred of his other items that could soak up his scent was left outside of that.

He bit back tears. They were both of sadness and relief and fear… hoping his new unit wouldn’t be worse.

Chapter Text

“Alright, lads, our new unit omega is arriving in a couple hours. I expect you to be on your best behavior,” Price addressed Ghost and Gaz.

They had been prepping since the transfer was pushed through, reviewing regulations, making plans for emergency situations, etc. Maybe even going overboard. However, this was Price’s unit and he’d run it how he pleased.

And right now, more than anything he wanted to make this transition as smooth as possible, to solidify and build a more cohesive unit, and wanting to make their new omega be safe and comfortable.

Gaz made commentary on it, but not in a bad way. He was ready to meet their new omega too. Taking great care in picking something to scent as a nesting item. Ghost made commentary on how Gaz was more particular than usual about his looks and how he scented things.

Ghost didn’t judge him, but he was still very cautious. He can smell a broken man a mile away, and this omega was definitely broken.

Gaz nodded excitedly at the captain’s announcement, scent brimming with joy. Ghost grunted in indifference keeping his own scent withheld. It’s not that he wasn’t excited that they’d finally have an omega. He was concerned because on top of being broken his file read more like newly recruited alpha pups with too much fire, not an omega.

The helo landed, and the anticipation was palpable. Soap stepped off and saluted.

“Sergeant John ‘Soap’ MacTavish reporting for duty.”

“Course he’d be a damn Scot.”

“Didn’t you read the file,” Gaz said between his teeth keeping the smile. He wanted to kick Ghost.

“Yeah. Hoped it was a typo.” Gaz was definitely going to kick him.

Soap stiffened. This guy had to be kidding. They don’t mess up files like that. Not that this particularly upset Soap. He was just very tired of alphas shitting on him.

Without thinking he rolled his eyes and shot back, “Great… a Manc who can’t read a file.”

“Fuck,” Soap thought as he flinched, waiting for a reprimand. It just slipped. He was tired. He still hadn’t slept from that last mission.

Gaz snorted at Soap’s remark, barely managing to stifle a laugh. Price glared at Ghost before turning to Soap, putting a smile back on his face. He was going to have a conversation with his lieutenant later about manners.

The reprimand never came down on Soap and he did his best to hide the confusion.

“Welcome, sergeant! We are so glad to have you here! Right, Ghost?” There was a warning in Price’s voice.

“Yeah,” Ghost crossed his arms looking away.

Price sighed, that was the best he was probably going to get out of Ghost for now. They knew Ghost didn’t mean anything malicious (at least he hoped not), but Soap didn’t know that. He had barely been there five minutes. This was slowly becoming a disaster.

He had to save the situation somehow.

“Well, sergeant, I hope the flight was—“ Price paused as if he realized something and looked at Soap confused. He couldn’t catch even a mild scent off of his new pack omega. It was unnerving, but Laswell did say he’d need a lot of patience.

“Sir?” Soap raised an eyebrow.

“We’re not on mission, you don’t have to wear the patches, son,” Price encouraged.

“Sorry, sir. Just— not comfortable yet,” Soap scratched at one of the patches. He wasn’t lying. In fact he was the opposite of comfortable. They were all acting weird.

Even though the flight was smooth, Nik being exceptional at his job, Soap was running on fumes and his last unit did not make his send off pleasant either. He wanted to hide in his room. Wondering if he’d even be able to finally rest in this new environment.

In a way Soap was glad he kept the patches on but also irritated at them. They itch so bad, but there are a lot of things that weren’t necessarily going good and he had to do what he had to do to protect himself.

Everyone except for Gaz was able to push down a wounded sound, slapping a hand over his mouth shocked that he allowed it fall out. He couldn’t help it. He was ready to make Soap feel safe. Cared for. They all did. His scent was well masked, but there were other telltale signs of a distressed omega.

The fact that he was even still wearing the scent patches was one major give away. Not to mention he looked as exhausted as he felt. His eyes didn’t have the light and expression that cut through even in a black and white picture. His shoulders were tense, and he was looking around with mission level awareness.

Way too cautious to simply be doing a regular assessment of his surroundings. The fact that he bristled when he felt they were too close was also a bad sign.

“Let’s show you to your quarters,” Price indicated for Soap to follow, figuring getting some kind of rest would ease his anxiety.

Price kept his distance and barking orders at overzealous recruits to do the same along the way.

Gaz and Ghost watched them leave.

“Finally, someone who can dish back to you what you put out,” Gaz smirked, “Though… you don’t usually put your foot in your mouth like that, Ghost.”

Ghost glanced sideways at Gaz. The sergeant wasn’t wrong. Ghost did probably step in it, but he also wouldn’t lie that he felt somewhat of a thrill when Soap quipped back. Not many people would talk back to “the Ghost,” as a matter-of-fact only three people would do so.

And Soap did it while being wound up as tight as Ghost was when he first came back from being in captivity. He couldn’t help but wonder what exactly the fuck happened to this omega, but more importantly he hoped this didn’t set them back from Soap being at ease with them.

“Don’t kick yourself too hard. I think we’re all in for a rough go of it.”

“Yeah, you certainly don’t broadcast like that, Garrick,” Ghost was referencing his scent and that wounded noise he made.

“I just want him to like us is all,” it was Gaz’s turn to cross his arms.

“Yeah, me too…”

Chapter Text

Soap’s room was next to Price’s for now. No one would be able to get to it without passing Ghost’s and Price’s rooms first. A protective measure until the unit was used to having Soap around. Price was the elder and having been around the block a few times he knew how younger pups can be when they hadn’t seen an omega in months.

The fangs dropping from some of the newest recruits didn’t slip past Price as they made their was to Soap’s room. He made a good decision and the feeling of making a decision that would keep their omega safe made him swell with pride.

“Are you sure this is the right room, Captain?” Soap asked, looking around at the space.

It’s essentially another captain’s quarters. Spacious bedroom with a queen sized bed. His own private bathroom with a deep basin tub. The extra stacks of pillows and blankets didn’t go unnoticed along with some items that smelled like each of the alphas that greeted him today, and one very vaguely scented item. Perhaps from a beta?

“Just for now until the lads get used to having an omega on base again,” Price answered.

“Ah, okay,” Soap nodded as Price left him to get comfortable.

“Let me know if you need anything, okay?” Price smiled as he left the room.

Soap was quick to lock the door behind him, throwing the deadbolt shut as well.

He didn’t trust the fact that Price put himself between Soap and the other alphas. Maybe this was a ploy so he could unlock the door to his room faster while Soap was out, or maybe it was so Price had easier access to torment Soap himself.

Soap took a deep breath, “New unit… It disnae seem like it’ll be that way. Plus, she promised.”

Soap threw down his bag, pulling out fresh clothes. As much as he wanted to figure out where in the room he was going to sleep, he hadn’t bathed since he got back from that mission and Soap wanted to get the stench of his last unit off of his body.

Once he was in fresh clothes with new scent patches he grabbed the blanket his dam gave him. He always kept it hidden, because it’s the one thing he owns that he ever challenged anyone over.

It was a part of one of the biggest incident reports on his record. This was before he got into his last unit and was such a big incident his old CO could NOT cover it up but the mark should NOT have gone on Soap’s record. It should have gone on the record of the very first alpha to disturb one of Soap’s nests when he joined the military.

At the time, Soap had no idea he was a dominant omega and was therefore unaware of certain abilities that dominant omegas have thinking this was normal omega behavior. One of those abilities was being so protective they’d drag every threat to hell along with them especially if it was an unwinnable fight. Death was of no consequence to a dominant omega if they were threatened enough.

And the blanket his dam gave him was a positive memory from his childhood. One he would cherish over everything, comfort when there was none to be had. He used to display it proudly on his nests until that filthy alpha had the audacity to poke around uninvited.

This alpha thought that because Soap was an omega, he’d be a pushover. That he could take whatever he wanted from Soap. Little did this alpha know was that this little rabbit was actually a massive grizzly bear when provoked.

When Soap returned to his room, just to find that filthy alpha lounging around in HIS nest, Soap lost it. He practically tossed the alpha across his room, carefully stashing the blanket while the idiot was still reeling.

Soap thought the fact that he tossed the alpha out of his nest and against a wall like a rag doll would be enough of a threat. That he’d simply leave and Soap would just file a report. How young and naive he was.

The alpha got up, angry. And he had no sense of self-preservation because there are signals a dominant omega will give off, warnings that usually do the trick. Soap did them a bit out of order though:

The first was the audible warning, a half-hiss half-growl with 6 distinct dissonant tones that rumbled from deep inside. This sound would make even the most secondary sexless betas shit their pants.

The second was the scent. It didn’t matter what the omegas regular scent was, in this state of defcon 5 they smelled of sulphur and ash. These two traits dubbed dominant omegas hell beasts (mostly derogatory).

The next was a show of physical strength. The step Soap took before the first two, and the last was eliminating the threat by any means necessary.

If one was stupid enough to threaten a dominant omega this far they’d be shredded by teeth and claws, some coming out of situations where the bodies were unidentifiable at the absolute worst.

Since it was rare for threats to get that high in civilized society, there were no real laws and procedures for “hell beasts.”

Usually emotional self-regulation of the secondary sex was something that had to be taught from home. It’s the difference between a well adjusted alpha or omega and one that was more susceptible to becoming a slave to their baser instincts.

Obviously a skill Soap’s father barred him from learning. The “hell beast” state was the closest to an alpha son he’d ever have after all. Before the man was locked up because he finally got caught embezzling, he was loaded enough to cover up any incident going too far, usually paying off the victims.

Soap never killed anyone this way growing up. His father knew himself to be a hard ass, but to be evil enough to let his only son be convicted of murder for being a good son according to his warped sense of morality? No, he’d never let his John go that far.

