Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

They fucked up. Maybe the intel was wrong. Maybe the enemy’s backup arrived sooner than it should have. Whatever had happened, it didn’t matter in this moment. What mattered was that Soap was running out of ammo, one clip immediately switched for the next one, and the hostiles’ numbers never wavered.

He had to duck as another salvo of bullets reached his area. At this point he didn’t know if they were just shooting at random and hoping to hit him. The bullets were everywhere.

A short yelp ripped from his throat as one hit his side. The pain exploded over his torso, the intensity of the feeling making him stagger. His back hit the crates behind him as he half-toppled over them, his weapon nearly sliding from his grip.

Soap moved his hand to his side, but he couldn’t locate the entry point with his vest in the way. He abandoned the attempt as his vision blurred. Even after the hit, the enemies didn’t cease their fire. Until he could shoot back again, Soap needed to find cover and recover from the initial shock.

One indirect hit wouldn’t be that bad, but it wasn’t only Soap who was getting overrun. He had lost visual of his comrades a few minutes into the shoot-out as everybody scattered to find cover out there.

There were too many people shooting at him. Soap crawled further behind the crates, his knees and elbows rubbing the ground painfully even through all the clothes as he dragged his protesting body into relative safety.

The voices from his comm sounded far off in his ear. Everyone in their unit was calling for help. Others answered as they could, still trying to help each other even in such an unfavorable position. Soap was in no state to help out anyone. He should be the one calling for help as well.

The sounds faded, voices of his friends disappearing in the background. All but one.

He heard it on repeat. Muted and far off. ‘Johnny. Johnny.’

Soap managed to turn on his back, get a weak grip on his weapon. He would need it. Soon, they would get to him and if he couldn’t move, he would have to shoot and hope for the best.

His vision blurred again. Or maybe his eyes had closed on their own. When he focused again, he saw dark in front of him, and nothing else. But the dark was moving and growing larger in his unfocused sight. Then he heard it again. ‘Johnny.’

The dark swirled and Soap was out.

.

He came to on the edge of the forest. A familiar tree line stretched ahead of him. Soap vaguely recognized it. He stared until it clicked in his brain—they had arrived from this side, ran through this forest and then entered the compound from a barely protected gate at the back of the property.

His back was propped up against the tall concrete wall of the fence, but Soap was warm, his cheek pressed to something solid but so human. He was leaning on somebody’s shoulder. A shoulder slightly higher than his own. The other person had a steady hold on their weapon, aimed to the front, alert.

Out of the corner of his eye, Soap saw the white skull mask.

Ghost must have felt him waking up and moving. “Back with us, Soap?” he asked, voice gruff. His eyes never left the tree line in front of them.

Soap groaned, suddenly much more aware of his wounds and the aches all over his body. Mentally, he catalogued the feelings, the wounds. Did the best he could, but Soap was too drained, too tired, to reach any proper conclusions. Blood loss, for sure. His mind swam with the exhaustion, but the dizziness that came with concussion wasn’t there. He could think clearly. No concussion.

For now. Clearly, they weren’t back in their base yet. They weren’t safe.

The danger lurked around. After all, there must have been a reason why Ghost hadn’t turned to look at him at all and kept checking their surroundings.

“What happen’d?” Soap asked, keeping his voice quiet. Everything around them was silent, only the wind ran through the trees, making the leaves sway and rustle.

“The mission’s gone to shit, mate,” Ghost said, going tense. Soap felt it, the muscles of Ghost’s shoulder going stiff under his cheek.

Right. He should probably move. He didn’t.

Soap tried to think. He took in their surroundings again. The last thing he remembered was getting shot, trying to find cover… any cover. And then not much else. He made the trek in his mental map, backtracking their path, trying to figure out how far from the place he was now. He looked up at the sky, wondering how much time had passed. Didn’t seem like that much. Not more than an hour.

“We’re abandoning the mission,” Captain Price’s voice came through the comm.

He shot up into a better sitting position. His vision whited out for a second and he had to touch the ground for support. “What?” Soap asked, suddenly breathless.

Ghost glanced at him now—a quick thing. He nearly missed it. Soap didn’t bother imagining worry in those eyes. Looks like that were few and far in between.

“Keep it, Soap. The exfil will be here in four minutes.”

“We need to—”

“Listen to him, Sergeant,” Ghost jumped in, voice stern.

It shut Soap up immediately. Price continued, “You were out for half the operation, Soap. If Ghost didn’t carry you out of there, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

Death wasn’t a novel concept. Not here. But Soap’s inside twisted with an unpleasant feeling. Wounded again out in the field. Close to death again. How many times had it been already? He wasn’t sure he would be able to count it even if he tried.

Price didn’t say more. Soap knew the captain was right. “Yes, sir,” he said and then picked up the hand-gun holstered at his thigh. He wasn’t about to let Ghost do all the work.

They had already established that the mission had gone to shit, but it could always get worse. Sometimes that happened. Not often. Not to their task force, but they couldn’t always predict everything. All the external factors. Today was just a shitty day.

Later, when all the reports were written up, all the footage gathered and reviewed, they might learn what had gone wrong. For now, Soap was content to think of it as that—another shitty day. Not as shitty as the whole thing with Graves, though.

Soap had enough mind to shuffle a bit away from Ghost and his personal space. Their thighs had been touching, their sides pressed together as Soap had leaned on him. Ghost had allowed it, but Soap wouldn’t lie to himself and pretend the other man wasn’t bothered by the prolonged contact.

It was simply because Soap was wounded. Nothing more. Ghost didn’t like people getting close, much less people actually touching him.

And Soap could be a considerate fella. Sometimes he couldn’t stop the little slap on the back, the pat on the shoulder or a fist to his arm. Those little touches escaped him without any conscious thought behind them. When his mood was high enough, Soap could get a little tactile. Even with his commanding officers.

But he could respect the man’s wishes. Could try to, anyway.

“Thanks, Lt.,” he told him.

Ghost beside him grunted in acknowledgement and then they were back to the silence, watching their surroundings.

Once, those four minutes would have felt like eternity to Soap, but he had learned during his first months in the military how to work with his nerves. Now, his mind was calm and quiet as he watched the tree line. The sky above, the tall fence behind them here and then.

The four minutes passed in a blink of an eye. The evac car sped toward them over the uneven terrain. The driver was just as heavily armored as them. He nodded in greeting as the car stopped by their position.

Soap had some difficulty standing up. A bunch of gauze was pressed against his side, a bandage crudely tied around his chest to staunch the bleeding. It still hurt as hell. Especially when he moved to stand up. He had to use the wall for support.

Seeing his struggle, Ghost pulled a hand under his arms and got him up. With a hand over Ghost’s shoulders for support, and the strong arm around his middle, carefully a couple inches away from the bullet-wound, they got into the car.

Their hold on each other didn’t break even as Soap holstered his gun and opened the back door with his free hand while Ghost still covered their backs. Then, he threw his gun inside the car and they climbed up. Soap had to bite down on his lower lip to keep the pained scream in. He nearly bit through the soft flesh.

They got in and fell on the bench of the car in one heavy heap.

The driver floored the speed pedal as soon as the door was closed.

Over the comm, Price announced that they would meet at the landing strip and the helicopter would take them home to their base. Soap sighed and Ghost acknowledged.

A couple minutes into the painfully bumpy ride, Soap started to feel the fabric of his pants sticking to the bottom of his thigh. The metallic bench under them wouldn’t soak up anything. He frowned, wondering if he had missed a gash or something.

His thigh felt fine. He didn’t feel drained from more blood loss, and neither was there any pain. Had he gone numb with the adrenaline? But as he glanced down, his pants were in one piece. No cuts, no torn fabric. They were all kinds of dirty but not ripped anywhere.

Soap turned his head an inch to the side and— “Ghost! You’re fucking bleeding!”

Ghost calmly followed his gaze to the wound on this thigh. “Ah, yeah. Seems so.”

Before he could think, Soap was pulling out a small kit from his pouches. They had to stop the bleeding.

“Sit tight, Johnny. You have your own wounds to worry about.”

“Don’t think so, Lt.”

When it became clear that Soap wasn’t going to rest until Ghost did something about the wound, he sighed and took the bandages from Soap’s hands. There was a light tremor to them that he couldn’t stop. Soap was pretty banged up himself and the adrenalin was starting to fade. He would crash soon.

Ghost took the stuff and quickly and efficiently tied the wound on his thigh. Over his trousers. He didn’t appear to particularly care.

“There,” Ghost said. He leaned his head back against the window and let his hands rest in his lap, the sterile packages from the gauze and bandages littering the floor of the car.

“Yes, sir,” Soap said lightly and let out a breath. They would be fine. He didn’t know how many of their men were KIA, but not him. And not Ghost.

He closed his eyes, wanting to rest a little till they got to the heli. Knowing Ghost, the other man wouldn’t rest until they arrived at the base. Even if Soap dozed off now—which was becoming more and more likely—he would be fine with Ghost watching over him.

Chapter Text

Bullet wounds, any extensive injuries, really, needed to heal. The ones from their task force that had made it out alive, didn’t get out of there unscathed. Ghost with his stab wound in his thigh. Soap with the bullet in his side. The others in a similar state.

There was no use staying on the base if deployment wasn’t coming any time soon. Then it just became useless expenditures and they were all sent to their respective homes to recover on their own.

It had been a while since Soap had seen his mother. Years, actually. Sometimes she called around Christmas, but he usually worked and ended up with her messages in his voicemail. He had never known his father and his relationship with her wasn’t the best.

So now, he didn’t even think about calling her. Besides her, there were no other relatives he could turn to. There had been some distant cousins he used to hang out with as a teen, but he didn’t even really know where they were now.

Not that he needed anyone to take care of him. He was all stitched up, the bullet professionally taken out. He had to be careful when hefting his duffel bag and that was it. He was hardly incapable because of one injury.

Still, it would have been nice. Soap had long accepted that if he wasn’t on base, there was nothing waiting for him at home. The apartment he had in Glasgow had never felt like home to begin with. It was just a place where most of his things gathered dust as he travelled all over the world, doing his job wherever they sent him.

He sighed heavily when he unlocked the apartment door and saw that the first thing he would have to do was clean. He didn’t feel like it, but the amount of dust covering the floors and literally every surface was ridiculous.

Soap didn’t finish the first day. He cleaned the areas he would be needing the most. His tiny kitchen, the bathroom and the last thing he did was changing the sheets on his bed. He had to fight with himself on the last one. Sleeping on a bare mattress sounded pretty good after the whole day of cleaning.

His still strained muscles protested every move. After a quick shower, he changed his bandages and hit the bed, out like light.

Sometimes he was glad that he lived alone. There was nobody to bother him when all he wanted was sleep and relax. Nobody complained when he stayed in bed till 1 pm. Nor when he didn’t make his bed and left his morning coffee cup in the sink.

He was on a sick-leave. He could afford a day of leniency.

Of course, it had been months since he had last had to stay here, so naturally, his fridge was empty. He always made sure to clean it out before leaving. He didn’t fancy finding a new pet in there when he inevitably returned.

Grocery shopping was in order. Last night he had powered through with the granola bars he had swiped from the base. If somebody missed them now, oh well, there hadn’t been a nametag. And then takeout for dinner.

Soap was ready to ingest some real food.

He got the groceries, even ingredients for a nice dinner, a couple beers in case he couldn’t find the bottle of Scotch he had opened the last time. He didn’t even pull at his stitches and instead of reaching up for the package of rice on the top shelf, he asked the dude next to him to do it. Which got him a rather suspicious look but Soap only smiled at the man and while weirded out, he handed it to Soap.

