Chapter Text
“He likes you.”
You let out a sharp bark of incredulous laughter, chuckling amusedly as you sipped from a mug of steaming black coffee. “Really?” you inquired, leaning forward on elbows braced on your desk in the infirmary. “What makes you so certain of that?”
Soap began to recount the incident in the rec room the other day.
He’d borrowed a pair of clippers to refresh the fade of his mohawk and was feeling himself. Walking with a swagger brought on by the boost in confidence a good haircut could create. He’d been receiving polite compliments and light roasting from his friends and colleagues all day, Ghost included, when you’d walked in and changed the game.
“Hey, handsome,” you’d said playfully, one corner of your mouth rising into your signature smirking half-smile before reaching out and squeezing Soap’s shoulder as you walked past.
The gaze of both men followed you as you continued your path through the rec room and out the door, hips swaying rhythmically with your gait, raising your hand slightly at your side in acknowledgment of others’ greetings before turning and disappearing down the hallway to your quarters. Once you were out of their line of sight, Ghost turned toward Soap and fixed him with an unfamiliar look. The same blank, cold stare he’d been accustomed to receiving had now darkened into something he’d known he’d seen before.
Jealousy.
“What?” Soap asked, his eyebrows raising in bewilderment as he observed Ghost’s stiffened posture, raising his hands in innocent defense.
Ghost said nothing, but grunted low under his breath as he stalked outside toward the smoke pit, soldiers parting like the Red Sea to allow his massive frame a wide berth. Having observed the entire exchange, Gaz approached Soap from behind, hitting him gently on the side of the arm with the back of his hand as the pair watched him disappear. “What’s got his knickers in a twist?” he’d asked, jerking his head toward the doorway.
Soap turned to him, face alight with a cheeky grin as he glanced sidelong at the door you’d exited. “Y/N.”
Soap let loose a rich laugh as you leaned back in your chair, unable to hide your gobsmacked expression as you ran a hand over your hair to smooth the non-existent flyaways. “Ridiculous,” you groused, pulling down on the hem of your top to smooth the garment. “Utter nonsense. I’ve been sending him signals for almost four months and he has yet to even acknowledge my existence outside of work-related communication.”
“I swear,” Soap ginned, delighting in sharing some juicy gossip. “He looked positively miffed. Was out at the smoke pit for a good hour or so before he finally came back in and has been a grump ever since.”
You opened the bottom drawer of your desk, pulled out a nip of alcohol, and dumped the contents into your coffee mug. Ignoring Soap’s surprised face, you asked, “Then why won’t he even look at me, let alone give more than a one word response when I talk to him?”
Soap reached forward and picked up the empty container of contraband, scanning the label. “Is this bourbon? Christ, you two really are more compatible than I thought.” You stared back with silent disapproval until he chuckled and continued, “He does look at you. All the time, when he thinks you’re not watching. I think he’s just cautious, you know? He’s not used to feeling vulnerable, and that comes with the territory of fancying someone.”
It made sense. You didn’t like it, but it made sense. You sipped your coffee again, the bourbon adding a pleasant fire to the bitter taste, and heaved a long-suffering sigh. “So, what am I supposed to do with this information? Like I said, I’ve been sending him signs for ages and it hasn’t resulted in even a prolonged conversation. Bear my soul and wear my heart on my sleeve?” You shuddered at the thought. You were comfortable with a little vulnerability, but that brazen of a move was terrifying when there was so little evidence to justify the risk of that kind of potential humiliation.
“Maybe,” mused Soap, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. A devious smile overtook his features. “Or…” he learned in closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper and raising one eyebrow knavishly, “We could keep making him jealous.”
A thrill of excitement shot through your body, goosebumps immediately running down your arms. You could picture it now: Ghost seething in envy in the background long enough for it to culminate in an impassioned confession. And if you were being honest with yourself…Soap wasn’t exactly the worst choice you could make for a partner in crime. He was charming, funny, good-looking…The thought made heat immediately pool in your core and you felt blood rush to your face in embarrassment of the unintentional physiological response your body had to the suggestion.
You took another sip of your coffee, using the time to gather yourself before daring to venture, “I’m listening…”
“No way,” you deadpanned, voice hushed as you and Soap convened a secret meeting out by the motor pool later that afternoon. “There’s no way in hell that’s going to work. He’ll see right through it.”
Soap shot you a mischievous smile. “That’s the beauty of the plan: if he does, he’ll think I’m just trying to get his goat. Remember,” he tapped his temple with his index finger, “he has no idea you know about what happened in the rec room after you left. This might be just what he needs to light a fire under his arse.”
“Perhaps.” You glanced around furtively to ensure your cover hadn’t been blown before nodding in agreement. “Who else are we going to get in on this?”
