Author's note:
Soap and Price barely have any romance fics and it makes me bummed because /OTP/
Slight canon divergence here, but most of the main plot points remain the same. Post MW2 at some point.
Title is from the song 'Sleeping Sickness' by City and Colour
Also, regarding my Keegan/Logan story..there may be an update in the near future~~
It always started the same, crushed under the weight of an invisible source, maybe the smoke that clogged his lungs or the helpless despair of seeing his comrades, friends killed right before his eyes. He was desperate then, searching, scanning the devastated highway to find him..he had to be alive, he /had/ to be. His Captain was a strong man in all definitions of the word.
His vision becomes sharp, focused as he saw the body of Price laying on the ground, clutching his chest. The man turned to look at him, pain evident, his face hopeful, eyes struggling to steady themselves to give him a look of strength. He slides over his M1911, a sign that he believed in him, trusted him to end this war, all of it on his shoulders. He tried to call out to his Captain, the other's name leaving his lips in way that closely sounded like lover's agony instead of a battle cry to a fallen brother. Then it was too late, the man's head fell back and shots were fired from a gun in his own hand before it lost the strength to hold itself up. He lay, stilled for a moment feeling the darkness cloud his vision and mustered up enough will to turn his head to the side and stare at the body of his Captain, waiting for the rise and fall in his chest that never came. It was a searing, crushing weight then, even more powerful than the one that previously held him down, before he was lifted in the sky, his hand reaching, always reaching for /him/ trying to form the name on his lips but unable to, they wouldn't move, his voice stuck in his throat. A scorching pain, not physically, afflicted him. He lost him. The last thing he saw was a field med beating on Price's chest to no avail. He was gone.
It always moved on the same way, running across a field to the evac helicopter dodging an onslaught of bullets and grenades. Then the RPG fire started, he ducked and rolled avoiding the first few shots. There was no time to look back to see if his Captain was behind him, still following unharmed, no time. But there had to be time, he needed to see him there, alive, still full of fight. His head barley turned before he felt the impact that made him fall, hard into the ground. He felt nothing. Was he blind? Were his eyes even open? His ears were ringing, intensely muffled gunfire and shouts were all he could make out. Promptly he felt himself being dragged, his eyes flew open, searching again for the face, for the silhouette of the man in the hat. It was too late as he was sat in the seat of the chopper, being held down, he felt himself slip in and out of consciousness but no, he had to be sure that the other man was there, that he made it on board. No, no he wasn't. What the fuck was he doing? Why was Price staying out there, why was he still shooting? He couldn't, would't abandon the man again. No. It was too late, they were pulling out, he shouted the man's name on the top of his lungs, hand outstretched, a whole new horror filled him as he saw the man turn to look at him, a thousand unspoken words on his face before he fell backwards and hit the ground as bullets flew at him. He was gone.
It ended the same, time created new images to haunt him, on the ground again, this time not paralyzed by the pain but instead fueled by it. The knife stuck deep in his chest didn't mean a damn thing. Not while the man he loved was being beaten, ruthlessly, every hit that struck him also connected to his own body. Blood flew in bursts from the wound as he forced his hands to move, to pull the knife from his own body. His vision blurred red, but his insides burned fiercer. /Price/ No. He wasn't going to lose him. Not again. Never again. The knife found its way into his hand, turned backwards and was thrown. Perfect shot, Shepherd fell. When that man was gone, Soap was relieved. But he found himself waiting, again, for the rise and fall of Price's chest but he was fading too fast. It was too hard to stay focused this time. All he saw was blood, dark red filling everything, including the body of the man in front of him.
Soap choked out a gasp, a sob wretched from his throat. He sat up, sweat covered his unclothed body, he felt it unpleasantly fall down his clammy back. Shaking uncontrollably just like the end of these dreams always caused. Instantly his hands searched the bed blindly in the darkness of the room for the body of his lover, for Price. The only one who could be any sort of comfort to him now. When he did, his hands found nothing but sheets. Soap's heartbeat spiked, all of his nerves instantly on edge again, the terror filled him completely. His breathing became nothing but a struggle. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists, placing them on the sides of his head trying to steady his breathing.