To be fair, Soap was taller than the man so he understood the suspicion. He just didn’t feel like going into heavy detail and why he had a bullet wound in the third aisle of the local Tesco.

He survived the grocery shopping, the cooking would be a treat compared to that. Soap walked down the street, his apartment building already in sight. He was on the second floor out of three.

A dark SUV was parked two buildings down. A car that hadn’t been there before. Even when on a sick-leave and back home, Soap noticed these things. After so long, it was impossible to just turn off. Most of it came subconsciously to him at this point.

The windows were blacked out. The lights were off, but he made it a point to cross the road in advance so that he would pass directly by the car. The light hum of the engine was audible on the street. The few passers-by in this area couldn’t hide the sound.

He wasn’t too scared. Strategically, this street was too open. Too many witnesses. Daylight. Cameras above the door of every store.

Soap also had a small gun hidden under his jeans, in a strap holster over his ankle.

By the time he was aware of them, it was over. And Soap had already noticed the car.

He switched both grocery bags to his left hand only and approached his apartment building. Better to be ready. The homeless guy that usually loitered around the alley behind Soap’s building sat on the stairs in front of the door instead, muttering something to himself, sounding vaguely angry.

“Here ye go,” Soap said as he got to the entrance and set the grocery bags in front of the guy. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be needing those in the next few minutes.

The man called something after him, but Soap was already slipping past the glass door and inside the lobby. Instead of going up, though, he headed downstairs where most people kept their bikes locked up. It wasn’t cold enough down there to call it a cellar. He had his own storage there.

Soap swiftly unlocked the door and pushed the bars open. It wasn’t big, and most of the stuff here was old. Things he never bothered to throw out but should have long ago. Some tools he didn’t get to use much since he was never home.

Now, though—now they were going to serve him well. Soap thought as he took out the hammer and swung it around thrice, just to get the feeling of it in his hand.

The gun would have to stay where it was. Emergencies only. He was pretty confident in his hand to hand. The hammer was just a bonus.

And easily explained to his neighbors if it turned out he was overly paranoid.

The elevator hadn’t worked once since he moved in six years ago. With that knowledge, Soap headed up the stairs, the hammer held in both hands and ready. With his back to the wall, he climbed up. On the first story, the door opened. A woman around his age had a trash bag in hands. Soap put a finger to his lips and waved her back inside.

She didn’t know him and he didn’t know her. Must have moved in recently. Three guys from Poland had lived there the last time he had been home. The woman froze, gaped at him, but then thought better of it and went back inside. If only to avoid Soap—the big stranger with a hammer up in the air. It didn’t really matter.

He slowed down now. Two guys were in front of his apartment door—ajar, lock broken. They wore dark clothes and caps over their heads. They talked to each other in quiet voices, but Soap caught enough to recognize the language. It was the Russians again.

He swore up a storm in the privacy of his mind. The last mission that had left them so out of it—that had been Russians too. Soap didn’t think their presence in his apartment building was a coincidence.

In retrospect, he should have turned around as soon as he had seen the car. He could still turn back, but Soap needed to confirm their identity. And ideally take some of his shit from his place. He hadn’t properly unpacked his duffle bag yet. If he could at least grab that…

The landing in the middle of the stairway had a frosty glass and a pane full of potted plants. There had always been at least one pot of basil over there and sometimes Soap sneaked out to clip a leaf or two. He didn’t actually know who the plants belonged to.

He grabbed one and with the full pot and the hammer, he initiated the attack.

Taking three stairs at once, he threw the pot into the closest guy’s face. Three more stairs. He swung the hammer into the same guy’s knees, shattering one. With a loud cry, he went down. Onto the ruined knee. He lost his balance and tumbled down next to Soap. Soap tapped his shoulder and redirected the fall in the direction of the stairs.

The other guy fumbled for his hidden weapon. Somewhere on his back. But the zipped up fake Adidas jacket slowed him down. Soap took the last three steps in one move and rammed into the guy with his shoulder. They went through the door. The man yelled as his hand landed underneath his body, shoulder dislocated from the force of it.

Soap let out a shout of his own as the stitches on his side popped open, the whole wound reopening.

Two more guys ran from inside his apartment. Soap pressed his body down on the struggling Russian under him and dropped the hammer by him. He quickly got to his ankle gun and shot the two guys without hesitation. He waited a second. Two. Three.

Nobody else was coming. He got up, ignoring the pain in his side and kicked the Russian’s shoulder. Disoriented from the pain himself, the guy wasn’t ready for any counterattack.

Soap grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him upright, only to slam him into the nearest wall, face first. He held him there, taking full advantage of the dislocated arm.

“Who the fuck are ye?”

He got some gibberish, then enough Russian to recognize he was being cursed out instead of getting a real answer. So he pried him from the wall and slammed him right back. Then he asked again. No answer. He pressed his hand against the shoulder, driving in his point again.

The guy fainted from the pain. With a disgusted sigh, Soap muttered to himself and let the guy drop. On his shoulder. Sucked for him. He bent down to retrieve the guy’s wallet. He didn’t have much cash, but he had an ID. Without really reading it, Soap stashed it in his pocket and hurried further into the apartment.

He checked every room before walking in, his gun in hand. He had only fired three bullets so far. He was good. He grabbed his duffel bag, zipped it up and threw it across his back. It was half-empty, but the essentials were still there.

After quick reconsideration, he returned for the hammer. That was a mistake. The guy with the shattered knee had crawled back upstairs and as soon as Soap was in his sight, he opened fire. But Soap had the advantage here. He knew this place better than them. He kept going, shoulder first into the wardrobe fixed into the wall. He easily broke through the thin wood. It wasn’t a good cover, but it would shield him long enough. Long enough to re-orient himself and aim.

He knew the place best—all it took was one shot through the wall. It wasn’t the original thick one. After some pipe damage, as well as an integral one, the wall had to be taken down and the landlord didn’t bother with quality. His immediate neighbor across the hall always complained about the noise. Well, when Soap happened to be home. Sometimes he couldn’t sleep, so sue him.

After he heard the scream, Soap rushed out of his closet and emptied the rest of the clip into the Russian who was writhing on the floor. The gun was useless to him now. He threw it to the ground and picked up the hammer.

Only to get a fist to his face before he could straighten up. His muscle memory kicked in before his brain did, and his free arm went up in defense. He dropped the hammer on the man’s shoe. It was enough of a distraction to get in a combo of hits. Windpipe. Bridge of his nose. An elbow to the side of his head. The guy hit the wall and crumpled.

Soap still wasn’t about to leave the hammer. He had further plans for it.

He raced out of the apartment, cursing the lack of alternative escape plans. The building had no free access to the roof. There was only one back door, but if the homeless guy had been in the front, Soap wouldn’t be surprised if another car waited out there. Clearly, they were there to kill him, but would they try to take him in if they could manage it safely? He couldn’t be sure of their goal.

Instead, he went back to the front door. He let the hammer rest by his leg, swaying slightly as he walked. He tried to look composed, though the crimson stain on his light green shirt wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. Neither was the already blooming bruise on his right cheek.

Still, Soap walked calmly. Sometimes a single man running was more obvious. That captured attention. A man beaten bloody, a man that walked slowly, that one you had to take a second look at to notice the differences to the other passers-by.

Only he didn’t need to walk for long. He kept walking closer to the cars parked on the side of the road. It hid him some. And before the driver in the car he had seen earlier could spot him. Soap lifted the hammer as far as he could, biting down on his lip hard as it pulled on his injury. He ran up the last few meters to the car and with all his might, he hit the hammer right into the middle of the windshield.

It stuck. Soap immediately took off in the other direction of the car. They would have to turn around if they wanted to pursue him. And good luck doing that with a hammer stuck in the front. The coppers would be on them in a minute. Even if they managed to pull it out.

He had been right about the second car. He ran past the alley, saw three more guys getting out. And the car trying to back out. Idiots didn’t even bother to reverse into the closed off alley.

But even if Soap hadn’t been in Glasgow in a while, he still knew it better than them. This was his turf, so to say. He lost them within fifteen minutes.

What really worried him was how they found him. The apartment wasn’t under his real name, but rather, belonged to one John Thompson. One of the most common names in the whole of Scotland. It also translated to MacTavish, a little pun Soap rather enjoyed, but he was sure something like that would go straight over their Russian heads.

The property wasn’t registered to him, but he was sure the address lurked in some confidential military files. Files not so easily accessed.

And if his home could get attacked, what about the rest of their task force?

Soap needed to get in touch with Price. Only a few days after leaving the base, the man would not be happy to hear from him, but Soap had a good reason.

He headed for the train station and locked himself in the toilet for the disabled. He felt like a dick about it, but it was the only one with a single stall and he couldn’t draw attention to his bloodied clothes.

He threw the bag on the counter and rummaged through it. He had taken out most of the clothes already, but his military knife remained. Soap also found another granola bar. No bandages, not even a goddamn plaster.

The bloody shirt it was. He took it off and used the knife to cut it into long strips. It would have to do. It wasn’t the worst bandage. Soap clipped the knife and its sheath to his belt loop and then pulled on a jacket. He zipped it up and thanked god it happened to be thick and warm and dark blue. No blood was going to be visible through that and it hid the knife too.

He pulled the bag against his back again and got the hood up. He cursed how identifiable the hawk made him in these situations.

The station shops had all kinds of shit. Soap bought a burner phone, a one-off sim card. The seller didn’t spare him a single glance. Absolutely zero fucks given. Soap then found the least used platform, a quiet abandoned corner, and put the phone together.

“Hello?” came the familiar voice of John Price.

“Captain. It’s Soap. We’re in trouble, sir.”

A sigh. Yeah, that checked out. “Who’s we?”

“I don’t know. The whole task force. All of us. They came for me. Came to my place.”

He could hear shuffling on the other end as Price moved and switched to seriousness. “What happened? Are you alright, son?”

“Am good. But it was those Russians. They weren’t talking and I didn’t have much time, but I swiped one’s ID. I went out, couldn’t be more than half an hour. They were waiting for me. Counted at least ten of ‘em. We’ve got a major breach of personal data, it looks to me.”

Price was silent on the other end. Most likely his thoughts now filled with the last betrayal their unit became a target of. Graves. Shephard. Ghost had told him not to trust others, that the closest ones could hurt you the most. Soap couldn’t recall the words verbatim, but that was the general idea.

He wasn’t sure if he was ready for another betrayal. But it was happening and nobody cared if he was ready or not.

His side twinged in pain again, and the collected and calm demeanor left all of a sudden. Soap was angry. Something had gone wrong with the last mission. Fine. That happened. But this? This didn’t happen just because. There was no coincidence here.

His address wasn’t accidentally leaked. Nor were the attackers at the wrong place.

He was fucking tired of this. Why did he have to look over his shoulder even out here, in civil? Didn’t he deserve his few days of rest? He may have been a killer, but what they did, there wasn’t a selfish reason. Not on his side, anyway. They did what they had to. For the greater good. And then somebody came to his fucking house.

“I’ll return to the base. I can get there on my own,” Soap said, containing the fury long enough to get through this conversation. If there was one person he could rely on, it was Price. The man didn’t deserve his anger.

“Don’t. We’ll evacuate the base. Most guys are home already. If there’s a data leak, we don’t know what got out.”

“Ye, I might not be the only one,” he said, not liking the sound of that, but also recognizing the high probability.

“Can you give me the name from the ID? I’ll have it run through every database we can get our hands on, see what they find.”

Soap found the ID card and spelled out the name for him. He also gave all the other information available. There wasn’t much to go on. Fake IDs had gotten pretty good in the recent years, Soap couldn’t tell with his eyes only if this one was real or not. Worth checking out, though.

