day 2— Cuddling

/tiny/ bit of background Ghost/Roach here.

141 Base
Credenhill, England
0200 hours
Can't fucking sleep.

Soap sat on the edge of his and Price's bed in the lamp illumined room, scribbling in his field journal. Sleeping. That's what he should be doing, not sitting, wide-eyed and anxious, awake and waiting. He let out a huffing sigh and tapped his pencil against the paper, itching to write something, anything, to pass the time.

Price and Roach still out on their mission with a few of the other task force soldiers, should have been back at 2300, Nikolai's never been late before. I know

The edging worry in the back of his mind resulted in him pressing down too hard, the lead on the tip snapped off and fell to the wood floor, rolling under the bed, his mouth turned down in a frown, following its decent into the dark depths.

'Well, fuck, so much for that', he thought. Glancing over to the bedside table, he saw his black plated, stainless steel tactical knife, the emerald colored handle striped with ebony and mahogany, a gift from Price, resting there. Many nights, out in combat, he used it as a make-shift pencil sharpener. He was tempted, but now, it seemed like a pointless effort, his mind already filled with troubling thoughts, in too deep to be distracted by mere doodling and scrawling words across the paper wouldn't do much to help at this point.

Soap snapped the journal shut and tossed it to the side table. He lifted himself from the bed, the metal frame creaked loudly in the otherwise silent room. The Scotsman began pacing back and forth in front of the trunk at the end of the bed, his bare feet padded on the floor. He wondered for a moment if rejecting Ghost's offer to watch mindless comedy movies all night was the wisest idea. Even if his friend's barking laughter would have driven him just on the edge of insane, at least it would have taken his mind off Price, his Captain, his Captain, out there without him.

Any other day, he'd be fighting right next to him, but, alas, one of them had to be operating as the field commander on the mission and someone had to stay behind to break in the whole new batch of FNGs.

After a long discussion, both of them debating the pros and cons of each option, they decided that it'd be for the best for the older Captain to go with Roach and a couple other specially selected 141 members, while Soap and Ghost would drill the new recruits of Privates, Corporals, and Sergeants in the 141's standard 'hell course'. Five mile run, three separate courses, QCB, breaching. All that with Ghost yelling at them. And, of course, showing off like a complete numpty.

When Roach was gone, Ghost always broke out the 'show-off, short-tempered Simon Riley' with just an edge of bragging prickness. Bit insufferable really, but he didn't mean it. Always talked to the recruits after, joked with them, made them question his sanity, making them not sure what to think. He liked to play up the tough guy act, until Gary Sanderson was around, then he became a bloody love-sick puppy dog.

Soap was the opposite when Price was away, quiet and calm, encouraging as he could manage, but still offering the younger soldiers constructive criticism on their tactics and techniques. He appeared that way on the outside at least, or that's how he'd appear to someone who didn't know him well enough. To Ghost, he was 'mopey' and 'whiny', to which he quickly pointed out to the Lieutenant that he saw him sitting on the rec room couch after training, holding onto Roach's red hoodie for dear life, hands straining, half of his skull mask pulled up while pressing his nose into the fabric.

That shut him up real quick.

It'd been a long day. Longest one in a while. Anytime he thought that he was focused on the training and talking with the squad, he'd get a moment alone and every thought would shift to Price. The older captain had no lack of combat experience in all sorts of situations, in leading stealth missions, and this mission was routine, evacuate some civilians, take down tangos in the way. There was no use in fretting.

Price being gone didn't bother him too much during the daylight hours. It was hot earlier, the sun hitting on his neck in the sand course, aviator sunglasses planted on his face, one of Price's black t-shirts certainly not covering his torso. Of course not. The sleeves pushed even further up his biceps as he ran the course along side the younger soldiers, speeding past them with ease, not to show off, but to outrun the persistent ache of missing his lover, his partner. In operating, combat, and life.