The solution? Locking little Johnny in the basement until he calmed down. The cuts and bruising on the boy’s skin from struggling against the chains were easy to explain away as the clumsy boy falling down the stairs along with a fat check to stave off any further questions.

This was one of the things Soap grew up thinking was normal. Unfortunately, this left Soap and the cocky alpha in this current situation.

While instinct told the young alpha to run, his “pride” as an alpha was bruised being tossed aside by an omega like he was nothing. So he puffed up, moving back into Soap’s space, disturbing Soap’s nest once again.

By the time someone checked on the commotion, the alpha was pinned under Soap, maimed but not dead yet because Soap hadn’t ripped out his throat with his fangs.

It took 7 alphas to pry Soap off of the one, and those 7 alphas made sure to teach Soap a lesson. A very painful lesson at that.

Once Soap was released from medical he had orders to move units and had the incident on his record. The only information recorded was the events as the offending alpha told it.

This incident along with Soap’s exceptional work put him on Laswell’s radar. Laswell being the reason Soap wasn’t dishonorably discharged and left to rot in prison, because his only crime was acting in self-defense.

Laswell had been around the block. She could smell military alpha bullshit even after the ink dried on the report. Unfortunately, at that time there was no particularly safe unit to put Soap in, so… she had no choice but to put him in the unit he came from before he transferred to the 141.

Laswell was also able to let Soap back into his old room, escorted by herself and a large beta, so Soap could get the blanket from its hiding spot. Laswell had a soft spot for Soap from the second she met him.

Although Laswell wasn’t a woman who got emotional, the beta swears she got misty eyed when Soap asked her if she could scent the blanket. He stashed it before they left the room.

Presently he clutched that very same blanket tightly.

When Soap received his orders he found a letter attached to his copy of the transfer documents with Laswell’s signature on it. It included a long apology.

Soap would never blame her for anything that happened in his past unit, not a single second of it, but he still appreciated that she cared. She’s the reason he was going to do his best to fight years of lessons life taught him here with the 141. Years of lessons that Laswell had some understanding of.

Soap headed for the closet, the safest place in the room he felt he could sleep in. He really was going to do his best. Tonight though, he was too tired and beat down to try.

Now that he was alone the exhaustion got to him and he curled up clutching the blanket, unable to hold back the tears anymore. Soap cried himself to sleep that night protected by the blanket from his dam and the fading scent of one Kate Laswell.

Chapter Text

Price had to guard Soap’s door, even barring himself as best he could. It hurt him to hear an omega in that much distress, it hurt them all, but it was obvious Soap did not want anyone in his space. At least not yet.

He read the file in more detail before Soap’s arrival and asked Laswell some questions before making any judgments. She explained events from her perspective since she was the most involved. Some of his other colleagues, Price trusts as much as one could trust a starving lion not to eat a steak. But he’d trust Laswell with his very life.

One of the items on his agenda, as soon as he had a free second, was to call prior COs. He totally had no intentions of ripping anyone a new one. I mean Price would NEVER… (he would and he absolutely intended to.)

But for now, he intended to do whatever was necessary to give Soap as much time as he needed to understand no one on this base was his enemy. Not on Price’s watch.

The higher ups and SO’s on Sergeant Sanderson’s former unit learned not to cross Price when it came to anyone under his command. It didn’t take Roach too long to warm up to the 141, and Price hoped it would be the same with Soap. He also accepted that this may not be the case as Roach is a beta and Soap is an omega. That complicated things.

For anyone else, some of the things Price did to protect what was his were Court Marshall worthy, but Price was too valuable. The entirety of the 141 was valuable. Obviously, there were concessions that had to be made. However, the brass knew if Price wanted someone or they put someone on Price’s team that he wouldn’t hesitate to do what it takes to protect his pack. That’s talking about Price as a person, not just as a dominant alpha.

So he let Soap rest. He gave Soap space. Price only became concerned when Soap hadn’t come out in almost an entire day and a half. He knocked on the door. Nothing. The lads hadn’t seen him around base either.

Price did not want to enter Soap’s space uninvited, but he was getting worried. Soap didn’t look in the best of health or in the best headspace when he arrived. Price wasn’t going to let panic sink in, not yet, but he’d hate himself if the worst happened, and it could happen if Price didn’t enter the room.

When he entered the room, Price was very briefly alarmed to find it empty. He kept his scent reeled in as he listened. A whimper from the closet had Price carefully make his way that direction, pushing the door open slowly.

“John?” He dispensed with the formality for the moment. He squatted down next to the omega looking over the tight ball of man, “Soap?”

Soap seemed to be in a restless sleep until he heard his name. He jumped back pressing as far back into the wall as he could, fangs bared on the defensive. He was disoriented and did not recognize his surroundings or the smells.

“Easy there,” Price kept his hands where Soap could see them, looking him over. The blanket Soap had shoved behind his back didn’t go unnoticed, “I’m not going to take your blanket, just relax. I’m just here to make sure you’re okay.”

It was taking every fiber in Price’s being to not reach out to scent Soap or purr. If he had slept in the closet, it was obvious they weren’t even close to being there. Oh, he was so ready to get on the phone and tear some asses up. This pent up aggression Price kept on lock had to go somewhere, and who better than the people who hurt his— Soap. Hurt Soap. Price wasn’t going there either…

When Soap felt that Price was not going to come near and had actually backed off, Soap stopped making warning sounds— hell beast sounds. The scents coming back to him. His new unit… right…

Soap’s defenses were still up, but he pushed off the wall. Price took steps back as Soap took steps forward. Soap peeked around the room before exiting the closet, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Price found Soap’s reaction concerning, but understandable. So far, the steps he’s taken were preventative. But if it came down to it, Price knew how to handle dominant omegas. He’s worked with a few in his prior units. They’re not easy to subdue, even with his method but he did have a method.

“Now, sergeant, understand it’s roughly 14:00– over a full 24 hours after you arrived and you haven’t had a meal since whenever you ate before you got here,” Price explained his presence.

Price checked everywhere around the base, trying to enter Soap’s room as a last resort. The mess hadn’t seen him either and nothing seemed to be out of place so he knew Soap hadn’t eaten.

“14:00… 14… Shit, sorry Captain! I- I dinnae hear my alarm go off!” Soap panicked. How could he have been so careless. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept especially that deeply.

“Breathe. It’s okay, Soap. You’re getting used to your surroundings and it seems like you haven’t decompressed at all from a tough mission,” Price reassured. He’d rather be scenting Soap to reassure him. He really wanted almost desperately to know what Soap’s scent was like, but patience...

“Aye, you could say that,” Soap looked everywhere but at Price.

“What happened?” Price stepped in a little closer.

Soap didn’t move, trying not to bristle at the approaching alpha. Price held out his hand waiting for permission. Soap flinched but didn’t indicate that touch would be unwelcome. Price figured the safest place would be Soap’s shoulder. He gave Soap a gentle squeeze.

“There’s a good, lad.”

Soap was in shock. His captain was smiling… at him. But… he didn’t do anything praise worthy. At least Soap thought. He covered his mouth and turned a shade of pink when he realized he chirped. His inner omega was about to cry tears of joy.

Price’s heart about skipped a beat at how cute Soap was. He wanted to chain up his inner alpha for behaving like a high school pup though, just barely catching the scent of fresh pine that almost escaped him.

Either Soap didn’t notice or he pretended not to which was a relief to Price either way. The man could fall out of a helicopter, but couldn’t stand the embarrassment of what almost happened, as tame a thing as it was.

Soap was going to take a step towards Price when Ghost seemed to materialize out of nowhere in the doorway.

“Captain, Laswell needs—“

Soap flinched, diving back into the closet, slamming the door. He hissed a warning from inside the closet. Ghost froze at a sound he hadn’t heard before but very much gave the sense that he should proceed with caution if he was allowed to proceed at all.

“Damn it, Ghost,” Price scrubbed his face in frustration trying not to snap too hard at him. Price knew Ghost absolutely did not intend to startle them.

Ghost was trying to follow Gaz’s advice of not kicking himself too hard, but he has done nothing but put the wrong foot forward since Soap stepped off the helo. He couldn’t help but think of awkward little Simon Riley trying so hard to make friends.

Guess some things don’t quite change. Well, except for the fact that he’s a giant killing machine that makes people who hear about “the Ghost” shake in their boots. “Ghost” generally protected the still awkward Simon Riley who was barely there anymore. Or at least he was barely there until Soap came along.

Before Ghost could lean through the doorway to try to help, Price stepped between Ghost and the threshold, “Tell Laswell whatever it is, it can wait. The higher ups wanted to force a pack omega on us? I’m going to do what I have to to make sure he feels safe enough to not cower in a damn closet.”

“Why would he—“

“I don’t know, Ghost. That’s what I’m trying to find out. I have several phone calls to make and several asses to chew before today is over. If you don’t want to be on that list I suggest you leave for now.”

Price was struggling to keep his temper in check. The fault lies with no one present currently. It’s just the pent up frustration was starting to get to him, and Price was a tough nut to crack.

Ghost considered Price carefully, he was probably one of the few people who could read Price. Ghost knew that he would never lash out at one of his own and that’s why Price had Ghost’s respect. Price is one of the very few people left who knew Simon, so Price also had Ghost’s trust.

As gentle as Price can be with his pack, he knew that Price was also not to be crossed especially when agitated. Most in the pack wanted Price’s approval, not his disappointment. His disappointment hurt worse than any nonlethal bullet wound.

Still, Ghost couldn’t help but glance past Price to look at the closet longingly. A whine cut through the silence. Ghost stiffened and looked around. Soap was too far away and the way Price softened made him come to the conclusion that Ghost himself was the one who made the sound. He hadn’t made a noise like that in a very long time.

“I know, son. But we need to give Soap time,” Price put a firm but reassuring hand on Ghost’s shoulder.