“So, you can’t return to base—”

“Aye, sir, point me to the nearest safe-house.”

Another long silence. Not a good sign.

“Sir?” Soap asked again.

Price told him to get a pen and paper. He had those in his duffel and then Price rattled off some coordinates instead of an address. Yeah, that checked out too. “I’ll check in on you in a few days. Hopefully with information on this. Stay safe, Soap.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, standing at attention on reflex. He didn’t question how Price planned on reaching him. The man probably already knew so Soap let it be for now.

He got rid of the sim card and the phone. Now he had a set goal in mind. Getting to his new coordinates.

.

The cab refused to go further, said there wasn’t really anything up there, just some old cabin nobody ever went to. Soap shrugged, and paid the fee. He wasn’t that far off. He could walk the rest.

He had a feeling the house he was looking at right now was the cabin the guy had referred to. It wasn’t really a cabin, though. An ordinary two-story brick house. There were some bushes around, a couple trees. The house was out of town, not that far though. It was clear not many people came here.

As Soap approached, he noticed a wire running around the property. It went around the trees. The fence around the place was short and not all that effective, but Soap saw that the wire went even underneath the shabby gate.

A gravel road led up to the door. The kind that would make noise no matter how much you tried to silence your steps. Another thing Soap noticed—the light was on downstairs. He couldn’t see more than the glow through the thick curtains, though.

Safe-houses were usually empty, in his experience.

The proximity to the town was also a little suspicious, but Price must have given him this address for a good reason. And Soap had already spent a long time on the road, crossing all the way into England. He wasn’t about to turn back now. Not that he had much of a choice, either.

Slowly, Soap made his approach. The gate opened with a slight push, the hinges creaking. He stepped over the wire and watched the windows as he walked up to the door.

He had to switch his knife earlier on the bus. His seatmate refused to switch seats with him and unless he wanted the woman to feel the poke of the sheath the whole ride, he had to do something. The knife was now secured at the small of his back.

Soap pushed up his jacket, released the safety strap and gripped the handle of the knife. With his other hand, he knocked on the door.

The door opened a second later. Whoever was inside, had heard him long ago and opened the door right away.

His knife was useless against the barrel of the gun now in his face. Soap froze. Then looked up beyond the gun. Ghost stood in the doorway.

He lowered the weapon. “What the fuck are you doing here, Johnny?”

“Price gave me this location,” Soap answered automatically.

Ghost visibly hesitated, then put the gun away. He turned around and walked back into the house, his feet absolutely silent on the floor. Clad in fluffy light blue socks. Actually, Ghost was wearing grey sweats and an oversized hoodie. And a washed out balaclava that only really had the outline of the skull, the rest of the paint faded out over time.

He also limped slightly.

Soap realized that just like him, Ghost had been sent home to recuperate and heal from his wounds. This was Ghost’s home.

Price had sent him to Ghost’s actual home.

Belatedly, Soap walked inside. Ghost had invited him in, in his own way. He closed the door, and locked it after him, pulling the bolts into place as well. He shrugged off the duffel bag and left it on the first flat surface. Then, he turned to face the room.

Ghost’s home.

His brain still wasn’t registering that little fact. He took everything in, every little detail he could get his eyes on. Did Ghost decorate himself? He wasn’t surprised to see the house spotless, nor about the lack of decoration. It looked more like Ghost went to the first TK Maxx on the way and bought some random shit and then displayed it. It didn’t really go well together, but that in itself gave it this odd charm. Soap’s mouth twitched in amusement.

He followed to the living room. There was a nice couch, two armchairs. A TV playing in the background but muted. An interior arch opened up the space, leading into the kitchen. The little he saw of it from the door, Soap could already tell it was much nicer than his tiny one.

Soap looked at the short coffee table in between all the seating. There were actually quite a lot of scented candles, in varying sizes and colors. Apparently, Ghost was a fan of the cherry smell. “Oi, a romantic, are ye?”

“The biggest,” Ghost answered without a pause. He sat in one of those arm-chairs, legs wide, the injured one pretty much sprawled out in front of him.

Soap grinned at him. “A missed this, sir.”

“It hasn’t been a week.”

Soap grinned wider. It hadn’t, but he still found himself rather happy to have Ghost around again. His days tended to be rather boring without the lieutenant around.

Then, Ghost crossed his arms and Soap immediately felt the shift in the mood. “Why are you here, Sergeant?”

His brows went up. They were both on leave. In Ghost’s home. But okay, he supposed it was a habit by now—their ranks. They didn’t exactly disappear outside of work.

“And a gracious host to boot,” Soap said, unable to keep the comment to himself once he thought about it.

“Do you want tea?”

“Absolutely not.”

He kind of wanted to sit down, but not if that meant getting the nice sofa dirty. He had been on the road, had those torn stitches. The blood felt sticky under his jacket, half-dried trails going down his torso. Soap wouldn’t be surprised if his jeans were done for too.

So he paced instead, one hand across his chest, holding onto the ‘bandage’ shirt absentmindedly, the other elbow leaned on his wrist as he lightly rubbed his growing beard. “They got my place, Ghost.”

“Who did?”

“The fuckin’ Russians.” He continued pacing in the living room, then further described the events that had transpired at his apartment back in Glasgow.

“You didn’t return to the base. Price sent you here. Instead of a safe-house,” Ghost said after Soap was done with the recollection. He had figured that out fast.

Soap stopped pacing and nodded as he faced Ghost.

Ghost looked him over. He could feel those eyes travelling up his whole body, staying on his side for a split second before moving up. Ghost still had the simple balaclava on, but Soap could see the movement of his eyes. Ghost didn’t do anything to hide it or to make it subtle. “Are you hurt?”

“Not worse than before.” He had had the whole blood loss thing going on after the mission. He wasn’t bleeding nearly as much now. Though as Ghost watched him, Soap became painfully aware of the bruise on his face and the cut on his lip that had already closed. His hawk was probably a right mess, too.

“That’s no answer.”

Soap’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Aye,” he acquiesced. “Could use new stitches.”

Ghost stood up. “Let’s get ‘em then.”

So that was how Soap found himself shirtless, sitting on Ghost’s bathroom counter. He put his hand against the wall so that Ghost could have space to work. He worked in silence, first cleaning the wound and then applying a numbing cream.

Soap took in the needle that Ghost was readying, brows scrunching up. “How far was the hospital, you said?”

“I didn’t.”

“Imagine you did.”

“A half hour drive. Three towns over.”

Soap looked away as Ghost started stitching him back up. He was going to have an ugly scar from this. Ghost could do many things, but sewing wasn’t one of them. Not this kind, anyways. Soap always hated this part. At least the numbing cream was working. “Doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I could get you to a vet, though. That one’s in town.”

Soap glared at him with no real heat. He knew damn well they couldn’t go to a hospital right now. There would be forms to fill, questions to answer. Ones they couldn’t if they wanted to stay under the radar.

But the talking helped. It was a good distraction, especially if Ghost was the one talking. His voice had an oddly calming effect. Soap couldn’t explain it.

When he was done, Ghost gathered the ruined stuff. He went to throw out Soap’s shirt, froze. He pulled it closer to his face. “Splinters?”

“Ye, had to duck for cover. Kinda ended up going through my closet.”

“Bloody fucking hell.”

Ghost let him borrow some clothes and designated the comfy couch to him. Apparently, he didn’t have a guest room. Soap wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t imagine many people staying over long enough to need one.

Soap was content, finally just lying down, even if his feet hung over the end of the couch and if he turned too far, he would fall out. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief. No more running.

Something soft landed on his face. “Hey!” he yelled out, the sound muffled as he pried the offending blanket from his view. He threw Ghost the finger and got absolutely ignored.

“Bastard,” Soap grumbled to himself and turned on his good side to catch a nap.

“What was that?” Ghost called out from somewhere in the kitchen already.

“I said thank you,” Soap yelled out.

“Good, man,” Ghost said, much quieter this time. Soap still heard it and smiled down into his pillow.

He fell asleep fast, as always. A handy trick everybody in the military ought to know. You never knew how long you would be able to sleep out there.

When Soap woke, it was still dark outside. The light in the room was out, only blue light from the TV flickered off the random objects in the house. He turned around to face the room. It smelled like cherries. He wondered if that was what had woken him up, but the candle was already half burnt up.

“Mmm,” Soap managed, allowing himself to wake up slowly. He didn’t need to go straight into action here. Ghost sat in his chair, a mug in hand. He watched Soap. “Whit’s it?”

“What?”

“What.”

“No, I’m— right.” Ghost rolled his eyes, then focused on him again, the intensity back straight away. “We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

“We do,” Soap said, matching the tone as he slowly sat up.

Ghost was clearly a little taken aback. “Yeah?”

Soap shrugged. “You started it,” he accused, indignant. He didn’t actually have anything to talk about but if Ghost wanted to start like that, Soap couldn’t help it.

Ghost fully ignored it and went on, “I need details about what happened.”

He supposed that was fair. “And that couldn’t have waited till the morning?”

Instead of answering him right away, Ghost stood up and walked to the window. He pulled away the thick curtain. Light streamed inside, not much, but Soap understood. He rolled his eyes.

“Do your worst.”

“You wouldn’t last long, Johnny.”

“Probably not. What do you want to know?” He settled on the couch, adjusting the pillow behind him.

Ghost wanted to know a whole lot. Soap didn’t mind recalling everything once again. Not if Ghost’s new perspective could potentially bring some answers. So Ghost asked his questions, sort of like an interrogation. Only the difference was that Soap answered without hesitation, pausing only to think through the best answer.

The first few questions were about his trip back from the base.

“Which streets did you take?”

“Have you even been to Glasgow?” Soap asked.

“Yes.”

Soap’s brows rose.

“The streets,” Ghost reminded him.

So Soap listed the ones he remembered and if he didn’t know the street name, he described the route by any potential landmarks. “I didn’t stop anywhere. Went straight home.”

“Did you talk to anyone? Did anyone see you?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Ghost asked him about his exact schedule, about the time he went to bed, about the time he woke up. If he had cleaned loud enough to disturb the neighbors or other interested parties.

He had to recount the day he went out shopping. Was he followed? Did he talk to anybody in the store? Did anybody watch him? Soap had to think hard about those ones. He hadn’t been paying attention to such things when grocery shopping.

Then it got easier to describe because once Soap had seen the suspicious car, his mind had snapped into focus.

Ghost asked for descriptions. Physical appearance, anything to identify the men. He wanted to see if he himself could link any of them to the Russians back at the compound. Nothing so far.

So Soap went on describing their fighting style, their weapons, their cars.

“It could be them,” Ghost confirmed. Their tactics were similar to the Russians at the compound but that wasn’t any hard evidence.

“If not a data leak… You weren’t followed. And it wasn’t random. Could it be someone from your past?”

“My past?” Soap asked, frowning in confusion. “You mean like, from our past missions?”

“No. Personal stuff.”

“Some kinda revenge? Naw, can’t be.” Soap couldn’t even think of anyone. What, his mum upset he didn’t call often enough? Hardly worthy Russian killers. If Ghost said it could be tied to a mission, then yes, maybe. Soap doubted anyone who had made it out alive had remembered his name. He was just a sergeant.

“Nothing?”

“It’s not personal,” Soap said again. “Unless— no, that’s stupid.”

“What is it, Soap?”

“Ugh, I’m just thinking. If it’s not me directly, then it could be getting me to hurt somebody else. Which is not possible.” Soap didn’t meet Ghost’s eyes for this one. There wasn’t anyone in his life like that. Not like Laswell with her wife, for example.