Once it was an acceptable hour to turn in, after he shovled down a large serving of meat and vegetables, and turned down Ghost on his movie marathon, he escaped to the privacy and seclusion of his and Price's bedroom. The watch on his wrist read 2130, less than 2 hours and Price should be back. That wasn't too long, well it wouldn't have been if it wasn't for the fact that each second felt like an hour, each minute was a lifetime. The clock cruel and mocking. He ended up cursing at the wristwatch in multiple languages, all the ones he learned from Price, and removed it, dropping it to his side table with a defiant look. Combat boots were kicked off and dropped next to the clothing trunk at the foot of bed. The shower was calling his name and, surely, it would pass some time.

Their room was one of the few with a bathroom right off of it, no luxuries here though. Just a sink, a toilet and a shower, but when it came to life on a military base, this was heaven to Soap. Private and like an oasis. He pulled off Price's black t-shirt from his body, now sweat soaked and covered in dirt, and flung it to the floor, his cargo pants came off next carelessly thrown on top of the shirt. If Price was here, he'd nag about the mess piled in the corner with his hands on his hips, a disapproving look all over his face. The older man was certainly the more organized and tidy of the two of them, it was about the only thing Price ever was picky about when it came to their relationship. Soap, on the other hand, was never short on complaints. Thankfully, Price was a patient man, even seemed to find it endearing, adorable. For whatever reason.

Soap slid the glass door of the shower open and turned the water on,switching it to a hard, jetting spray, and adjusted the temperature, hand feeling under the blasting pressure. Right bellow scolding hot. Exactly how he liked it. He stepped in and, instantly, his whole body slackened, the messaging pressure of the heated water melting away the day's stress on his body, if only it could reach his tense mind. Instead, he settled on squeezing a fair amount of shampoo in his hand and worked it into his sweat and dirt dusted mohawk, he closed his eyes while the cascading water washed away the grime.

Only thing missing now was Price slipping in behind him, kissing and biting at the back of his water drenched neck, indented marks left behind, the steam surrounding them and filling their lungs, his hand slapped on the white tile wall, bracing himself against the hard thrusts. Soap shook his head and dug his fingers into his scalp, his vision dizzying from the fantasy. No, not a fantasy, a memory from last night, just before he left to go on this fucking supposed 'routine' mission. Soap swallowed hard, trying not to think too long on what Price was going through at that very moment, knowing there was nothing he could do from inside the shower.

Soap finished up quickly, rinsing and trying to be more gentle on his now raw scrubbed scalp, the shower feeling claustrophobic, yet too empty at the same time. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he returned to their room.

Back at the present time, the room felt stifling. Time on his infuriating watch read 0240. Late. Way too late. All of it on top of the hint of a physical pain, he overdid it on the courses, and now he was paying for it. Muscles aching and burning, actually feeling tired for the first time that whole day. Sleeping, yeah, sure, like that was gonna happen. Still, laying sounding appealing, though the bed was empty and cold without Price in it. His brows pinched together, glaring at the mattress.

'Nikolai...you better bring them back safe. Bring him back.' he thought, biting his lip, as if his friend could somehow hear him. As if it would make a difference at all.

He turned off one of the bedside lamps, leaving the room with a dim glow, and then slipped under the covers with a grunt, sore muscles burning. Just as predicted, the bed was glaringly uninviting without the presence of his lover. The usually soft sheet scratched the bare skin it touched. The standard issue black blanket pulled up to his bare shoulders was not nearly as insulating enough, and now he was tossing and turning, noticing how empty the bed feels. Soap shivered, it wasn't the best idea to sleep shirtless tonight, he didn't have Price there to fight the cold. No amount of blankets can replace him.

At least the bed smelt like Price. Rolling onto his stomach and stretching his arms out, Soap began feeling on the deserted bed, callused fingers catching on the fabric. Ah, there. His blind searching left him with one of Price's pillows in his hand, he brought it close to his face, breathing in deep and closing his eyes. The scent eased the nagging worry, eased it, not eradicated it. Anything was an improvement at this point.

