Warning: This story contains some references to sexual activities. Nothing major, but it's best to turn back now if you think you'll be offended.

-Note- This was supposed to come out before Christmas but my proof reader failed to read it in time, thus I shall post it today.

John 'Soap' MacTavish groaned again and rubbed his eyes, the bright screen of his desktop beginning to give him a headache. A quick peak at the clock on the wall revealed he'd been at it for close to three hours, usually he had Ghost do these kind of things but the Lieutenant had been hurt fairly badly on the 141's last mission leaving MacTavish to do the work of writing the reports. A job he hated with a passion. He could live with fighting off crazed Russian soldiers, but paperwork? That was his one true fear. And to make matters worse it was Christmas Eve, but the 141 didn't take time off, so the work continued.

Sometime later the door creaked open slightly, and a soft set of footfalls made their way across the floor of MacTavish's office, without looking up he asked, "What do you want, Roach?"

"Damn," murmured Roach, "Ghost's been teaching how to be sneaky, guess I still need to work on it…"

MacTavish chuckled, "I don't think even Ghost could fix the fact you stomp around like a bloody elephant."

Roach crossed his arms, "I do not."

"Do too," replied MacTavish, his fingers pecking around trying to find the key he wanted.

"Guess you're not getting your Christmas present," said Roach, removing a small bundle wrapped in bright paper from the pocket on the front of his jacket.

MacTavish raised an eyebrow, but pretended to otherwise not notice.

"You know it's impolite to not make eye contact when you're talking to someone," muttered Roach, before MacTavish finally pushed away from the computer to look him straight in the eye, and Roach said, "That's better. Want to open it now or tomorrow?"

"Now," grunted MacTavish, hoping to get this over with quickly so he could get back to his work.

"Alright then," said Roach, dropping the bundle on MacTavish's desk, a smile instantly gracing his lips. MacTavish just poked the bundle slightly, prompting Roach to say, "Just open it, it's not like it's going to explode or something."

"Really? Explode, after what just happened?" asked MacTavish, referring to the exploding bomb which had put Ghost in the infirmary, with a eight inch piece of metal jutting from his hip and left Gerbil to be scooped up with a shovel and shipped home to his family in a bag.

"Right, sorry. Bad analogy," Roach said, holding his hands up in protection of his face.

MacTavish didn't reply, instead he violently tore the bow off the top of the bundle and tossed it in the wastebasket next to his desk, then ripped the wrapping paper off as well. What sat on his desk was a book, but not just any book it was a special book which Roach had picked because he knew it would appeal to his Captain. In front of MacTavish on his desk lay a book titled, In the Bed of the Highlander, leave it to Roach to buy him a romance novel aimed at women.

"Do you like it?" asked Roach, a wide smile on his face, though the look on MacTavish's cause his smile to droop, "You don't like it do you?"

MacTavish looked up at Roach's face of disappointment, Roach had always been a little soft emotionally and if he ended up running away in tears MacTavish would never hear the end of it.

So, for Roach's sake and his own mental health, MacTavish lied, "I love it, Roach. I really do."

"You do?" Roach spuealed with glee.

"Yes," replied MacTavish, lying through his teeth.

"I have to tell, Ghost!" squealed Roach, running out of the room as fast as his feet could carry him.

MacTavish just groaned and laid his head on the small paperback book, "What have I done?"

Two more hours and a half dozen page report, MacTavish was finished with work for the day. It was time to relax and enjoy his few hours of down time before life repeated itself and the 141 was once again thrust into the combat zone. Whilst picking up personal items off his desk, MacTavish once again stumbled upon the small book and with a sigh tossed it in his backpack to take back to his barracks with him. Within the safety of his small room on base, MacTavish cracked open the book and read a short passage:

"The massive hulk of a man stood in the far side of the cave, sharpening a deadly, razor sharp axe on a whet stone, his toned muscles rippling with the effort. His long mane of dark walnut hair draped around his shoulders, accenting the tanned flesh of his upper torso, covered sparsely in a thin piece of animal hide. His massive leg muscles powered the stone as it spun, letting off sparks as the blade once again became sharp after having dulled itself killing the Scotsman's many enemies. The princess bite her lip and as if in a trance took a step towards him, then a another, then another."

MacTavish momentarily stopped reading to check the page number, as he'd opened the book to a random page, the tiny number at the bottom reading four. 'They really get into the sex quick in these books,' he thought to himself, continuing to see just how far the scene would go before the author backed out and just ended the chapter, surprisingly the scene continued for seventeen more pages. MacTavish just decided to continue until he either A) he couldn't stand the horrible plot any longer or B) grew tired of reading and went to sleep.

"The princess wrapped her delicate arms around the Scotsman's massively muscled torso and inhaled his voluptuous scent, the smell of blood, sweat, passion. It made her smile with glee, she wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him. She spun him around on his little stool and she could tell he could already tell what she wanted from him. His massive calloused hands undid the small strings which bond her tiny top before letting her smooth young breasts out into the cold air of the cave, her petite hands working to undo the belt holding his kilt in place. With the belt out of the way the piece of cloth slid to the floor putting his sculpted manhood in full view of her hazel eyes."

"Skipping ahead," murmured MacTavish, before the heroine decided to get more detailed about this mysterious Scotsman.

"His hands roamed their way down her bare chest, stopping briefly to massage her breasts before moving down her dress where he found her entrance-"

"No foreplay in the Middle Ages I see," muttered MacTavish, skipping ahead once again.

"Her back arched in pure bliss as all seventeen and a half inches of his rock hard -"

And with that, MacTavish took the small paperback and tossed it in the wastebasket, "Christ, anyone finds that damn book in my room I'll never hear the bloody end of it," he grunted.

Meanwhile, down the hall in the infirmary a pair of pranksters were having a laugh at their Captain's expense.

"I told you he'd tell you he loved it if you pretended you were sad!" howled Ghost, his hip covered in clean dressings.

"Guess you were right," replied Roach with a grin, before passing a five dollar bill to the Lieutenant, "You win, figured he wouldn't even take the thing."

"Eh, I know the man," murmured Ghost, gingerly touching his wounded side, "So what are we getting him next year for Christmas?"

"Wait, don't get ahead of yourself," laughed Roach, "We've still got his birthday coming up!"

"Buy him a Fleshlight," said Ghost, shifting in the hospital bed to get comfortable.

"What?"

"You don't want to know," replied Ghost, lying flat in the bed in order to get some rest.

Sadly, no, In the Bed of the Highlander is not a real book. And even more sadly these 'experts' from it are not taken from a real book (Kinda sad in hindsight) but more so based on the cover of a book I saw whilst shopping for gifts for my mom. (Did not buy it, thank you very much).