“It’s a theory,” Ghost said, his voice calm and thoughtful. Soap’s eyes snapped to him.

“Not really. The Russians didn’t like us storming their place, taking out their leader. So they’re hitting back. This got nothing to do with me.”

“Yet your place was hit first.”

Soap frowned. “Could be ‘cause they thought I’d be the easiest to get. Living alone, wounded. How long would it take you all to notice something was off if I didn’t…” He waved around.

“I’m in the same position.”

Soap had to laugh. “You got a reputation, Ghost. Which you’re damn well aware of. Nobody’s coming after you.”

Ghost shrugged, the smug bastard.

“It’s a data leak, no way around it.” Soap sighed.

“That means—”

“I know what that means.”

It meant somebody inside worked for the enemy. No other way around it. Soap buried himself deeper in his borrowed pillows. Information like this, Soap’s address—only an insider could have gotten their hands on it.

“If they got mine, they’ll have yours,” Soap pointed out, looking Ghost in the eyes.

“My identity’s protected.”

“I thought so too.”

“No, not like that. Not the usual protocols.”

“Price’s work?”

Ghost nodded. That explained why their captain had sent Soap here, then. If their homes were leaked, who was to say the safe-houses were safe. But this, if this was a special place, Soap and Ghost would be safe here.

“You might need more couches if the rest of the team shows up.”

“There’s plenty of floor space.”

Soap grinned. “So the couch stays mine?”

“Naturally.”

“Not even setting up a rotation? Only I get special treatment?”

“Of course, Johnny.”

He leaned his head back, resting on the edge of the couch. The grin slowly faded. “I talked to Price fast enough. The others will be fine. He probably warned them already, set up a new safe-house. Said he’d get back to me in a few days. I suppose he has your number?”

“He does.”

“Nice. So what do we do till then?”

“What do you want to do?” Ghost asked him instead.

Soap glanced at the TV. “Does that thing have Netflix?”

“Who do you take me for?”

Soap didn’t answer.

“Yes, it does. Jesus.”

“Disney+?”

Ghost didn’t answer.

“It does.”

“No.”

But at this point it was too late. Soap laughed. “You do have it.” He pointed straight at Ghost. “You do, Lt.”

This time Ghost actually rolled his eyes at him.

“What? I could’ve asked to watch a Star Wars movie. Or one of the Iron Man ones. We could’ve had a good laugh.”

“You weren’t.”

Soap grinned up at him. “Naw, I wasn’t.” But now, he already knew about the possibility. His eyes flicked to the remote on the table. Just for a split second. Ghost was still watching him, as always.

He would have to time this right. He could feel all his muscles tensing, the moment between them charging. The seconds ticked by as neither of them as much as breathed.

Soap’s hand shot out. Before it reached the coffee table, an apple hit him straight in the forehead. “Ghost! What the fuck!” he yelled. His hand shot out to catch the apple, the other already moving up to rub at the spot. It didn’t hurt that much, but it was a good hit. Ghost had held back.

“Don’t touch my remotes.”

Soap picked up the apple. “Where did you even get this?” He hadn’t seen Ghost holding it. They had been talking for a long time now, too.

“It’s your breakfast.”

“Oi! One apple? I’ll have ye know, I have standards.”

“The kitchen’s all yours.”

“Aye!” Soap accepted the challenge. “Prepare to have yer whole world shaken.”

“Can’t wait,” Ghost said in the most unimpressed voice Soap had ever heard.

Of course, that meant Soap had to outperform himself now. He liked to think he was a pretty decent cook. A pretty great one actually, when he found the time. He could put together a tasty meal pretty much out of anything.

The kitchen wasn’t the best stocked, but he had all he needed for some proper breakfast. And when he served it to both himself and Ghost, who only slipped the balaclava up his nose, Soap had to admit to himself that this was one amazing breakfast.

And Ghost didn’t say anything. He silently ate his food, not an expression or a comment in sight. And Soap wasn’t going to lose by asking him how it tasted. It tasted great and he knew it. Ghost was only silent because he didn’t want to admit it.

Or so Soap thought, until lunch time came around and Ghost took it upon himself to cook for them. It was only fair since Soap provided breakfast. From Ghost’s groceries, but details.

And he had the gall to make them lunch so good Soap immediately demanded seconds. He might have asked for a third serving if he wasn’t already stuffed. Ghost had been patient. He knew he was going to win the challenge. The right bastard. And he was right. But two could play that game.

Soap didn’t say anything about the food. Only ate. But there was a barely-there smirk on Ghost’s currently uncovered mouth as Soap had loaded his plate that second time.

Then later, Ghost had sat down on Soap’s couch, made himself comfortable. He pushed the blanket to the side. When Soap sat down next to him, sue him the couch was actually comfortable and soft as fuck, he noticed that Ghost had deliberately chosen the side that wouldn’t expose his injured thigh.

He probably did it subconsciously. That did mean that Soap would have to sit with his own injury next to Ghost.

And as the TV played something utterly boring. Soap couldn’t believe that Ghost willingly chose to watch the BBC news channel, he spotted his opportunity. Between them, forgotten, laid the remote.

Lightly, Soap turned a bit to the side and pulled his legs into Ghost’s lap, mindful of his thigh. To his credit, Ghost startled only slightly. If Soap’s calves weren’t already touching him, he wouldn’t have known.

Ghost turned to face him, silently waiting for an explanation. His arms had raised up in the air so he wouldn’t touch Soap. His eyes were immediately drawn to Soap’s hand that had just taken the remote.

“Nothing you can do. I’m injured, remember. That would be plain cruel, Lt.”

For a minute, it looked like Ghost was considering murder, or at least bodily harm of some level. But then, his hands fell down over Soap’s shins. Gingerly and lightly as if he was unsure of what he was doing.

“Oh and grab that blanket, would you. It’s getting chilly in here.”

“You’re insufferable, MacTavish,” Ghost said as he grabbed Soap’s blanket from where it rested by his side, untouched, and lifted it over Soap’s legs and himself.

“Gotta keep ye on your toes.” Soap grinned.

Ghost ignored him this time and instead grabbed him by the calf of his left leg and pushed his legs a bit higher to make himself more comfortable. He kept the hand there.

Soap promptly turned on Disney+ and started a show.

“Are you fucking kidding me…” Ghost sighed as he saw what it was.

And yet, they got through the whole first season of Grey’s Anatomy without further protests. Actually, Ghost immediately liked Cristina. He was also pretty vocal about the things in the plot he didn’t like or that didn’t make any sense. He was taking everything too literally, comparing it to real life.

They had only briefly stopped for bathroom breaks. When Ghost needed to go piss, he told Soap to pause the show. Then he brought back snacks—baby carrots. They still had to keep up their balanced and nutritious diet even when off the clock.

After a quick break for dinner, Ghost had let Soap pick which candle to light next. “I hope you know I’m never going to shut up about this,” Soap said as he carefully made his selection, smelling all the candles Ghost had shown him.

“After bunking with the rest of you I’ll take what I can get,” Ghost dead-panned.

“I should probably take offence to that,” Soap cringed, “but I know what you mean.” A bunch of sweaty men in one big room… yeah. The couple women in their team loved to point this out. Often.

“Pick already,” Ghost reminded him. He wanted to keep watching, Soap could tell. He was invested now.

Soap went with the spiced orange scent Yankee Candle. It was a special Christmas edition. When Soap sat back down on the couch next to Ghost, Ghost shuffled a little lower, spread his legs a little wider, and held his hands up, waiting for Soap’s feet.

So Soap did just that and resumed their earlier position. It was damn comfortable. And he only smirked a little to himself long after Ghost had turned toward the TV.

Both clearly tired, they decided those nine episodes were enough of a brain rot and turned it off. When Ghost stood up to head to his bedroom upstairs, Soap turned to him. “A miss waking up to your ugly mug.”

“Not ugly,” Ghost said, not looking at him, as he gathered the empty bowls from the coffee table.

“I do—” The words died on his tongue when he realized that he had actually seen that face before. And no, Ghost definitely wasn’t ugly. All strong jaw, prominent nose and a reddish tint to his short beard. “Suppose not,” Soap said in the end.

He made a show of stretching and yawning, laying down on the now vacated couch. “I need my beauty sleep, Ghost. Don’t wake me before 6 again,” he said as he played up being tired.

Ghost let him end the banter on his own terms and wished him good night instead.

.

“No, Ghost, these are real important questions.”

“Bullshit.”

Soap went around Ghost who had moved from the kitchen island back to the kitchen counter, chopping some vegetables. Soap had insisted on helping but Ghost had told him he had it handled. So Soap settled for annoying him. He would be bored otherwise.

He leaned with his side on the counter, crossing his arms. As Ghost chopped the carrots, his elbow nearly touched him. “So, the groceries?” He circled back to their topic. “Does the mask stay on?”

Ghost didn’t answer.

“We’re gonna have to get more food soon.”

“I’ll make you a list and wait in the car,” Ghost said simply.

“Oh, ye fucker.”

Unbothered, Ghost continued his work.

.

They did go to the store later that day. Ghost drove his car, a little beat-up Land Rover, into the town. It was a short drive. And exactly as he had said, Ghost had the balaclava on and after parking opposite the store—it didn’t have any parking spot—he handed Soap a piece of paper.

He took it, looking down. A grocery list. Just like he had said he would. Soap didn’t really think he would have gone through with it. He glanced down, scanning the list. “Five things? Just come with me.”

“No.”

He sighed. “Fine, but don’t be angry with me if I get you wrong brands.”

Ghost stared at him. He slowly took his eyes off Soap and looked at the store. Soap followed that gaze and when he took it in, he realized why Ghost wasn’t particularly worried about that. A store like this, in a small town like this, Soap would be glad to find a single brand of each.

“Do you at least have some bags?”

“In the compartment.”

Soap opened the one in front of his passenger seat and found exactly two bags there. The huge plastic ones. He only took one. “Don’t get too lonely without me,” Soap said as he got out of the car.

“Never.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Soap said, throwing in a wink. He shut the door behind him and checked both sides of the road before crossing down the street and into the store.

He went in. The cash register was right by the door. The older woman behind the register seemed rather pale, but this was England so he brushed it off and waved in greeting. She nodded her head in response, watching him intently.

Soap looked around for a shopping basket. He found it. He also noticed the full stack and literally nobody else in the store. “Quiet day, isn’t it?” She stared without an answer. And while such behavior wasn’t anything new to him. After all, he spent a lot of time around Ghost, something about her silence unnerved him. “Right.” Soap moved to start his shopping.

The list from Ghost stayed in his pocket as he went around the store, searching the shelves for the things he wanted. When he reached the aisle with dairy products, he noticed something even more off. A full basket lay by the milk fridge. The vegetables in it were still fresh.

Soap glanced around. The store was still empty. He moved back one aisle that allowed him to see the cashier. She hadn’t moved at all. Her hands were in front of her, wrenched together and fidgeting. Soap turned up. This type of camera should have had a red light on when it was turned on. It didn’t.

Slowly, Soap returned to the dairy aisle, now carefully watching his surroundings. He wouldn’t be finishing his shopping today.

The cashier was either in on it, or threatened to stay quiet. Somebody must have come in and cleared out the store and not too long ago. Which meant they knew Soap and Ghost were coming. They were watching Ghost’s house too.

Soap pretended like everything was alright. He walked through the store, gathering what he needed. A 2 liter Coca Cola bottle, a pack of Mentos and lo and behold, a hammer. Soap allowed himself a light chuckle. He was starting to grow fond of those. Even if this one was small and he doubted would last for long, it could still do some damage. There was also rope there. He grabbed that as well.