Separation. Goddamn separation. That was a state that both of them were used to being in. They were strong, they could deal with it. Five years apart. They spent more time apart than together, it was that fact that made being away from the other harsh and distressing, but he could handle it. They could handle it. No doubt Price was out there all day worrying that some mysteriously placed claymore would find its way to the training course that he was on all day. Soap laughed once, void of humor, in the empty room. He wondered for a moment if Ghost was feeling this pathetically lonely by now too. Of course he was, as much as the bastard would deny it.

The silence was unnerving, he silently prayed for a light rain to start falling. Fetching his mp3 player seemed appealing, but then again, most of his songs were adrenaline inducing, while others were quiet and emotional and would allow his thoughts to veer off again. So he settled on the quiet for who knows how long, he was over checking the watch, it only served as a grim reminder.

The sound of a soft creak bounced off the walls, his head snapped off the pillow, the glow outside the room revealing the outline of a man, a hat, and broad shoulders slumped wearily. Price. The door was shut quietly, apparently he didn't know Soap was awake.

Soap all but flew out of the bed.

Price knew now.

And so did Soap, for the most part all the troubling thoughts were silent, the first time that day.

"Thank god." Soap breathed out, barely audible, closing the distance between them. Price's jaw looked tight and clenched, but it loosened, his mouth lifted to a soft smile, worn and tired, but there, and all Soap's.
Soap hesitated for a moment before resting his hands on the side of the older man's arms, instantly the older man visibly relaxed. "Routine mission, eh?"

Price let out a low grunt. "Routine, right, that didn't go as planned.."

"Is everyone alright? You're a little late, Captain..." Soap asked worriedly, rubbing his hands down the other man's arms in soothing motions.

"We're fine, all of us. Got pinned down, that's all. We weren't planning on the snipers and RPGs to show up." Price sounded exhausted, he looked it even more.

"Pinned down?" He furrowed his brows, and scanned his eyes over Price's body, looking for any trace of injuries, there was a bandage wrapped around his right forearm, he looked questioningly up at the older man.

"Knife." Price answered with a roll of his shoulders, cringing a little at the move. "Bastard just grazed me, so I grazed him in the face with the back of my M4 carbine. Roach insisted that I wrap it up and stop the bleeding, for your sake. I tried to tell him it was nothing..." Price trailed off, reaching for the boonie hat on his head and placing it on the clothing trunk.

"Stubborn old man..." Soap mumbled, a slow, warm smile spread over his lips, he lifted Price's forearm and pressed a light kiss on the sloppily wrapped wound, the tension leaving the older man's body with every touch from Soap.

"Look who's talking.. Ghost told me you wouldn't stop running that course until your best record was crushed, even if you almost passed out. ..Soap, really?" Price arched a brow and picked Soap's lowered face with a finger, looking him in the eyes.

"What? All I was trying to do was motivate the new recruits, show 'em how to get shite done in the 141." Soap defended, distracting the older man with a kiss, leaning up to him.

Price nodded tiredly, breaking away from the kiss. "Mmm, I'm sure." He said lowly, giving him a small smile, somewhere between amused and all knowing. "I'll be right back." He excused himself to the bathroom, not before another kiss was pressed to the side of Soap's head, then he removed himself from the younger man's hold and disappeared behind bathroom the door.

When he was out of the room, Soap moved to the closet in their room, reaching up to the top shelf to retrieve the first-aid kit and brought it over to the bed. No doubt Price's cut was worse than he was letting on. Popping the metal top off, he picked out the peroxide, a fresh bandage, and cotton. And just in case, a pair of needle-nose pliers and a sterilized curved needle. As he threaded a suture through the loop and knotted it carefully, the bathroom door opened, he glanced up to see that Price was damp, shirtless now too, and clad only in his boxer-briefs. Soap must have been so enthralled in getting his make-shift medical station set up that he didn't hear the shower running.

"You left a bloody mess on the floor." Price complained with his hands propped on his hips. So predictable.

Soap smirked and gave a short laugh. To anyone else's ears, the older man's dry tone would sound rude and brash, but Soap knew him better, seeing the creasing on the edges of his eyes, telling him he was far from thinking any negative thoughts.

"Told you we need a clothes hamper, but you keep putting it off..." Soap replied, breaking his eyes away from Price's half-naked, fit body to focus on making sure the needle was connected to the thread properly, tugging at it.

