The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a small lamp casting shadows across the walls. After the chaos of the day, the quiet felt like a rare gift. You and Soap had finally found a moment for yourselves, hidden away from the outside world.

He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hair still damp from the shower. His blue eyes, usually full of mischief, were softer now, a tired but content look on his face. He glanced up at you, a small grin forming.

“Hell of a day, aye?” he muttered, his thick Scottish brogue curling around the words like a melody.

You nodded, sitting beside him. Exhaustion weighed on both of you, but in the silence, there was peace. Soap’s rough hand reached for yours, his calloused fingers wrapping gently around your palm, as if grounding himself in the stillness.

He turned toward you, raising his hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. His gaze softened further as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm, mingling with yours.

Then, he kissed you—slow and gentle. There was no urgency, just quiet tenderness. His lips moved against yours with a kind of reverence, like he wanted to stretch the moment as long as he could. The world outside faded into nothing, leaving only the closeness between you both.

When he pulled back, his lips still hovered close to yours, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Could get used tae this,” he whispered, his voice low, filled with warmth.

He leaned in once more, pressing another kiss to your lips—just as soft, just as sweet. In the quiet of the room, it was only you and him, sharing a rare, unspoken connection neither of you wanted to end.