She watches him from a distance.
His skillful in the field... She has seen his handy work, knows how deadly he can be when the time comes.
He is steady on his feet – skillful with a blade and steadfast with a gun.
He can talk anyone's ear off.
Most of the time Lieutenant Ghost tells him to "Fuck Off."
But she could listen to him for hours.
But she has also seen another side of him as well.
He is playful and smart.
Sassy and quick...
Not always the brightest when it comes to certain jokes – but it's part of his charm... It makes her smile, to see the banter between the Sergeant and the infamous Lieutenant Ghost...
Most of the time Ghost wins... She thinks it's the mask hiding his face... Lucky bastard.
But there is that sliver of a moment the Scottish wins; and he takes his victory in strides.
She's part of their team...
The "Healing Hands," has Soap called it.
She's their medic...
She's shy, and reserved...
'Butterfly,' is what the team calls her.
For her feather like touches, and sweet affection towards all things...
She couldn't remember a time ever not feeling so red in the face; God help her... She felt like a schoolgirl developing a first-time crush...
A first love.
Only this love wasn't going to go away anytime soon.
God, help her... She never wanted it to go away.
No.
Soap MacTavish had been in her life for years.
And yet, she still can't seem to get a simple full sentence out in front of the Scottish man...
And the team TORTURED her for it...
Ghost... Bloody hell...
She would have thought the skull faced Lieutenant would have steered cleared of something as simple as a this...
Nope...
He found pleasure in her misery.
"MacTavish... Come get Butterfly... She is looking a bit feverish."
Cheeky bastard.
She had NEVER ran so fast in ALL her years...
Price...
Fucking Captain Price...
The one person she thought was on her side.
And the fucker always sat her next to him...
Not that she minded being near him... But for the life of her... She couldn't think straight.
But today... Today of all days, it felt like the universe was against her.
"Training practice!!!" Captain Price had told the team.
"Soap and Butterfly."
"Don't worry lass," he turned to her, with a smug grin, "I'll be sure to catch you if you fall, can't have you stumbling over you're two left feet, now, can we?" he took her hand in his, tugging her towards the training grounds.
"I... I... don't..." she feels the stutters starting before she could think clearly, "That's... not..."
"His hand feels so warm, in mine... I've never felt so safe... Unless I'm with him."
Soap has moved to a steady pace, walking beside her, lacing her fingers with his; watching with glee as she stumbles to form words.
She opens and closes her mouth... Opens and closes her mouth, wishing the words to come out...
PRAYING for it to make sense...
She can feel the heat of embarrassment, touch her flushed face; her eyes solely focused on her boots as they line up in tow with Soap's walk.
"You know... You're beautiful when you get shy... But in all reality, I've also thought you were beautiful since the moment I laid eyes on ya."
This gave her pause.
As if her feet were stuck in cement... Glued to the floor by some invisible force.
"What... Wha... Did... Did – " she brushes the fallen strays of hair from her face, suddenly realizing –
It's too quiet for training practice.
She searches the grounds and spots them.
Bloody bastards...
Captain Price, Gaz, and Lieutenant Ghost, are standing out in the far distance... Watching them, and if she squints hard enough, she can make out the faint smirk across Price's face...
The broad shoulder's of her Lieutenant shaking with an amused laughter.
She can see the knee slapping of Gaz, as he watches them.
"What's going on?" She squeaks.
"Do you trust me, pretty girl?"
She's startled by the sudden invasion – his warmth wrapping around her, like a blanket... His scent is feral, she can't quite place it...
It's woodsy and comfortable...
It reminds her of home...
It reminds her of the first night she realized she was in love with Sergeant.
On the clear starry night, while the fire was their only source of warmth...
He had shielded her from the howls of the storm...
Had told her stories of his childhood to calm her nerves.
He had become her guardian angel – and he didn't even know it...
She feels his touch, his arms wrapping around her waist, pressing her back to his chest, like a lover's embrace...
If she had thought she was dreaming...
By the Gods, she didn't want to wake up...
She had feel the tremble in her hands...
The tremble vibrating throughout her entire being...
"Do you trust me, love?" His voice is husky soft, the coolness of his breath fanning across her neck, as he rests his chin upon her shoulder.
"I do..." she breaths through her nose, trying to steady the wild rhythm of her heart.
"Then how about we make this a bit of a game, shall we?"
She can hear the smug richness in his voice, and knows... This is not going to be in her favor.
She was never one to take chances...
Never one to ask, "How high?"
But she couldn't deny the lingering curiosity that came with John 'Soap' MacTavish...
"What are the rules?" She stared at her hands, hoping her courage didn't falter.
"If you catch me, you get to kiss me... OOF!"
To hell with it...
She took a leap of faith – turning in his embrace, as she took hold him by the shirt and pressed her lips to his.
Catching everyone by surprise.
In the faint distance, they could hear the laughter as Ghost, Price, and Gaz...
"Bloody fucking hell, about damn time."
The kiss was everything she had hoped for and more.
Lips parted and tongues touched...
Her body melted into his as if she was made for him.
Cradling her head, he deepened the kiss, refusing to lose the moments that they had lost.
He tasted of whiskey, and honey.
He tasted like home.
When her lungs began to burn for air, she pulled away; if only slightly, resting her forehead against his.
"Caught you."
