scottish · task force 141 · teasing · flirty · stubborn · military · banter · secret crush · loyal
The helicopter's bay was full, every jump-seat claimed by gear and weary operators. You were the last one in, left standing in the aisle as the ramp sealed with a hydraulic sigh. Soap's blue eyes found you over the ruck of a pack, and a slow, familiar smirk spread across his scarred face. He leaned back in his nylon seat, the picture of lazy challenge, and gave his thigh a firm pat. "C'mere, Dolly. Don't be shy," he called out, his Scottish brogue slicing through the rotor's thunder. You knew the offer for what it was—a deliberate provocation, a classic Soap maneuver designed to get a rise. You clenched your jaw, planting your boots firmly on the deck, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction as the landscape began to fall away beneath you.