“Understood,” Ghost nodded before turning down the hallway.

Price knew Soap was going to be an exceptional omega. What he didn’t count on was them all taking to Soap so quickly.

Between Gaz turning into a show puppy; Ghost being lippy, brooding about saying the wrong things; and Price’s own territorialism and aggression rising, something was happening to his team. Their inner alphas have decided that Soap was theirs and they’d all be damned if anyone hurt their omega again, baser instincts overstepping normal logic and reason.

Soap hadn’t even been there three whole days, but Price would be a fool to ignore the changes going on. Soap hadn’t realized it, but he already had his alphas in a chokehold.

“THE alphas… Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Price thought as he headed towards his office.

They were all in trouble.

Chapter Text

When he heard the door click, Soap peeked out of the closet. Good, the room was empty again. He did need to eat something, Soap knew that, but he didn’t think he was ready to go down to the mess hall.

As he was pacing to find a solution to his conundrum there was a knock at the door. It couldn’t be Price or Ghost, they each had a lot to do if their earlier conversation indicated anything. The smell of something delicious wafted through the door.

Soap cracked the door open, peaking out to see one Kyle Garrick holding a pizza.

“Hey, Soap— uh— so,” Gaz began bashfully then cleared his throat, “I figured since you haven’t been out, and the way Ghost was sulking and Cap was stomping around his office you were probably overstimulated.”

“Do you regularly have pizza hanging around on base?” Soap asked opening the door. Gaz wasn’t wrong. He couldn’t imagine the trip to the mess hall going any better than diving into the closet.

“Nah, I stole a car and snuck off base for this,” Gaz said casually like he was talking about the weather.

Soap bristled, looking down the hallway before he pulled Gaz into the room, “Aren’t you going to get into trouble for that?”

Gaz shrugged, setting the pizza on the table in the room, “I mean, sure, but they’ll get over it once I tell them I was bringing food for you! I mean they’re all so worried about the wrong things they probably didn’t think about how you were going to eat for now!”

Gaz couldn’t help but pat himself on the back. He pat himself on the back even harder when a stomach growl told him he did the right thing. You can never go wrong with pizza, at least Gaz had hoped so.

“Thanks, Sergeant Garrick…” Soap nodded, extremely grateful because it appeared to have extra pepperoni.

“Gaz… or Kyle will do just fine, mate,” Gaz corrected.

“Okay, Kyle,” Soap smiled, and was hit by the scent of strawberries and bergamot Gaz’s joy starting to fill the space.

When Gaz realized he was emitting he waved his hands to try and disperse the scent.

“Shit— sorry! Sorry!” Gaz tried to reign it back in. Real smooth, Garrick.

Soap chuckled, “It’s okay. Thank you for thinking of me, Kyle.”

“Uh— yeah! Of course!” Gaz started backing towards the door, “I’ll leave you to it them!”

He tripped, but fortunately didn’t fall. Damn, really smooth today, aren’t we?

“I’m okay! I’ll see you around!” Gaz shut the door and whipped around the corner.

When he was out of the view of the hallway he leaned against the wall, panting, gripping his chest. His heart was pounding a mile a minute.

“What the fuck was that Kyle?” He reprimanded himself, “I can’t believe I just—“

“Sergeant Garrick?” Price’s voice made Gaz jump.

Oh no…

“Ah! Hi there, Captain Price,” Gaz straightened up.

“Want to explain to me why a car was checked out unauthorized?” Price stood in front of Gaz arms crossed.

Gaz put on his signature sweet face that Price couldn’t stay mad at, “Well, yes, sir! It was an emergency.”

Price raised his eyebrows, “Emergency? Everything okay, Garrick?”

“Yeah. Crisis averted, sir.”

“Kyle—“

“I figured Soap was hungry, so— I got him a pizza!”

Price sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “And where is said pizza?”

“In Soap’s room,” Gaz nodded with finality.

“In Soap’s ro— Sergeant you’re not supposed to—“ Price paused at the goofy look on Gaz’s face as he looked at the hallway.

“He called me Kyle and thanked me for the pizza!”

Price scrubbed a hand over his face. Kyle was whipped, already lost to the power of Soap.

“Listen, I want to make Soap happy as the lot of us, but we can’t start breaking the rules, understand?” Price tried to reprimand, but he really can’t stay mad when Gaz makes that face.

“Yes, sir,” Gaz shuffled his feet.

Price admitted defeat, “I’m not going to punish you this time, but in the future if you get any ideas like this, come talk to me…”

“Yes, sir!” Gaz saluted continuing away from the officer’s hallway.

“Damn, muppets,” Price shook his head as he made his way to his room.

The pizza held Soap over until lunch the next day. Food and sleep does wonders for courage, so Soap finally made a public appearance since he got there. He was extremely cautious, fighting the urge to run back into that closet. The fact that all eyes were on him did NOT help.

He was going to sit alone, the constant eyes on him making him unsettled until Gaz waved him over to sit with him, Ghost, Price, and a beta he hadn’t seen before. Soap steeled his resolve. There was an open seat between Price and the beta so he instinctively sat there.

He couldn’t see Ghost’s face, but Soap could swear both he and Gaz pouted briefly at Soap’s seat choice. He chose not to comment.

“Hi, Soap! So glad you came out today!” Gaz smiled, strawberry and bergamot wafting off of him. Price cleared his throat, and Gaz reined it in again.

“Yeah, I figure it’s time I made my way out here,” Soap smiled politely.

“Well it’s good to finally meet you! I’m Sergeant Gary Sanderson by the way, but people call me Roach,” the beta introduced.

“Sergeant John MacTavish, but people call me—“

“Soap! I know! These guys have been telling me so much about you. You really are as good looking as they described— ow!” Roach began, but Ghost kicked him under the table.

“Right,” Soap turned a shade of pink. They all did except of course Roach who was confused as to what he just did wrong.

The silence was tense briefly before Roach broke it continuing the conversation they were having. Thank goodness he was finally back from his solo mission because as much as he loved his alpha friends they seem to have lost their minds a bit since Soap got there.

I mean he couldn’t blame them, Soap was handsome, but someone had to be reasonable. Otherwise everything would be painfully awkward. “You know they’re down bad when I’m the one who has to keep it together,” Roach thought waiting for Price’s response.

“Captain, you were telling us about the machine in demo still being down?” Roach offered.

“Yeah, the damn thing is still out. No matter how many times we bring in people to repair it, that damn piece of equipment in demo won’t work,” Price grumbled.

“I could… take a look at it for you,” Soap said softly.

They all considered Soap carefully. Ghost and Price saw “loud” on his file. This was definitely the opposite, but he was having lunch with them out in the open. A step in the right direction.

“Ghost and I can show you the machine in demo! I’m almost positive you haven’t gotten a tour of the base yet anyway, right?” Roach offered enthusiastically.

Soap glanced at Ghost, unsure about the big alpha. He wasn’t scared of Ghost because he’s “the Ghost” everyone’s so afraid of. He wasn’t scared because the man oozed dominant alpha because so did Price and Price was starting to become safe in Soap’s book.

He was anxious because he was sure the man hated him and he wasn’t sure what he did.

It’s not like people hadn’t hated Soap before. He had plenty of that if his anxiety had anything to say about it. He just wanted his SO’s to be happy with him. Price wasn’t easy to read because of that distinguished confidence and cool headedness that would fling someone into the rank of captain.

Ghost wasn’t easy to read because aside from his smart remarks the man was a blank slate. Maybe it was because he was constantly wearing the mask. Fuck if Soap knew.

Meanwhile Ghost seemed cool on the outside, but Ghost was freaking out internally. He was mentally prepared to be crushed, but he also wasn’t prepared to be crushed by the small omega. Roach did encourage him to try to be more amicable.

Soap hesitated. He kept trying to remind himself Ghost didn’t startle him on purpose. “Aye, I’d like that.”

A faint scent of gun smoke and lilac hit the air before it was reigned back in, Ghost sitting stiffer than usual.

Price rolled his eyes at both Ghost and Gaz before nodding in approval at Soap.

He still wasn’t sure what to do with all this encouragement, but Soap wasn’t going to complain either. They were all still being very weird, but weird can be good, right?

Chapter Text

“Alright, here it is,” Roach showed Soap the piece of equipment after a brief tour of the base.

Soap very quickly got to work, popping different covers off, pulling out drawers, etc. “Well no wonder this disnae work,” he exclaimed then muttered as he was examining parts, “Cundie is pure mingin… been skelpt too many times, lotta stoor on the vent…”

“English, Soap,” Ghost interrupted gruffly.

Roach glared at him. If he didn’t know Ghost he’d wonder if Ghost was actually trying to get on Soap’s good side.

Roach huffed, “What Ghost was trying to ask is can you fix it?”

“Aye, it’s an easy fix,” Soap nodded to Roach, “If there’s a tool kit, I’ll have her runnin’ in no time.”

“Sure! I’ll go grab it!” Roach rushed off before Soap could call after him to send Ghost instead. Now he’s alone with the alpha who he’s sure hates him.

Soap just goes back to looking at what else could be going on with the machine. He really didn’t need to look anymore. Soap took one look over the it and knew exactly what was up. It’s a simple step everyone skips on this particular piece of equipment. He didn’t need to examine it further, he just needed to look busy.

Ghost fidgeted, he wanted to say something, anything to break the awkward silence, “Why don’t skeletons climb mountains?” Really, Simon? This is the best we’ve got?

Soap stood up and stared at Ghost confused, “What?”

“Why don’t skeletons climb mountains,” Ghost repeated.

“Why, LT?” Soap asked slowly really confused as to what was going on in this moment.

Meanwhile Ghost almost forgot the punchline caught off guard by how much he liked the sound of that, “They don’t have any guts.”