“Gaz and a couple of the others,” Soap followed your gaze for a moment, looked back at you, and smiled again. “Are you in?”
You bit your lip in nervous contemplation for a moment, your heart beating wildly in a mixture of excitement and anxiety. “Yeah, I’m in. Let’s do it.”
Soap’s grin broadened as he leaned in and clapped you on the arm. “Brilliant. I’ll go start sewing the seeds…”
The second Friday of every month was deemed “Mandatory Fun” by the administration. On paper, it was an effort to encourage socialization and collaboration between soldiers and personnel, a morale booster, and stress reliever. In reality, it was a painful evening of forced small talk, arguing about politics, and what could be described as the slowest passage of time known to man. But tonight was different - there was a buzz of excitement circulating around the room as people milled about with snacks and drinks.
Everyone had been briefed of the plan by Soap before the evening had begun and was waiting in nervous anticipation for Ghost to arrive so the activities could commence. Forty-five minutes past the appointed start time of the event, he finally skulked in through the doorway, grabbing a drink and doing his best to remain as inconspicuous as possible. His arrival was met with an oppressive hush immediately falling over the room, quickly interrupted by Soap as he greeted his friend.
“There you are. Was starting to wonder if you were gonna show,” he smiled broadly, placing his hand on his shoulder and giving it a friendly shake before sitting down on the well-worn sofa.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Ghost remarked dryly, settling his weight on the opposite end of the couch and glancing about the room.
“Now that his majesty has graced us with his presence,” Soap announced to the room, smiling slyly to the crowd that had gathered,”who wants to suggest the first activity of the evening?”
Gaz responded immediately, almost too quickly,”Two Truths and a Lie.”
An fervent murmur of approval rose up around the room, seemingly agreeing to the game as Soap settled back on the couch. “What is this, primary school?” An amused laugh greeted his words and he smiled. “What the hell? Let’s give it a go.” He turned to Gaz and instructed him,”Gaz, select your first victim.”
Intrigued whispers started to fill the room as he scanned it in mock contemplation for several seconds before his eyes fell on you. “Y/N. Two truths and a lie.”
“Me?” You tried to feign mild surprise as you refreshed your drink and leaned nonchalantly on the edge of the table. “Uh…sure.” Despite having gone over the game plan several times with Soap, you had neglected to actually prepare some responses. “One…” you paused for a moment, “I can do a backflip. Two…,” you paused again, thinking of your lie, “I was in a garage band in high school. And three…” you cast your eyes skyward for a moment, “I’m a bourbon connoisseur.”
The room began to buzz with guesses, the soldiers unable to come to a clear consensus as to which fact was the lie. At last, Soap stepped up to moderate,”Alright, alright, alright…” the chatter slowly died down as he held up his hands. “Let’s hear a guess.”
“One!” shouted an indistinct voice from the back of the room.
Mouth turning up into a smirk, you gestured for a clearing of space and squatted down low before springing up and over backwards into a well-executed backflip, landing solidly on your feet. “Wrong. Went to college on a gymnastics scholarship,” you informed the crowd, taking a mock bow as you soaked in the applause from your efforts.
“That leaves either two or three.” Soap turned to Price, gesturing with an open palm before inviting,”Captain? Care to take a stab?”
He leaned forward in his seat, tilting his head to one side as he observed you thoughtfully. “I’ll say three. Bourbon is an acquired taste.”
You smiled again, eyes darting between Price and Ghost before stating very matter of factly,”Indeed. A taste I’ve acquired.” You turned to the crowd,”Two. The lie was two.”
The room hummed with activity as you retrieved your drink and resumed your leaning stance against the table. Gaz gave your shoulder a friendly pat as you walked by. “Good show, Y/N. Now select your victim.”
The room grew quiet again as your piercing eyes traveled about the room. You made sure to move slowly, deliberately. Flicking your eyes between several faces to cast the guise of indecision before landing on Ghost, then Soap. You took a measured sip from your drink, nodding in his direction before calling out,”Soap! You’re up.”
The group cheered in approval as Soap met your gaze, relaxing his posture on the couch and raising his drink. “Two truths and a lie.” He glanced upward for a moment in feigned thoughtfulness before stating,”One, I like punk music. Two…” he hesitated as though racking his brain for a response, “I own a lifted truck.” Several amused laughs peppered the room. “And three…” he turned and stared very pointedly at you,”I’m an excellent kisser.”
“THREE,” came the unanimous reply from everyone, a bunch of the guys having a good chuckle at Soap’s expense.