"No, no he's here. You didn't lose him...he's here." He whispered to himself. Soap clambered out of the bed they shared and begin to pace in the pitch black.
A part of him wondered if after all this time his nightmares had come to fruition. /No/ he repeated in his mind. Price was alive. The memories of them together from earlier in the night were not just a fantasy.
They couldn't be, he tried to rationalize, for he felt the familiar slight soreness down low, that was anything but unwelcome, he could almost feel Price's body over him, lips kissing across his jaw, biting at his collarbone, his beard pleasantly itching against the skin there, one hand gripped tight around him as he drove himself deeper, harder inside his body, the other holding himself up above Soap.
The memories felt real enough, but it had been this way before. After Price sacrificed himself so he and the rest of 141 could safely escape, he awoke many nights the same way as tonight, clenching the sheets searching for a man that wasn't..couldn't be there. Those nights were hell. And hell was most nights. The fear for the loss of the man he loved caused an intense wave of distress to hit him again. He heaved for air, shaking his head, and barley noticed the door open.
Price, even in the barely dim lighting of the room, instantly saw his lover in a state of panic. Standing in place, shaking, fists clenched at his sides and eyes shut. He flicked the lights on and quickly rushed to his side, placing his hands on Soap's face trying to get him to look at him.
"Soap...Soap, come back, everything's alright, hey come on, it's alright..come back to me." He murmured soothingly, fingers now gently moving along the sides of his face, instantly Soap's eyes opened and Price saw the storm of dread inside of them.
Soap's attention was completely on the man in front of him. His eyes registered Price in the now brighter lighting of the room. He saw the strong jaw, the sharp nose, the full beard, blue eyes that always had made him weak in the knees before with their focused, longing desire were now filled with rampant concern.
A relived sob escaped Soap's mouth as he threw his arms around the older man, face pressed in the crook of his neck. Price's body responded instantly, his own arms covered by a long sleeved shirt wrapped around Soap's naked torso. He ran his hands up and down Soap's back, hoping they weren't too cold, for Soap always seemed to run much hotter than him. Soap did shiver, but Price was sure it was from something other than the temperature of his hands, so he continued the stroking motion on his damp back.
Price kissed the top of his forehead, at the peak of his mohawk, voice coming out softly again, "We're ok Soap, we're ok. It was just a dream."
All at once, Soap was filled with embarrassment, shame. This wasn't the first time Price has had to hold onto Soap and talk him down from a panic attack. It made him feel disgusted with himself..weak, in comparison to the man before him who seemed to be unbroken by anything. He struggled out of Price's grasp even when the man spoke his name again, faltering only for a moment before he removed himself entirely from the comforting warmth of Price's embrace. He had to get out of here..how could he let Price see him like this? The confused and hurt expression on the other man's face only made it harder for Soap to leave, so he turned his head and wiped his eyes and nose with the back of his hand before he made the move towards the small pile of clothes strewn across the floor.
He grabbed his boxer-briefs first, sliding them on, camo trousers next, stepping into them hurriedly, then grabbed a white t-shirt, certain it was Price's and put one arm through one hole before placing his head through the center and pulling it over him all the way. Sitting on the edge of bed, he began to put his boots on and messily lace them up, his hands still shaking, now with added mortification of his lover seeing him in that state, having to ease away the anxiety again.
"Soap...love, what are you doing?" Price kneeled in front of him, slowly placing his hands over Soap's that were still tying up the boots. He leaned forward more, trying to get Soap to look him in the eyes again. His attempt was ineffective, for when Soap even imagined lifting his eyes to look at Price, all he could see was a dead gaze and blood everywhere. The thought shook him to the core, no, he had to get out of here. He moved his hands away from his boots, knocking Price's out of the way in the process.
"I..I just need to get the fuck out of this room." Soap's usually solid, deep voice was trembling slightly and barley above a hushed whisper. He stood from his sitting position on the bed.
Price was left still crouching, his head turned up to look at Soap's fretting form, before he too stood up, he longed to touch Soap again and bring him down from this harsh state of panic. His hand was raised but before it could come in contact with Scotsman's arm, it was pushed away.
