“Why did you put your fucking foot there?”
The dance instructor tries to figure out if the pair is getting married or divorced.
Price sighs in frustration. They must have been here for at least 3 hours, trying to memorise the steps and “feeling” the rhythm, whatever the fuck that means. This is their 4th such session of practising their grooms’ dance and if you were to ask either of them, they would much rather be deployed back into an active warzone than being here.
Soap tries to approach the older man with an extended hand. “Ok, let’s give it another shot, I think maybe if we…”
Price cuts him off and goes to rest on a chair. “Just… I need a fucking a break.”
Soap sighs, arms crossed over his chest, giving the instructor a pleading look. He gets the message and gives the soon to be married couple a moment of privacy.
He pulls another chair next to Price and tries to find the right words. The wedding preparations have been an extremely stressful endeavour for both of them. Price is pinching his moustache, his obvious tell that he is frustrated. He is the first one to speak.
“I’m sorry for lashing out. I truly want to give you and your family this beautiful moment, but maybe we are just shit at it.”
Soap grabs his lover’s hand with a smile. “I want to give ourselves a beautiful moment. It’s our fucking wedding after all.” And the younger brilliant man is struck by another brilliant idea. “Come on, let’s try again. Trust me on this one.”
He runs to the music controls to play a song of his choosing, which immediately puts a smile on Price’s face. Such a gorgeous smile, Soap thinks.
(This is the song I had in mind during this scene.)
They meet in the centre of the dance room and assume positions. Price rests his hand on Soap’s shoulder, given the fact that Soap is taller. He would never dare to say it out loud, but Price always enjoyed being the shorter one. Soap’s hand goes for the small of Price’s back, pulling him close to his chest.
They start swaying, a bit awkwardly at first, mostly because Price still tries to focus on some carefully planned movements.
“Eyes on me love…” Soap’s voice is barely audible and Price obeys. Worries melt away, expectations disappear and their bodies are finally in sync, moving around the dance floor. Soap gets a bit daring and tries to spin Price and to his surprise he accepts and actually chuckles!
It’s a bit like combat really. Trusting your partner, accepting to be led and then to lead yourself. You just replace the danger of losing your life with being stepped on. And this loose sense of authority and power exchange is beautifully displayed by the pair. It’s a playful fight, where Price pulls in a certain direction and Soap follows. But right after Soap imposes a new rhythm and speed to their movements. I trust you, you trust me.
It’s rare to see these two scarred men smiling like this. They look proud of their love. And now that most inhibitions are out the window, they start getting a bit silly, maybe even cringy for an outside observer with their moves. But man they seem to be having so much fun, stupid fun, the kind that reminds the world they are just boys beneath their rough exterior.
“Ready for a dip?” Soap says. Worry flashes for a moment over Price’s face, but Soap doesn’t wait for an answer. Price yelps and grabs Soap's strong arms until it hurts, but he doesn’t fall.
Pulling him back up, Soap is panting from the effort, but he looks proud of himself. As a reward, Price pulls him close, their lips crashing in a desperate kiss.
“Never do that again, muppet.” His tone is serious but his smile betrays different emotions. “Not without permission anyway.”
“Yes sir!” Soap doesn’t hide his smirk. “I can’t wait to marry you…” He captures his soon to be husband’s lips with hunger.
