A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, both from the anonymous and registered readers! Seriously, no amount of thanks can describe how happy I am with all your kind comments…they're all motivating and really just make me smile/laugh.
To Boopem: I love your reviews, seriously. You're too kind! xD And when I meant I won't be writing Soap/Roach, I meant them detailed smut stories. "Innocent" romance? I can do that ;)
Don't think I haven't read any of the other reviews. Every single one means a lot to me. Thanks again, and here's another chapter :D
Finally reaching your room, the excitement bottled up in you can no longer be contained. You lock the door, turn around and then laugh out loud, the laughs wavering slightly from nervousness mixed with thrill as a result of witnessing such a heart-pounding moment. Leaning against the door, the laughter dies down and your gaze redirects to the alarm clock on the end table near your bed.
It's nearly six o'clock in the evening. As your mind ponders off as to what else to do, the phone in your pocket vibrates and, removing the device, you discover it's a message. At first your mind was too occupied with other matters to actually care about what's written, but then your excitement drains away as you read the content.
'The members usually clean themselves up from seven to nine at night,' it was written in the text, 'So, I advise you take a bath from six to seven, since the showers are almost always empty. Still, I can't guarantee your "friends" will stay out—I mean, they can walk in any moment.' Insert a cheeky smiley face at the end, and Seraph's name to signify the sender. She even manages to add, 'Hey, just kidding. Getting laid is against the second rule.'
You can feel the colour draining from your face. Of course, how could you have forgotten? No wonder you felt as though something was off earlier that day—the showers-with-no-stalls issue has been a subconscious worry you forgot to confront Seraph about.
And now she tells you to just go ahead and hope nobody walks in? It's not like there are schedules for those places.
Another text message comes in. It's longer than the last one, and you can feel your heart slowly sink with each word. 'There should be a conjoining room next to the showers where it's carpeted and has mirrors. Members usually undress or gussy up there before and after showering. It's best if you bring a new outfit with you so you can dress up straight-away after bathing to avoid going through those hallways draped only in a towel, and bring a bathing robe. Keep it close so you can easily reach out for it, just in case anybody decides to enter.'
Facepalming, you groan at the sinking feeling in your stomach. Great…this is what you'll have to do for the next seven days.
The clock indicates three minutes past six. If what Seraph says is true, it's best to go take a bath now.
You push yourself off the bed and kneel down next to the bag, making a mental note to unpack it later since the luggage had yet to be sorted out in the room. After removing a towel, you fold some fresh clothes together with the undergarments and wrap it up with the bathing robe into a neat, square package. Slinging the towel over your shoulder and pinning the 'package' underneath your arm, you face the door and take a few moments to breathe deeply.
Finally managing to build up the courage, you open the door slightly and peek out. Fortunately, the hallway is empty and you slip out to begin walking towards the showers, praying you wouldn't meet with any members on the way. It's a relief that the said room is less than two minutes away from the hallway of your room. In fact, the shower room is in the part of the base housing the members' bedrooms, so they're the only obstacle between you and your destination.
You're still dressed in the clothes you changed into earlier in the afternoon, but with the towel over your shoulder, it's an obvious sign you're about to take a bath. Sure, it wouldn't be embarrassing if you run into a member as you are now—but then they'd know you're about to shower, and there's the possibility of news spreading.
As you reach a T-junction hallway, you hear voices on the alley to the right, where the showers are located at the end. You stop and remain still, but the voices are faint and are soon followed by the close of doors. For the next few minutes, there's nothing but silence, and a sigh of relief escapes your lips as you turn and meet with an empty hallway.
Not willing to take a risk, you sprint ahead, silently passing numerous doors, and reach the double-doors at the end of the hallway. The entrance is large, composed of stained glass, wooden frames and metal knobs, with the words 'Shower Room' imprinted in bold letters on each door.
Before entering, you listen first. No running water, no murmurs, no movements—so you open the door noiselessly and peek in. As expected, there's nobody inside, so you slip in and close the door, grimacing as there's no lock for your convenience.
True enough, there's a conjoining room to the left of the room and you enter it, the surface underneath your feet changing from damp, cool porcelain to smooth, warm carpet. The room is squarish and bare other than counters, sinks and mirrors. You remove your folded clothes and undergarments from the bathing robe and place it neatly on the counter.
