COD Oneshots

(Un)Spoken (Soap)

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the scattered remnants of Task Force 141's last operation. Soap leaned against the wall of their temporary safe house, his mind racing from the adrenaline of the mission. He glanced over at you, sitting cross-legged on the couch, a mug of steaming coffee cradled in your hands. The familiar sight of you relaxed and at ease brought a rare smile to his lips.

"You know, you make the best coffee," he said, taking a seat beside you.

You chuckled softly, your gaze flicking to him. "I think you just like that I know how you take it. Two sugars and a splash of cream, right?"

"Exactly," Soap replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Can't have my morning fix any other way."

The comfortable banter flowed easily between you, but beneath the surface, there was an unspoken tension that lingered in the air. You shared everything—laughs, late-night conversations, the occasional secret mission. Yet, there were feelings that hung between you like a thread waiting to snap.

As the night deepened, the safe house fell into a tranquil silence. The weight of the day faded, but in that stillness, the familiar sensation of needing something more wrapped around both of you. Soap shifted closer, your shoulders almost touching.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low, laced with genuine concern.

You nodded, but he could see through the façade. You were strong, but he could sense the fatigue creeping in, the burden of missions weighing heavily on you. "Just tired, I guess."

"Want to talk about it?" he offered, his hand brushing against yours, an electric jolt passing between you.

You hesitated for a moment, then shook your head. "No, not tonight. Just... need you here."

Soap's heart raced at the admission. He knew exactly what you meant. You didn't need grand gestures or elaborate explanations; sometimes, just being in the same space was enough. He shifted again, closing the distance between you, and rested his head against yours. The warmth of his presence felt like home.

As the hours slipped by, the weight of unsaid words hung heavily between you. He wanted to tell you how he felt—how much you meant to him, how your laughter brightened the darkest days—but the words stuck in his throat.

Eventually, you both decided to call it a night. You made your way to the bedroom, a small but familiar space cluttered with gear and memories. Soap grabbed a couple of pillows and tossed them onto the bed before crawling in beside you.

"G'night, Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

"Goodnight, Soap," you replied, settling under the blankets.

The two of you lay side by side, the dim light casting soft shadows on the walls. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the rhythmic sound of his breathing easing your mind. In that moment, the unspoken feelings lingered like a gentle pulse, something both exhilarating and terrifying.

Before sleep could claim you, Soap turned to face you, his blue eyes searching yours. "Y/N," he started, hesitating for a moment. "There's something I—"

The moment was shattered by the blaring sound of a notification from the task force's secure channel. The two of you shot upright, adrenaline kicking back in as you reached for your weapons. Soap's heart raced, but it was for a different reason now.

You both quickly geared up, your camaraderie instantly shifting into mission mode. The banter was gone, replaced by the focus of seasoned operatives. Whatever he was going to say, it could wait until after the mission.

Hours later, after a successful operation, you found yourselves back in the safe house, adrenaline giving way to exhaustion. The thrill of the mission faded into a comfortable silence as you sat together on the couch, the weight of your unspoken feelings returning like a shadow.

Soap took a deep breath, turning to you. "Hey, about earlier..."

"Yeah?" you replied, a mixture of anticipation and dread swirling in your stomach.

"I know we don't talk about it much, but I need you to know—"

Before he could finish, you reached out, taking his hand in yours. "I know, John. I feel it too."

His blue eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, the world outside faded away. The walls that had kept your feelings confined crumbled as you looked at each other, vulnerability reflected in your expressions.

"I don't want to just be friends," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "I want us to be more."

You squeezed his hand tighter, your heart racing. "I want that too. I've wanted it for a long time."

The air crackled with the weight of your confessions, and for the first time, the tension between you felt like a promise rather than a burden. You leaned in closer, and he did the same, the distance between you vanishing as your lips met in a gentle kiss.

It was soft at first, a hesitant exploration, but as the realization of what you both wanted settled in, the kiss deepened, filling the void that had long lingered between you. The world outside could wait; in this moment, it was just you and Soap, together at last.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Soap grinned, a mix of relief and joy etched on his face. "Guess we'll have to start getting used to sharing more than just a bed."

You laughed softly, the sound echoing through the room. "Yeah, but I think I can handle that."