#soap cod x reader

The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.

The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.

In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.

But as always, life in jail still sucked.

You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.

“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.

Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.

The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.

“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.

“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.

Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”

She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.

“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.

“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.

“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”

Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”

“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.

“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”

“And the catch of this job?”

Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”

You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?

“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”

Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.

“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”

Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.

The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.

“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.

“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”

Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.

“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”

Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”

—

The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.

A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.

“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.

“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.

You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.

“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”

You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.

The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”

You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”

Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”

“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.

The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.

“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.

“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”

“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.

The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.

“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.

“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.

“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”

“Thought you said I got no money.”

“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.

“And I walk free.”

Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”

You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.

“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.

“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”

“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.

“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.

“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”

Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.

Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.

You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.

“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.

“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.

“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.

You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.

“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.

He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.” He corrects you.

You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.

“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.

“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”

You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”

“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”

You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.

The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.

The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.

It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.

“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.

You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.

The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.

Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.

“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.

She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.

“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.

Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.

“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.

“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.

“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.

Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.

“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.

You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”

COD TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @jenepleurepasbaby @rm25711 @talia-the-gemini @margaaaa30 @mixplara @alex—awesome—22

OKAY, MAYBE JOHNNY WAS A LITTLE IN OVER HIS HEAD.

In his defense, he had been alive for a long time. Long enough. And he was just now finding the sweet, bonnie thing he deemed his mate. He felt it deep in the rusted corners of his hybrid body--where his seal and human met and discussed humanity. His seal was strong, instincts stenching up his nose and making his brain hum.

He had almost completely forgotten what it was to be human. There were so many rules. Morals that he had to remember when all he wanted was to wade in the water, let waves crash over his slippery form, and sink his teeth into a willing mate.

Maybe he'd get a few pups. Always had a soft spot for them. He got quite sappy, really. He just wanted to cuddle up to something completely his. Protect. It was his role, one he hadn't been able to alleviate the desire for in a long time.

He just wanted a pod.

He wasn't built for a solitary lifestyle.

It wasn't intentional when he heaved himself onto your boat. Just like the fear that coursed through him wasn't a common feeling. He was almost seal chow to some large creature out in the vast ocean. Unfortunately, he had just gotten too careless.

Yet, when you extended a hand, mindful of the new presence on your boat, he couldn't let it go. So he came back. Over and over. Until he burned when he was away, a deeprooted yearning to show you all his cards.

You could be friends with the seal, would it be the same for the human?

He had a creeping suspicion that you were his mate after two meetings with you in his human form. He loved how sweet you smelled--sensing it long after he slinked into the ocean for the night. He loved the beating of your heart, the way you were quick to respond to his stupid jokes. All of it. His brain screamed at him.

Mating season was coming.

The thought of the possibility of not being alone this time, of having those pups he always craved, made Johnny restless. Desperate. He was impulsive when he slipped his pelt beneath the grooves of your boat and kept himself in his human form. To all other Selkies, parting with their pelt was a crime and potential torture. It was a vulnerability not to take lightly.

The wrong person would keep him powerless.

You wouldn't do that, though.

He ignored the nausea in his gut when he was without his pelt. Taking on the form of his human counterpart, Johnny, was an odd feeling. He felt like he was in bones far too big, a disconnection from the culture of humans. He spoke fine, he downed fish and ale like it was his only purpose, but it wasn't completely who he was.

He slept in a hotel, back aching as his mind screamed for him to go back to the beach, nab his pelt, and sink into the ocean and return at first light. He'd woo you as Johnny. Slowly introduce the idea of his Selkie blood only when he trusted you completely.

But he worried that if he didn't seize the opportunity, you'd be lost soon.

He wouldn't be alone. Not another season. He was going to go insane, become depressed and wither away. It happened to another in his old pod. The poor Selkie mourned the loss of his mate so deeply he disappeared into the coral reefs and never came back.

Now that he had a friendship with you, he was determined to perserve it all.

But how could he explain that you'd always have to live by the sea if you took him on as a mate? He could lie with you in your bed, cherish you the way you deserved, but there would always be a point where he had to merge with the saltwater. To dip below and fill his gills.

Would you understand? What if he had so much hope only to find you couldn’t live with that compromise? He wouldn't survive. He had never put himself out for the sharks like this, and now his body was thrumming relentlessly.

He feigned nonchalance when you revealed you found the pelt. His brain was heavy, spiraling as the bill came due. He wasn't ready. He thought he'd actually have more time to figure out a plan.

Yet, now you were staring at him expectantly after he said he had an explanation and his tongue was dry. He needed to get back in the water, but that'd be pathetic right now. Plus, it would look like an escape attempt.

Right now, you were holding him hostage for a murder suspicion. This is why he stopped interacting with humans a long time ago. It twisted his heart with far too much anxiety, and he hated that he felt that around you. You were his chosen mate. He shouldn't be worried about losing you.

He could explain this in five seconds. You'd probably laugh in his face when he called himself a Selkie, but all he had to do was throw that pelt over himself and show you. Your seal friend and him went hand-in-hand. You enjoyed the company of all of him, so maybe that would help his odds of surviving this whole ordeal.

