The Sergeant and His Flower 🌼 (Soap MacTavish × Reader)

20.

John didn't get much sleep that night. Theresa had been out like a light after half an hour or so, her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as she lay her head on his chest, arm slung tiredly around him, the sound of Johnny's heartbeat lulling her to sleep.

He stayed awake, however, making sure she was alright. Running a hand through her soft hair, cupping her freckled cheek to make sure she knew even in slumber that he was there for her. 

It made him happy to see her so sound asleep, not only because it was a rare thing for her and it meant she was finally getting some well-deserved rest, but because he got to admire how peaceful she was as she slept, how blissfully unaware she was of everything going on around her, even if it was only for a few hours.

Even when he did eventually drift off for a couple of hours, he dreamt of Theresa. Vivid images of her face, her body, scattered in his mind. He dreamed about the touch of her skin, the sound of her voice, everything. As if it were the only thing his mind thought about anymore.

Theresa woke up around 6:00 AM, stirring slightly when she felt weight around her. She opened her eyes, squinting them shut again as the Mexican sun that had begun to illuminating the room blinded her. Once her eyes had adjusted, she looked down, noticing a strong arm draped around her waist. Her eyes traveled up the arm, stopping at that distinctive tattoo she had come to love seeing - Soap's.

She wasn't sure what it meant, or if the tattoo even had any meaning at all, but Theresa found herself admiring it any time John had a t-shirt on that exposed it, the artist in her wanting nothing more than to run over it with a pen.

'It's probably a clan thing...'  She thought to herself, not daring to open her mouth to let any sort of noise out if she wanted even a sliver of a chance to fall asleep again.

Her mind wandered even further as she gazed upon the Scotsman's tattoo, her pupils involuntarily dilating as she wondered,

'Would I get one if I married him?'

No! It's way too early to be thinking about stuff like that! She chastised herself, silently cursing at herself for letting something like that take valuable space in her mind. 'I don't even know what I am to him! We've only just had sex, I can't be thinking about marrying him! I barely know him!'

And just like that, with a single thought, any chance of maybe falling asleep again was discarded out the metaphorical window.

Succumbing to her impulses, Theresa lifted her head slightly, seeing Johnny still peacefully asleep. His mohawk was slightly tousled, and his mouth was open just slightly as he slept, the occasional hum leaving it every now and again as he dreamed.

He looked comfortable. As in, he seemed to be in comfort as he slept, and he seemed comfortable to be wrapped in - which he was, Theresa couldn't leave his grip even if she wanted to he's that hench. (She didn't want to, if it wasn't obvious.)

Even as he was unconscious, his strength never faltered, his arm still protectively wrapped around the medic. Not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to stop anyone from taking her from him. Not that anybody would dare to think about it. God knows whoever so much as imagined doing it would end up six, maybe ten feet under.

The undeniable urge to know what time it was, to get up and make coffee, was overwhelming, but there wasn't much the medic could to while she was trapped in the sergeant's strong arms. Nothing but wait until he decided that it was a good time to finally wake up.

She tried reaching for her phone, which was conveniently placed just out of her reach on the bedside next to them, straining her arm to try and grab it, and only giving up when she figured she would throw her arm out of the socket if she forced any harder.

Her eyes once again landed on his arm, only this time, instead of focusing on his tattoo, she honed in on his veins. 

An outside view might think this was a strange encounter, which, to be honest, kind of is, but holy shit was Johnathan MacTavish strong as fuck. I mean, he could probably pick her up with one hand, and throw her across the room with it.

'That'd be nice.'  She thought to herself, her pupils instinctively dilating at the thought of any form of physical contact with the Scotsman, even though she was engulfed in his massive arms, she couldn't get enough. Which I for one, could not blame her for.

Enough fourth wall breaks, and back to the story.

Johnny wouldn't wake up, and Theresa was afraid to wake him up, not knowing if he would regret what they did the night before.

Theresa decided to shut her eyes and try to go back to sleep, trying to turn off all of the overthinking that was going on inside of her head.

It worked for about four, maybe five minutes, but when all you can smell is the sweet sweet scent that is Johnathan motherfucking Soap MacTavish, it's hard to focus on anything else other than him.

He stirred, and opened his eyes, looking down at Theresa. She didn't know about this, since playing with her thumbs seemed to be very important to her, unable to take her focus off of doing it.

The sight almost made him chuckle, but this man had serious composure. Composure that may have come from working with literal bombs before. But who knows?

John lifted his free hand and ran it over Theresa's hair, causing her to lift her head up like a missile.

"Mother of fuck! I wish you'd stop that!" She yelped, lightly slapping John's arm.
"Morning to you too, Flower." He said, smirking widely at her.

A pout made its way to Theresa's lips, and she pushed the bedsheets off of her legs, pushing herself to stand, being immediately pulled back into John's chest.

"Ah, ah, none of that, Princess. Where d'you think you're going?" He asked, resting his face in her hair.

"I was getting up." She told him, not even bothering to try and escape his hold, knowing that if she couldn't get out of it while he was unconscious, there was absolutely no chance in doing so now that he was awake.

"Not until I say so, you're not." His morning voice was deep, making Theresa feel the heat rising in her cheeks, making her feel incredibly glad that her back was to Soap's chest, not being able to imagine half of the amount of teasing she would have to endure if he knew about it, which, if she was being honest to herself about, he almost certainly knew.

But for now, she kept lying to herself. For all we know, he knows nothing. 'I can't see you, you can't see me' kind of thing. You get it, right?

"How long until you say so?" She asked, her smile laced in her voice.
"What, you want to be away from me so soon?" He responded, putting on a mock offended tone.
"I didn't say that. I just need to know if I should put the blanket back on or not."
"Hmm.. yeah, we're gonna be needing it for a while. I'm not letting you up anytime soon."

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(A.N: Sorry this took so long to get out, and that it's kind of short, I initially planned for it to be longer, but exams are smelly and this is all I have. BUT, I plan for the next one to actually be good 👍🏻.

P.S: I wrote most of this in SpiderMan face paint, which, in my opinion, looks cool as shit.)