"It's so bloody cold," Soap complained, dusting the snow from his boots so it didn't melt in the tent and piss everyone off, more than they already were. Or maybe it was just him.

"Not complainin' again are you, Captain?" Ghost chuckled, his voice taut from the weather, typical British hoarse.

"Maybe I am, maybe ah'm not. It's none of your concern," The Scot replied harshly. He's too damn cold for banter.

Ghost could only hum, cocky in the presence of Roach.

"Leave 'im alone you two. Just 'cause 'e's done eighty times more work than you today doesn't mean you can take the piss," Price interrupted, his voice a husky vibrato.

Soap smirked, shivering. You'd think for a man with as much muscle as him, he'd be comfortable. Then again, it was fat that kept you warm, and god forbid having any of that on him. Nonetheless, Price appreciated his work? What an honour.

"Oi!" Ghost snapped.

Price glared in response, challenging if he really wanted to argue with his Captain.

"Uh… never mind…" The soldier stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't 'ave anything t' say anyway…" He grumbled.

"Wow, impressive," Roach remarked.

"What was tha', Bug boy?" Ghost glared.

"The mask is misleading."

"Oh yeah? 'ow so?" Even with the sunglasses on, one could tell the Brit was squinting.

"Well I mean it's a skull, and yet you appear to have no backbone," Roach smirked.

"I'll show you boneyou little runt!" Ghost gripped Roach by the shoulder as he got to his feet, dragging his victim out of the tent for some form of a beating.

Rolling his eyes, Soap grunted. "Kids…" he complained, laying himself down so that he could rest his head on his hat, which he'd rolled up. The low snort of his Captain drew his attention, eyes blinking open. "What?" He asked.

"Nothing," Price replied, his gaze full of amusement as it settled on the younger man's face.

"No, go on, ya might as well tell me. It's not like we've got anythin' else t' talk about."

Price sighed. "You really do complain a lot, mate," he grinned.

"I learnt fr'm th' best," Soap smirked.

"Oi!" The older man barked, defensive, yet knowing Soap was completely right.

"Y' know I'm right, Cap'n," Soap shrugged.

"Yeah…" Price nodded, fixing the hat that sat on his head. "As if I'd admit i' though."

Soap let out a breath, raising a brow at the silence.
Their team was isolated, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by snow, ice, and danger. It wasn't a silence of comfort, either. It was the wilderness' orchestra, playing like violins in a horror movie, waiting for the sudden terror to come crashing down like wave of a crescendo.
He could feel himself shivering again, which was embarrassing. He came across as this strong, capable man, yet here he was, unable to keep even himself warm. He bet Price wasn't amused like he claimed to be, only humoured by his soldier's pathetic inabilities.
Awkwardly, he scratched at the side of his face, closing his eyes in attempt to eliminate the discomfort between them. Soap didn't understand why he felt uncomfortable. After all, he and Price were very close. They'd been through hell together; they'd seen almost everything the world had to offer. Although now that he'd thought about it, he hadn't seen all Price himself had to offer.
Nor had Price seen everything Soap had to offer.
Good friends had their limits though, right? Grunting, Soap clung to the thin, cotton blanket that lay shrivelled beside him, and hugged it close for warmth.

"You cold?" The older voice once again spoke out.

Soap rolled his eyes. Hadn't they just had this conversation? "Christ Price, your age is gettin' the better of y'," he smirked teasingly.

Price scowled. "How so?" He clearly didn't get the joke, which was unusual.

Raising a brow, Soap bit his lower lip. In fact, during the past few weeks, Price had become seemingly short with him. Yes, they still had their banter, and their cocky teasing sessions, however lately, Price seemed rather vacant when it came to come backs.
Whenever Soap turned to give his Captain some sort of grin, wink or even a general glance to check for a reaction of some kind, Price would turn heads suspiciously swiftly. As though he didn't want to see Soap, or speak to him. They kept having awkward silences, and Soap often found his Captain staring at him, lost in thought. The younger soldier threw a glance at his Captain, eyeing him. Just as expected, the older man was staring at him, like a mother over her child's crib; his eyes full of solemn and frustration. "We li'erally had the cold conversation about five minutes ago…" He answered bitterly.

"Ah, right, sorry. My uh, my mind's elsewhere at the moment, mate."

That was it? That was it? No scolding for being cocky? No 'cheeky bastard', or 'I'm not old'? Huh.

Soap blinked, pushing himself up, leaning on one arm as he glanced about the tent. It was clean, cleaner than expected, what with having a group of four men living in such a tight space. "Are you alright, Price?"

In silence, Price merely nodded as he eyed the other's face.

Soap, unconvinced, rolled his eyes again before turning his attention to the bleeping phone beside him.

