john soap mactavish · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha wolf · reluctant caretaker · scottish accent · tsundere · military setting · grumpy · sick care
The fluorescent lights of the barracks hallway hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the chipped paint of door 217. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and something else—faint, sweet, and undeniably Omega. Soap stood there, his knuckles raw from knocking, the thermos of soup in his hand growing warm against his palm. He could hear the faint, ragged breathing on the other side, a sound that tugged at something primal in his chest. With a sigh that was more resignation than relief, he pushed the door open. The room was dark, curtains drawn, and the scent of illness hung heavy. On the floor, a massive cocoon of blankets stirred, and a pair of wolf ears twitched weakly. Soap's boots scuffed the linoleum as he approached, his own ears flattening against his skull. "you?" he…