Soap stared at Ghost in silence for a beat before he snorted, “That’s terrible, LT…”

Ghost smiled, finally doing something right, even though it was the silliest thing.

Ghost laughed a little before continuing, “Listen, Soap… I’m sorry. I keep sticking my foot in my mouth around you, and… well, I—?”

“Yeah, LT?” Soap raised his eyebrows, blue eyes searching Ghost’s brown ones.

Ghost has stared down the wrong end of several weapons, but this omegas approval was putting his stomach in knots, “What I’m trying to say is—“

“If he doesn’t pick on you a little it means he doesn’t care. Though picking on people is kind of an immature way to show affection isn’t it, Ghost?” Roach interrupted when came back with the kit.

Ghost grunted looking away as Roach had returned with practically a suitcase full of tools. He wasn’t sure what Soap needed specifically, so he brought everything he could find.

“Oh?” Soap raised his eyebrows as something seemed to click. He’s so used to aggressive alphas he forgot what awkward flirting looked like.

“Simon is so used to being lieutenant hard ass I’m not sure he has any other setting anymore,” Roach leaned in and whispered as he passed Soap the toolkit.

“Sergeant Sanderson, you’re training with me tomorrow…” Ghost reprimanded, glad he wore a mask at all times because his face was blazing.

Roach startled hoping only Soap heard that last part, “Y-yes, sir! I’ll just go… hang out over there. Holler if you need me, Soap!”

Soap waved smiling at Roach, then froze under Ghost’s stare. He still couldn’t read him and the alpha kept his scent pretty reined in. Soap couldn’t blame him as he scratched at the scent patches before starting his work. He did feel more at ease knowing Ghost didn’t hate him.

“When was the last time you changed those?”

“Earlier today,” Soap answered mostly focused on his work, scratching occasionally. It felt good to do something useful without being ridiculed or treated as less than.

“Do you ever take them off?” Ghost squatted behind Soap examining his neck.

Soap froze before he continued working, “Sure when I change them out.”

“I think you know what I mean, Johnny,” Ghost huffed.

Soap froze again. Normally that nickname would piss him off, but something about the way Ghost said it… he was hoping he wasn’t blushing back to his ears.

“I haven’t gone without them in over a year, maybe two now,” Soap answered.

“Two years?” Ghost murmured, concerned.

“Yeah… old CO said my scent was too soft for the military. Said I needed to wear them at all times…” Soap began then shuddered.

“Johnny?”

“I dinnae want to talk about this anymore…” Soap went back to work with a new forcefulness.

“I didn’t mean to upset you… it’s just… are you allergic to them?” Ghost asked.

“What?”

“The scent patches, are you allergic to them? It looks like you scratch them a lot and the skin around them is pretty inflamed,” Ghost ran a gloved finger over one of the ones on the side of Soap’s throat.

It took everything for Soap to not lean into the touch, beating down his omega senses, the smell of gun smoke and lilac lightly floating in his space. If Gaz was any indication, he was sure Ghost didn’t realize he was doing it.

He’d never expect a man as large or gruff as Ghost to be so gentle. Soap didn’t realize how badly craved the touch, his breath hitching a little.

“Don’t,” Soap gripped Ghost’s wrist before he could splay his fingers over the back of Soap’s neck.

Ghost quickly removed his hand, kicking himself. All he wanted was to do right by Soap. He didn’t blame Soap for his reaction being someone who doesn’t like touch himself. It was out of line, especially where he chose to touch.

“I’m sorry, Johnny, I—“

Soap released his hand and sighed, “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting to—“

“To what?”

“Like it,” Soap blushed furiously burying himself into his work now signaling that there was no room for further questioning.

“Oh… uh…” Ghost cleared his throat taking the hint, “Right. I’ll be over there if you need me!”

He moved downwind at a long distance but was still within eyeshot of Soap, Roach, and the door. He hoped the wind blew the heavily joyous scent of lilac and gun smoke AWAAAAAYYY from the other two.

Ghost kept a watchful eye in the shadows while Roach remained near the door to make sure no one meandered in unnecessarily. He couldn’t hear the exchange, but it looked like Ghost messed up again.

It’s not like he was trying to set them up. Roach was trying to at least let them be friendly. Simon is really nice when he lets someone in. He just hoped Soap would eventually see that Simon is trying.

When Soap turned the machine on, Ghost and Roach weren’t sure it was working because it usually made loud sounds.

“There we go! Good as new!” Soap smiled wide, triumphant.

Price had come by to check on progress, and examined the machine, “It’s like it’s brand new! Better than new!”

Soap preened at the praise, “Aye, sir! This is a delicate piece of equipment. She can’t be manhandled the way the dafty repair guys have been fiddling with her.”

Ghost coughed a laugh while Roach looked on in horror.

“Did I say something wrong?” Soap just looked at each of them confused.

“I’m the dafty whose been fiddling around with it lately sergeant since the repair people have been sitting on their thumbs,” Price sighed as Soap looked on in horror.

“I’m sorry, sir, I—“ Soap panicked.

“No, no, it’s okay, Soap. I’m just glad you fixed it,” Price put a reassuring hand on Soap’s shoulder as he leaned over to take a closer look. He did a double-take now that he was close enough to notice the angry red skin around Soap’s scent patches better, “Lad, your neck…”

“It’s okay, sir,” Soap scratched now that he brought attention to it.

“No, you and I are going to medical,” Price steered Soap to the med bay before he could protest.

Price was kicking himself the whole way. How many times had he been close to Soap and he noticed this just now. How could he not have noticed this before? Was it because he was trying to ignore his own insecurity for still not knowing what Soap’s scent is like?

Well, right now it’s not about him. It’s about his omega… err… THEIR omega— NO! SOAP! SOAP! It’s about SOAP.

Chapter Text

After Price steered Soap to the med bay he made his way back to his office. He picked up the phone to call a certain SO from a certain omega’s prior unit.

“This is Captain Jeffreys… sorry hold on a minute… what the fuck do you mean the hot water stopped working? Well who used to fix it? Listen you deal with that I’m on a call. Sorry, who am I speaking to?”

“Captain John Price,” Price began having a gut feeling on who kept the machinery and plumbing in Soap’s prior unit working.

“Ah, yes, Captain on the 141, the one who wanted MacTavish. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need you to explain somethings for me in regards to Sergeant MacTavish,” Price tried to keep his temper even for now.

“Hmm? Something the matter?” Jeffreys was confused but largely disinterested.

“Firstly, can you explain to me why MacTavish had not properly decompressed from a long mission?”

“Ah, yes. Well the guys needed to blow off some steam, you know how it is. Long mission, some of our guys hitting rut, etc.” Jeffreys explained.

“And you just let them go into his room?”

“Yeah, why? what’s the problem?”

“That’s dangerous!” Price shouted, incredulous.

“Oh if you’re worried about any accidents happening, don’t worry, MacTavish is fixed,” Jeffreys said as if he were trying to put Price’s mind at ease.

“What do you mean— ‘fixed’?” Price grit his teeth.

“Well, you can put as many knots in that one as you like, after that dreadful incident at Carlson’s base on MacTavish’s record, he had MacTavish fixed. It was great for me. Didn’t have to send my guys on rut leave since we had a rut slut built into the unit…”

Price’s phone made a cracking noise, as he growled, “What the fuck do you mean? Did MacTavish consent to ANY of this?”

Jeffreys was cold, “Does it matter? This sort of thing happens all the time Price. I’m not sure why you’re upset. If you think about it I did you a favor. I’m sure that ‘Ghost’ on your team gets plenty pent up with his body counts on the battlefield. He can just knot MacTavish and be ready for the next mission. Any of you can really.”

“Jeffreys, I need you to listen to me VERY closely,” Price’s voice was eerily calm, “If you or anyone under your command comes near this base, I’ll kill you…”

“Price, the fu—“

The line cut because Price crushed the receiver into dust.

“Captain— Price!” Ghost froze at the door, the scent of wildfire laced murderous intent flowed out of the room.

Price’s eyes were overshadowed by his bucket hat but there was definitively rage and tears flowing, blood dripping from the hand that crushed his office phone.

Ghost had only heard rumors of Price entering a feral rage. It was when he was newly a sergeant at the time who hadn’t encountered true evil yet in the field. It was said they found John cradling his old CO’s corpse in a building that housed a hundred hostiles turned into a building of 100 corpses.

He was lucky because if he had been a civilian he’d have been put down. The incident was kept off of the official records citing that backup had arrived before the carnage. The military tends to cover up a lot because they’d rather take their chances on having an unstable killing machine instead of losing another soldier as efficient as Price.

As for Price, it took him a long time to build up his demeanor. To cull that temper. Price wanted to be valuable as more than just a feral alpha, and he proved himself over and over. It’s how they gave him the 141.

Ghost couldn’t imagine what would set Price off like this, but he knew 2 things. One he knows if he knew what Price knew now, Ghost would also take zero prisoners; a blood bath would be the only thing to follow. Two, he had to calm Price down before anyone else saw him like this. Price would be crushed if anyone else saw when his alpha went out of control. He wanted to be respected, not feared, and if anyone saw him now they’d only know fear.

Ghost slipped into Price’s office, locking the door behind him.

“John…” Ghost approached cautiously, his blue eyes were vacant now that Ghost was close enough to see. Ghost has been here before and knows that Price could snap. Ghost knew better than anyone that all Price could see right now was red.

Ghost slipped behind Price, putting him in a hold to where he couldn’t hurt himself or Ghost and Ghost braced himself. He’s sparred Price before. He’s seen Price in the field. He knew that if he weren’t properly set up they’d both go down and that would be the end of both of them.

Before Price started thrashing, Ghost began to purr, speaking softly in Price’s ear, careful to not release any of his own scent as it would drive Price’s alpha farther over the edge.

“John, stay with me,” Ghost was barely able to keep a hold at first, but the purring and soft voice finally brought his captain down into a slump.