He had been alone for so long. He had almost forgotten what it was to have conflict. It all started with the orca. He had gotten careless, something he never did. Survival instinct saturated deep in his mutated bone marrow. He should’ve known better.

Then he faltered and flocked to you like you were some deity be had long searched for. The need to pack was far too ingrained in him, and maybe that was the issue. He was safe before he went out poking for more meaning.

"Ye… ah…" Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. Jump in the water, Johnny. Escape. Retreat. Don't mess with this. The words of his pod rang in his head. They were wary of humans. Of trusting, really. "Do ye ken about Selkies, bon?"

You blinked. Stared at him for a long time. You had quite the disarming stare. In any other situation, he would've praised you for that. Fierce, bonnie thing. His mate. His gums were aching from waiting so long for you.

"The mythological creature?" You answered.

"Aye," he hummed. "Isnae fictional, doe."

Your eyes narrowed, and he swallowed. He knew you didn't believe him. He had all the proof, and yet he felt as if he didn’t. He was thrown out naked as some shameful punishment, and he absolutely despised it.

What if he bore his soul and admitted the truth, and he still lost you?

"Give me the pelt, doe," Johnny curled his fingers as a sign to do as he said. You held the pelt tighter; protectively.

"No."

"Please? Let me show ye what ah mean."

You hesitated. He swallowed thick phelgm in his throat as he watched you decide his fate. He hated this feeling. If you kept his pelt, he couldn't do a damn thing about it. A trapped Selkie. It wasn't an ideal place to be.

Even if he longed for you.

He still wanted the free will to exist how he wished. Take on the form that most suited him for the occasion.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, you handed the pelt over to Johnny. His body hummed as his hand enclosed around the blubber again. It was therapeutic, a relief burrowed in his bones when he realized his connection to the sea was in his clutch again.

"Thank ye, doe," he spoke sweetly.

He gripped the pelt with reverence. He felt a bitter discomfort healing as soon as he held this part of him. The knowledge that he could slip away again slackened his shoulders immensely. The call of the sea was great.

"Aye..." Johnny breathed. "Lemme just..."

Slipping into his pelt felt like nothing. It was so innate to him that he didn't exactly predict how startling it might've been for someone--especially a mere human who had obviously never encountered the make-believe.

Johnny chuffed, nostrils flaring as he adjusted to being closer to the floor. His whiskers tingled as he processed all the sharper senses that came with this form. The air felt clearer. He could identify the finer grains of the ocean in more depth. The saltiness clung to his tongue, big eyes blinking around.

He hobbled on his belly, bouncing closer to you. He nuzzled your leg, slapping his flipper against his side, and finally looked up at you. Maybe if he acted cute, the way you reacted would be a lot more pleasant.

He couldn't read your face. Your eyes were wide, hand gripping at the side of your boat. Were you even breathing? He wasn't sure if the stillness was a positive or if he was about to have his worst fear confirmed.

He let out a little purring noise. It vibrated against his chest. He sniffed the air, nudging you softly again as his eyes slowly blinked.

He wasn't often scared, especially in this form. He was used to confidence in everything he did. He was a skilled fisher, survived well on his own, and navigated a world on two legs. But he had never quite been put out on display like this, stripped bare and sharing a sacred part of him to someone whom he wasn't even sure wanted him.

Right as he grew impatient, you finally spoke.

You reached a delicate hand out, fingers twitching just shy of his snout. He chuffed and pressed into your hand desperately, churring quietly.

"It's you..." you whispered.

Johnny needed to be able to speak. He bounced back and shed his pelt in record time. Human eyes met yours, eyes soft and anxious as he regarded you. The fact that you had reached out as opposed to something else made him flutter.

"Doe..."

"I just..." You stammered now, standing up and stepping to the other edge of your boat. Johnny watched you, heart being pulled in all kinds of directions. "Holy shit. Okay... I need to process this."

Johnny swallowed, "What do ye need from me?"

You looked back at him, biting your lip in thought. "I just need a moment...can you..." You vaguely gestured to the water.

Johnny didn't want to go, but he also wanted to respect you. He nodded stiffly, becoming the seal once again. He flared his nostrils for a moment, eyes watchful towards your form for a moment before he yielded and dived into the water.

He just hoped you let him return.

Johnny spent his time fishing. Chasing fish was as easy as breathing, his form gliding through the water with a refreshing speed. Humans could try and recreate this with artificial creations, but nothing topped the born ability to dive. He had missed it.

Johnny kept nearby your boat, but far enough where you wouldn't notice him. He found his mind mostly focused on you, never being this distracted before. His mind had always been in the game, never on hinged on what another was doing.

He abandoned fishing after a while, just settling for gliding at the bottom of the sea floor. He went through the coral reefs, swam beside a school of fish, and just contemplated.

Why was it that your decision felt just as worse as when he wasn’t tied to his pelt?

He needed to go back. He had given you enough time, right? How long had it even been? In the sea, he didn't really need to tell time the same way. It wasn't like the sun dipping changed much. For you, he needed to reach you before you decided to slink back onto the shore. Because what if you didn't return?