"No, Price..I need to. I need to be alone. Please." Fuck all if that's what he needed. What he really wanted.. needed was the very person in front of him, the only one who made any sense and brought any comfort to him in this whole fucked world. Still, the panic was heavily present within Soap. He couldn't burden Price any further with this.
He clenched his jaw and turned away from Price, walking towards the door of the room, paused with a hand on the door knob, before exiting. He nearly jogged down the hallway to reach the side table that held the box of cigars..Price's favorites, their favorites, and took one. Closing the box, he retreated to back door where he grabbed his coat off the hook next to it and all but threw himself outside.
Soap nearly collapsed, but caught himself, sitting directly on the concrete floor of the patio, not really giving a shit if there was a chair right beside him. He sat with his knees bent, arms resting on top of them, one trembling hand running tersely through his mohawk the other fetched the lighter from inside his coat. He brought the cigar to his lips before he clasped one hand towards the bottom and used the other to flick the lighter, bringing up a small, blue flame. Sucking in air, he lit it, feeling the familiar, comforting taste fill his mouth and soothe his senses. Smoking these were always his release, his way back home during the times when Price was gone. It was the feel, the smell, the taste, the memories.
He remembered the first time back in the S.A.S when he was just a Sergeant, they were on a break, one of the few they ever got, sitting outside an abandoned building when Price, from his position leaning against the wall, silently offered him a puff with the exaggerated raise of his hand. At first Soap was apprehensive to take it, thinking perhaps the older man was messing with him. But when he nodded towards it with a easy smile on his face, he took it. It was the first big shift in the relationship between the two men.
From the start, Soap was completely enamored with his Captain. How was he expected to not fall for him? The dry sarcastic wit that he was greeted to from the start, the sheer intelligence and experience he possessed, the confidence and authority, his charming voice that ran so deep and rugged that it sent chills through Soap's body and well...he sure as hell wasn't bad to look at either. Sure, he may have made jokes in his journal about the ridiculous mustache he had back then.. but it also was the focal point of many late night fantasies all alone in his bed.
Soap laughed, void of humor, to himself. 'Fuck.' he thought. 'Things seemed so complicated before.' And they were..at the time. It didn't take too long after that cigar sharing incident for Soap to find out that Price reciprocated his feelings...and he discovered this by being pinned to wall by the older man's mouth in the Captain's room. It was anything but soft and sweet like you imagine a first kiss with someone to be, but rather rough and passionate. Hands running wildly down the other's body, exploring places they've been longing to touch. Teeth gently biting the other's lips groans filling the silence of Price's room. Their hips ground against each other, the friction it created was stimulating but still not enough, never enough.
They gave themselves to the want..the need that night. And just when Soap thought it was over, what they had, that he basically got himself kicked out of the S.A.S, out of this man's life...Price promised him, still holding onto him later that night, 'we'll make it work' he said. And he meant it. Their relationship was kept private, completely hidden from all the other soldiers and it worked out fine. They could spend the days playing along and pretending to simply be a Captain and his protege, damn good friends, then when it turned dark and they were able to withdraw into the privacy of Price's room the true nature of their relationship unfolded. It was thrilling, risky, and..real. What they had was real. Until it was all taken away from them both.
He lost Price for the first time on that collapsing highway. It took him weeks to recover from it physically and months to even coming close to recovering emotionally, if ever. Starting up the 141 was a good distraction. It helped him turn his focus on being a Captain himself, taking everything he had learned from Price and a few new tricks to pull together an excellent team, one Price would be damn proud of. But he still felt like a huge part of him missing inside. The part of him that Price previously housed now felt like a heavy grave that he carried around with him.
That's when he rounded up the courage to buy Price's favorite cigars. When he smoked them, they brought him back to the nights where they'd lay in bed together post some mind blowing fuck, entwined and sharing a cigar. It didn't erase the fact that Price was gone...but it made him feel like he was still connected to the man in some way.
Soap closed his eyes now, leaning his head back against the house's wall, the old memories washed over him. He didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him. He didn't need to be sitting outside in the frigid night..Price was alive and well inside the house. He lowered his head and pressed his nose into the shirt he was wearing, the one that belonged to Price, and breathed in deeply the scent of him. He felt a strong compulsion, pulling and tugging at his limbs, to get off the ground right now and run straight into Price's always open arms. Then he remembered the shame, the panic attack, the pathetic sobs that left his lips and how he must have looked..and was relieved that he wasn't with Price, he deserved so much better than a man who lived in a near constant state of fear of losing him. He took a long drag from the cigar.
