Chapter Text
They're in what passes in for the kitchen/break room of the base. Rudy has cornered Soap to ask about relationship advice. It has taken a turn he hadn't expected.
Obviously the sergeant is doing something right, judging by all the noise that comes out of his room whenever lieutenant Ghost drops by for a "friendly visit" (or whatever it is they're calling it). Not that Alejandro and Rudy are even actually together, but. There's something there, some unspoken thing they've been dancing around for years, and at this point Rudy is sick of it. He's half tempted to just grab Alejandro by the collar and kiss some sense into him, but he's also not nearly confident enough for it. Hence the visit to Soap: maybe there's something he's missing, some inexplicable, key detail that an eagle-eyed third-party might just be able to point out.
Instead, he is here, in this moment, blinking very deliberately, like that will make what Soap is saying any less ridiculous.
"I need to 'slut it up'?" he asks, sure his eyebrows have rocketed up past his hairline. "You're not serious."
Soap just nods with a quiet solemnity that is completely undeserved. "More serious than I've ever been in my damn life."
"Well, how do I do that?"
"Ah, lucky for you, Rudy, you're speaking to a master." The look in Soap's eye is devilish. "I'll take good care of ye." Then he winks, and Rudy wants to melt into the floor. He settles for rolling his eyes to the tune of Soap's laughter.
---
Their meeting of the minds has been moved to Soap's room. "So that we can get down to business," or something to that effect. Rudy can't help but feel as though he's stepped onto the scene of a crime, silently wondering what sort of things would be revealed were he to shine a black light from the ceiling down.
"Now, lucklily we're about the same size or so, because you're gonna be wearin' my clothes," Soap says, opening his backpack and dumping every article of clothing that lies therein onto his bed. "Yours are fine, but they're not tight enough for our purposes."
Rudy catches a glance of something red and lacy before it's swept beneath the pile. Soap studiously ignores his gaze but continues onward all the same, clearing his throat. "Now, how do you feel about colors?"
"Colors?" Rudy shrugs. "They're fine. No problems, I guess."
"Just trying to think of what to put ye in. All black might be a good look. Hm." Soap puts his hands on his hips, takes a step back. "See anythin' ye like?"
Rudy pauses, takes a good, long moment to examine the pile before him. It's mostly t-shirts and jeans in muted colors, though there are a few cargos and things mixed in. Nothing in particular stands out, so he just grabs hold of the closest thing in reach: a soft, black t-shirt.
"Ooo," Soap coos, nodding. "Aye, that's a good one. Like what it does for my biceps. And for the trousers...these'll do." The pair Soap selects is dark-wash denim. There are a couple small rips in the knees, though they appear to have been born from wear more than stylistic preference. He hands the jeans to Rudy. "Now get changed while I start accessorizin'."
"Sure," Rudy acquiesces somewhat dubiously, placing the clothes in a neat stack on floor as he slips out of his own. Soap hums as he works, mumbling color commentary to himself as he picks through whatever "accessories" he has on hand. It's not a bad backing track, Rudy thinks as he pulls Soap's jeans up past his knees and over his hips.
"You weren't lying when you said these were tighter," Rudy mumbles, doing up the zipper and fastening the button. It's not a suffocating tightness, but its more than he's used to, and more than would be convenient to wear on a mission. "Mierda. Do you really wear them in the field?"
Soap glances back at Rudy for a second, snorting. "Those? Hell no. But they're good for a bend and snap."
Rudy is too busy trying to wrestle the shirt over his head to look at Soap incredulously, but he wants to. "Bend and snap?"
"We'll get to that later. Don't worry." Worrying seems like exactly the sort of thing Rudy should be doing, but he bites his tongue.
He doesn't keep his mouth shut for long, though. "Fuck, es como un pinche torniquete." If the sleeves of the t-shirt were any tighter, Rudy would be losing circulation.
"What was that?" Soap calls out, caught between concern for Rudy and picking the better of two bracelets.
"You will have to cut me out of this thing," Rudy tells him, tugging at the seams like it will grant him more breathing room. "How can you stand to wear it?"