He went back somewhere where the cashier couldn’t see him and put his basket down on the floor. He didn’t need to keep up his appearances anymore. He tore the packaging around the hammer and put the tool under his belt.

Next, Soap crept up to the door at the back of the store. They should have left the cameras on, but they didn’t. He was going to take full advantage of that. He put down the candies and the bottle and tore the rope from its packaging. He threw it away and tied the door handle firmly in place. Whoever was waiting back there for him and Ghost, they weren’t getting out this way.

With that way cut off, Soap got to work with the bottle and the candy. He traced his route to the entrance door in his mind and then stuffed as many Mentos as he could into the large bottle. After a quick shake, the bottle exploded. Soap held on and directed the blast right at a shelf.

Cans and packages flew everywhere, making so much noise that even people outside must have heard it. Soap dropped the bottle and ran for it. He heard the door for staff only rattling as the Russians tried to get it open and failed. Even the cashier had startled and hid behind her counter.

Soap ran toward the door, the hammer now in his hand. Just to be safe. But the door didn’t slide open as it had before. “Fuck this,” Soap muttered as he threw the hammer into the glass.

It cracked but that was it. Cursing some more, Soap bent down and grabbed the fallen hammer. He averted his face from the glass as he pounded it with the hammer until it shattered. Shards fell over him, but his covered arm took most of the onslaught.

He didn’t waste any time lingering and got out of there.

The street was suspiciously empty. Ghost’s car was still there, but Ghost wasn’t there and the engine had been turned off. Soap hurried around the corner. The one where the store didn’t have the back door. He needed to get off the main street. Whatever the Russians were planning, he would find out soon if he stayed out there.

He barely took two steps into the alley when somebody grabbed him from behind. They pulled him against them. A hand covered his mouth.

Soap still had a firm grip on the small hammer. He could have struck out, but his mind analyzed the scene and instead, he relaxed into the wide chest behind him. The hand covering his mouth wasn’t forceful. It didn’t press to block his airflow. If they had wanted to do that, they could have done that more effectively with a hand over his throat.

He slightly angled his head to the side, forcing his muscles to relax as he saw that it was indeed Ghost behind him. Soap nodded and then Ghost let go. He motioned for Soap to follow him further down the alley. It was more like a long street, narrow. A good short-cut, but also not a good place to be caught in a fight.

Confident that they were far enough, Soap spoke up, “They’re here, Lt.”

Ghost nodded. He turned back to watch the street behind them, but Soap grabbed his hoodie and made him look at him instead. “You said your place was safe,” Soap said, a bit of anger slipping into his words.

Ghost glanced down at the fist that bunched up his clothes, then met his eyes. Calmly, he answered, “I underestimated them.”

“You don’t do that.”

“Guess I did this time.”

Soap stared at him. That was bullshit. “They watched your house. They knew we were coming here.”

“I… was distracted.” Ghost put a hand to his wrist, squeezing lightly so that Soap would let go. He turned to the direction from which they had come from. “We need to go, Johnny.”

“Don’t ye Johnny me right now,” he said but also did as Ghost wanted. He let go and took off again, quickening his pace. He wasn’t stupid. They needed to get somewhere ideally without Russians waiting on every corner.

Ghost’s car and his house were out of the question. For now. Soap had no idea what was around and they would need things. He had the stolen hammer and some cash on him, but that wouldn’t last the two of them very long.

Fortunately, Ghost knew a place. The place in question was an abandoned house at the edge of the town. There were no window panes left and half of the side was nothing but fallen bricks. The roof looked like it would not only leak, but fall down any minute.

Soap couldn’t even joke about the house being haunted when there wasn’t much of the house left.

But they wouldn’t be staying for long. Ghost led him to the back, into the overgrown yard. There was a shed at the back, equally run-down. But when Ghost opened it, Soap watched in amazement at what was inside. A big backpack with a sleeping bag on top, clearly full with supplies. And weapons on the other side.

“How did nobody steal this yet?” Soap asked, incredulous.

“I pay the neighbor to keep an eye out.”

“Must be quite the pay.”

“It’s 5 quid a month.”

“’scuse me?” Soap couldn’t believe it. “Naw, wait a second. When you set up this deal, did you have the mask on?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“So the neighbor watches your stuff because he’s scared of you.”

“As long as he watches it…” Ghost shrugged.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

He paused. “It crossed my mind, yes.”

Ghost took the backpack and hid a gun under his hoodie. Soap took two and hid them on himself. On their way back, Soap noticed the person in the window in the house next to them. Ghost saw them too, of course, and nodded in acknowledgement.

The man, couldn’t be older than thirty, froze, thinking he went unnoticed. He nodded at Ghost and then quickly disappeared inside. Soap chuckled. “That’s your mighty guardian?”

The guy seemed tall, but skinny. Clad in a yellow sweater, with long curls around his head. If somebody came to steal the stuff, he wouldn’t be able to do anything.

“If he called the police, you would get into trouble. What else can he do?”

“He’s got a trained German Shepherd. A retired K-9.”

“And here I was thinking you picked the property because it was empty.”

“Think bigger, Soap. I picked it for both.”

Soap laughed. Of course Ghost did. How could he ever doubt the man?

They found a comfortable spot in the forest that surrounded the town on this side. It wasn’t much. A kilometer or two at best, and then stretching fields all over the land, but it was better than staying in the town.

After all, they were waiting for the dark. Ghost had opened the sleeping bag and they sat down on it instead of in the damp dirt, their backs to each other and like that, they came up with a plan. At night, they would go back to Ghost’s house to take some things.

They had enough weapons among the two of them. Apparently, Ghost had a nice stash of the knives he liked to throw around so much in his backpack. This should be easy.

“Couldn’t be more than a dozen at my place,” Soap had said.

“You got them just fine. We can pull it off.”

“If there’s not more of them. They failed once.”

“And they’re going to keep failing.”

“They’d have to be stupid not to increase their numbers. And we fought them already, they’re not stupid,” Soap said. The pain as the bullet hit his side flashed in his memory.

Ghost’s head leaned back and tapped the back of his. “Are you scared, Johnny?”

He rolled his eyes, even if Ghost couldn’t see it. “I’m understandably skeptical. They caught us unaware last time.”

“We got no confirmation that it’s them.”

“You know it is.” Soap’s hand went to his side. Luckily, he hadn’t popped his stitches again today in the store.

Ghost’s head still rested against his. “Do you trust me?” Ghost asked after a minute of silence.

“With my life.”

“Good. I have no intention of making you lose it. Not tonight.”

“So, any other night?”

“Might’ve thought about it when you stole my remote.”

Soap laughed. “Alright, sir. Let’s do this.”

Together. Ghost and Soap against the Russians that had nearly killed him the last time in an actual battle. Soap couldn’t wait.

Chapter Text

They stormed the house according to the plan. They incapacitated all the intruding Russians. They got Ghost’s stuff and Soap’ duffel bag. It was a big success. Only now they had no place to stay and Ghost’s house was full of dead bodies and blood stains.

At least everyone’s stitches survived the whole ordeal. Neither of them was too injured, though Ghost now sported a bruise on his face similar to Soap. His wasn’t as visible with the mask, but Soap had seen the Russian, desperate, try to engage Ghost in a fist fight. It didn’t take long for Ghost to take him down. The Russian had only gotten that one hit in.

They walked slowly to the town. It was dark out, the path illuminated only by the moonlight. “We should go different ways,” Soap said. “Set up a rendezvous point, meet up there, and contact Price.”

“No. We stay together, Johnny.”

“Would be better to split up. Strategically. We draw more attention this way and whoever’s left will have more trouble locating us both.”

And one of the two guys in a skull mask—out here it wasn’t a good intimidation tool against the enemy. It was still an intimidation tool, but one that could get them in trouble. Alone, Ghost would have much more luck blending in the shadows.

“We don’t know shit about what’s happening. I’d rather keep you in sight.”

“I can take care of myself,” Soap said, his brow going up in a challenge.

“I don’t doubt that, but if anything happens out there, I— we won’t know what happened to you. Won’t have a way to contact each other. I don’t like that.”

Soap went quiet. Any temper that might have risen at Ghost supposedly questioning his skills had quickly evaporated. “I don’t like that either,” he said, his voice getting more quiet.

“So we stay together,” Ghost decided for them.

Soap lightly bumped his fist against Ghost’s shoulder. “Thought you loved to work alone.” He grinned at the taller man.

“I did,” Ghost said simply and faced forward, watching the barely visible road under their feet.

Soap kept grinning to himself. Ghost might have mostly worked alone, but he was part of Task Force 141 now. Soap was sure that Ghost had grown fond of them all over time, even if he would never say it outright.

The walk through the town was done a bit faster. They had to be careful there and not get spotted by anyone. Ghost had a destination in mind. A small petrol station a five-minute walk from the town.

They set up a plan and then Ghost took something out of his backpack and handed the tiny thing to Soap. He took it without hesitation. One glance told him it was an earpiece.

Soap should be surprised but he really wasn’t. Ghost had all kinds of military gear in his house. Soap didn’t have much time to analyze it as they packed everything they might need. He had only gotten a quick look at the utility room. Ghost had been responsible for that while Soap had grabbed them some food and clothes.

He had no doubt that Ghost had more or less stolen all this stuff from their military. After all, their stuff got damaged or lost out there in the field all the time. It was so easy to get away with it if one did it occasionally and with small things only.

Whatever Ghost had been preparing for, the stuff would be useful now.

“Do you see the camera?” Ghost said quietly as they laid in the grass, hidden by some bushes, on the other side of the street across from the petrol station.

Soap looked where Ghost had pointed. There was only a single camera in the corner of the store. “It doesn’t cover the stand.”

“The owner’s a paranoid man. His car got stolen three times so he adjusted the angle.”

“Don’t tell me you’re the one constantly stealing the poor lad’s car.”

“No, it was the two brothers from the house down the street.”

“They got arrested?”

Ghost shook his head. “I saw them do it.”

“And?”

“And nothing. They just drive around and leave it in front of his house later.”

“Not that he knows.”

“No.”

“Good for us, then.” Soap took another look at the camera and checked the time. It would be 5:30 soon. They would have to wait for somebody to pass, but Ghost had that planned out as well. The early morning commuters would show up soon and they would snag the first one.

Or, their car.

Ghost just about finished linking up the comms when they heard the sound of an engine coming from further down the main street. “You’re on,” Ghost said.

With a simple nod, Soap stood up and crossed the street while trying to flatten his rumpled jacket. Hopefully, he had no grass on it. It was time to put on his best act.

The owner sat behind the counter and watched some replay of a football match. Soap walked in and wished him a good morning, putting on an overly cheery tone. The owner eyed him suspiciously but returned the greeting. With a lot less enthusiasm.

Soap expected some questions, but nothing so far. He had deliberately turned his unbruised side towards the middle-aged man and let his words speak for him. He had a story ready, one crafted with some useful tidbits around the area from Ghost.

He had gotten to the stand with candies, not that there was a huge variety of options, when a car parked outside. Soap heard the sound of the door slamming shut and then Ghost speaking in his ear. “It’s a man.”

Soap’s brows rose up slightly. His job here was to distract the person long enough for Ghost to steal their car. Lightly, so the owner wouldn’t hear him, he answered Ghost. “I do love a challenge.”

Personally, Soap didn’t care if it was a man or a woman, or neither. But a rural-ish town in England… maybe the other man wouldn’t appreciate the conversation. Soap would have to start it lightly.

“Hey, Marty,” a tired sounding man said as he entered the petrol station. The owner waved in greeting, busy watching his match.