The long quiet didn't last for long, right after Soap blew the smoke out of his mouth, the door opened and Price, now also dressed in his coat, stepped outside. He shut the door behind him, his eyes remained on Soap the whole time. The Scotsman lowered his gaze, unable to bear the look of pure empathy that covered his lover's face. He heard Price sigh softly, before sitting down next to Soap on the hard ground.
"I know you said you wanted to be alone.." Price started carefully, his tone cautious, "but when the hell have I ever done what I've been told, eh? It has gotten me into trouble before." he turned his head and gave Soap a crooked smile, hoping it adequately concealed his worry for the man beside him. His head bowed in closer as he put his arm around the younger solider, pulling him close. At first Soap tensed, fighting internally the need to ease into Price's arms and the need to leave and not further hindrance Price with his bullshit fears.
"It'd probably be better if you weren't here. Just leave me, Price." Soap muttered out trying to provoke the man into leaving..but not even believing his own words. He rubbed his temples in a slow, circular motion.
"The hell I should." Price scoffed and only scooted closer to the other man, hand that wasn't already on Soap, twitched in his lap, he moved it to place it on Soap's shoulder, rubbing the tightened muscle there, skilled hands knowing exactly what felt best to the other man. "I know you Soap, I know you don't mean that."
The physical contact nearly broke him again, it was outrageously comforting, he tried not to lean into the touch too much. He then let out an irritated sigh and turned his head towards Price, "Dammit Price. I don't want you to see me like that, like this." He stared hard at Price, the other man returned it, unwavering. Soap closed his eyes and leaned his head back again, swallowing hard and taking another drag from the cigar and exhaling. He didn't make a move to remove the hand massaging his formerly tense shoulder. Price took notice in this and moved slightly to the side, now placing both hands on either side of Soap's shoulders, digging in deeper now. Soap grunted deep in his throat, feeling himself begin to relax into the touch.
His words caused Price to feel unsettled, flustered, his eyebrows raised in disbelief and his head shook slightly, but the older man kept it under control. Remaining calm and understanding, "And why is that? Why, for any reason, would I not want to be around you? After all we've been through together Soap..hell and back. Several times." He stared on at Soap, studying his face, head still back against the wall, eyes still shut, brows still tightly knit together. One hand on Soap's shoulder ceased it's soothing motions and reached for the cigar in his hands. Price brought it to his own lips, breathing in deep, eyes still lingering on Soap.
Soap's face fell into his hands, running down it until only his mouth was covered, and tilted his head to Price. "It's not fair to you, Price. All that shite you made it through, I mean, fuck, you survived three goddamn years in the Gulag and barley seem effected by it." He gestured his hands towards Price, whose face seemed to darken at Soap's statement.
"Soap...that's not true, what happened in there still haunts me. I'm not completely unscarred, you know."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like it didn't but it's just.. You hold it together so well and stay so strong for me, for us. And here I am having the same fucking re-accruing nightmare, waking up and clinging to you. I can't even sleep without you there or else I have a fucking panic attack. How can you not think I'm weak and pathetic..how can you even stand to be around me when I'm like that?"
"Because that's what you do when you love someone. You don't give up on them or avoid them when things get hard. And you sure as hell don't expect things to get better or go away overnight. If you love them then you stay with them, even if it never does end. And that's where I'll be, Soap. I'll be right here beside you no matter what is wrong, no matter what hell you're facing in your mind, I'll fight it with you because I have my fair share of demons as well. It's not because I need to be there, love, it's because I want to be."
Price's confession is what finally broke Soap, he stopped fighting the ever-nagging need to fall into Price. His arms encircled fully around the older man, who ended up dropping the cigar on the concrete in the process of returning the embrace. Soap buried his face in Price neck, words coming out muffled.
"God, Price. I can't lose you again." His eyes burned with tears but held them back as much as possible. He let out a low whimper, only nuzzling further in the other man's neck, who responded by gliding his hands up Soap's back, then downwards before removing them and placing them on the sides of Soap's face, tugging him gently away from his neck.