Then, you turn and stare at the reflection in the mirror. The hesitance is obvious in your eyes, your lips are tugged into a frown and your fingers are twitching. There's no denying the next step is to undress so you can proceed to the showers. Carefully holding the edge of your shirt, you throw a quick glance to the door and hold your breath at the sound of voices.
"Hey...no, it's next hour….seen the Private?" you can't tell whose voice it is, due to it being near to inaudible and the sentence itself constantly trailing off. However, it's quite obvious somebody's looking for you.
"No…maybe the shooting range…" a second person replied. The situation in the shower room is incredibly silent; the only things you can hear is your breathing and the steady, constant drops of water coming from a tap somewhere nearby.
You stay still for a few more minutes, and eventually release the breath you were holding in. Despite still being hesitant, you decide it's best to be quick rather than be overly-cautious and constantly delay the bath. You strip off your clothes and wrap yourself up in the bathing robe, bringing the towel with you as you leave the square chamber to re-enter the showers part of the shower room.
As expected, everything is bare and without stalls. Bright and dark blue porcelain tile the floors and theme the room. Everything is relatively clean and there's one metal bar next to each shower, serving the purpose to hang towels. You think of getting the one closest to the entrance of the 'preparation room', but then, it's too close to the main doors. Eventually, you settle on the farthest shower for safety.
Throwing the towel over the metal bar, you slowly remove the bathing robe, back facing the main entrance. Anybody who enters will have to circle around to see you, as there is a wall in the middle presenting more showers on either side of it, obscuring you from the direct view.
Hanging the bathrobe over with the towel, you reach out for the tap. The metal is cold against your skin and hard to twist. Adding a bit more effort, you manage to turn it, wincing at the annoyingly loud creak it makes in the process, and water finally rains down on you.
At first, the sensation comes as a shock, but you eventually loosen up underneath the feeling of warm water running down your skin. The sound coming from your bath is relatively at minimum, providing an extra bit of comfort in your moment of insecurity.
Fancying you heard a creak, you wipe your face and glance over your shoulder, only to find nobody there. A smile plays across your face as you return to the shower—you must be so worried that you're hearing things.
Three minutes into the bath, you move your face away from the water. The hot water caused a damp mist around your area of the shower and it reaches up to your knees. Slightly amused by the fact, you look for some soap, only to discover that the white porcelain sticking out from the wall is empty.
You're fine with that fact. Shrugging your shoulders, you turn back to your shower to re-immerse in the leisure again, but then you notice movement by the corner of your eyes.
You freeze, still facing the shower. Your eyes widen, your breath gets caught in your lungs, and your heart rate increases. No, you're hallucinating! There's nobody there.
"If you're wondering why—"
The deep voice stops dead, and so does your heart.
With blood rushing to your cheeks, you glance over your shoulder, only to see the captain of the task force looking at you with his mouth slightly agape—as though he stopped midsentence, which he did—without a shirt and towel drapped loosely around his lower body. His sky-blue eyes stare at your face, and then it lowers to your torso, then rapidly back up to your face again.
"S-Soap?!" you stammer, grabbing the bathing robe and slipping it on. You can feel the steam coming from the heat on your cheeks as you step out from underneath the running water to avoid soaking your bathing robe. By the time you look back up at him, his face is beet red and he's looking away, an awkward frown on his face.
"I—uh, I—" Soap stutters, his eyes constantly attempting to look at you but averts the gaze every time. "Sorry, I didn't know it was you."
You don't know what to say. Biting your bottom lip, you furtively hug your shoulders, feeling naked despite having the robe on. "N-No, it's okay," you mutter, voice wavering from obvious embarrassment. "At least I know this is…er—accidental."
"I'll go now," Soap coughs. He turns around and walks away, but you don't watch him leave. You're too busy biting your lip to prevent the half-laugh, half-scream from escaping your mouth.
You lean forward, allowing your forehead to touch the cold porcelain. After a few deep breaths, your heart rate lessens slightly, though the blush is still, most probably, lingering on your cheeks, and your knees feel weak. The half-laugh, half-scream of mortification is successfully suppressed into a loud, aggravated exhale.