Just as Soap had hoped, the new guy stopped at the short candy section and reached for one of the Cadbury chocolate bars. “Ah, caramel, yer a man of taste,” Soap said suddenly.

The man startled, as if he hadn’t been expecting anybody else in the station besides Marty. “Ugh, right. ‘s good.” He moved to take a bottle of water.

Soap followed behind, a second later, picking a candy for himself too. He took a look at the packaged sandwiches. “You’ve got any opinions on these?” Soap grinned at the man.

He frowned but walked a step closer. “Can’t go wrong with ham. The one with tuna and eggs’s not bad if you’re feeling adventurous.” He shrugged.

“Why not.” Soap grabbed the tuna sandwich from the display. He looked at it in his hands, then looked slightly up from under his lashes, his eyes meeting the other guy’s. “I wouldn’t say no to a bit of an adventure today.”

The man gaped, but then recovered and quickly grabbed the first packaged baguette in the fridge. But Ghost hadn’t yet given the clear signal.

“You come here often?” Soap asked as he leaned on the now closed fridge door with his back. He crossed his arms and made sure to flex his biceps under the jacket. Just enough that the sleeves would pull closely across his skin.

It drew the guy’s attention. For a second. “Do you?” he asked, a little accusatory. Whatever. As long as he wasn’t leaving and talked with him.

Soap shrugged. “I’m staying over with my cousin. Just getting some things before I hit the road.”

“I didn’t see another car.” He frowned.

“Aye, my cousin will take me to the train station later.” The station was in the next town, it was a bit of a drive but not too far. Ghost had suggested that.

“Right. And the store is closed.”

“I saw that. What happened?” Soap creased his brows, faked some concern.

“They’re saying it was a methane leak.” He shrugged. Apparently, a random conversation worked better on this man, rather than any attempt at flirting. For now, Soap had his attention.

“How long till they get that fixed? Must be annoying.”

“Probably not long. People would riot. I don’t care, frankly. I can stop by Aldi after work.”

“Can’t say I’ve seen that around.” Soap chuckled, playing dumb.

The man laughed. “Not in this hole, no.” He started to turn around again, done with his meagre shopping.

“So you work out of town?” Soap asked a little too quickly. When the man stopped and faced him again, Soap took him in, from the bottom to the top. “Some kinda big shot manager, are ye?”

The man was wearing old dark brown slacks that didn’t really fit him, a rumpled shirt and a loosened tie. Really, Soap thought him to be an accountant or something like that. Definitely straight and definitely not anyone’s boss.

But Soap knew how to play men like this one. He had gotten plenty of free drinks at clubs from men like this when he had been younger. Sometimes his cousin would join him in the fun despite having a girlfriend and they would make a game out of it—who could get more men to buy them drinks during a single night. His cousin had always been bad at it, though. Sometimes he only got any because his girlfriend was there with them and giving him pointers.

But that had been very long ago. Before Soap had followed in his footsteps and entered the military.

And of course, it worked here as well. The man straightened up, puffing up his chest slightly. “You think I look like one?”

“Well, you’ve got the suit, and you’re quite the looker. And the chat’s not too bad, either. I bet people love that.”

He chuckled a little darkly. “You’re so right. It’s a wonder why I’m still not.”

“Bollocks. You’re not? Now you’re just pulling my leg.” Soap laughed lightly.

The comm in his ear crackled to life. “Get out of there,” Ghost said sharply. He almost startled Soap who had been really getting into his role. He couldn’t reply right now, but that was alright. Ghost would be waiting for him.

Soap realized he hadn’t heard the engine from the back of the store.

It was time to finish this before either this man or Marty noticed the lack of the car out front. Soap wrapped up the conversation, playing up the man’s ego and followed him to the counter.

When he put his few things on the counter, Soap clapped his shoulder with his hand and easily moved him out of the way. “On me,” he said with a smile and put his own things on the counter too.

The man looked stunned, as if he had forgotten Soap was still there. But Marty only shrugged and started scanning the items together. If the guy wanted to hurry to work, he wouldn’t waste time on telling Marty to do it all over again. So he let out a quick thank you, his jaw clenched. He was clearly uncomfortable as Soap paid.

Nobody would expect the guy stealing your car to buy you food beforehand. Soap’s grin was radiant as he knew that no matter what, he was going to get away with this. Nobody would suspect him of being an accomplice after this.

The man grabbed his things from the counter and waited only till Soap had paid. At least he had some manners left. “Right, thanks, mate. See ya’ Marty. And… you, I guess.”

Soap waved, still eyeing the man coyly. He was having too much fun with this.

But that wouldn’t last long. Three short seconds later, the man had opened the door and took in the parking lot in front of the petrol station, his car nowhere.

Soap decided it was the right time to leave. He could still make it look casual. After all, he had been the first one inside. He hadn’t seen any cars out there before.

The man took a couple steps forward, frozen as he slowly looked around as if he could somehow still find his missing car. From behind him, Soap headed in the direction of the town and called out, “See ye the next time I’m in town, loue.”

His head snapped around to watch Soap, who only grinned at him. His own candy and a sandwich in hand, Soap kept walking until he was a few meters out of the petrol station property. Only then did he hear the man yelling at Marty.

“Ghost, I’m on my way,” he said into the earpiece and hurried up down the street. He didn’t get an answer from Ghost. Not even an acknowledgement. Frowning slightly to himself, Soap focused on the things around him.

Maybe they were too far from each other for the signal to pick up.

Soap took the route to the spot they had set up. It was a bit out of the town and he had to jog through some high grass, but he made it in a record time and with no trouble.

Only lightly winded, Soap rapped his knuckles on the driver’s window. Ghost pulled the window down. “Get in.”

Soap’s brows rose but he merely shrugged and walked around the car. He got inside and made himself comfortable. He adjusted the seat, pushing it further back to accommodate for his legs and then put on his seat belt. Ghost immediately turned back onto the road out of the town.

They only needed to get to the train station—but not the one Soap had mentioned to the guy. The one in the town after that.

He toyed with the chocolate bar he had gotten, looking at it wistfully. “I should’ve gotten something salty.” He sighed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have wasted money on the bloke,” Ghost said all of a sudden.

“It was my alibi.”

“It was unnecessary. You were there before him. You had your cover story.”

“The sandwich couldn’t have been more than a couple pounds,” Soap defended his decision.

“We’ll need that money later.”

Soap paused. “Is this because I didn’t buy you your own? Ye know I’ll happily share with you. I’ll even give you the chocolate.”

“I don’t want your chocolate,” Ghost said, a little too quickly.

“Sounds like you do.” Soap leaned in closer across the center console. “Are you jealous, Lt.?”

The car slowed down, the engine making a weird sound as the gear needed to be switched. Belatedly, Ghost did so and steadily ignored Soap. But it was enough of a reaction. Soap laughed and patted Ghost’s shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry. He was too short to be my type, anyways.”

Ghost turned his head towards Soap a smidge, but then as if thinking better of it, he abandoned the action and kept his eyes on the road.

Soap had noticed, of course he did. Satisfied, he turned to stare out of his own window. Something inside him spiked dangerously. He kind of liked this—this reaction from Ghost. Jealous Ghost. He didn’t really understand why, but it didn’t feel like a bad thing.

They drove all the way to the town they had planned on. Getting rid of the car was easy. They left it at the end of a big parking lot in front of a supermarket and while Soap kept an eye out, eating his chocolate bar as if not to look suspicious just standing there, Ghost cleaned up the inside.

The walk to the bus station wasn’t too far and Soap got them tickets to another town, the furthest one the coach would take them. The drive would take several hours, overnight too.

As they got ready to get in, they had to wait in the line. It was a popular link, it seemed. The truth was, it was Friday and so many people who stayed in this town for work or school were travelling back home for the weekend. It would be packed, not an empty seat left.

Which meant not much personal space either. Bus seats weren’t made for two buff men like them. Ghost had boarded first, Soap following right after with a nice smile to the driver so that he wouldn’t think too much about Ghost’s mask and hood.

He nearly walked right into Ghost’s back when he stopped in front of their assigned seats instead of going in and sitting down. “Is there a problem?” he asked, voice shushed so others wouldn’t hear.

Ghost shook his head. “You sit by the window. I don’t—I don’t want to be boxed in there. I don’t like the feeling.”

He had said it almost casually but being in their profession, Soap could easily guess that there was something behind those words. Some particular reason why Ghost didn’t want to sit there.

So for once, Soap didn’t crack a joke and let it be. He took the seat by the window and stuffed his duffel bag under his seat. Soap even let Ghost crowd him as more and more people got on and he was pushed closer and closer to Soap.

“Getting a little tight in here, Ghost,” he whispered when Ghost pushed into his side again, which then pushed Soap’s private parts in a way he would rather not sit for the next several hours.

“Not much I can do about that, Johnny.” Ghost sounded pretty irritated. It might have been from all the stares he was getting because of his balaclava, or the hood on top. Even when he had left out the dark paint smudged around his eyes, he was still a pretty intimidating sight. And unusual. Ghost also had nearly one whole leg and a half of his arm sticking out of his seat and the others passing by didn’t like that.

Soap knew Ghost was rather particular with his touches. More often than not, Soap had gotten a death glare when he had dared to touch a bit longer—which had gotten a bit better recently, now that he thought of that—but strangers touching him, even briefly, didn’t sit right with Ghost. No wonder he was irritated by the whole thing.

Five minutes later, Ghost was utterly done with all the pushing and poking and the angry looks. He put his hand over Soap’s seat. The movement slotted them together, pushing them even closer, but it was more comfortable than before and they now actually had more space for themselves.

Well, for about two seconds. Soap didn’t even get to settle into it when Ghost’s hand came crashing against the beck of his neck, startling him slightly. The passenger in the seat behind them had pushed Ghost’s elbow. “You’re big, dude, we get it,” a young sounding man spoke from behind. The culprit, for sure.

His hand now directly touching Soap, Ghost turned around to see who spoke. He didn’t glare. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. It was Ghost and stronger men out there in the field had run at the sight of him and his mask.

Soap heard the man gasp and he could just imagine him disappearing into himself. “I mean, this is public transport,” he tried defending himself. “We- um, well, we all gotta be considerate. It’s a— a long drive,” he stuttered slightly.

When Ghost still wasn’t answering, Soap took pity on the guy and turned around too. It brought his face all too close to Ghost’s balaclava. The man was just some teenager. “Goes for ye too, laddie.” But instead of Ghost’s serious demeanor, Soap was barely holding in his amusement.

The young man nodded quickly. With a sigh, Soap turned back and made himself comfortable in this new position, all while ignoring how his nose had nearly brushed Ghost’s a second ago.

Soap told himself Ghost probably hated all this. All this contact. He could feel how stiff Ghost was. At this point Soap could tell the difference between his neutral, relaxed stance and this.

This physical contact—it wasn’t under Ghost’s rules. He had only gotten his hand around his seat and then the young man had pushed him into actually touching Soap. As if their whole sides pressed together weren’t enough.

Nothing they could do about it now. Soap didn’t know what to say. So for a while he said nothing.

Then, he spoke up softly. “Sorry.”

He could feel Ghost’s eyes on him so he turned to the side to face him. Ghost kept staring—he did that sometimes. Soap met his gaze for a bit, those eyelashes so pale right now. Before he could get lost in his silent admiration of how the midday sun reflected in those eyes, Soap turned around and faced forward again.

The bus moved and Soap spaced out, lost in his head. Later, the setting sun started to shine so bright, the rays hitting him right in the eye, Soap had to pull the curtain and relaxed back into his seat, and inadvertently pressed Ghost’s hand closer to his neck.