"Hey...hey, I'm not going anywhere, love." His fingers brushed along Soap's face, wiping away any stray tears and drying any old ones before his fingers settled higher, lightly running over the scar that cut across Soap's left eye. He leaned closer, kissing up the faded line. Soap's eyes closed again, lashes sweeping underneath. Price's lips remained on the upper half of the old wound. "I've lost you too, you know."
All previous panic seemed to flow out of Soap's body under Price's touch, his senses had focused on the steady movement of Price's breathing and the increasing rasp of his voice. He nodded slowly against Price's lips, feeling his beard move against his cheekbone, the surprisingly soft hairs there caressed his face and filled him with a warmth unlike any other.
He let out a huff of air. "Guess we should stop doing that to each other, eh?"
"Yeah, I reckon that would be for the best. Mm'sorry I left you alone in the room... I know how hard it is for you and I still got up. I should have ignored my bloody thirst." Price said guilty, nose now grazed down to Soap's cheek, resting his face against the other man's. Stubble rubbing against his beard. The strong smell of the cigar lingered in the air, but the aroma was a pleasant scent to both men.
Soap hushed his words, "You don't have anything apologize for, old man." A smile finally broke on Soap's lips when he spoke the endearment fondly, a deep affection arouse in Price's chest.
He leaned forward, warm lips brushing together, breathing in each other, before catching the upturn of Soap's lips in a sudden, insistent kiss. Soap drew in a sharp intact of air through his nose, his own lips moving against Price's in rough motions. Soap's mouth parted, Price's teeth gently scraping and sucking Soap's lower lip into his mouth, their breaths mingling heatedly. Soap let out a low groan before Price released his lip and kissed him full on again, the younger man's hands finding there way onto his neck, softly scratching the skin, causing goosebumps to arise on Price. Price's hands lowered to his waist pulling him in, deepening the kiss. Price leaned over Soap, pressing him into the wall, slowing the movements of his lips against Soap's until they held together and pulled away, only to press together softly a few times before stopping completely, knowing that now wasn't the time to go any further.
Price still kept his hold on Soap, whose own hands had moved from the Price's neck to rest on his shoulders now mimicking the massaging motions Price had done to him. He let out a pleased noise, eyes now opened and admired the handsome face of the younger man in front of him. The light blue eyes darkened by evening sky, bruised circles underneath them, a flush across his cheeks, full lips usually a light pink now near red and still slick. Price leaned forward again to brush his mouth with them again. "Price..." the man's deep voice vibrated against his lips.
Their faces still close, Price answered, "Yes?"
"My arse is going numb..and I think we forgot all about that cigar." A burst of laughter fell from both of them. Price eased his weight off of Soap, giving him one final kiss before untangling their limbs from each other and standing. He found the cursed cigar and crushed it under his heel. "Bloody waste that was. What a shame." He shook his head in feigned sorrow at the sight of the now destroyed half of a cigar.
Soap let out a quiet laugh more of it shaking his shoulders than anything, "Like you thought it was a waste when you had your lips and hands all over me."
A thoughtful frown formed on Price's lips for a second and suddenly turned into a grin, "You do have a point there." He gave Soap a quick wink, staring adoringly down at the man who returned the look ardently.
Price outstretched his hand towards Soap. The Scotsman simply stared up at Price for a few moments, as if to prove to himself that he was really there and that he really loved him despite all of his faults, before he too outstretched his hand, in a all too familiar scenario..only this time it wasn't left struggling against empty air to a man just out of reach calling out in despair, at last his hand found its destination, the place it was always reaching to grasp and never let go of. And he didn't. Even after Price pulled him up and onto his feet, their hands remained clasped together, stronger than ever, as he lead them into the house and back to their bedroom.
The room was no longer suffocating or impossible to be in, in fact, the warmth and familiarity of it was a blessing. Price brought the hand that was enclasped in his own up to his lips, placing a kiss to the other man's scarred knuckles and giving a tender rub with his other hand before he let it go. Soap instantly missed the contact and resisted grasping his hand again.
