NOVEL NEXT Chapter 95: Soap
February hung heavy with the bittersweet scent of anticipation. It was Valentine's month, a concept that felt almost laughably out of place in the gritty, high-stakes world Y/N inhabited. Yet, it was also a welcome anomaly, a chance to cling to something soft amidst the unforgiving reality of Task Force 141.
This year, that softness was John "Soap" MacTavish.
Y/N and Soap had been dancing around each other for months, a delicate ballet performed amidst training exercises, debriefings, and the ever-present threat of global conflict. Their connection was undeniable, a silent understanding woven from shared experiences and quiet moments stolen between impossible missions.
"So," Soap began, leaning against the frame of Y/N's makeshift office at Hereford Base, his Scottish brogue thick with amusement. "Hear tell it's the month o' the lovebirds. Any plans, lass?"
Y/N looked up from the encrypted files on her screen, a small smile playing on her lips. "Depends. Are you asking me out, Sergeant MacTavish?"
Soap chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and stepping closer. The air crackled with unspoken tension. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm terrified of rejection from the most lethal woman I know."
"Lethal, but also… surprisingly romantic," Y/N teased, her heart doing a ridiculous little flutter. "So, what did you have in mind? A candlelit dinner in the mess hall? Maybe a serenade from Price on the bagpipes?"
Soap grimaced. "Let's aim a wee bit higher than that, eh? I was thinkin'… a weekend away. Just us."
Y/N's breath caught. A weekend away? That was… significant. "Soap, we're in the middle of… everything." She gestured vaguely to the world outside, a world perpetually teetering on the brink.
"I know, I know," he said, his voice softening. "But that's exactly why we need it. A chance to breathe, to reconnect. To… be normal, for a few days."
The idea was intoxicating. To escape the constant pressure, the weight of responsibility, and simply be… with Soap.
After a bit of planning with Price, they managed to carve out a sliver of time . Their destination: a secluded cottage nestled in the Scottish Highlands, a place Soap had fondly described as "miles from anythin' important."
The journey was a blur of hushed conversations, stolen glances, and the quiet hum of the helicopter. Relief washed over them as the cottage came into view, a stone haven surrounded by snow-dusted peaks.
The weekend was a far cry from the Hollywood version of romance. There was no fancy restaurant. Instead, they cooked together in the small, rustic kitchen, the air filled with the aroma of hearty stew and playful banter. There were no extravagant gifts, but they did exchange heartfelt tokens. Y/N gifted Soap a custom-made knife, the handle engraved with a Gaelic blessing for courage, and Soap gave her a worn copy of Robert Burns poetry, explaining that his grandfather had read it to him as a child.
They walked for hours in the crisp air, their boots crunching on the snow-covered paths. They talked. Really talked. About their fears, their hopes, their pasts. Y/N learned about Soap's childhood in Glasgow, his unwavering loyalty to his friends and his dreams of a peaceful life. Soap, in turn, learned about Y/N's drive and her love for her family.
One evening, as the snow fell softly outside, they sat by the crackling fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, listening to the wind howl outside . Soap turned to Y/N, his blue eyes reflecting the warm glow of the flames. "Y/N," he began, his voice low and sincere. "I… I care about you, more than I thought possible. You're one of the most incredible people I've ever met."
Y/N's heart swelled. "I care about you too, Soap."
He leaned in, and their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a culmination of weeks of unspoken desire.
Their weekend ended too quickly, as all good things do. The return to Hereford was a stark reminder of the realities they faced. But, as Y/N stood beside Soap during a tense briefing, she knew that something had changed. The bond between them had deepened, strengthened by the shared vulnerability of their escape.
Valentine's month might be a trivial construct in their dangerous world, but for Y/N and Soap, it had been a catalyst, a chance to forge something real and lasting amidst the chaos.