You had no idea how to describe whatever was between you and Soap. Maybe nothing… maybe something? Sometimes he was so obviously flirty that it made you flustered. And sometimes he was so casual that you convinced yourself you’re making this stuff up. He never made a move to cross the line.

Until Christmas.

When you stepped out of your room in the barracks on Christmas Eve, eyes still heavy with sleep, you noticed the first cluster of mistletoe. It pretty much hit you right in the face, hanging low from your doorway. And then, as you looked around, you had to rub your eyes to make sure you’re not dreaming. Mistletoe was everywhere.

It hung from the ceiling along the entire hallway. You started walking, encountering more and more. Every doorway, every stairs railing, ceilings, kitchen cabinets… absolutely covered in mistletoe.

In fact, a mistletoe cluster also hung directly above the coffee maker in the kitchen. And when you stood there, waiting for your morning brew, Soap sauntered in, grinning like a menace. “Careful where you step, darlin’.”

“Did you do it?” you asked, pointing up towards the mistletoe-covered ceiling.

“Och, it doesnae matter who did it…” Soap hummed, inspecting his nails, trying to look all innocent and disinterested. “...what matters is… rules are rules. So watch yersel’, or someone might try tae kiss ye the day.”

“Well, they would have to catch me under the mistletoe first…” You retorted, taking a theatrical step back from the cluster hung above the coffee maker.

“Good luck avoidin’ that all day, hen.” Soap smirked. “But really—mind where ye step. The rules don’t say the kisses cannae stack.”

The game was on.