They both shed off their jackets, throwing them messily to the floor before Soap moved closer towards Price giving him a tight squeeze, to which Price eagerly reciprocated, holding on to the younger man tightly for a few long seconds, before pulling him out to an arms length distance, eyes searching all over his face. Soap's eyes lowered again for a moment, only a moment, before he raised them up to meet the eye contact.
"Price...I don't know if the nightmares will ever go away..or the panic attacks." Soap's voice was almost small, fearful. Price looked at him deeply, hating the way his eyes looked haunted from the old memories...he knew his must have looked just about the same.
"I meant what I said, love. I'm not going anywhere. No matter how long they last. You don't need to ever feel ashamed, or pathetic Soap..you're the strongest man I've ever known." His hands slid up and down the sides of Soap's arms, hands tightening around the muscles in a firm grasp. "You've persevered, endured. You've survived, through so much, Soap. You survived. Yes, we've lost each other..but at least in the end we found each other again." Price's words reminded Soap of his own strength, the one that he possessed inside of him, the one that was never really gone but simply forgotten. He hung on his words, like he always had before and nodded strongly at Price, leaning up to kiss him again.
"How in the bloody hell do you do that, love?" Soap spoke onto Price's lips.
"Hmm, do what?" Price hummed out in reply, eyes heavy lidded.
"Always say these damn things that bring something out in me. Whether it was something I knew was there or not. But it's always just the thing I need to hear. Fuck, I love you."
Price's heart hammered a bit, hand once again finding itself to Soap's face, thumb running across Soap's lips, as if trying to catch the words that came from them. "I love you too.." Soap leaned further into him, head resting on his shoulder, Price copied the move.
They both fell into a comfortable silence, just hearing the other's steady heartbeat for a bit, further proof that, yes, they both had survived, despite everything fate had thrown at them.
Price's eyes looked upward to the top of Soap's head and a small fond smile appeared on his mouth, "Well, would you look at that? Your mohawk's not all bloody perfect for once." Price mumbled, running his hands through the dark hair, Soap chuckled at this, gave a look of mock-horror, then quickly snatched the hat from the top of Price's head and placed it on his own. "Hey..." Price gave him a glare, Soap smiled and shrugged.
"Oi, I can't have you seeing my hair like that, it would ruin my reputation..just have to borrow this for a bit, eh?" He turned his chin upright and modeled it a bit and Price couldn't help the laugh and playful eye roll he directed at the other man. Soap leaned his face forward, mouth directly at Price's neck, biting at it,
"Besides..your hair's a bit messy right now, probably my work from earlier, its pretty bloody sexy." He exaggerated the point by running his fingers through it, dull nails scraping. The deep brogue of his voice and hot breath that hit him made him forget any and all annoyances. No matter how small.
"Aah, fine, fine. Only because you so damn good in it." Price muttered, accent thick, happy to see Soap back to his old self. The bloody seductive, hard bastard he was.
They helped each other remove their clothing, rough hands intimately running across the other's chest, abs, shoulders til they were down to nothing, before they slipped under the covers on their bed. Soap lay on his back, the darkness surrounding them both, but he could hear Price breathing beside him. He turned himself on to his side allowing Price to slide behind him, he could feel his hands running over his chest again leading down to his stomach, flattening and threading fingers through the hair there.
"Good dreams now, eh love?" Price whispered into the back of Soap's neck before planting a kiss, causing a shiver to run down his spine.
"Hard to imagine having anything other than those when you touch me like that."
"Oh and believe me if we both weren't bloody exhausted I would be doing more than that. A lot more. But...there's always morning." He could feel the smug smirk against his neck. The words were a promise, an...enticing one at that.
Soap's back was pressed against Price's chest, whose arms roped themselves around him in a tight, firm grip. Price kissed at the bare skin of his shoulder a few times before resting his head on his pillow and shutting his eyes. Soap remained awake, carefully stilling his own breathing so he could feel the raise and fall of Price's chest against his strong back. It came. Steadily, evenly.
It began a new way. A more hopeful one, though Soap was sure the nightmares would return some other night, and Price couldn't /always/ be by his side, but..he knew that he would never really be gone. He would be with him, no matter what. And he would be with him too.