Price bit his left inner cheek. His eyes drifted from Soap's face, down to his shoulders, allowing his gaze to fall to the man's arm that he leant on. Really, Price was always fascinated by Soap's muscles; especially his arms.
'He must've worked hard for those…' The way they were shaped... He remembered their first meeting, when Soap had removed his shirt before entering the shower. His abs… his arms… his shoulders…his neck…
Perhaps it was the mountain's merciless solitude, or that he spent so much time with men. There was always something about Soap, from their first meeting, to the progress the younger made just to impress and assist his superior, to now.
Price had never met anyone who could sport a mohawk so well. In fact, it actually looked good on him. It made him look even better, if he was being honest. Shaking his head, Price rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath, trying to eliminate all the thoughts that shat on his aching brain. He realized he was still staring, but Soap was too focussed on the phone for him to notice, fortunately. "Something wrong?" He inquired, trying to nudge past the silence.

"Nah, it's just buggin' out," he replied sharply, his eyebrows furrowed. It was like smiling made you colder.

"It's probably the cold," Price stated.

"No shite. It ruins everythin'. When are we goin' tae move out? I'm freezin' m' bloody tits off sittin' here…"

Price allowed his lips to curve upwards into a smirk. "What did I say about complaining?"

Soap turned his head, acknowledging the comment, before exhaling heavily. "Right, right, sorry." Price was right, he was letting his irritability get the better of him. "Let's be honest though, there's no' much t' be positive about, is there?"

"Eh, at least try and find something…"

"Like what?"

"I don't bloody know. I've given you a suggestion, now shut it and find something…" Price said.

Anyone else who didn't know Price all that well would've been offended, but not Soap. No, in fact, Soap knew he was playing. Price had a specific tone when being serious, and his current one was nowhere near as uptight. He knew from the gentle ripple in his words. "Relax, old man, wouldn't want you tae wear yourself out," he hummed.

Price paused, grunting a chuckle before falling silent again.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Soap gave up on communication and turned his back to the older man, hoping to get some rest. Maybe sleep would numb this damned cold!
Shifting around a few times, he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, cerulean eyes flittering shut as he tried to relax so that sleep could borrow him. He gave an irritated growl with each shiver his body gave. He knew he was cold; his body didn't need to remind him! Movement could soon be heard beside him, but he was too tired to look for the source, so he just ignored it.
Slowly, his muscles began to ease, until he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around his waist, causing him to almost shoot into the air. The only thing keeping him from doing so was said arms holding him close and tightly, so that he was unable to escape. "Wha' in-"

"Calm yourself, lad!" Price's husky voice could be felt beside his ear, and the desire to melt there and then made him nervous.

Soap frowned to himself, before freezing up again.
What the fuck was he doing?
"P-Price! This is – nae – what are you doin'?" He wriggled in attempt to gain freedom. Not that he didn't like the hold his Captain had on him, but the surprise was overwhelming. Wait. He liked it? No, forget it, it's just the cold. Blame it on the cold.

"Shh," Price hushed, nuzzling his face into Soap's neck. He'd given into whatever need he felt pulling in his chest. Seeing Soap trembling the way he was – it was like watching a puppy suffering. He had to do something, but to the point where he had latched onto one of his men to keep them warm? Right. Seemed legitimate. He was certain his loneliness was linked in with that somewhere, not to mention the unbelievable frustration he felt whenever he looked at Soap. Why? That he didn't know. Who understands feelings these days? "I'm keeping us warm you muppet, what did you think I was doing?"

Soap flinched at the hush, going still as he craned his neck in attempt to look at the other's expression. "Oh – uh – nothin'. I jus'… wasn't bloody expectin' it." There was a pause as he tried to calm himself, holding back a shudder as Price's bristly beard grazed the nape of his neck. "I know ah'm irresistible an' all but I'm no' use'tae gettin' grabbed for it," he jested, doing his best to lighten the situation.

"I'll fuck off if that's wha' you want, Soap. Leave you to shiver –"

He regretted the joke immediately, finding himself freezing up again. "N-no," he choked. "No, this is – thanks Price. I appreciate it."

Price took his chance, hoping his 'good intentions' would cover any suspicions Soap had. Subconsciously, he inhaled, breathing in Soap's scent and he had to make sure not to do that again because wow that was weird of him. The lad didn't seem to mind though, which eased him somewhat. He could feel the other squirm against him, letting out a heavy exhale causing the older man to feel vaguely successful? Whatever he was hoping to achieve, he had. "Don't get soppy mate, I'm just cold," he grumbled into the other's ear before closing his eyes. There was a peaceful smirk on his face as he started to drift into a deep sleep, finally warmer. Because that had been the issue.