Soap scoffs. "It's not that bad." He turns around, search apparently finished, and smiles. "You look great."
"I don't know if slutting it up is for me, Soap."
"Rudy, don't say that. Slutting it up is for everyone." He pauses, thinking and chewing on his bottom lip as he does so, then nods. "Alright, put these on and I'll try to find a mirror." He presses the bracelets and things he picked out into Rudy's hands, then turns and sets out the door. Rudy sighs and gets to accessorizing.
The way Soap was talking, he was honestly expecting glitter and diamonds, but everything Soap's selected is understated and dark: a couple leather bracelets in a cool brown, another bracelet that looks to be made of tarnished iron, a plain black metal ring. There are earrings, too, black studs that match the ring, but Rudy's ears aren't pierced, so he just puts them atop the clothes pile that's still sitting on Soap's bed.
When Soap comes back it's with a triumphant grin and a hand-mirror in hand. "Wheedled this little thing out of Price." He waves it about. "Apparently he tries to keep one on 'im in case he needs to tame the 'chops."
"Hooray," Rudy deadpans, and Soap tuts.
"You'll get rid of that attitude quick when you see the kind of magic this shirt works. Now hold this."
Rudy reluctantly takes hold of the mirror, patiently waiting as Soap adjusts the angle of his hands. "Could we not just use a phone for this?"
Soap freezes. Then splutters, "Well, aye, sure, but that's not as fun, is it?"
"Oh, yes. I am having so much fun." Sarcasm drips like a liquid off Rudy's tongue.
"Aw, haud yer wheesht." Soap shakes his head, then continues, muttering through a smile, "Just as bad as Lt. sometimes, I swear."
"I just don't know what I'm supposed to be--"
Suddenly, the stars align, and Rudy can see it: the curve of his bicep under the smooth hug of black cotton, sensous and suggestive. Somehow it's tight in all the right places, though it certainly doesn't feel that way.
"Oh."
"Right?" Soap's waggling his eyebrows, pleased as punch. Rudy's gaze keeps bouncing between his arm and its reflection in the mirror.
"It really is magic." Rudy has never been one to listen to tales of brujería, but if this shirt gets him laid, he really might start.
"You're welcome. Now, how do you feel about nail polish?"
---
"Ah, I'd love to get some eyeliner on ye, but I don't have any with me," Soap says as he draws another stripe of polish down Rudy's nail. Ring finger this time. He's gotten used to the sensation at this point and doesn't even twitch.
They're still in Soap's room, sitting now, with the open bottle of polish between them. Rudy's hands are presented outward for Soap to do with as he wishes, while Soap leans forward to paint with careful precision.
"That's alright," Rudy says. He remembers being a young boy, watching his tías and primas poke at their eyes with pencils, and suppresses a shudder. "I'm fine like this."
"It'd be really hot, though," Soap pouts.
Rudy laughs. "I think I'll survive without it."
Soap hums. "Still."
Quiet falls between them, the meditative, peaceful sort. The gentle pull of Soap's fingers as he tries to manipulate Rudy's hand into the best configuration for painting is almost soothing. It lets Rudy's mind wander as Soap bites his tongue between his teeth, eyes narrowed in concentration.
He has no idea if any of this will actually make Alejandro properly look at him, but--it feels nice. It feels nice to be dressed up and to be taken care of and to do it with a friend. The last time he so much as sat down and really, truly relaxed seems like ages ago, but this? This is entirely new, and sweeter because of it. Maybe this won't work, maybe it'll all be for nothing and he'll feel like an idiot by the end, but Rudy won't be able to regret it. Time spent with Soap isn't a bad consolation prize anyway.
"Alright," Soap says, setting Rudy's hand down. "Done."
The polish isn't yet dry, and it gleams wetly in the light. It's mesmerizing to watch. Rudy turns his hand this way and that, and the light dances.
"Thank you." His smile is a small thing, but infinitely pleased. The mere concept of nail polish was an intimidating one, but he's glad he let Soap talk him into it.
"Anytime," Soap tells him, and Rudy believes it. "Now, you let those dry and we'll hit the town." Then he winks. "Let ol' Alejandro see what he's been missing out on, aye?"