“You can sleep some if you want. I’ll be up till the first petrol station break,” Soap told him. He was still pretty high on adrenaline from the day’s events, Soap was confident he could easily go for a couple more hours.

“I don’t need to sleep.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. Even back at Ghost’s house, every time he woke up, Ghost was already dressed and going about his day, and when he went to sleep, Ghost was still awake.

They argued about his sleeping patterns for about five minutes before Soap gave up. “Suit yourself,” he said. Soap closed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Now I’m tired. So don’t mind if I do.” He wanted to slide down a bit, but his knees immediately hit the seat in front of him.

It was all too easy to fall asleep, with the light rocking of the bus and the warmth all around him. Nothing like the last time in the field. Here, Ghost didn’t have any gear on, just a thick hoodie. He was much nicer to sleep on like this. Soap was lost to dreams before he knew it. Subconsciously, he sought out more of that warmth and got closer and closer to Ghost.

The last thing his brain vaguely registered was Ghost’s soft ‘fucking hell’ before he was fully gone to the world.

Twice, the annoying prat behind them had listened so loudly to his songs that even through the earphones, it had woken Soap up. Each time, Soap had just snuggled closer to the warmth, his sleep-addled mind not too functional, and continued sleeping.

When the bus stopped, Ghost woke him up, shaking his shoulder. Soap was up quickly. Ghost went to the toilet first while Soap properly woke up and guarded their stash of weapons. Then he went next.

Some people had already left the bus. They must have stopped at some station while he had been sleeping. More seats opened up. If Ghost wanted, he could have sat at the empty pair of seats three rows down from Soap, but instead, he stood up when Soap had returned. Soap got in and then Ghost put his hand over his shoulders again. Not quite around his neck, but not quite around the seat only either.

No protest.

Soap liked it so he didn’t say anything. One wrong word and Ghost would be gone.

And once again, Soap picked up a fight about Ghost and his lack of sleep. He was adamant about it. He simply refused to budge. Ghost wasn’t going to sleep here no matter what. Even if Soap was there to keep them safe and more than capable of it. Which Ghost knew very well.

The thing was, Soap could hear how tired the other man was. He let it be, at least for now, and opened the can of his energy drink from the petrol station. He took a big gulp and then turned to Ghost. “Want a sip?”

Ghost took it, quickly slipped the balaclava up to his nose, and drank the whole thing in two big gulps. He immediately pulled the mask back down, but not before Soap could see the edge of a smirk on his lips. “Thanks. Just what I needed.”

Soap gaped, absolutely baffled at the sight. “Ye bastard!” he said, a little too loudly in the still half-empty parked bus.

Ghost handed him the can back and still shocked, Soap just took it.

Three hours later, they arrived at their destination. A town with about thirty thousand people in it. Instead of stealing another car, they made the trek to the small hotel that was on the edge of the town. It was the closest one to the station and they had seen it on the way there.

Before they could more or less leave the town, they momentarily split up. Ghost would get them some warm and cooked dinner, while Soap would get their rooms sorted.

It went over easy enough. The receptionist on the night shift didn’t even notice Soap's bruises. He didn’t even ask any questions, only about the payment.

Soap twirled the key on his finger and walked up the single flight of stairs to the door with the same number on it as the tag on the key.

Just as he unlocked the door, Ghost appeared behind him. Very much in the manner his name suggested. Shit. He was really good, Soap couldn’t help but think. He hadn’t heard anything at all. But he knew to expect him soon.

He turned the key in the lock and it clicked. He opened the door and let Ghost get in first since he had his hands full with take-out bags. Briefly, he wondered if Ghost had gotten any stares for getting inside a restaurant at night with a black balaclava on.

“You know, the mask’s going to be a pro—” Soap was cut off as Ghost suddenly stopped in front of him.

Slowly, he turned around to face Soap. “Really, MacTavish?”

Chapter Text

Soap didn’t get it. He frowned and when Ghost didn’t say anything else, he got up on his tiptoes to glance over Ghost’s shoulder. If it wasn’t something he had done, it was some kind of a problem with the room.

And well, with the limited space, it was easy to guess what the issue was. Only one double bed. Calling it a double was a generous term. Slowly, he got back on his feet and faced Ghost. “I told the clerk it was just me. Smaller room saves us 35 pounds.”

Ghost didn’t need to say anything. Over time, they had developed a certain understanding. They could have whole conversations with their eyes alone. Or at least, Ghost could and Soap could easily predict what his answers would be.

And this look was pretty easy to read.

“What? It’s economical. We don’t have money to throw around. And—” he pointed at Ghost who gave him another silent look “—we got take-out. A sacrifice had to be made, mah friend.”

They really didn’t have money to spend on useless things. He had counted it. 134 pounds left. They couldn’t use their bank accounts and Soap only had so much money on him after he had left his flat. Ghost had slightly more but long-distance travel wasn’t cheap.

If they ran out, they would need to—

“No,” Soap said, sure he had just thought of the same thing as Ghost.

The staring continued.

“We’re not robbing any old ladies in this town.”

“You said it,” Ghost spoke up, already turning around to find some kind of a table to put down the food.

“And you thought it,” Soap called out after him.

“Sure, Johnny.”

Soap rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his mohawk. It was getting longer, he didn’t have any gel to secure it as he liked to. Even the buzzed sides were getting too long. He needed a haircut, and soon. Not that he was getting any right now. He sighed and made sure to properly lock up the door and pull up the curtain.

He didn’t think the Russians would find them here, at least not so soon. He was actually more worried about the clerk noticing there was definitely more than one person inside.

Ghost was already busy sorting out the take-out, pulling out the boxes and such. Soap left him to it and hopped into the shower first, very glad for the fresh clothes he had grabbed from Ghost’s house and the running water.

He was quick. There wasn’t much to do. He only had the hotel’s 3-in-1 shampoo and shower gel. He used it because of necessity, not because he liked it. Soap was used to a different standard.

When he got back, they ate together. Ghost had waited, but Soap had a feeling he had done so only because the food had still been hot. He couldn’t have been in the shower for more than ten minutes.

Since Ghost got the food ready, Soap took care of the trash while Ghost took his turn in the bathroom. He cleared the small table and hopped on the bed, sprawling out for as long as he could. His feet rested on the edge of the mattress. Ghost would definitely not like sleeping here.

They had slept on worse things, though.

Soap was staring at the old television in the corner, wondering if it would actually work, when the bathroom door opened. Ghost walked out, engulfed in a cloud of steam. Soap’s eyes immediately focused on the movement and his breath nearly left him when Ghost kept going, without the balaclava.

He had tried to memorize that face. That face that was so freely, so casually, given now. Back then, it had been just a moment. One fleeting and born out of necessity. Ghost had had the dark paint smudged across his face. And Soap had tried to burn the image into his memory, thinking that was it. He had been almost one of the last to take the ghost mask for himself even if he was team Ghost without question.

Ghost went around the room, putting his things down, going about his business like usual, as if Soap’s whole world wasn’t turning upside down.

It was utterly fascinating—watching that face. An entirely new experience for Soap. There was so much there. Even the neutral expression was something to marvel at. The furrow of Ghost’s brows as he silently wondered where to put his things in the small room. The corner of his thin lips turned down slightly as he was forced to more or less drop everything into one big pile on the single chair in the room.

He was done quickly, but to Soap it felt both like the time had slowed down and like the moment had gone before it even began.

Ghost came up to the bed, hands on his hips as he took in the bed. Soap was still sprawled out on it, his hands behind his head and frozen there. And goddammit, Soap was still staring. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the pale face, the now brown hair still wet and slicked back. Ghost must have felt his eyes on him the whole time.

Not Ghost.

Without the mask, he was Simon.

He could read Soap just as much as Soap could read him. “You said the mask was going to be a problem. I agree.”

Soap gaped. “I thought you slept in that thing.”

Ghost hummed. It still felt weird calling him Simon. Even in his own head. He had always been Ghost to him. As he moved to get on the bed as well, Soap finally got the hint and made some space for him.

He laid down. Which brought that both new and familiar face so close. Soap would sooner die than look away.

Ghost settled on the bed, his lashes falling shut and Soap was utterly transfixed by the slight movement. Until Ghost told him to hit the light.

That finally snapped him out of it. His face warmed, realizing just how weird he was acting. It was just Ghost’s face. It shouldn’t be anything special. Sure, there was the curiosity that pretty much everyone felt, but after the mission nobody had said anything. And yet Soap was the one constantly thinking about it. And now…

He got up from the bed, walked up to the main light to turn it off. This hotel didn’t seem to have the luxury of a bedside lamp, conveniently in reach. Ghost pulled the single thin duvet over himself. After Soap made it back to bed, successfully with all his toes intact, he settled next to him, getting under the same duvet—they only had that one. Soap kept to his side, careful not to touch.

Soap still couldn’t sleep, he had done enough of that in the bus, so he talked. “Why do you wear it?” His voice automatically turned soft in this setting—the dark hotel room, the single bed where they weren’t touching, but were still so close he could feel Ghost’s presence, the dip of the mattress.

The answer came after a couple seconds. “Go to sleep.”

Yeah, okay, that was fair. Ghost had barely slept in the past few days, at least as far as Soap had seen. “I’ll ask again.”

“Bloody hell, I know, Soap.”

He grinned at the light annoyance in that tone. He could be one annoying motherfucker and he didn’t care one bit. Usually, Ghost didn’t really mind. Maybe at first, when they had met. He had thought him a bit immature, but Soap had wormed his way in. By being persistently annoying and in close proximity.

.

That night, Soap also found out why Ghost slept so little when other people were around.

It started out light. Soap didn’t fully register it at first. The grunts mixed with his dreams. Then, Ghost started moving around and since there was hardly any space for that, it ended with Soap getting hit in his side. A freshly blooming bruise was there, one left from the men at Ghost’s house.

Soap woke up, hissing at the slight pain from the impact. He already opened his mouth, ready to tell Ghost off, when he paid closer attention and realized what was happening. Ghost was in the middle of a nightmare. A brutal one by the sounds of it.

He had never seen the other men so expressive—granted he had barely seen his face, but it was more than that. His whole posture. His body language screamed discomfort and pain. The moonlight filtered in through the curtain he had previously pulled closed. It was thin and didn’t do its job. Soap’s eyes easily adapted in the dark. Enough to see.

And what he saw worried him.

That handsome face was now twisted in pure anguish. Ghost’s hands gripped the sheets, his frown deepening. Then, his hand came up to his throat as if he couldn’t breath and his mouth opened as he talked. He just mouthed the words, but then Soap could hear it. “I’m here. I’m still here.” Next his breathing started to come in as if he was actually struggling to pull air in.

Soap had to do something. He had to at least try.

He knew that Ghost had been through a lot of shit. He didn’t know the details. If anybody did… Soap would never pry into something like that. It didn’t matter to him, what mattered was Ghost. The one right now.

Sometimes it was better to let soldiers go through the nightmare. Ghost might startle and then it might not end well for anyone, but when he looked like that, Soap had to do something.

So he tried. He called out his name, not daring to touch. Even asleep, he had no doubt Ghost could be deadly.

“Ghost,” he said again, subconsciously leaning closer, and just like that, before he knew it, Soap was on the ground, flat on his back in a second. Ghost had reacted. They had tumbled down from the bed as he had flipped then. Soap’s head hit the laminated floor with a painful thud.

They were a tangle of sheets, Ghost atop him, his forearm pressing at Soap’s windpipe.

“Ghost,” he tried to call again, but it was getting harder to say. Soap reached out, frantically tapping his free hand at Ghost’s bicep. He needed him to let go. Still, Ghost didn’t.