Well, at least Soap wasn't naked when you saw him…but, then again, a part of you kind of hoped that towel wasn't there…
You flashback to when you turned and saw Soap. Those muscular arms, chiseled chest and prominent abs—hot damn…
'Wait, what?' you snap out of your strange musings and wipe your damp face several times. You stay there for a few moments to pull yourself together. Finally, you decide that the bath is complete and you walk towards the 'preperation room', using your towel to dry up your dripping-wet hair.
As you turn and step into the carpeted, square room, you pause when you find Soap there, staring at himself in the mirror. He looks at you from the reflection and blushes, and for a brief moment you admire how adorable he is when he's shy, before wrapping the towel around your torso as you remember you're only in a bathing robe.
"Look, Private, I—" Soap starts off in a flustered mess, and you raise a hand to wave it off.
"No, no, it's alright," you reply, averting eye contact as you move to the counter at the other end of the small room, opposite him. "What were you going to tell me?"
Soap seems a bit confused at first, but remembers and then says with a small smile. "I was going to tell you that we haven't re-supplied the soap because of some prank the numptys pulled off a few days ago. It's a long story."
"Oh," is all you said as you stare at your clothes, contemplating how to put on underwear and a bra when Soap is still there.
"By the way, you called me something else just now," Soap's eyes narrow as you both turn and lock gazes. "You called me Soap?"
The realization hits you like a bolt of lightning. It stuns you for a split-second, before you sputter quickly. "Uhhhh…I said Soap because…because there was no soap! I mean, I was just thinking about it when you turned out to be—erm, there—and, uh…it just slipped out my mouth. You know, surprised and all that…"
Soap nods and then shrugs his shoulders. You inaudibly sigh in relief that you've convinced him. He doesn't say another word as he exits the 'preperation room', and in a few moments you hear water running. A blush tints your cheeks as you realize he's bathing, but you ignore the weird feeling in your chest. You move to where Soap once was—near the mirrors, as your clothes are placed on the counter next to the mirrors.
Unfolding the clothes, you proceed to dress.
You're cautious, however. There's no way you're going to remove the bathing robe straight away—that is too risky. With the bathing robe still on, you pull your underwear on, and then the loose pants, which is a part of the folded outfit you brought along. With that done, you inhale deeply and hold the bra in your hands. Furtively looking around, you slip the bathrobe off our shoulders and put the bra on. You're successful, without any interruptions, and smile to yourself in accomplishment as your hands clip it together firmly on your torso.
Sadly, before you can reach out for your shirt, the main entrance opens and somebody runs into the 'preperation room'. The sudden presence of this third person startles you, and he obviously didn't expect to see you either, for he freezes and stares at you blankly. And, since you're standing in front of a mirror, he can obviously see your upper body from the reflection.
It took a split second for you to register the person as Royce.
Face absorbing into an abnormal shade of pink, you snatch your shirt and hug your shoudlers again in another pathetic attempt to block the 'view'. Your gaze falls downcast as you bite the insides of your cheeks, the embarrassment too immense to put into words.
Royce suddenly goes into a coughing fit, forcing a small smile from you amid the humiliation. He murmurs what sounds like an apology and turns around. With his back facing you, you quickly put the shirt on.
Now fully dressed, you call out, "Alright, you can turn now."
He hesitantly turns, obviously uncomfortable and shy. You admire his gentleman-like and respectful reaction to the situation, and flash him an appreciative smile. He nods in response to this smile, and you take your towel and bathrobe before exiting the showers, not looking in the showers' direction in fear of seeing Soap…bathing…and naked…
The images of the captain fade away from your mind as you close the main door behind you. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth and you lean against the entrance, a giggle threatening to escape as a result from mixed feelings. You feel embarrassed, yet excited and jumpy. Typical fangirl-ism symptoms—most probably due to the encounter with Soap.
As you walk ahead to go back to your room, Chemo suddenly pops his head out from one of the doors. He stares at you, surprised.
"What the— wait, isn't the captain in there? I saw Royce enter, too, but—"
You raise a hand and he stops the incoherent stammers. Smiling, you walk past him, saying simply. "Don't ask. It's a long story."
At a quarter to seven, you enter the cafeteria. There's a large commotion going on there.
"What's happening?" you ask. The lieutenant is standing behind the crowd, watching the members as they crowd around something and argue over it.