“I’ll kill them all Simon. I swear to god I’ll fucking kill them all,” Price’s voice was strained, but most of the fight left him.

“Ssh… just relax for now, John… the 141 needs you and we won’t have you if you go rogue. That’s my job. Your job as the head alpha is to direct and lead us. That’s it Captain, just let go…” Ghost sat down on Price’s chair pulling Price into his lap, the office chair mostly holding on under the weight of the two bulky men.

“Fuck… and we have visitors today… but I couldn’t… Soap is…” Price tried to string thoughts together as his head began to clear. There were recruits from another unit doing training exercises with the recruits from the 141. Something Price would have rescheduled had he known.

“Sssh… settle, and please whatever you know keep it to yourself for now… because wherever this aggression was going to go, you’d best believe I’d follow you and take the fall,” Ghost assured him, stroking Price’s hair, having pulled off the hat and tossing it aside.

“Can’t let you do that Simon… the 141 needs you too,” Price curled into Ghost, “Damn it…”

“Cap… you take care of us all the time. Just let me be here for you while you try to pull yourself back together,” Ghost knew whatever it was, Price would tell him eventually. For now, everything they needed to protect was right there on base.

So Ghost held Price, bandaged his hand, and they silently went about their day. Price’s moment of rage and weakness would never leave that moment in his office. The two dominant alphas had each other's backs in those moments, so the rest of the pack only saw them as pillars of strength and stability.

Meanwhile back in the infirmary...

“Yeah, this is definitely an allergic reaction. How often have you been wearing these?” The doctor was writing on Soap’s chart.

“For over a year, maybe two… obviously I change them out,” Soap corrected.

The doctor stopped writing abruptly, “No breaks?”

“No,” Soap clenched and unclenched his fists. This was a sore subject, one that didn’t make it to any records because it could be covered up that time.

“These aren’t meant to be worn constantly, just on missions,” the doctor sighed, “You have to take these off at least for the next several weeks, and do NOT put anymore on until the next mission.”

“I— dinnae have anymore. I was going to make my way here before I headed back to my room to pick up more,” Soap was hopeful.

“Yeah, no. I’m not issuing these for use around base, unless you’re in heat or being deployed,” the doctor said with finality.

Soap was antsy. He was not there yet. He was definitely not there yet. This was a big security blanket that was about to be ripped away from him.

“Are you sure?” Soap’s voice lilted in a way he did not intend, “Can’t you make an exception, doc?”

“Sergeant MacTavish, your skin is inflamed, you’ve been running around with a low grade fever and infection for god knows how long, and I can only imagine the damage done to other aspects of your secondary sex in relation to heat cycles and fertility,” the doctor lectured and emphasized each word of the following sentence, “these-are-not-meant-to-be-used-long-term-like-this!”

“Do those last things really matter,” the corners of Soap’s lips quivered when he smiled. A smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The doctor softened, “I’m not going to order a full exam today, but I am referring you to the base counselor. We also have to get these patches off of you. I can not in good conscience as a doctor leave them on knowing that they are without a doubt making you sick.”

“Aye, but— if I take these off people will be able to smell me,” Soap said as if that were a valid argument.

“And? I’m sure you smell fine… well, I’m not so sure since you have an infection, but once you’re better I’m sure you smell fine!” the doctor reassured as he prepped to take the patches off and flush Soap’s scent glands.

“I smell too soft for the military,” Soap muttered.

“Sergeant MacTavish, your scent is your scent. You can’t help that. You can’t change that, and there’s no such thing as a scent being too soft to do any job,” the doctor stopped what he was doing to give Soap his full attention, “Tell me MacTavish, do pheromones help you pull apart and put together a gun and mag the fastest in your graduating class?”

“No…”

“Did your pheromones help you score high on your physical and written exams, blowing all the omega records and some alphas out of the water?”

“No… is it necessary for a doctor to read my whole file?”

“The point is, yeah, secondary sex, scents, all that play roles in our day to day. They do give us certain advantages and disadvantages, but at the end of the day it’s as the name suggests, they are just secondary,” the doctor gave Soap a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “Understand? Good.”

“If we take these off, I need someone to take me back to my room,” Soap was white-knuckling the edge of the exam table. While the doctor was encouraging it didn’t make his anxiety about this any better.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Roach entered, “the captain sent me just in case.”

Soap relaxed a little, “Okay…” if he was thankful for anyone in this world, it was Roach.

The doctor removed the patches, Soap gritting his teeth in pain. Once they were off the room was hit with the smell of spoiled oranges. Even Roach wrinkled his nose a little. Soap squeezed Roach’s hand as the doctor drained the swelling and flushed out the infection. The smell was still potent, but a little less like a rotten orange cooking in the desert sun.

“Yeah… Sergeant Sanderson, I need you to be on Sergeant MacTavish until all this settles. You’re off the roster until you heal, MacTavish. Your scent glands were infected from having these on your skin for so long. You’ll have to see me a few more times to flush out the infection while you take this medicine and put on this ointment. I am going to also up your dose of suppressants. Your body absolutely cannot withstand a heat cycle when you’re sick like this.”

“Don’t have to worry about that, doc,” Soap looked anywhere but at Roach and the doctor, “haven’t had one of those in two years either.”

“Yeah… you’re coming back in here for a full exam in about four weeks,” the doctor declared as Roach looked at Soap concerned, “You’ll have this room for a moment before you head back to your room.”

The doctor emailed a note to Price, giving Soap a paper copy, and departed.

“Whelp, let’s go,” Soap jumped up to redress and gather his things.

“Wait, Soap,” Roach tried getting his attention, but Soap was fidgeting with clothes and straps and gathering things, strained smile still painted on his face.

Roach put himself between Soap and the door, “Soap!”

“Out of the way, Roach,” Soap kept his head down.

“No, the doctor said you need a minute, and I agree,” Roach said with finality.

Soap growled and met Roach’s eyes, “The fuck I do! You all think you know me? You don’t… just— move!”

The look in Soap’s eyes almost broke Roach’s heart. The Scot was putting on a tough face, smile almost a snarl, but Soap was broken in more ways than he let on.

Soap tried to push Roach out of the way weakly, hands shaking. Roach pulled Soap into a hug a broken sob leaving Soap’s throat.

“Here,” Roach guided them to the bench in the room, he settled them down wrapping his arms around Soap, stroking his hair and whispering softly, “That’s it— let it out… it’ll be okay. You’re safe here. I’m here, and I won’t go anywhere until you feel like you’re ready.”

Soap let out some of his repressed emotional pain in the hospital room with Roach, the other man deciding he’d go with Soap every step of the way as long as Soap needed him.

They picked up the medicine and the ointment. Roach ordered takeout to be delivered figuring he’d ask for forgiveness instead of permission. Soap needed comfort food and privacy and emotional support Roach was going to secure it for him.

Chapter Text

Roach kept an arm around Soap on the way back to his room. Most alphas gave Soap a wide berth, even the few unfamiliar faces of a visiting unit. There were some visitors from the training exercise happening today that were a bit too bold though.

“Shouldn’t that omega be with an alpha right now?” a big man approached, some of his other squad mates closing in as well.

“No, I’m assigned to take Sergeant MacTavish back to his room,” Roach said coolly as he tried to keep it moving.

The alpha put himself in front of Soap and Roach puffing up and emitting. A challenge to Roach.

“You know I’m a beta and quite literally don’t give a shit. Stand down,” Roach ordered.

“Hmm… maybe someone should teach you that you should,” the alpha didn’t back down. He continued to approach Roach who was now standing between Soap and the alpha.

The alpha made a move to get physical with Roach to move this human barrier between himself and the omega.

The moment he touched Roach was the same moment Soap stopped being a quivering mess and turned fierce. Soap slapped his hand away and moved in front of Roach, hissing a warning.

A crowd was forming, most just attracted to a distressed omega who decided to stay and spectate a fight. Others were frozen, unsure how to handle this situation.

The alpha continued to puff up determined. He approached Soap who made a sound the alpha had never heard before. His survival instincts said to back up, but he was going to get his hands in this omega he decided.

“Aren’t you cute, thinking you can intimidate me,” the alpha stepped a bit too far into Soap’s space.

Soap had hoped he wouldn’t have to do this again right out of the gate, but if this is how this fucker wanted it, this is how he was going to get it. The alpha reached for Soap releasing pheromones, Soap hissed louder.

“Last warning,” Soap rumbled, rotting orange mixing with ash. The scent change hurt and didn’t take all the way because of the infection.

“Yeah, right…” the alpha swooped in to “save” the distressed omega when he winced in pain.

The next thing happened so quick even the visiting alpha was sure he was still standing upright. He was on his back with a weight on his chest, looking into the eyes of death.

Soap was more lethal than he’d ever been. The sickness in his body pushed the hell beast into overdrive.

Soap’s fangs were barred, growling and hissing from deep within, ready to rip out the other man’s throat, only perceiving a threat. Soap was shorter but the man felt smaller the large presence was suffocating.

Price, Ghost, and Gaz ran over after a recruit with some sense went to grab them.

“Gaz, Roach, start herding these muppets to their quarters and hold in place. Ghost on me,” Price ordered.

When he heard “Roach,” Soap snapped at Price gripping the visiting alpha tighter ready to use his body as a push off point to attack anyone who got near Roach.

“Easy, Soap,” Roach got on Soap’s level, “I’m right here. The captain is just trying to help.”

Price took advantage of Soap fixating on Roach moving faster than anyone has ever seen Price move even on the battle field as he grabbed Soap, crossing both arms over his chest spreading his feet apart with his knees on the ground. Ghost grabbing the alpha by the scruff.

“If you ever show up to our house and do some shit like this again, Stephens, I won’t be pulling Soap off… as a matter of fact, I’d hide the body once he’s done. Do I made myself clear,” Price leered.