"If we got a clothes hamper, you'd toss everything on top of it, instead of inside it." Price countered with a short chuckle, walking into the room and pulling the door to, leaving it slightly ajar.

Soap shrugged. "At least they wouldn't be thrown on the floor though, eh?"

Price's mouth was pressed in a thin line, a blank expression as he considered the other man's words for a moment. "Sure, sure. It's an improvement." Finally, he noticed the arrangement of supplies in front of him, surrounding Soap. "Now what's all this?" Price asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at the needle in his lover's hand.

"Come 'ere." Soap nodded at the bed and spoke with a warm smile, in a attempt to coax the older man closer, lead him into a sense of security, there was no need to worry, he was a professional amateur field med at this point, as much as the self declaration was contradicting.

Price let out a loud sigh and slumped on the edge next to Soap, careful not to knock any of the supplies out of place. "This is pointless. Completely pointless."

Soap wasn't even listening, he reached for the bandage on Price's forearm, the only dry spot on him, and unwrapped it, each layer removed revealing more blood. "Tell me how this," Soap started, gesturing to the near three inch wound, "is simply getting 'grazed' by a fucking knife."

Price shifted uncomfortably under Soap's worried, wide-eyed stare. "It felt like it only grazed me.."

"That's because you're this..unstoppable, indestructible man out on the battlefield, or you like to believe you are...but this proves that you're not." Soap scolded lightly, picking up a cotton ball and pouring a small amount of peroxide on it. "Bloody hell, you should see the doctor, but you won't... So you leave me no choice but to fix you up."

"I'd rather you do it anyways..if I have to suffer through this entirely unnecessary task, it might as well be with you half-naked." Price said devilishly.

Soap let out a small haughty laugh, "Glad you're enjoying the show." He dabbed in the cotton across the wound delicately, making sure to get every surface of the angry looking cut, the peroxide bubbled inside, tickling the older man.

Price eyed the needle, then Soap's hair covered chest, choosing to settle his gaze there instead of the ominous, thin piece of metal. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "Do we really need to go all the way with this?"

"Yep, no point in arguing against it now, love." Soap said, dropping the dirty cotton ball to the bed and picked up the towel, cleaning the last traces of blood.

Price's brows knitted together. "I bet Roach isn't being put through this.."

"Shite, I don't wanna think about what is going on in that room, Price. Also, I bet Roach didn't come back with a huge knife wound." Soap muttered, picking up threaded needle and bringing it to the edge of the gash. "Alright, don't move your arm." He instructed.

"I bloody know, this isn't my first time with a cut.." Price said, giving a flippant, frustrated gesture to the various scars left all over his body.

Soap's eyes flicked to the old, healed marks and bit his lip before looking back to the fresh, cut. "Shh, this is will be over before you know it." With that, he started with the corner of the wound closest to himself and pierced the skin carefully, threading through, and began stitching the irritated wound closed.
He paused when he felt the tense nerves rolling off the older man. "Focus on me, not the needle." Soap said softly, looking Price in the eyes, the other man nodded once in response. His eyes concentrating on Soap's handsome face, the furrow of the man's brow, the fullness of his lips that were held in a focused frown. Price's breathing steadied.

Price, after years of combat, was more than accustomed to pain, and this was nothing. More like a gentle poke, rather than a sharp needle. He still hated the things though and Soap knew why. Years in the Gulag built up a whole new array of hidden and suppressed phobias and fears within the older man..and Soap did everything in his power to avoid triggering any bad memories, but this was, unlike Price had said, necessary.

Soap made quick work of patching Price up, wanting the task to be done with just as much as the other man surely did. He felt Price's eyes on him the entire time, he resisted peeking up and smiling at him or winking at every opportunity. Finally at the end of the cut, he pulled the needle through one last time and made sure it was secure before holding the needle in place and snipping the leftover thread. Price brought the newly stitched up wound to his eyes, examining Soap's expert sewing.

"Huh, would you look at that."