"Ice cream, apparently," he answers, his voice carrying traces of amusement. "Some truck came by and the lad said someone paid to have a container of chocolate ice-cream, along with about three dozen popsicles, sent to the base."
"What?"
"I know—I can hardly believe it myself," Ghost shrugs. "No cones or anything like that was included, so those wankers grabbed spoons and cups and just crowded the container with the chocolate ice-cream. It's the size of a pail, Private, can you believe that?"
Both of you stare at the crowd for a few more moments, before Ghost sighs. "I swear my men will be adding a few pounds by the end of this week."
You have a good idea it's Seraph who ordered the ice-cream. "Who is paying for this?"
"Beats me, but I do know that General Shepherd had to sign the paper," Ghost replied. From the tone of his voice, you can almost imagine the smirk underneath his mask. "I wonder which one of these idiotic bastards had the balls to pull off such a prank."
"I don't think it was any of them," you say, and Ghost turns to look at you. Ignoring his gaze, you shrug and ask, "Do we have any of that bread for hotdogs?"
He nods and points to an open doorway leading to the kitchen of the cafeteria. You enter and open one of the cabinets, before removing the long bread from the plastic and getting a spoon.
"About to enter the fray?" Ghost asks as you approach the crowd.
You grin at him. It took a while, but you finally manage to get three full scoops of creamy chocolate in the slit of the bread. By this time, many of the members have already gotten what they wanted, and are scattered about the canteen enjoying the sweet treats.
A small, childish smile plays on your face as you sit next to Roach, who is feasting on an orange Popsicle. Before long, Ghost takes a place on your other side. Ah, here we go again—pinned between two handsome men? You've been there twice, but that doesn't mean the feeling gets any easier.
"Ice-cream on hotdog bread?" Ghost inquires.
"Yeah, have you tried?" you ask, taking a lick of the ice-cream.
"No," he replies, "I'm not so fond of sweet things."
You hum in achknowledgement and proceed to devour your ice-cream. Usually, you pinch of bits of the bread, scoop some ice-cream on it and then put it into your mouth until the whole thing is small enough to be eaten whole. However, you take a few minutes licking the ice-cream just like that, sliding over it in a vertical order due to the shape of the bread.
The members are watching you, strangely. Though Roach is just enjoying is Popsicle like normal, Scarecrow, Meat, Ozone and Rocket at the opposite table are looking at you attentively, whereas Ghost's eyes are wide behind his glasses as he stares at you. Noticing their gazes, you flash them inquisitive looks.
"What?" you demand, taking a final lick.
Ghost looks away and clears his throat. Ozone blushes slightly and looks down. Rocket swallows, then averts his gaze. A creepy smirk suddenly plays across Meat's face, whereas Scarecrow grins.
"Ooh, Private~" Scarecrow throws a flirtatious wink. "Are you sure you're a virgin?"
At first, you're confused. What the hell brought that up?
And then you realize it's due to the way you're eating the ice-cream.
Blushing like crazy, you groan and throw a sideways glance at Ghost. Damn his balaclava. There's no telling what's going on in his mind due to that thing covering his face.
"Is the same dirty thing going on through your mind, lieutenant?" you question him bluntly, arching an unimpressed brow.
He seems surprised at the inquiry and doesn't answer. Pinching some bread and wiping it over the creamy chocolate, you grunt, "Oh, so Roach can suck that Popsicle like a pro and nobody wonders how he got so good at it…"
Roach chokes on his ice-cream, whereas Ghost suddenly laughs. Unaware of the significance of your sentence, you stare at them, bewildered. Roach's face is beet red, whereas the glint in Ghost's blue eyes is sly and mischievous. It takes a while for you to register what's going on in their minds, but then you get a solid idea.
"Oh…" you say, subconsciously. The blush becomes deeper. For Ghost to laugh at the remark only meant one thing: he already knows what Roach can do with his tongue. And there's only one kind of situation where he could have acquired that information: if they were having...you know.
Shit, the thought of it makes you want to squeal again…
A/N: I don't know whether it's an international thing, but here at home we usually eat ice-cream on that long hotdog bread, heh. I was licking one earlier today when I realize how wrong it looked...urgh...
Anyway, please review! :)