Friends Don't Look At Friends That Way

excerpt one.

** i realized when writing the new part that i never really fleshed out the angst between these two properly. i have so many moments in my head that happened between them that led up to the start of part one that gives life to the pain and intensity of their situation. im, now, finally deciding to write them out and share them. the story is still going to continue, but i wanted to share some of these flashbacks with you guys to add to the feels. if you guys like it, i will post more! **

Two weeks. It has been two whole weeks since you were last alone with Sergeant MacTavish. Two weeks since that smart mouth of his was doing sinful things to you in the dark. You can still feel the ghost of those skillful fingers across your skin, every place he touched echoing with delightful shivers.

Two weeks was a long enough period that every part of you, body and soul, seemed to ache with need for his familiar, gentle caress. The way your very nerve endings seem to alight with pleasure when he simply enters a room would suggest it has been too long. Your hunger for him has always been insatiable, but not having him to yourself for 14 insufferable length days? You are practically ravenous to get your hands on any part of him. 

The longing, desire-laden glances he flickers your way from across the room, albeit fleeting, are all you've been allowed as of late. Captain Price has John and yourself annoyingly busy these days. From recruit training to mission preparations, you both have had full schedules that leave little time for anything other than eating and sleeping. Not that you wouldn't happily sacrifice both for even minutes in his arms. It isn't like your brain will stop replaying every minuscule movement he makes throughout the day to let you get sleep anyway; so why shouldn't you make better use of that time? The urge to show up at his door and throw yourself into his strong grip lays heavy on your mind, despite how ill-advised it may be.

You find yourself absentmindedly watching your training recruits sloppily fight each other on the mat, throwing in half-hearted criticism when necessary. Your mind isn't really in it, neither is your heart, but what else are you to do? Sit and pout over Soap not spending time with you? You've avoided completely devolving into the kind of person that lets a man rule their life. No. Sure, at times, you crave him more than a starving man does a meal, but you will not turn into a total sad, lovesick puppy.

So here you are now, chin held high as you attempt to maintain an air of superiority despite the ache clenching at your chest.

"Bit slow, aren't they?" Asks a deep, Scottish voice from beside you. You curse the way your pulse seems to skitter excitedly beneath your skin, straightening your shoulders in defiance as you lock your gaze forward.

"I am working on it." You respond plainly, hoping to hell he can't hear the slight shake in your tone. Why does being near him always send you spiraling like this? Damn him.

He shifts his stance to where his bare bicep just barely brushes the skin of your shoulder. It takes everything you have to repress the shiver of delight that creeps down your spine.

"We could show 'em how to do it right." Soap muses with a raise of his brow, a subtle smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You finally turn your attention in his direction, eyes dropping to his lips for only a brief moment before they shift to meet his. The soft, sudden intake of breath he gives tells you that the movement wasn't as subtle as you hoped.

"You want to spar with me?" You snort with a shake of your head. "I'd rather not embarrass myself in front of my recruits, Sergeant."

"I'll go easy on ye, lassie."

You suck your lower lip between your teeth, weighing the options as you glance woefully between the man your very being has been crying out for and the recruits. The spark of anticipation waiting in those crystal blue eyes breaks through any resolve you have and you give him a nod. His answering smile, genuine in all its beauty, sends butterflies swarming your insides.

Soap quickly shoos the recruits to the edge of the mat, instructing them to watch carefully if they want to learn something for once. They murmur in agreement, annoyed faces painted with curiosity as you step up opposite Soap. He has at least a good few feet on you height-wise, which is never intimidating in other situations, but now has your heart racing with anxious anticipation as he towers above you. The lines of his biceps and shoulders go rigid as he readies into a sparring stance, signaling for you to do the same with the tip of his head.

You follow suit, your muscle memory taking hold, and position yourself the way he taught you years ago. Your own body matches his in the way it easily slips into preparation, fists dutifully raised and ready.

He sweeps a long look down the length of your body, a prideful grin spreading on his handsome face.

"Ye remembered. Good girl."

Choosing to ignore his praise, you swing an arm straight for an open section of his abdomen which he blocks with ease. You sidestep his return jab, dancing quickly to the side and swinging a kick to his side. Of course, he catches on faster than you can process and snatches your foot before it connects. He gives you a single second and a delighted smirk before his leg sweeps up to hit the back of your other knee, sending you backward to the mat as he pins himself above you.

He hisses out a soft tsk sound and immediately catches the fist aiming for his jaw, pinning your arm above your head. His weight settles over you, knees pressed between your splayed thighs, one arm holding yours hostage while his other is now resting gently, but firmly against your throat. Just like that, he has you trapped and at his mercy.

"Yer makin' me think I am a shit teacher with how easy that was." He muses softly. When your free hand snakes up to pry at his forearm, he quickly shifts himself forward so his lips can brush across the shell of your ear. "Ah, I don' think so, darlin'."

"If you wanted me on my back, all you had to do was ask." You gasp out, chest brushing against his own with each heavy breath you take.

His blue eyes flare, those lips pressing into a tight smirk as his gaze scans the planes of your face. He glances briefly at the waiting recruits before lowering himself to your ear once more.

"I think we both know that on yer back isn't how I like ye." His tone is thick, almost rough as he utters the words low enough for only you to hear.

Your body seems to betray you immediately, heat pooling deep in your core, your breathing growing noticeably uneven. You flex the muscles of your thighs, squeezing the side of his hips which forces a low hiss from beneath his teeth.

A test and a threat, you suppose, as you wait in anticipation for what the outright tease will take the moment. To your disappointment, he squeezes his eyes shut as he gathers his self-control, pushing himself off of you and to his knees. The loss of his weight atop of you has a soft, frustrated groan exiting your throat - that delicious heat dissipating like someone dumped ice water over a building flame.

Propping yourself on your elbows, you shoot him an exasperated glare that holds all the words you can't express at this moment. He holds your gaze with an intense stare of his own that sends your heart racing.

"What did we learn?" Soap calls out to the recruits, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Don't be like the Sergeant." One recruit chimes, waving a hand towards you.

"Be better than the Sergeant. Don't let yerself get caught off guard." There is only authority in his tone and you know that glance of the Soap only you get to see is gone. Whatever the moment you just had is now gone, that wall between you back in place.

"Laps. Now." He demands sharply, rising to his feet. The recruits scatter away, leaving you two more alone than you have been in a while. To avoid his scrutinizing assessment, you lazily flop back down on the mat and fix your eyes on the vaulted ceiling above.

"Ye need to get more training time in. That was sad."

Before you can retort, he is striding away for the rec room door, disappearing just as quickly as he'd come...taking a shred of your heart with him.