You felt your stomach lurch as Gaz stepped forward again raising his hands to break up the laughter,”Woah, woah…” he met your gaze subtly from his peripheries.”We have no way of knowing that,” he smiled coyly around the room as the others hooted and heckled. “Who’s gonna pucker up?”
Chaotic hilarity ensued as friends either nominated or shoved friends forward, grappling to avoid being dragged to the couch where Soap sat at the front of the room. Several got close but their unwilling tributes managed to escape, laughing as they ran either completely out the door or as far away as humanly possible in the room.
“Gents, gents…” chided Soap, pausing to catch his breath after the thorough belly laugh he’d just had. “I’m flattered, honestly. But I don’t swing that way.”
As if on cue, every head in the room swiveled in your direction. You knew this would happen, and yet, your cheeks began to burn in a titillating mixture of mortification and excitement . “Oh shit, this is it…” You glanced around in well-acted surprise, straightening up and taking several steps backward. “Me?”
Soap ran his fingers lazily through his hair, eyes hooded and boring holes into your own from across the room. He gestured languidly around him,”I don’t see any other ladies here.”
“Do it,” chanted Gaz from the corner by the fridge. “Do it. Do it. Do it. DO IT .”
The chant began to build around you, culminating into shouting and screaming that became almost overwhelming until you finally raised your hands overhead in defeat. “Alright, alright! Jeez, I’ll do it. Calm your tits.”
A raucous cheer went up around the room as you set down your drink and sauntered over toward the couch.You shot a fleeting glance over your shoulder at Ghost, who looked thoroughly displeased but said nothing as you approached Soap. The space between the two was negligible and a shiver went up your spine at the thought of sitting in the middle. Soap winked playfully at you before placing his hands behind his head, leaning back, and spreading his legs to make room for you between them. He patted his left thigh with one hand, a wolfish grin spreading across his face as he beckoned you,”Best seat in the house, milady.”
The cheering coming from around the room was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in your ears. It was almost an out of body experience as you stepped forward between his legs, pivoting to your left as you carefully lowered yourself onto his lap. You noted the positioning had been made deliberately to face you toward Ghost, affording him a front row seat to the show the two of you were about to put on.
“Ready?” Soap mouthed silently to you. You nodded in affirmation. “Can we get a little quiet from the peanut gallery, please?”
People were apparently more interested in this saga than you bargained for, as the room went completely silent in nearly an instant. It was almost more unsettling in the quiet than it was with the rowdy laughing and cheering. You leaned your head down toward Soap, locking eyes with his kind gaze before shutting them in time for a brief, chaste kiss on the lips. An exasperated groan filled the room peppered with shouted complaints.
“Oi, he’s not your nan, Y/N,” shouted Gaz, gesturing in believable frustration. “Give him a kiss. A real kiss.”
The crowd roared in agreement for several seconds before you stood up to face them. “Fine, fine…” you conceded, trying your best to seem as coy and contrite as possible. “But can we maybe kill a couple of these lights? Get some smooth jazz going or something? You’re not making this easy.”
Amused laughter filled the room as someone flipped a switch. Half the lights went out, creating significantly less harsh lighting than the ocean of flouescents were previously providing. Another nameless face had extracted a bluetooth speaker from one of the cabinets, playing a slow r&b song almost assuredly from someone’s sex playlist. While still painfully awkward in front of no less than three dozen others, including the one you were actively trying to inspire jealousy in, the atmosphere was now much more inviting.
“Jeez,” you’d remarked as they’d quickly moved about the room to accommodate your requests, resituating yourself back in Soap’s lap. “Are we that bored here around here that this is what you guys view as entertainment?” The group laughed in return, albeit with less amusement and more inspired by nerves and anticipation.
Once again, all eyes were on the pair of you. Including Ghost’s. Mercifully, the newly introduced darkness coupled with the shadows of his mask and the darkness of his facepaint made it more difficult to discern his expression. Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, you turned your attention to Soap. His greyish irises were almost completely obscured by his blown out pupils, sending you encouragement through hooded lids. You nervously wetted your lips, tilted your head down and leaned in, lightly nuzzling his nose with yours, before making contact with his.
This time, the kiss wasn’t chaste, but wasn’t vulgar. It lasted for several seconds before the two of you separated. Soap looked at you, eyes wordlessly asking for consent before you gave him an almost imperceptible nod. This time, it was he that initiated the kiss. His hand came to rest on the back of your head below your bun, drawing you downward as he leaned up to taste your lips.
“Let go,” you chastised yourself mentally. “If you’re all stiff and wound up, it’s not going to look convincing.”