"Wasn't so bad, eh?" Soap asked watching Price, unable to shake the fond smile from his face. He picked up the bandage next to him and brought Price's forearm back onto his lap, wrapping it loosely around the wound.

"Suppose not..."

"There." Soap said, slipping a metal clip on an end of the bandage, keeping it in place. "Good as new."

"Thank you, love.." Price murmured, looking more exhausted than before, a tired smile directed at Soap, soft around the edges.

Soap reached up and ran his fingers through Price's short hair, the older man's eyes fluttering at the gentle touch.

"Anything for you." Soap whispered. Price leaned in, looped his arms around Soap's neck and pressed their noses together. The younger man cradled Price's face in his hands gently before kissing him long and sweet and soft, pulling away only to whisper. "I don't think I want to know what time it is.."

"An ungodly hour, I'm sure." Price answered.

"Ghost can take over training tomorrow, I say you deserve a day off."

Price scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Like I'd be able to sit still, you either."

"Hah, there's that stubbornness again." Soap said running his fingers over the newly bandaged wound. "Well..now what?" On any other night, that question would be laughable. What else would they be doing other than having sex when they finally had some alone time and a perfectly comfortable bed? But this night, or rather, this early morning, was different, both men fatigued, mentally and physically.

"Let's..lay down. The only thing I could use right now, is you." Price said, leaning in and kissing Soap on the tip of his nose.

"You can have me whenever you want me..or need me." Soap reminded Price, smiling up at him and squeezing his hand briefly.

"I always do."

The sudden soft smile Price gives him stops Soap short. His heart skipped a beat, and he cleared his throat. "You go ahead and get in bed, let me put this shite up." Soap said, pressing one last kiss to Price's mouth.

Price raised himself from the end of the bed and didn't hesitate slipping under the covers. "If I never see another needle again, it will be too soon.." He muttered with a groan from the bed, his good arm resting behind his messy-haired head, dark circles prominent under his eyes.

Soap chuckled deep in his chest and collected the medical supplies, shoving them inside the metal case, snapping it closed, and returning it to the closet. Next, the dirty cottons and piece of cloth, disposing them in the waste basket in the bathroom.

When returns to the room, the light is turned off, he thought Price had fallen asleep, he managed to make out in the darkness the older man's chest rising and falling in a calm, steady matter. He paused at the foot of the bed for a moment, frowning, yet endeared. Then, he saw one of Price's eyes open.

"Glad you're enjoying the show." Price's voice spoke, repeating the younger man's earlier words with a dry tone, a smirk playing on his lips.

"I am, but I think I'd like it to get more...hands on." Soap said, low and deep.

"Then get your arse over here..Captain." Price threw back the cover on the left side of the bed, Soap's side, and patted the mattress.

"Aye, aye, Captain." Soap felt every bone, every muscle, every fiber of his being pulling him towards the bed, moving without even thinking, and slipped under the covers. The bed was no longer cold and rough, but comforting and inviting. Not even a second after he was settled, Price was there with strong arms pulling Soap closer, the younger man helped him so he didn't burst a bloody stitch and turned so he was facing Price, their chests hitting together, finally meeting in a warm embrace. The days stresses and worries melting away in the tight hold.

Soap leaned in and kissed Price sleepily on the lips, his eyes falling closed against his control, the older man pushed forward slightly, deepening the kiss and resting a hand on the back of Soap's head, his fingers gingerly running over his mohawk. Soap noticed that he was beginning to doze of in the middle of the kiss from sheer exhaustion. That was a sad thing, too tired to even kiss lazily. Damn.

Soap pulled away, inching his head back just enough he could get a good look at Price's face, despite the darkness, his eyes adjusted enough. "Hmm..we're a pathetic pair, can't even kiss.." He rumbled, the words slurring from his tongue's lack of cooperation. Soap waited for the response...that never came. Price's eyes were closed. Asleep.

The shock of affection that ran through the younger man was sudden and fierce, he wrapped his arms around Price fully, burrowing his head in the man's chest, kissing it once. With a quiet mind and a heart no longer weighed down by anything other than fatigue, he whispered onto his skin, "Good night, old man."