He was almost frantic as he closed on your wooden ship. His gums ached when he poked his head out of the water, startling you who had been leaning over the edge. He recoiled as a reaction to your reaction, letting out a small chuff of air.

He waited. Letting you deal the cards, even if it was torture.

You sighed, patting the boat. "Get up here, you big blubbery fool."

Happiness was too mudane of a word to describe what Johnny was feeling. It wasn't an acceptance of being his mate, as he hadn't even gotten to that point yet, but you still wanted his presence. For a lonely seal, that was everything. He knew he was your only real friend as well. You two needed each other.

Johnny threw himself onto the boat, immediately shedding his skin.

"Why…" you seemed at a loss for words at that moment. "Why'd you stash it?"

Johnny heated, confidence waning as he was confronted. He knew it was going to come eventually. It was odd behavior. One that made you believe he had poached the seal originally.

He was just grateful you let him explain before you murdered him.

"Ah…" Johnny rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. "It's…ah want ye as my mate, doe."

Silence.

He wished the ocean would swallow him whole. Maybe silence was normal, but he wasn't completely accustomed to how humans were. He knew enough to get by, but not the actual habits because he always wound up scraping the ocean floor.

That was home. His seal was home.

And up until he met you, human interaction was not a thing for a long time.

"Mate?" You rasped finally.

Johnny nodded. "Aye. Ah feel drawn tae ye. The pelt… it's the most vulnerable part of us. Tha's our marriage. We're bound tae who holds it. Cannae shift unless it is gifted back tae us. Some people use it tae trap Selkies. But ah…ah was bindin' myself tae ye on my own. If ye wear the pelt…yer the Selkie's mate."

You looked down at the pelt and then to him. You looked overwhelmed but calmer than when you made him leave originally. Still, he was coiled tight from anticipation.

"I…" you opened and closed your mouth. "Does it work?"

Johnny cracked a small smile, "Aye, bon. Ah'm still part human. Ah can court ye like ye do if ye'd like tha'."

You swallowed—contemplative.

Maybe he'd hit you with the mating season and all that later after you processed this reality. He had you hanging on, but he worried he would actually scare you away if he divulged too much too soon. He'd ease you into it, hopefully before he went into a rut.

He held out his hand in small offering. Take the bait, or don't. He'd swim away with a broken heart, but he'd respect your decision.

You took his hand after a stressful beat, letting his fingers curl around your working hands.

TAGLIST

@ironcade @massivescissorsthingperson @dreaming-potato @callsignpxnguin @shhitskinkytime @armycaratlover @little-mini-me-world @maverickricky @avgdestitute @cryingpages @merkitty49 @cod-bin @plaguedoctor0606 @itslovelyangel @h0p3lesness @lumilily

"Bonnie, I just wasn' thinkin', I tol' you this already!" A cheater. Even if after a while it's not worth bringing up. You ache for days afterwards, and he has an excuse every time. The chick or the bloke looked just like you, he swears it, so is it really even cheating at that point? And he had been deployed for so long, it was basically a break, which is fair game, right? And he was so drunk, and his friends basically made him do it, and,

"Ya just don' understand, bird." That's how it always is. You just don't understand. Anything you argue about. He cheated again? He was desperate, you just don't understand. He's not pulling his weight around the house? He's so tired, you just don't understand. He's not spending enough time around you? You're just not smart enough to hold a conversation with. You just don't understand. You never understand him. All that little head of yours could every understand is that you love him, and you're his, and,

"You're just so lucky to be with a guy like him, [+]!" You're so lucky to be with him. He's smart and he's handsome and he has a good job. Even if those scarred, military grade hands get a little too rough with you if, god forbid, you try to leave him.

You're sqealing in delight as you try to rush around the couch to have a barrier between you and him. Before you can do that, there's fingers on your waist and Soap grabs you. Your body abruptly changes directions, being thrown onto the couch instead of running behind it.

You land with a soft "oof" and Soap immediately holds your wrists down. His cheeks are tinted a lovely shade of pink and he's panting.

You wriggle in a mock attempt to get free and say: "Captain! There's been an ambush!"

He grins: "Yeah? Captain, really?"

You laugh a bit and answer "Captain we got a Situation Alpha over here!"

Your heart soars when he barks out a laugh. "That...", he tries to stop laughing and fails "That's not how it works."

Now you're both breathless with amusement and you get out between huffs of breath: "We need backup! Got a charly foxtrott here! Need an evac right now, or we'll be in a deep code red!"

Soap absolutely wheezes in laughter above you, his entire body shaking and he finaly collapses onto you. His voice mocks you between his bursts of laughter. "In a code red...", he's near hysterical as he throws your words back at you "Got a charley... charley..." He gives up trying to repeat you, rolls off of you and falls to the soft carpet next to the couch with a thud.

You lean over the side still giggling and watch him, as he clutches his ribs while shaking with laughter.

"Ow, ow, ow it hurts.", he wheezes between laughing and your grin grows soft and fond.

Finally he calms down and smiles up at you, both your expressions mirroring the affection of the other.

He crawls up to you again, caging you in between his arms and leaning down until his lips brush yours. "Better rescue you from your dangerous situation then."