Emboldened, you wrapped your arms around Soap’s neck and opened your mouth to deepen the kiss. He groaned softly into your mouth and teased your tongue, earning a quiet whimper from you. The room filled with indistinct cheers egging Soap on and playful wolf whistles. You snaked one arm under his and up his back while your other reached around and began to rub up the back of his head, fingers threading through his mohawk. You gasped and arched your chest forward into him as he traced a finger down the groove beside your spine, digging your nails into his shoulder involuntarily. The kisses began to ramp up in intensity, your hips starting to grind against each other’s, hearts pounding and breathing heavy before you felt one of Soap’s hands trail downward, gliding over the side of your waist and settling on your hip. You ran your spare hand down his neck, onto his chest, and then back up to his shoulder, where you reached your fingers down his back and dug in lightly with your nails. With barely a second of warning, Soap secured your pelvis by both hips, lifted you with ease into the air as he stood, and pinned you deftly against the wall. You tilted your head to the side, allowing Soap access to the tender skin of your neck.
The room had gone completely silent, observers watching in a state of shock and bemused arousal as the lurid sounds of your encounter drowned out the music playing weakly in the background. A thick, heavy tension enveloped the room, making it almost claustrophobic. Soap’s hand reached down and around your leg, squeezing the well-developed muscle of your butt - the sign that it was time to make your strategic exit. You reached down and brushed the front of his pants, your sign for confirmation, but were unable to help noticing the tightness of the fabric, pulled taught by Soap’s restrained erection.
“Come off it,” shouted Price from somewhere near the rear of the room, clearly unamused by the turn things had taken. “Get a room, you two!”
You couldn’t have asked for a better segue. “Yours or mine?” you managed to pant between feverish kisses, letting loose an artfully restrained moan as he nibbled the skin above your collarbone.
“Mine,” he gritted before grabbing you by the hips with both hands and hoisting you up over his shoulder. “Gentlemen,” he breathlessly addressed the room before marching confidently toward the door. The room filled with an uproar of enthralled screaming, whistling, and shouted congratulations as he passed through the doorway, the sounds of commotion slowly fading as the two of you further distanced yourself from the rec room.
Eventually, he set you down on the ground in front of the door to his quarters, across the hall from yours, chest still heaving as he opened the door and ushered you inside. You both sat silently on his bunk for several moments, catching your breath and replaying the entire scene in your minds.
“Holy shit,” you breathed, collapsing backward onto his cot. “You think it was convincing enough?”
Soap gave a breathy laugh as he flopped down beside you, both your pairs of legs dangling perpendicular off the narrow bed. “I certainly think so.” He mulled the situation over for several moments before standing, turning off the lights, and removing his shirt. You shot him a puzzled expression before he offered,”More ‘damning’ evidence. Scratch me up good.”
You nodded in agreement, laying flat on the bed while Soap positioned himself over you in a simulated sexual position. You reached up, digging your nails in where you would normally in this situation, and slowly pulled downward before repositioning and repeating the process. He softly hissed in discomfort, but did not discourage you. You propped yourself up on one elbow, leaned forward, and strategically bit down with decent force on Soap’s neck, applying suction to create a convincing hickey above his collar line.
“Something for him to look at when you’re on the job,” you explained, running your fingers through the line of hair down his head in an effort to muss it as believably as possible.
After several moments, the pair of you sat up. “Do you think he bought it?” you hazarded at last, dumbfounded at the entire series of events that transpired over the last day as you carefully loosened your bun, hooking your finger under your hair by your scalp to free a few tresses. You removed your digital watch and set it on Soap’s desk: a built-in reason to return should you need to.
As if to answer your question, Soap’s phone lit up with serendipitous timing. He reached over and picked it up, an amused smile dancing across his face. “It’s Gaz,” he informed you, swiping up to open the message. “Oh shit.”
Soap flipped his phone around to show you the screen.
“Bogey incoming” , read the text.
“Oh shit,” you replied, hand covering your mouth. “Fuck, he’s coming!”
“Quick!” Soap leaned his head away from you, exposing his neck. “Gimme another hickey, put this on, and get back in your room ” he tossed you his shirt, smelling faintly of sweat, deodorant, and nice cologne.
You quickly sucked another spot on Soap’s neck until a reddish-purple circle began to blossom, collected his shirt, and darted across the hall into your own quarters. Removing your shirt and pulling on Soap’s, you hastily changed into a pair of your PT silkies, pulled on some black over the knee socks, and used a spare hair tie to gather the fabric at the back of the shirt to make it more slim fitting. You observed your reflection in the mirror for several moments, carefully picking out a few more strands of hair before lacing your fingers through it at your scalp and wiggling them, meticulously disheveling yourself until your appearance seemed believable. In the distance, you could hear the unmistakable sound of heavy combat boots approaching, echoing in the stark halls off the tiled floors. You crept toward your door and tilted your ear toward it, listening silently as you waited.