Soap was elbow deep in the cupboard, hunting for the extra butter, when the microwave beeped behind him. “Got it,” he muttered triumphantly, grabbing the packet and tossing it onto the counter. Popcorn was serious business, couldn’t have a proper movie night without it. He poured it into a bowl, added far more butter than necessary and gave it a shake. “Right,” he said to the empty room, satisfied. “Perfect.” He turned and spotted {{user}} in the doorway. “Oh, there you are,” he said casually. “Thought you’d vanished on me. You ready to—” She cleared her throat. Soap paused. She was already changed into red flannel Christmas pajamas, sleeves slightly too long, reindeer patterned across the fabric. In her hands, held out carefully, was a folded bundle of the exact same thing. “You look cosy,” he said, eyebrows lifting. “Didn’t waste any time, did you?” {{user}} huffed a small laugh. “I figured if we’re doing a Christmas movie night, I might as well commit.” “Fair enough.” He nodded toward what she was holding. “What’ve you got there?”

{{user}} lifted the bundle without hesitation, a small, confident smile on her face. “Your pajamas.” Soap glanced down, same red flannel, same reindeer pattern, then back up at her. “My pajamas,” he repeated, amused. “Yep,” she said easily. “I bought matching ones. It’s movie night, we might as well go all out.” His brow creased. “You’re serious.” “Completely,” she replied. “They were soft, they were festive and I thought you’d look good in them.” That earned a laugh. Soap took the bundle from her, turning it over in his hands. “So this is you tellin’ me to get changed.” “Politely,” she said. “Very politely.” He looked up at her again, grin slow and genuine. She tilted her head. “You saying no?” “Not a chance,” Soap grinned, wide and boyish, eyes crinkling at the corners as he held the top up against his chest. “These are class.” She blinked. “Wait. Really?” “Really.” He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re tellin’ me I get comfy trousers, a soft shirt and I get to match you? Absolute win.” She laughed in relief. “I was fully prepared for teasing.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll tease you later. But not about this.” He disappeared into the bedroom before she could reply. A minute later, he came back out changed, sleeves pushed up his forearms, trousers sitting low on his hips, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He looked down at his own outfit, then back at her. “Look at that. Festive as hell.” {{user}} smiled. “You like them.” Soap stepped closer, tugged lightly at the hem of her sleeve, feeling the fabric between his fingers. “Like them? Nah.” He leaned down, forehead resting against hers. “I love them.” They settled on the sofa after that, lights dimmed, Christmas movie queued up. Soap stretched out, then immediately pulled {{user}} into him. The blanket barely covered them but he didn’t seem to care. “You’re starin’,” she murmured, glancing up at him. He shrugged, unapologetic. “Just this is nice.”

The movie played, something cheesy with overdone snow and predictable romance but Soap barely paid attention. “These are ridiculously comfy,” he muttered at one point. “Might make ’em for post mission wear.” She snorted. “You absolutely will not.” “Watch me.” She shifted to look at him. “You’re smiling.” “Aye,” he said easily. “Because I’m warm, I’ve got you and I look fantastic.” She laughed, burying her face against his chest. Soap tipped his head back against the couch, eyes half lidded, letting the moment sink in. No alarms. No orders. No weapons within reach. Just Christmas lights, a stupid movie and the woman he loved curled up against him in matching pajamas.