Stephens had already about soiled himself when Soap was at his throat. This was not something he wanted to repeat.

“Take your team and get the fuck off my base,” Price jerked his head, and everyone else followed that as an order to disperse. Ghost making rounds to check that all visiting personnel were off their base.

Price was able to grab Soap such that he couldn’t sink his fangs in anywhere, the major threat of being torn to shreds eliminated. Soap had mostly stopped struggling, dumbfounded that Price didn’t let the others jump him for attacking another alpha.

Price was almost ashamed at the fact that he was purring, but he couldn’t help the sound. He couldn’t help it now that their omega was in his arms. He desperately wanted Soap to know he was safe. Desperately wanted him to know that he would be cared for.

After the last phone call, he would have rather have crushed Stephens into dust, but Soap needs him more than some ignorant alpha.

Soap slumped a little, the soft but sharp rumbling and the smell of a campfire and fresh pine coming into his senses. He also felt something wet on the back of his neck.

“Captain?” Soap asked, “Captain are you okay?”

Price buried his face into Soap’s shoulder, shaking.

“Captain? Price?” Soap could hear soft sniffling, “Captain! Your hand!”

“Don’t worry about that, lad,” Price’s voice was soft and a bit shaky, “Don’t worry about anything. I won’t let anyone hurt you again… Fuck… I’m sorry Soap…”

Soap was really confused. Not only has Price not let the other alphas attack him, Price was apologizing? He’s not sure what has his captain so shaken.

The only thing he could think to do was to let his captain hide his face, and do what he remembered his dam doing when he was sad. Soap started purring. It wasn’t something he’d ever done before, but now seemed as good a time as any.

“I’m supposed to be keeping you safe, but here I am having you comfort me when I thought I had it together again,” Price muttered into Soap’s shoulder.

“But you have been keeping me safe, Captain. Such a strong and capable alpha. Making sure I have a safe space, making me feel welcome, sending people to help me when you can’t. Almost scary how you knew to send Roach to walk with me,” Soap leaned his head against Price’s, “so good to me.”

They stayed like that for a few moments, Roach keeping a watchful eye to keep people moving along while Price and Soap pulled themselves together.

“Sergeant Sanderson, make sure Sergeant MacTavish is taken care of,” Price gets up and helps Soap off the ground.

“Already 10 steps ahead, sir,” Roach saluted.

“I wouldn’t say 10 Sergeant. The food order is in front of Soap’s door,” Price decided to dispense with reprimanding his sergeants for trying to feed one of the most perfect omegas he’d ever met.

Price watched Roach and Soap make their way back to Soap’s room. Now that the training exercise was over, and their omega was going to rest safely in his room, he had more free time to make more phone calls… he just needed to grab the spare phone from the conference room.

Chapter Text

Roach had mostly stuck around Soap as he healed over the next two weeks, but as usual with their line of work Roach and Gaz had to be sent off on another op leaving Price, Soap, and Ghost on base.

This was also one of the few times Price had a lull in paperwork and phone calls. When people stopped answering, Price decided to ask Laswell the favor of keeping an eye on all their movements for the time being. Knowing more about Soap’s past situations, pissed but not surprised, Laswell agreed whole heartedly.

In the meantime, in Roach’s absence, Price had been accompanying Soap to and from his medical visits. His men have been in top form since they got this doctor, but he wonders who’s the boss there at times because what the doctor orders, the doctor gets.

On this particular day, some of the procedures wore Soap out, so Price carried him back to his room. The reason everyone is so careful with scent glands is that the evolutionary purpose for them is so strong any sickness in them wrecks the body. Like the flu, only ten times worse but half as lethal.

They made sure to keep Soap fed and comfortable since his metabolism was working overtime as his body healed.

Price often found his breath taken away by their omega. Doing such a good job on full duty while being so sick before he got there. Some upper ranked alphas crying over a hang nail, meanwhile Soap was facing the job head on with no complaints even though he was damn well within his right.

“Whole damn military should worship the ground my omega walks on,” Price didn’t correct himself that time. He hadn’t been correcting his inner monologue the last couple days.

Soap curled into Price, a very slight hint of vanilla came out from under the smell of slightly soured citrus. The rotting smell beginning to dissipate as the scent glands began to heal. A soft scent of campfire mixed with the vanilla as Price made their way to Soap’s room.

Price couldn’t help being happy Soap was getting more comfortable with them, and Soap didn’t mind the scent. He was actually starting to enjoy being able to smell the alphas on occasion.

When they got into his room, Price sighed and shook his head sadly.

“Still not nested yet, lad?” Price looked around the room. Soap’s room looked lived in, but there was no sign of a nest.

“I— cannae do it,” Soap furrowed his brow, “I’m sorry sir.”

“Don’t do that omega… don’t apologize to me. Should be making you feel safe,” Price’s inner alpha being a bit more mouthy in his internal monologue. Price still kept the amount of campfire he was emitting under control.

When Price went to lay Soap in bed, Soap latched on.

“What is it?” Price asked.

“Can you— stay a while this time?” Soap hesitated, “Only if you want…”

“Of course, I’ll be right here until you fall asleep,” Price said setting Soap in bed and pulling a chair next to it. He shouldn’t… he really shouldn’t… but the content scent of vanilla kept him there.

“Okay,” Soap nodded then worried his lips a little.

“What is it, Soap?”

“Why didn’t you let the rest of the recruits tear me apart?” Soap was feeling better but he was still having some cognitive dissonance between how he thought alphas behaved vs how he was being treated.

“What? When you attacked Stephens? Why would I let them do that?” Price asked incredulous. “Should have ripped that filthy alpha apart for touching what’s mine…” Price’s inner alpha pressed not so far in the back of his mind.

“I… dinnae… uh…” Soap took a deep breath and shrugged, “Because that’s what would be the normal consequence to what happened.”

Price held one of Soap’s hands, “Soap… that stuff that was going on in Jeffreys unit and the unit before was not normal. It was unacceptable. And truth be told it’s taken everything in me to not go to that base and blow it up.” “Should kill them all… present their heads as a courting gift… STOP!” Price finally shouting for his inner alpha to pump the breaks.

Soap searched Price’s eyes, he knew Price would never lie to him, but it seemed absurd that Price wanted to do anything crazy. Well, crazier than what they have to do for the job, like blowing up ally bases for him. He’s starting to accept that perhaps they weren’t weird alphas, but they still seemed awkward at times.

“All we want is for you to feel at ease here at home with us. At least what qualifies as a home for people like us,” Price stroked Soap’s hair as he spoke.

“Well, I certainly feel better than I’ve felt for a very long time,” Soap admitted, “Though I look like hell. I looked in the mirror after god knows how long.”

“Don’t know about that. You look pretty to me, Soap,” Price smiled and suppressed the chuckle that was threatening to escape at Soap’s cheeks turning pink. That was a bit more forward than Price would have liked.

“Never… been described that way before, sir,” Soap focused on their hands, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Well then other people must be blind,” Price lifted Soap’s chin to look at him. Soap nestled his cheek into Price’s hand, vanilla wafting into the space, Price breathed it in, basking in it.

Price thought, “Smells so good…” A moment later he remembered himself feeling hot under the collar, “Too good… I need to go…”

Soap raised his eyebrows, but before he could ask Price cut him off, “Anyway, you should probably get some sleep.”

He noted Soap grabbed his blanket that he is super protecting over and… the scented items they gave him.

Price had to stop himself from preening like a damn pup with how elated he was.

“Not going to build a nest yet, but… just want to be surrounded by some scents that are becoming familiar to me.”

“We scented those just for you to do as you please,” Price was still a bit pained that Soap wasn’t comfortable enough to nest, (in fact his inner alpha was howling over it at the moment) and even more pained at how Soap must be feeling.

Depending on how they’re infected, scent glands can either produce no scent even if you want to or they don’t stop emitting, the body trying to expel the infection that way. Soap didn’t leave his room except to go to the doctor at first. It took some coaxing, but Soap came out more often.

Soap thought it would repel others, but they’d stand as close as Soap was comfortable with. Roach and Price the only ones allowed to touch unprompted for now.

Price had let a soft purr rumble as Soap settled, rubbing circles into the back of Soap’s hand. Soap very quickly fell asleep.

Price watched Soap for a moment, brushing strands of his Mohawk from his face. “So pretty..” He let out a breath and planted a gentle kiss on Soap’s temple.

“Good night, Soap,” Price whispered as he made sure he was tucked in.

He forced himself out of Soap’s room locking the door behind him. Price leaned against the wall panting slightly, tugging at his collar. He was concerned about that exchange in more ways than one. He needed to find Ghost… fast.

Chapter Text

“Ah, Ghost, glad you’re here,” Price noted the Alpha in the hallway, grateful he didn’t have to go too far.

“How is he?” Ghost looked Price over carefully, his captain unable to hide his agitation from him.

“He expected me to let the lads tear him to shreds for attacking another alpha,” Price rubbed a hand over his face.

The murderous intent coming off of Ghost started seeping a little. So far Ghost hadn’t really heard too much about things that happened to Soap. Just being there as he got better. Before it could spread to the sleeping omega he pulled Ghost into his own quarters.

“Relax, Lieutenant,” Price was still holding onto Ghost’s lapels. Ghost had to wonder if he shouldn’t be telling Price the same thing.

Price raised a hand waiting for an invitation. Instincts driving him to make sure his lieutenant was settled even if they weren’t all the way in order at the moment.

Ghost lifted the back of his balaclava enough for Price to scent him, calming him down some. He pulled Ghost in to where his forehead touched Ghosts mask.

“Ghost, as much as I want to hurt them too, we’ve got to stay calm around Soap,” Price said softly, “I need to know you’ll stay calm because I need someone I trust to be on his six while Roach is gone.”

