DECEPTION. ("Soap" MacTavish x Reader.)

chapter thirty-six.

The past week was drawn out and full of intense recognition as both mini parties had analyzed and considered every situation. They learned about the Iranian's setups, weaponry uses, tactical advantages, and more to their best ability as each day passed. The wintery scenery was beautiful yet dreadful as they had to push through their cautions with the bitter coldness.

"I've got a question for you," Soap and Veil shared a tent every night, and tonight the group decided to have a little campfire and just chat. They were distanced from the enemies, so their activity wasn't a worry.

Veil screwed on the lid of her water bottle, swallowing as she looked over to her companion, "Yeah?"

MacTavish motioned down to her hand, and at first Y/n thought he meant about her water bottle but he corrected that thought, "Back when you were in the coma I noticed a tattoo on your wrist. What's the meaning behind that?" He's thought of many things but they weren't as satisfying knowing they might've been wrong.

She watched his breath leave his mouth like an angry dragon, his nose nipped with redness. "Oh, that? I actually got it when I was like... nineteen? It's a smiley face, obviously, just to remind me that the last time I smiled won't actually be the last time I do, ya know? Something to look forward to, I guess. It's dumb now that I look back on it, though."

That wasn't even an idea that Soap configured, curling his lips down as he nodded in acknowledgment. "That's cool, I like that one. Was it your first?"

"Yeah. I have another one on my back actually," She turned her torso slightly and pointed to an area, indicating the location was under the clothing. "That one is of a skeleton. Not really a meaning to it, just thought it was cool." She informed, happy he took a such good interest in her. "You have any tattoos?"

John looked over, his eyes flickering from one feature on her face then to her eyes again, "Yeah, I got a few. Don't want to bore you with them."

"You won't bore me."

"Naw, it's quite alright, bonnie."

"At least tell me your favorite one," She pressed gently, her eyes dancing around his face as the gentle crackle of the fire matched with each shadow that graced across his features. There was something about him that intrigued her, even before she knew their mutual feelings.

"Mm... alright."

---

It was alarming how fast everything happened. Veil didn't even have time to process as her normal routine was cut in quickly with some news.

"Price to Veil, do you copy?"

"I do."

"Listen to me closely. Soap isn't who he appears to be. We need you all back by tomorrow night- and don't tell MacTavish."

"What do you mean?" It was a very sudden reach out from Price as he chimed into her radio, Y/n's men looking at her with confusion locked in their eyes. They were in the middle of their last day of search before the group was to push forward. All their hard work just to go back? Why?

"It's not safe to explain over the line, just they know. The enemy team knows and it's Soap's fault..." The Captain's voice was full of subtle shock. Why wouldn't it be, John was one of his best men. He probably was in denial at first but received more information that she was unaware of, his confidence convincing her he knew what he was talking about.

How would they know? There was no way Soap would betray them. Maybe it was a last-minute thing and he had to bail out the group but was working on a negotiation? Maybe? Her mind reeled in thought, glancing back at her little posse and nodded, "Let's go." She then clicked on the button to go back to Price, "Got it, sir. When will our flight be here?"

"Tomorrow morning. Again, don't tell MacTavish. I will let him know about the flight. Over."

If MacTavish snitched on them, wouldn't he disagree with the flight? Her hopes were that he would play dumb and join, which would most likely happen if he was smart enough to let his new plan work... but what was she thinking? Soap wasn't against them... she hoped he wasn't against them, at least. She really, really hoped.

---

Everyone was preparing to rest for the night, their last day in the tents. MacTavish's men seemed relieved to leave early, Veil's men opposite as they knew. Y/n watched as a certain soldier that was in Soaps group looked shaken up, his gaze blank and hands shaking. She excused the shaking from the cold air, but the nervous expression didn't seem right. He must have been with Soap and is seeing flaws with the plan. Before she could approach him, he went into his tent.

L/n knew there weren't any extra tents available, and if she refused to sleep in the same tent the night before they leave, then he might've added the pieces together. She entered the shared room between the two, unwinding. No small talk, no closeness like they did each night, just pretending to get knocked out right away was her plan.

"You think Price is okay?" Soap commented once he saw her laying down, after coming into the tent himself, beginning to get comfortable as he waited for her response.

"Yeah, just a malfunction. He's sending a new group out, so we're okay." What a meek reply, but at least it was something.

Her short response caused Soap to purse his lips, stepping across her so he could lay down behind, knowing she must be shaken up so naturally, he gave her physical space. "Are you doing alright? You seem a bit nerved." His words were soft and careful, his eyes resting lovingly on the back of her head.

If he was the reason they were heading back, which he was, it made her heart stutter with confusion. If he was easy to fool his own people with betrayal and took the risk in losing his relationship with Veil, then did he also act out their intimacy? Was it all fake.

"I'm just tired," That was the easy go-to for anyone who didn't want to give correct or long answers.

Soap brought his hand to her arm and rubbed it, her body instinctively wanted to tense but she just allowed the harmless action. "Let's get some rest, I don't want to be sluggish tomorrow," She didn't even know what to say, knowing the selective few who were aware of what was happening were probably keeping an eye on their tent in case she was in on the disaster.

"Of course. Goodnight Veil. Tomorrow will be better."