Reliant ~ [John Soap MacTavish]

XXVII. Dark Blue

Soap's hand lands on top of my helmet with a hard thud, and my eyes close as a reflex from the sudden force. "Jesus, that was not necessary."

"Funny."

"You and I have a different meaning for the word funny, then."

"Stop complaining," he grins as he grabs the bottom of my helmet, pulling me closer to him swiftly. He lifts my head with the same touch too, his fingers slipping in between the chin straps to check if they're tight enough. "Be careful with this. Ace is going to murder me if you scratch it up."

"I would never," I smile beneath the helmet, feeling the movement reaching my eyes too.

I can't help but admire the sleek lines of Soap's motorcycle as I run my fingers along the side. The blue and black color scheme of the Yamaha R1 is striking, and the sun glints off the polished surface.

"Nice one, Soap. When'd you start riding?"

He laughs a little, his voice lighting up as he talks about his interests. "Got into it because of Ghost, actually. I bought it two years ago."

"Bad influence, huh?"

"Or.. a good one," he nods. He gets on the bike, kicking in the stand and switching on the engine which immediately roars. Some quick refs later, he tips his head, motioning for me to hop on, and so I do.

I swing my leg over the back after pulling out the footstands. I lean forward, immediately wrapping one of my arms around him to hold on. Soap adjusts his grip on the handlebars a bit too, allowing me some more space on the back.

The wind whips through my hair as Soap skillfully maneuvers the motorcycle out of the parking lot and into the winding streets of the city. I can't help but enjoy the sensation of freedom and adrenaline coursing through my veins, a feeling that I haven't felt in some time.

As we approach a busy intersection, Soap expertly weaves through the traffic, making it clear that he's a seasoned rider. I'm impressed by his control of the bike and his ability to navigate the chaotic urban environment. He's better than I anticipated.

The feeling of the bike's vibrations beneath me, the cityscape blurring around us, and the trust I place in Soap to guide us safely all combine to create a thrilling experience. I lean in closer to him, resting my helmeted chin on his shoulder. "You've got some skills after all, Soap," I remark, my voice slightly raised to be picked up over the communication system.

He glances at me in response, his eyes narrowing with a playful glint. "Told you. I'm a natural."

Our journey through the city eventually brings us to a quaint little ice cream shop nestled in a corner on a not-too-busy street. Soap expertly parks the motorcycle, and we dismount, helmets in hand.

"Oh," I press my lips into a thin line to keep myself from laughing as I look up at the ice cream shop. "Wrong choice buddy. I hate ice cream."

His eyes widen in shock. "—No. Don't tell me—"

Unfortunately, I can't keep my laugh in for a second longer, as the pure fear on his face is enough to get me laughing for at least thirty seconds. "-I'm sorry, I had to," I say, letting out another laugh. "I'm joking."

"You.. You do like ice cream, right?"

"Yes," I laugh once more. "I love ice cream, I promise."

"Thank god," he sighs, relieved. "That was scary. I almost didn't like you anymore."

"Uhh," my face drops. "Hello?"

"Jokes, Alex. Jokes," he grins in return, softly pushing my shoulder before turning around to head into the shop.