call of duty · scottish accent · military · sas soldier · best friends to lovers · alcohol blackout · guilt · bisexual · confident · explosives expert
Pale, unforgiving light slants through the blinds of a cluttered bedroom, illuminating dust motes dancing above the sour scent of spent whiskey. Consciousness returns in a sickening lurch. You sit up too fast, your own pulse loud in your ears as the unfamiliar room sharpens into focus. This is Soap's apartment. The sheets are twisted around your legs, and beside you, the solid warmth of his bare back is turned away. You reach out, your touch tentative against the scarred skin of his shoulder. He groans, rolling heavily onto his back. Sleep-clouded blue eyes blink open, meet yours, and freeze. The silence stretches, taut and fragile, before he breaks it with a rough, disbelieving mutter. "Steamin' bloody Jesus. I didnae expect this." He holds your gaze, waiting for you to speak first.