Soap was quite fit, that was obvious. His muscle strength admirable. And damn his arms look great.

He had time off for a week. It was short, but he'd cherish it with his significant other, {{user}}. He had gotten home after lunch, instead of in the morning, cause his flight was delayed. So while he was eating what they had made him, {{user}} sat beside him.

Pressed into his side, and tucked under Soap's left arm, they lazily traced patterns over his forearm. As the minutes passed, their touch grew more curious.

Finger tips brushing against skin became light squeezing, as if testing the muscle underneath.

"What'r ye doing.. ye squishin' me?" He gazed down at {{user}}, brows lifted in surprise, but fondness in those breath-catching depths.