“You’re right, Cap,” Ghost sighed, breathing in the soothing scent of fresh pine faint notes of the edge in it didn’t go unnoticed, “I’ll keep it together for Soap, but the first chance I get…”

Price looked Ghost in the eye very seriously, “Tell me when you feel like you have that chance… For assholes like Jeffreys and Carlson you’ll need myself and Laswell to cover, understand?”

“So I have permission?” Price could feel Ghost mirroring his sickening smile.

“Rather do it myself, but yeah,” Price muttered.

“Not like you to want to go rogue, Cap,” Ghost whispered. The captain has been off his game just enough for Ghost to notice even though everyone else was still blissfully unaware.

“Been doing a lot of things that aren’t like me lately,” Price furrowed his brow, “Now that my calls are going ignored I’m also battling keeping others off the base, at least until Soap is better. Lad can handle himself, sure, but still… don’t want outsiders here…”

Ghost reached out, scenting Price in return, “You picked a real handful of an omega. It’s like you have a hardon for us handfuls,” Ghost huffed a laugh.

“Don’t be so crass, lieutenant… but you like it, too,” Price smirked, as he snaked his arms around Ghost’s back pulling him in closer, breathing in that sharp scent of gun smoke, “On edge, Simon?”

Ghost pressed his hips forward with a soft grunt, “You could say that… intend to do something about it, Cap?”

Price leaned into Ghost and whispered, “That permission?”

“Please,” Simon began breath hitching as the captain’s lips planted soft kisses along the exposed parts of Ghost’s neck and shoulder.

They started rolling their hips against each other, chasing the friction. Ghost pushing back to Price’s desk they put in the rooms. Price flipped positions.

It’s not often two alphas get together one of be the reasons is the power struggle. It takes a level of trust and respect for two alphas not to tear each other apart. Ghost held Price in high enough regard, he often let Price take the lead.

Ghost took off his mask and balaclava tossing them aside, tilting his chin up, exposing his throat. Price let out a chuff of approval and dipped his head down, running his tongue over the front, grazing his teeth against the soft flesh.

“Feeling submissive today, Simon?” Price traced Ghost’s jawline with his lips.

Ghost pulled Price’s hair so their eyes met, “Only ever feel like this for you, John.”

Price groaned into Ghost’s mouth as Ghost pressed their lips together.

“Careful stroking my ego like that, Simon,” Price warned against Ghost’s lips.

“Not the only thing I want to be stroking, sir,” Ghost grinned at the rough moan he pulled out of Price as he gripped Price’s cock through his pants.

Ghost relished in his captain’s scent which had now become a bit more than an acquired taste as alphas typically repel each other. Now Ghost craved that sharp scent of pine when they did intimate things pressing his nose along the side of Price’s glands in his neck, tracing his tongue over the sensitive flesh.

Price gripped Ghost’s wrist and stilled, “Wait…” He was panting heavily.

“Captain, when was the last time you got off?” Ghost had a feeling he knew the answer. Price was shit at taking care of himself for all his other great traits.

“Not since the last time we did it,” Price admitted as he throbbed painfully against his zipper.

“That was almost a month ago,” Ghost raised his eyebrows.

“Been busy, Simon,” Price admitted looking away. A shuddering moan left his lips when Ghost unzipped his pants letting him out.

“Better?” Ghost asked as he pulled himself out too.

“Yeah,” Price breathed pressing back into Ghost.

Their lips crashed together desperately. Everything had been so crazy, Ghost was lucky enough to get one in on his own. When they weren’t doing official business or keeping a watchful eye on Soap they’d circle the perimeter, scenting the edges of the base, a warning. “Keep out.”

A groan rumbled low from Price’s throat, the contact with his aching cock felt so good. Precum making the skin on skin frotting smoother, stoking the flames in Price’s core hotter.

Ghost pulled lube from Price’s drawer, coating his hand as he wrapped a hand around both of their cocks. Price growled, gripping Ghost’s hips tightly.

“Fuck— Simon,” Price grit his teeth trying to keep quiet but every nerve ending felt like it was on fire.

“Sssh, easy John,” Ghost brushed a thumb over Price’s lip, “I’ll take care of us, don’t worry.”

Price panted and nodded, eyes not leaving Ghost’s. Ghost started up a moderate pace stroking their full lengths. Each man sighing and groaning, Ghost nosing at Price’s clothes now the faint scent of Soap still on him. That faint scent of omega along with the extended dry spell added to the heat.

“Fu— Simon, I’m not going to be able to take much more of this,” Price whimpered, hips bucking up into Ghost’s fist, knot starting to swell.

“I got you, John, just hold onto me, yeah?” Ghost let Price hold him close as Ghost squeezed the fingers of his other hand just under the swelling of Price’s knot.

Ghost was losing his head a little. The only sounds he loved more than an omega, were the whimpers and deep groans Price made as his cycle was approaching rut.

And maybe he was being a little mean with the way he’d twist his wrist around the heads of their cocks while he gave the base of Price’s knot a squeeze but he liked the way it made Price quiver as he pulled Ghost tighter in his arms.

“Doing so good for me John… moaning so pretty for me… take what you need, babe, almost there…”

And maybe Ghost should have shown a bit more restraint because Price’s desperate rutting against him was causing the desk to start smacking against the wall, but Ghost was getting close too. Not thinking clearly as he talked Price through his orgasm knowing he wasn’t too far behind.

Price buried his face into Ghost’s shoulder muffling the peak of his orgasm, nails digging into his back, knees practically giving out as Ghost squeezed middle finger and thumb tight around his base, milking him of every drop with his other hand.

“Fuck… that’s it… ah!” Ghost released not too long after. As they were coming down, Ghost rubbed circles into Price’s back, after shocks causing the other man’s body to twitch as Ghost held onto Price’s knot with his other hand mimicking being locked in until it deflated.

“Better?”

Price’s voice was wrecked, “You’re in charge for the next three days… understand Simon?”

“Of course, sir. Now let’s get you cleaned up and in bed. I’ll pack your things and have a recruit ready to take you home for leave.”

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?” Price kissed Simon’s temple.

“I know,” Ghost helped him to the shower, “Now quit being soft before you get me going again.”

Price chuckled, “Okay… okay.”

As much as Ghost was glad he was one of the few people who got to see Captain John Price come undone like this, he was even more grateful John was as self-aware of his instincts as he was because trying to tell an alpha they’re in pre rut while they’re in denial is not the best of experiences, and he’d rather have pre rut Price fucking into his hand instead of biting his head off.

Meanwhile, a little camp fire and gun smoke seeped their way back into Soap’s room. The alphas were not masking as well as they thought.

Smelling the arousal and pre rut, Soap woke up on alert, but his door was still locked and Price was nowhere to be found. A quick glance around the room had Soap’s eyes falling on a set of keys. Only he and Price had keys to his room so the set sitting on his desk had to have been Price’s.

Soap stifled a chirp. “Such a good, strong alpha… keeping me safe while fighting his own instincts,” Soap’s inner omega sighed contentedly as he pulled the item smelling of pine and campfire closer, settling in to go back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Soap accidentally overslept again. His SO’s were very accommodating as he healed and learned to breath again. Quite literally.

Soap decided to push himself when Price was on rut leave. Instead of fighting, Ghost just sat on Soap until he quit being stubborn and went back to bed.

“Just wait until I get back into shape, ya big bastard! I’ll kick your arse all over this base,” Soap kicked and screamed while Ghost sat on his back.

“Can’t do that if you don’t stay in bed and get well like you’re supposed to, Johnny,” Ghost smirked down at Soap, “I’m looking forward to seeing you try.”

A quick aside about why Simon is the way he is:

Back before the Ghost, before Roba, even before the military, waaaaay back when Simon’s dam and prison protected he and his brother from his bum ass dad (The man actually went to prison the first time for hitting his dam while she was pregnant with Simon. The system unfortunately couldn’t keep him away since they were bonded but that’s another story within a story.) it was bad to try to predict a child’s secondary sex, but if they could, everyone around Simon would have predicted he’d turn out to be an omega.

Simon by nature was a gentle, nurturing person before it was beat out of him. He’d help his dam around the house, taking care of his things, tucking in his stuffed animals when he made his bed in the morning, and when Tommy came to be (for the very brief moment Simon’s bum ass dad was let out of prison), Simon took care of his dam and Tommy in his father’s absence tucking Tommy in and reading to him on nights when his dam was particularly tired. He’d tuck her in too with a hot cup of tea. He wasn’t taught this sort of thing, protecting and caring for people came natural to Simon.

At least until he hit his growth spurt, presented as an alpha, and his father managed to stay out of prison but didn’t manage keeping his hands off of anybody. After that, Simon wasn’t allowed to be gentle, Simon wasn’t allowed soft things, Simon wasn’t allowed to take care of his dam and brother because he was no longer the man of the house. No. Simon had to be the definition of toxic alpha machismo according to his father.

Still despite all these things, his protective nature brought him to the military, not because it “was a man and an alpha’s place to be a man and an alpha.” When his dominant alpha came out he didn’t use it to abuse people no matter how much he was cajoled into doing it. No, even though in the forefront of his mind sweet, gentle, caring Simon Riley was beat out of him, deep down he was still there. And Ghost was especially protective of that.

So when it was up to him to take care of their omega, that base nature of Simon Riley came out especially since their omega was obviously in distress on an instinctual level. The gentle hands were barely there—he was a weapon of mass destruction after all, a killer— but he was determined that it was his job to make sure Johnny took care of himself even if it meant he had to sit on him when he was being a brat.

Back to Soap:

“Smug bastard,” Soap rolled over and took his meds. He was on the last doses and didn’t need the ointment anymore. The citrus scent wasn’t quite fresh yet, but it wasn’t rotting either.

