COD Oneshots

Slowly (Soap)

Soap MacTavish had seen a lot in his years as a soldier—death, war, and the steady march of time leaving its scars on those who survived. But nothing had shaken him quite like watching Y/N break down the walls around her, one brick at a time. He hadn't expected it, hadn't even seen it coming. One day she was just his teammate, reserved and distant, a storm brewing behind her eyes, and then slowly... she became someone so much more.

At first, Y/N had been hard to read, an enigma he couldn't quite crack. She kept her distance, always professional, sharp, and focused. She didn't talk much, but when she did, her words were to the point, often clipped. Soap figured that was just her way, her defense mechanism. After all, everyone had something they were running from, especially in their line of work. But something about her quiet demeanor had drawn him in.

It wasn't until one late night after a particularly grueling mission that Soap caught a glimpse of the person Y/N really was. They had just returned to base, Captain Price had been hard on her, pointing out a mistake she'd made. No one else saw it, but Soap noticed the way her shoulders stiffened, the tension in her jaw, the way her fists clenched so tight her knuckles turned white. The others moved on, but Soap had hung back, something in his gut telling him to check on her.

He found her tucked away in a supply closet, hidden from sight. Her head was in her hands, shoulders shaking as she cried quietly. She didn't hear him approach, and for a moment, he froze, unsure if he should intrude. But then he heard her soft sobs, and his heart clenched in his chest. It was a side of her he'd never seen before. Vulnerable. Fragile.

From that day on, Soap couldn't stop thinking about her. He started noticing things, little things he'd missed before. The way her eyes would light up when she got her favorite food—she'd do this tiny, barely noticeable happy dance that never failed to make him smile. Or the way she'd snort when she truly laughed, not the controlled chuckles she gave the rest of the team, but the real, unguarded laughter that came from deep within her. The first time he heard it, his heart had practically stopped.

They became closer after that, their friendship forming in the quiet moments between missions, in shared glances and small talks when the others weren't around. He never pushed, never pried into her past, though he knew she had been hurt before. He had seen the scars on her back, long jagged lines that told stories he couldn't even imagine. She never talked about it, and he never asked. Not until tonight.

It was late again, the base quiet except for the distant hum of machines. They sat side by side in the mess hall, a comfortable silence between them. Y/N had her arms crossed on the table, her head resting on them as she stared at nothing in particular. Soap had been watching her, trying to work up the courage to finally ask the question that had been eating at him for weeks.

"Y/N..." His voice came out softer than he intended, and he cleared his throat. "Can I ask ye something?"

She lifted her head, giving him a tired but curious look. "Sure, Soap. What's on your mind?"

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Those scars... on your back. I've seen them before. I've never asked because, well, I didn't want to push. But... I want to understand."

Her expression faltered, her walls instinctively going back up, but there was something different now. They were closer, and she trusted him more than she had before. She didn't shut him out this time.

After a long, tense moment, she exhaled, the weight of old memories pressing down on her shoulders. "It was a long time ago," she said quietly, her eyes distant. "Before I joined Task Force 141. I was... with a different unit. Things went south. I trusted the wrong people. Paid the price."