Roommate!Soap Headcanons

by Parkamy13

Summary:

A series of headcanons about you and Soap being roommates. Reader is female and working in corporate.

Chapter 1: How the two of you meet

• After finishing your degree, you found a corporate job in the same city you studied in, and you spent a couple of years renting a small one-bedroom flat. You'd spent your college years living in a dorm and having to share the room with 4 other people, and after the first month of living by yourself, you made a solemn vow never to flatshare again.
• Of course, that was before the mid-20s crisis that hit you like a brick. It only took a couple of years in a city that you knew by heart, but that never felt like home, to make you want a change. That and the fact that your corporate job was literally sucking the life out of you, leaving you with no energy at the end of the day. who was gonna tell you a change of scenery might not really fix it?
• So you took the most natural course of action: found an equally corporate job in London and hoped for a fresh start in a big new city.
• The paycheck was almost double your previous one, but you soon realised it couldn't cover even a deposit, let alone renting by yourself for at least a year.
• So you had to speedrun through the 5 stages of grief and find a shared flat in a span of 5 days because you couldn't afford a hotel, nor would you stay in a hostel while balancing a new job and searching for rent.
• There you were, in your childhood bedroom, surrounded by unpacked bags and posters of outdated movies and boy bands, and scrolling through Facebook rent listings. You had already booked two nights at a downtown hotel and started to fill up your schedule with flat viewings, although the rapid pace at which nice listings became unavailable wasn't too encouraging.
• On your second evening in London, you stumbled upon a particularly nice flat listed under a John MacTavish. Flatsharing with a man definitely wasn't on your wishlist, but after two days of pacing around a metropolis you barely knew and overusing your social battery, you were running out of resources of all kinds. The flat looked actually pretty nice, had 2 bathrooms, and the higher floor seemed to provide a nice view. The listing pictures were clearly taken by a man, but you were desperate enough to tell yourself that this meant it could only look better in real life.
• That's how, 30 minutes later, you found yourself waiting in front of a rather modern apartment building, wrapping your hands around your body in an attempt to preserve any leftover body warmth. The evening was unusually cold for an early spring day; you could only hope it would get warmer as time went by.
• "Y/L/N Y/N? I'm Ser- John MacTavish. You can call me Johnny, nice to meet you!"
• You answered his greeting out of reflex, rather than intention, carefully taking in what seemed like your last resort at housing for the day. He was a broad-shouldered, bulky man of average height, sporting a surprisingly well-kept mohawk. His posture was stiff, almost as if he was standing at attention, and his blue eyes were carefully assessing you. You didn't miss the brief nod of approval as he found, or rather didn't find, what he might have been looking for.
• "Shall we go in?"
• You appreciated the fact that he didn't try to make the same small talk you had continuously heard for two days. You didn't know whether you could take another discussion about how quiet the area is, or the fact that 10 other people are waiting to see the flat afterwards.
• Instead, he showed you the card he used to enter the building and carefully guided you towards the elevators. You spent the ride to the 6th floor dissociating and spiralling as your brain was trying to persuade you to sign the lease right there and then. You didn't want to spend another day scrolling through listings, texting random numbers and pretending to be an exemplary flatmate.
• "So before going in, there's something I need to tell you, miss.."
• His straightforward tone brought you out of your mind faster than a crash landing. He definitely noticed how your eyes widened in despair and your thoughts started to circle around your brain like they were on a motorsports race track, and, to his credit, he quickly shook his head and put a hand on your shoulder before retreating it just as quickly:
• "Aw, shite, nowadays people are asking for permission before touching others, ain't they? Hope I didn't offend ye much, bonnie... shouldn't have called you that either, we barely met and-"
• And perhaps it was the pent-up stress or the fact that you were backpedalling through the five stages of grief again, but you couldn't stop the laughter that started rolling off you in waves. That was it, you might have signed your own death sentence. If he didn't think you were crazy enough for agreeing to meet with a total stranger on a weekday night on half an hour's notice, your chaotic laughter must have done you in.
• "I'm so sorry, I definitely don't want to trauma-dump on you, but I've been looking at flats for the past two days, I'm tired of small talk about how to split the water and heating bill, and I might be going through a meltdown as we speak. And if I were sure you wouldn't kick me out this instant, I'd also add that your accent is adorable! Scottish, is it?"
• If your laughter was chaotic, his was thunderous and booming, echoing throughout the empty hallway and making the automatic lights turn on with its sheer intensity. It was even funnier when it stopped as suddenly as it started, upon hearing a key twisting in a lock nearby. With a cheeky smirk, he opened the door to his own flat and ushered you inside, quick to close it behind the two of you.
• "Alright, before you start looking around and realise this might be the flat of your dreams, I really must tell ye that my job has... very irregular hours. So I’ll likely be coming and going at all sorts of odd times-"
• "Are you in the military?"
• To his credit, he tried not to look too taken aback by how quickly you put two and two together. He wasn’t used to sharing the nature of his occupation with someone so quickly.
• "Is it that obvious?"
• But the way his lips formed a half-pout of surprise was too adorable to make you keep your observational skills a secret.
• "Only when you know what to look for. And it so happens that my job is centred around figuring out information from very few facts."
• "What else did you figure out about me, then?"
• The question was serious, but amusement and determination were glistening in his eyes. He crossed his arms over his body, and you couldn't help but let your gaze linger on the black t-shirt that stretched over his wide frame, leaving little to the imagination. He noticed your eyes straying and raised a teasing brow. If the game was on, two could play it.
• "How much would it influence my chances of being picked as your roommate?"
• Something about the way his pout morphed into a full-blown grin
• "I've just made my choice. I think it's your turn to make yours, bonnie."
• You noticed how easy the endearment rolled off his tongue, like he did it on purpose. A Sergeant somewhere in a military structure, and a man who listens? For a first-time impression, he did a pretty good job.
• Later on, when you looked back on the moment you made the crazy decision to share a flat with a man you'd met half an hour earlier, you would start questioning the concepts of free will and destiny. Was the outcome decided the moment you stumbled upon his listing, or had you actively played a role in it by weighing your first interaction with the man?
• "Where did you say my bedroom was?"
• You moved in the following morning, with Soap insisting on carrying all your bags to his car and then upstairs. He might have been surprised by the two carry-ons you warned him were filled with his books, but he didn't let it show. It had been a while since his flat had benefited from a woman's touch, and secretly, he was glad for the future changes.