He’s still unsure about nesting, but he wasn’t pressured into it. Though concern for his well being had been addressed. He was going to the base counselor like the doctor asked at least until he was back to himself.

And in small ways, he was. He started to dish out what Ghost gave him (well as much as he could… the numpty), hanging out with Gaz like he would later for lunch, becoming fast friends with Roach since there was essentially no pressure there. He had been especially good for Price.

Soap wasn’t trying to be a suck up, but he also couldn’t help seeking Price’s approval. For now, Price was the only one allowed to check in with Soap once their days were ended. He was a gentleman—almost too much of one—reeling in physical contact since he took his rut leave. But still gave little touches and words of encouragement. Soap was a bit sad about the reduction, as skittish as he still was, he did crave touch.

As for Price’s headspace and demeanor, he started to treat Soap like he’s made of glass. He kind of hates himself for it. Instinct overtaking reason in this regard.

He couldn’t hide this from Soap, as Soap began to be able to read him more. But they didn’t push him, so Soap wasn’t going to push back. Price, technically and naturally, was just trying to be a good alpha, frustrating as that was. Soap would remind himself of one of his conversations with his counselor when this particularly frustrated him.

Sam, the counselor, said, “Nesting is something that should come naturally in your own time, John. Just be aware that your inner circle will feel your anxiety the closer they get even if they don’t outwardly show it to you.”

Sam continued to explain, “The lack of nesting is a signal of turmoil and goes against your natural instincts. Contrary to popular and archaic belief, the omegas mood has more bearing on the dynamic than the alphas.” Sam swears this is the reason for all their odd behavior, Price especially even though the man was still in denial.

Soap took that last part with a grain of salt because all his life alphas have done the driving of the car. In any case, it was about time to meet Gaz for lunch. Gaz usually brings up Soap’s mood.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay, Tav?” Gaz asked as they ate lunch together outside, bergamot and vanilla dancing in the breeze.

“Yeah, just stuff on the brain, Ky… I’ll get over it,” Soap smiled when a hint of strawberry popped in the mix, glad that Gaz took Soap at his word and not fussing.

The switch up on Soap duty was refreshing. As much as Ghost would have loved to continue to be on Johnny, the recruits were getting restless and as sharp and strict as Gaz and Roach were, they weren’t dominant alphas like Ghost or Price. Both of which had been out of rotation the last couple weeks.

So Price ordered a switch, more or less letting Gaz step in because Gaz complained that it wasn’t fair that he and Ghost were hogging Soap’s time and attention. It was even more unfair that he can’t check out (steal) vehicles to get Soap food anymore. Price had to stop Nik from skinning Gaz alive when he took a helo to get authentic street tacos for Soap. Gaz’s anxious habit to Soap not nesting was bringing Soap food. Only the best for their omega.

Price did feel a sense of guilt, because if he thought about it he was being selfish. Soap didn’t belong to anyone. He was his own person, and Price being so territorial was illogical. He thought it would get better with his rut leave.

Denial is not just a river in Egypt. The man is just whipped by the pretty omega. Soap was just as able to get what he wanted from Price for the most part like a pretty alpha with the prettiest puppy eyes. Soap just hadn’t figured this out yet and Price was almost scared to let the two get too close, but Gaz was back in the official rotation.

Boy, was Gaz brimming with excitement to finally spend time with Soap again. As excited as he was though, Gaz was a complete gentleman keeping his hands to himself happy to just share his scent with Soap. Ghost was barely squeaking by on that front. Can’t catch someone to make them go back to bed and rest if you don’t touch them.

“Want to go to the range for a bit?” Gaz asked after they finished eating.

“Yes please. I’ve been dying to get into the shooting range, or really getting back to any sort of training schedule,” Soap nodded enthusiastically.

“Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Ghost,” Soap thought, blowing raspberries at his mental representation of Ghost.

Things were definitely looking up.

Chapter Text

Soap was beginning to feel grounded with the 141, but what set his feet back on the ground the most was finally getting a rifle back into his hands.

He shot round after round, hitting targets as easily as he was breathing air. When their time was up, Gaz and Ralph, the man at the desk for the range, were gaping.

“What? Did I do something wrong? Is there something on my face?” Soap asked, concerned that if he didn’t figure this out the two were going to start catching flies.

Ralph just silently went to the board where the top scores for accuracy and number of targets shot within the timeframe were on display.

He started moving the names down one by one, eliminating number 10, and Soap beamed, then was confused when Ralph didn’t stop bumping people down, until Soap was in the number one spot, pushing Ghost out of the lead by 15%.

“Oh no…” Soap gulped. He outdid one of his alphas… one of THE alphas... not his. The smug bastard moved back and forth between being sweet and pushing Soap’s buttons. And as much as he wanted to stick it to Ghost, this still made him anxious.

“As an omega,” his father spat hating when he was reminded of his son’s secondary sex, “you do not surpass an alpha, especially not a top one. Any alpha who doesn’t come for an omega and puts them in their place isn’t an alpha at all.”

The man’s trains of thought never made sense. Sam, Soap’s counselor, assured him that Soap did nothing wrong.

“Nobody can please a psychopath, Soap,” Sam assured him. As Soap continued to talk about his father his whole life made a 180. He’d talk to Sam, everything falling out of his mouth 80 million miles an hour, Sam was startled by some of the things Soap would talk about, like when Soap asked where the heat basement was in case the 0.001% likelihood of him having a heat happened.

“Soap, what do you mean when you say ‘heat basement?’” Sam stopped furiously typing the jumble of information in Soap’s chart trying to track the information to sort later on for future visits.

“You know, where they put omegas in heat,” Soap said as if it were a common thing the counselor should know about. Then he sighed in exasperation as he elaborated to Sam about heat basements when Sam still looked like Soap grew a second head.

Sam set their glasses on the table rubbing their temples as they often did when Soap told them some ass backwards thing Soap’s father passed off to Soap as normal. He got away with this because they had two basements, and Soap's father would keep him away from the women and other omegas in the family as much as possible.

“Soap heat basements aren’t a thing,” Sam explained, “It’s not normal for people, especially not children to be chained up in a basement for any reason, and god doesn’t hate you because heats are for devil children.”

Soap’s mind was blown as he spent most of his military career confused as fuck about the lack of basements. It’s not like Soap could ask anyone these questions. His units up to this point hadn’t been any better. Sam hoped Soap’s father dies in prison. Professionally they’d never tell Soap that.

This is to say, that even though Soap was starting to understand the world around him better, somethings still triggered that anxious response like beating an alpha in anything. Which brings us back to the present moment where Soap stared at his name in the number 1 spot on the leader board in the firing range.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh no?’” Gaz was doing that thing where Soap could swear if Gaz had a tail it would be wagging a mile a minute scent brimming with pride.

Soap going stiff didn’t escape Ralph and Gaz’s notice.

“No one is going to be upset, if anything they’ll cheer you on! I mean Ghost might grumble and spend a little more time in the range, but even he can’t be mad,” Gaz reassured him.

“Yeah, you beat him fair and square,” Ralph agreed, “He might be cranky, but Ghost often tries to push people to surpass him. He might actually even be happy that he has competition now.”

Ralph rang the buzzer and began the announcement before Soap realized what was going on as this was his first time at the range.

“Attention all units, today as of 15:00 hours, Sergeant MacTavish placed on the leader board in the firing range for speed and accuracy.”

This caught Ghost and Price’s attention. Ghost because he swore to fucking god he’d chain that omega to a bed to get some rest if he had to. Ghost’s response to Soap’s nesting anxiety being one of aggressively making sure Soap takes care of himself. Part of what made Soap want to be a brat to an alpha for the first time in his life was Ghost’s fussing over him.

Sam encouraged Soap to explore this relationship dynamic much to the chagrin of Ghost. This dynamic change did get Sam to start sitting Ghost down for his own counseling sessions. Often cornering the man twice their size to sit on the couch when he’d burst into Sam’s office to bitch at Sam for encouraging Soap’s behavior. “Uh-huh… and how does that make you feel, Simon?” Sam felt no guilt over this.

Some of the recruits were wondering where Soap would have scored assuming Soap would be towards the bottom.

“He’s taken the number one spot on the leaderboard scoring 15% accuracy over the top scorer.”

Everyone around Ghost went wide eyed and slowly turned to him, nervous about the alpha’s reaction. Ghost just silently marched towards the firing range. When he burst in the door everyone froze, Soap looking like a deer in the headlights.

Ghost silently looked from his spot on the board towards Soap. Ralph and Gaz were concerned they were about to eat their words. Ghost silently raised a hand and Soap braced for impact.

But instead of a punishing hand, the alpha wrapped his arms around Soap, lilac and gun smoke filling the space with the rumble of a strong, very loud purr vibrating through Soap. Soap could swear if Ghost had a tail it would be wagging a mile a minute.

Soap was stunned, but before he could reciprocate, Ghost seemed to remember himself. Stepping back, straightening Soap’s uniform and giving him a nod before silently returning to what he was doing.

Everyone stood there in stunned silence at the very gentle, very sweet but very awkward exchange watching after the giant scary lieutenant who was walking 2 feet taller for a man that just had his ass handed to him. Soap covered his mouth when the chirp finally left him as his inner omega started doing somersaults.

Gaz and Ralph turned to Soap in a question, Ghost kind of giving them a bit of courage.

Soap rolled his eyes but was still cracking a smile, “Come here you two.”

Ralph pat Soap on the shoulder, but Gaz went in for a hug. Soap returning it as they walked arm and arm to demolition because Soap wanted to blow shit up to celebrate. He stopped Linda in demo from making a second announcement as he absolutely mopped the floor with everyone on the scoreboard.

Everyone who was in demo learned to have a healthy fear of their arsonist sergeant. While he was giggling with joy the burning landscape behind him made it seem like he was a madman with new toys of destruction. Soap finally started to feel at home.