#ignore my GODAWFUL attempt at phonetically translating scottish
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prompt: possessive best friend soap (part 1)
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Youâve known Johnny for roughlyâ
âWhassit beenâlike twenty plus years, hen? I ken our mams have been close since we were in nappies, so we sort of grew up together, wouldnât ya say?â
âtoo many years. Youâve been putting up with him for too many years now. Not more than you can count, but more than you can be bothered to relay to your bewildered-looking date sitting across the table from you. Besides, Johnny hardly needs you to fill in the blanks; since pulling up a chair beside the two of you, heâs been quite happy to share the intimate details of your friendship.
ââFact, almost moved in together a coupla years ago. âAm noâ sure why we didnât. Might still, at some point. But I bet you knew that, huhâwhat was it, Rodney? Yeah, Rodney. Kinda a strange name, isnât that? We had a dog named Rodney growing up, doâya remember, kitty cat?â
âYes, John. I remember.â Your head is fully in your hands now, elbows leaning against the table because thereâs no reason for table manners anymore. Not with the way Johnnyâs shovelling your food into his mouth like he hasnât eaten all day. Itâs annoying that itâs still rather endearing; you push the plate closer to him so he doesnât have to reach as far across the table and risk spilling your pasta all over the white tablecloth.Â
Youâve been trying to catch the waiterâs eye for the past five minutes, but itâs like the guyâs been paid off or blind or something because he does everything but look over at your table. What a waste of a night.Â
In fairness, the date hadnât been going exceedingly well; Rodney had already made a couple of rather passive aggressive comments about your field of study and furrowed his brows a bit too tight when you mentioned wanting to order dessert.Â
âSorry, I just need toâIâll be right back,â you mutter, scooching away from the table and wincing when your chair scrapes across the floor. You scurry off to the bathroom while Johnny keeps prattling on about whatever inane topic heâs chosen this time to your date, who is looking increasingly agitated. His expression is pinched like he has a stomachache.
In the bathroom, you wet a paper towel and press it lightly to your cheeks so your makeup doesnât smudge. Theyâve been hot since Johnny sauntered into the restaurant and made a bee-line for your table, ignoring your repeated kicks under the table and you mouthing at him to leave. Itâs not fair. You go out once a month if youâre lucky because work usually takes priority in your life and now Johnnyâs on leave for the next month. Youâve made peace with the fact that youâre going to have to delete all dating apps off your phone for at least the next foreseeable month.Â
When you come back, youâre not altogether shocked to find only Johnny still at the table, your date long gone. He scoops up the leftover red sauce with the table bread, looking like heâs having the time of his life even on his own.
âMade a break for it, did he?â you ask, sighing when you collapse despondently into your chair.
âSorry, kitty cat,â Johnny apologies with big, beseeching eyes. âTried to tell âim he didnât havâta leave, but he wouldnât have it. Paid his bill at least, good lad. The guy's a pure fandan, wasnât he?â
You donât necessarily want to encourage his behaviour by agreeing with him, but you canât help the soft sound that escapes you.Â
Only on the drive homeâyouâd walked to the restaurant, but Johnny drives the two of you back to his place because he insists on making it up to you with ice cream and a movieâdo you begrudgingly admit to yourself that youâre glad Johnny interrupted your date. If he was going to intrude on any date, at least it was that one. An otherwise lousy date might still have a good ending.
âYer too good for him anyway, kitty cat,â Johnny sniffs on the drive home. You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, scrunching up your nose. You hadnât even brought it up. âDidâya see the way he chewed with his gob wide open? Pure repulsive behaviour. Who does that in front of a lady?â
âI donât remember asking you about my choice of dates, Johnny.â
He laughs, reaching across to give your thigh a little squeeze. You ignore the way it makes your stomach jump. ââSaid my peace. Just donât wanna see you settling for some numpty who hasnât got any common decency.â
You grunt because the alternative is opening your mouth and screeching at the top of your lungs. You know this. Itâs not your fault that the dating pool in your town is small to begin with and youâre picky on top of that. Thereâs some criteria for Man etched into your frontal lobe that you canât read but you know is there, and it rejects every single guy youâve ever dated.Â
At his place, he gets you comfortable on the couch before going to the kitchen and coming back with a bowl of ice cream filled to the brim and a single spoon. You snap at him when Johnny sits way too close to youâso close in fact that youâre pressed up against the side of the two while there are two full cushions on the opposite side of himâbut he just coos and feeds you anyway, making train noises when he brings the spoon to your mouth.Â
Heâs a rapscallion. Heâs incorrigible and a devil and you miss him so much sometimes when heâs away doing whatever it is he does in the military that it hurts your heart. It literally hurts when heâs away. So you let him spoil you when heâs back in town on his annual leave or when heâs granted an exemption for a wedding or a funeral. You soak up every minute with your blue-eyed puppy dog of a best friend, content to leave the dates and your other friends for when heâs gone.Â
Thatâs been the pattern now for going on several years.Â
Winter is the asceticâs season anyway. You have no reason to keep trying once the weather gets colder. So instead, you go to work during the day and then hunker down at night, only seldomly going out for drinks with friends or visiting your family for weekend brunch.Â
Johnny must miss you too while heâs away because the man borders on feral when he comes back. Tactile as all hell. Nary a moment goes by when he doesnât have his hands on you somehowâbig hands smoothing over your shoulders when you complain about your back aching, a hand squeezing your thigh teasingly in the car, callused fingers pinching your cheeks and squishing them together like a fish.
âOkay, now say, âJohnny, thank you for chasing off my bawbag of a date and buying the choco-mint,ââ he coos, squishing your cheeks with one hand, the other draped along the back of the couch behind you. Heâs so close that you can smell the sweat on his skin, his scent a heady musk.Â
You glare up at him, mollified by the ice cream but annoyed that he wonât stop rubbing it in. âJawny, yew are an idjiot.â
He shakes his head, eyes sparkling. âNo, that's noâ right. You got wax in your ears, kitty cat? Do I need taâ check?â
You screech when he turns your head to the side and bites your ear, trying to crawl off the side of the couch, but he pulls you back down. Nearly pulls you on top of him, blowing raspberries into your temple and laughing. Itâs almost impossible to escape from his arms, beefy since he enlisted years ago. They tighten around you, holding you in place while he nips at your earlobe and nuzzles into the side of your head.Â
Heâs near doubled in size since back then. Sometimes even the sight of him makes your head spin. He towers over you, not always the tallest in the room, but always standing the straightest, the proudest. Aware of the breadth of his shoulders and his physicality, loose and limber for the most part until someone gets on his bad side and you see the change wash over him. Cocky grin turned down and hard. Arms stiff by his sides.Â
Not now though. Not in the little warm bubble of his living room, breath punched out of you with shrieking laughter. Itâs hard to remember why you were upset with him in the first place.
âGonna need you to give me a break, kitty,â Johnny breathes into your neck when he finally turns the movie on, pulling your legs until theyâre draped across his lap. âHowâm I supposed to keep an eye on you from across the world?â
âYou donât have to interrogate all my dates,â you mutter, eyes sliding shut. Itâs warm in your bubble and the warmth makes you sleepy. Too bad Johnny doesnât have a guest room at his place. Youâll probably end up drooling on his bicep when he carries you to bed.Â
âYeah, I do.â His voice is low, muffled against the top of your head. âNo oneâs good enough for my girl. Gotta make sure they know that.â
#ignore my GODAWFUL attempt at phonetically translating scottish#cod mw2#ceil writing#cod x reader#soap mw2#john soap mactavish#soap cod#soap mactavish#soap call of duty#soap x you#soap x reader
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