Chapter Text
Soap opens the door to the patient suite and is hit with the overwhelming scent of pure fucking distress. That’s just it, it’s just fucking distress and it hurts.
It aches in that way a heat itself hurts when spent alone, isolated, only it’s amplified by a fuckin’ million and a half.
Soap shudders slightly before he steps inside and closes the door behind himself.
He stands still for a second, scenting the air. It’s… strange actually. He doesn’t smell anything that even hints at anyone alpha in the vicinity besides Price’s scent on himself. The stranger’s scent is the most pure, most brutal, most achingly heavy scent of distress he’s ever smelled before, but it’s the exact same as any omega in distress.
He’s a little ashamed to be relieved. He didn’t know what to expect, but this he can deal with. It hurts and it makes him sad as all hell but it’s also something he feels confident helping remedy.
Newfound relief in hand, he walks at an even pace to the furthest room from the door, opening and closing the various doors in between to maintain some semblance of privacy and protection although they have the whole video feed and everything of the man.
When he cracks open the door to the room the man is in, Soap’s ears pick up on the rapid rustling of fabric from inside.
As he opens the door, he’s met with a painfully desperate gaze. He’s stunned for a moment. The man’s brown eyes are gorgeous and full of tears and it takes a moment for him to stop staring and make sense of what he’s seeing.
The man’s crying, shaking, trembling all over with tears running down his scarred cheeks, but his mouth is sealed shut. He’s making desperate little whines and huffing like he’s trying to warn Soap of danger nearby, but his jaw is shut painfully tight like he’s clenching it closed. The fabric rustling is coming from how frantically the man is trying to wrest his limbs from the restraints. The bed is on a box spring and they’re both on the ground; there’s no bedframe, so nothing to catch the leather buckle against but also nothing to hurt oneself with. The man’s gonna rub his wrists raw and bleedin’ before long.
“Hey hey hey,” Soap finally gets himself to say, “easy there, it’s alright. You’re okay,” he coaxes with raised palms, remaining in the doorway.
When he moves slowly forward, the man all but shrieks, eyes tearing from him only to dart behind him to the open doorway and then back as if pleading for Soap to shut the door.
Soap is quick to do just that and the way the stranger visibly relaxes a bit soothes him and makes him ache even more for the man all at once.
This poor fuckin’ bonnie Brit, how could anyone do this to him?
“Okay, better, yea?” he asks as he moves to nab the chair and bring it a tad closer to the bedside.
The man nods emphatically though he’s still shaking and fucking whimpering. Despite Price’s advice, Soap can’t seem to move fast enough for him. Even as he’s sat right next to the bed, the man is still straining to get closer to him, reaching desperately toward him as though it's a matter of life or death that he gets as physically close to Soap as he’s capable of getting in the restraints.
Soap reaches a hand out, offering his wrist to scent, and the man just nods more, tears still streaming from those beautiful Bourbon brown eyes.
“Here, here, hen, shhhhh…” Soap tries to soothe as he makes to rub his wrist against the man’s. Instead of getting far into properly scenting the man, he finds his hand clutched in the other man’s grip. It’s not tight, just, like everything else the man is conveying right now, desperate. Concerningly desperate and pleading, like he’s scared, horribly frightened of something and begging Soap to get closer or get away and it’s unsettling and fucking painful to watch.
“Okay, okay, can you tell me what’s wrong?” Soap asks as he holds the trembling man’s hand, feeling so very out of his depth.
The man just sobs, bares teeth held tightly together for a second to suck in a heaving breath before he shakes his head, wrenching pitifully against the restraints that Soap is just now noticing have already rubbed his wrists painfully red and raw like a rug burn.
Okay, Fuck. This. Fuck all of this.
Soap can admit he was a little worried about the man given that he is still an alpha at the end of the day - a bitched alpha but an alpha nonetheless. Not anymore. This man is hurting, scared, fucking terrified and has injured himself to top it off all while in their care. Soap’s not going along with this restraint nonsense any longer.
He quickly moves to the edge of the bed, unbuckling the man’s right ankle. He then moves back to the chair and unbuckles the man’s right hand. Before he can so much as check the man’s face, Soap’s entire world flips as the man tugs him onto the bed and tucks Soap beneath himself as best he can with the left side of his body still constrained by the underbed cuffs.
Soap has barely half a second to register that change before Price’s scent makes itself know. His packmate rushes into the suite, slamming open doors, and the man above him clenches his jaw so hard Soap can hear his teeth creak from the strain. He bares his teeth and lets out a warning growl at Price. The desperation emanating from every pore of the man’s body has somehow intensified - now, he’s fully on defense and for whatever reason he’s defending Soap from his own packmates, Gaz coming to stand just behind Price in the doorway of the sick room.
Soap is still reeling from the turn of events, still trying to process the change in position and Price's sudden appearance; before he can properly respond to the situation and try to calm the man and Price and everyone down, Roach of all people appears seemingly from thin fuckin’ air, red in the face, panting, and reeking of sweat and fear and anxiety.