There was a wild look in his eyes, his pupils blown wide. Wherever Ghost was right now, it wasn’t in this room with Soap.

So he stopped the taps, in case Ghost could perceive them as a threat. Instead, he reached out and grabbed the nape of his neck and simply let his hand rest there. As non-threatening as possible. Just a light touch.

Calling his name wasn’t working either. Soap needed something that would carry more weight.

So with his last breath, he said the word. “Simon.” It was weak and he nearly didn’t finish the last syllable, but it did the job.

Ghost jerked and his eyes cleared up some. He stared at Soap underneath him. “Johnny,” the name fell from his lips, equally weak.

Then, he straightened up, his forearm moving away. Soap’s hand slid down from his neck, down his arm, and rested on his elbow, cupping it, as Ghost still essentially straddled him.

Soap took in a sharp, deep breath. Ghost was still not fully there, his breathing coming in harsh. His eyes left Soap’s and roamed around the room, taking everything in, his surroundings, threats.

He wouldn’t find any.

“Are you alright?” Soap asked when he calmed down. He didn’t particularly mind the position. To be fair, he wasn’t even really thinking about it now, not with Ghost so out of it. He could only focus on the other man’s wellbeing.

He had never seen him like this. Not even when Graves had started shooting at them. Ghost had screamed after Soap, urging him to get out and run. He had panicked, but he wasn’t this. Wasn’t vulnerable.

Not a single time during a mission, no matter how shitty it was turning out to be. Ghost had almost always kept his cool. His control.

“Fine,” Ghost grunted, voice deeper than usual. He quickly got up, not meeting Soap’s eyes. He nearly tripped over the sheets that were still around their feet—just that one duvet, actually, but it had gotten them good. Ghost cursed under his breath.

Soap let him get up, waiting patiently and not making any attempt to move himself.

With a tired sigh, Ghost plopped down on the bare bed. Even the pillows were gone somewhere in the room.

Rubbing his throat, Soap sat up. He went to the bathroom, accidentally kicking one of the two pillows on his way. The light hurt his eyes, so he squinted and kept walking to the sink. The one glass under the mirror was still untouched. He filled it with water and drank his fill. The cold felt amazing against his throat.

After a brief consideration, he filled the glass again. He carried it back to the main room, leaving the light on in the bathroom, but the door nearly closed. He bent down and picked up the pillow and then carried both things toward the bed. Soap dropped the pillow next to Ghost and then pressed the cold glass against Ghost’s cheek to get his attention.

He knew that Ghost wasn’t asleep even if his eyes were closed.

“Piss off,” he told Soap, but there was no heat in his voice. He sounded utterly exhausted. Annoyance, he could take. This worried Soap even more.

“Drink it before I make you,” Soap said. Ghost opened one eye and managed a glare with it. Rather impressive. “Sir,” Soap added.

Ghost got slightly up, leaning on his elbow and actually took the glass and drank the water. “Thanks,” he said quietly and left the glass on the floor by his side of the bed.

Soap went around looking for the second pillow. He grabbed it from where it had slid under the chair, brushed it off and threw it on the bed. He picked up the duvet, waved it around in the air some and after he deemed it clean enough, he got back in the bed and covered them both.

Ghost didn’t respond to it, his thoughts still dark and off somewhere far away. He clearly didn’t plan on sleeping any further, and well, Soap had slept enough already. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. Soap turned to face Ghost, but he didn’t reciprocate. “’cause I will listen. I totally can listen.”

“Can you, Johnny…” Ghost said tiredly.

“Aye.”

For Ghost, he could keep his mouth shut and listen as long as the man needed. For hours.

“How about you talk me to sleep instead?” Ghost said as he slowly turned around, their eyes meeting. He said it like a joke, but there was something in his eyes that Soap had seen before. When they had started shooting at him, when his shoulder had been hit. When he had been on the wet ground. The same look of desperation.

But his tone had been light and carefully controlled. Ghost didn’t want this to be real—whatever was haunting him. He wanted Soap to joke, to talk about nothing all night.

And Soap could do that for him. So he laughed lightly. As light as he could manage. “Yes, sir. I can do that too.” Soap made himself comfortable on the bed. Maybe Ghost would tell him one day. It was fine. It wasn’t need to know. And if he could help Ghost sleep, he would sure as hell try.

But Ghost really didn’t want to sleep. He ended up answering back and the conversation wasn’t as one-sided as he had thought it would be. Even if they weren’t talking about anything important.

They had even circled back to those awful military jokes, which then turned into jokes in general. Soap gave him a random object in the room or a prompt and Ghost always had something. They were still just as terrible, but some of them were genuinely funny. Ghost’s delivery was the highlight, though.

Next thing he knew, the sun was peeking through the shitty curtain that had definitely seen better days—the whole hotel, actually.

Soap looked out, going silent as he watched the beams travel through the room. “Where to next, Ghost?”

Chapter Text

“We’ll need a burner phone,” Ghost said after a bit of thinking about what to do next.

“Ain’t no burner phone in this place.”

“No.”

“It’s been what, six days since I called with Price? He’d have tried to call you by now. He’ll know something’s wrong.”

“He’ll put it together.”

Soap nodded, he turned away from the window when the rising sun started shining right in his eyes. “But just like the Russians, he won’t find us here.”

“So, where to?” They were deep in the English countryside now. Ghost knew the area better than him, but even that knowledge was rather shallow.

“Dunno yet,” Ghost said. He burrowed deeper into the pillows, sliding down the bed slightly, enough so that Soap who was now laying on his side would shield him from the sun.

“Great plan, Lt.”

“I’m open to ideas.”

“Nap for two more hours, then we find a map and pick a place at random?” Soap offered. They really needed some sleep.

“Fucking brilliant.”

Soap hit Ghost’s arm, his fist making light contact with the night shirt. He could hear the sarcasm from a mile away, but without the mask, Soap could also see the small smile.

He got out of the bed to use the toilet, then turned off the light there, he tried to cover the window further without much luck and then they napped some more.

.

They ended up picking a bit more strategically. Three hours in another bus would take them directly to Bristol. There were more dangers in a city like that. More cameras for one, but they needed to contact Price securely. And a city like that also offered more opportunities for shady business.

So they packed their things, Ghost didn’t say anything about the nightmare. Before they left, he wordlessly gave Soap one of his own jackets which had a higher collar. He had to roll his sleeves up, but it hid the bruise on his neck that would draw attention they didn’t want.

Then they managed to get to the city and get a phone and call Price.

He did get them a place. He also found the dead Russians in Ghost’s house. And they got a good hit from the ID Soap had provided. But for now, he wanted Ghost and Soap with the rest of the task force.

Soap wrote down the address. While he had been returning the key at the hotel earlier, Ghost had managed to swipe a map from one of the tables in the small lobby without the clerk ever seeing him. Not even Soap had seen him.

Now, Ghost pulled open the map and looked around. They did actually find the place on there. It wasn’t even that far. Laswell had taken care of this safe-house. If they had a leak on their side, they didn’t know who to trust. She had always pulled through and did so again.

“We’ll be there in a few hours,” he told Price over the phone.

“If you hurry, you might be the first and pick your bunks.”

The call was over and they had some more roads to travel. Soap was all for a good road-trip but even he was getting tired of this. This was supposed to be a recovery vacation for them all. He wanted to lounge all day long, do nothing, in the comfort of his own home. Or even Ghost’s had been pretty nice—the three short days he had been there with him.

This time, they stole a motorbike. Ghost was a terrible driver when it came to cars—half the time Soap thought the man didn’t actually have a driving license. He had sure as hell never seen it. Soap refused to get on the thing with Ghost in the front.

It had been Soap’s idea in the first place. It had nothing to do with how nice that particular motorbike seemed. Nor with how close it would bring Ghost. And well, after all the shit that had gone down in the past week, Soap craved the comfort of someone else so close to him. Only he would never ask Ghost for a hug, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere.

Laswell would have returned the hug, without any questions. Rodolfo probably too. He kind of missed them. He would have to thank Laswell later for helping out with this. He would also facetime Rudy at some point. Alejandro would probably be around too. Soap knew Ghost wouldn’t mind staying for that conversation as well, catch up and all that.

It even had two helmets with it. Soap got the one with the shield in the front, and Ghost settled for the simpler one, keeping on his balaclava, as usual, and sunglasses.

He had to get close, of course he did. Their thighs aligned and Ghost kept his hands around Soap’s waist. He didn’t crowd him. Probably for his own comfort, but Soap sure wouldn’t mind if he was even closer. He told himself it was just because of their safety.

Whenever the road was dry and long ahead of them, Soap dared to go over the limit, but he hadn’t been on a motorbike much since he had gotten his license during his early twenties and while they were in a hurry, they were riding a stolen one.

An hour into their ride, Ghost spotted something off. Soap could tell with the way Ghost leaned down, leaning with his whole chest against Soap. “Slow down,” he told Soap. They just got out of a small town so Soap was going slow enough to actually hear him. “We don’t need trouble, Sergeant.”

Soap noticed the police car too, partly hidden behind the shrubbery. Their lights were off. “I’m not even speeding,” he answered Ghost mostly absentmindedly as the man was still pressed against him.

The officer did stop them. Soap thought it was simply out of sheer boredom. Not a single car had passed them in about ten minutes. Soap needed to think of something fast or they were absolutely fucked.

They could easily handle two officers in a fight, no matter how skilled, but the guns would be the problem. Not the officers’. Soap doubted they had more than a baton and a taser, maybe a spray, but not a firearm. But Soap and Ghost had quite a few on them and they didn’t have many answers.

So he stopped the bike on the side of the road as the officer indicated. Soap immediately pulled up the shield and smiled warmly at the older man. “Guid day, Officer. Whit seems tae be the problem?” he asked politely, throwing in some light confusion to sell the act. His accent as clear as he could make it while keeping the words understandable.

Ghost didn’t move behind him, recognizing that Soap had a plan.

He did. A very risky one. With a lot of things that relied on this random man he had never met. And a fair amount of improvisation. And Ghost’s involvement at some point too. While Soap could turn on his charm when he needed to, Ghost struggled with socializing most of the time.

The officer’s brows rose up. “You’re a long way from home.”

“Eh. I like to ride. You lot got some nice sights around here.” He grinned at him.

“That so? What about your friend here?” The officer eyes the balaclava. Soap had learned long ago to distinguish that particular stare. Ghost got it a lot. Even more with his proper skull mask.

Ghost was all tense muscle behind him, still touching. Probably staring unnervingly at the man. The guy was saved only by the sunglasses in the way.

Soap pressed further back into Ghost and tapped his hand over Ghost’s that had snaked around his stomach at some point. He left his hand there. “Not so much.” He turned slightly to the side to look at Ghost. “You get all kinds of nauseous, eh, love?”

A look of disgust briefly passed the officer’s face and before Soap could get into all that, the man took a step back. “You’re not gonna be sick, are you?”

Ghost hesitated with answering. He obviously didn’t feel nauseous riding a motorbike. Not with the kind of driving he pulled most of the time. So Soap slid one hand down to his thigh and pinched him without the officer seeing.

“I might,” Ghost said in a blank voice. It did kind of sound like a man very much trying to keep his body in control. At least to people who didn’t know him.

The officer blanched. His partner called out to him from the car, asking what was taking so long.

“I—I’m coming!” he yelled back. “Just go, boys.” He was looking a little green himself, clearly the kind of person who couldn’t handle seeing others throwing up without feeling sick too.

He waved them off, already backing away from the bike. “Take it slow, then.”

Soap saluted him, wished him a nice day and took off again. The officer didn’t even notice how perfect the salute actually was. He pretended to start them off slow.

When they were far enough, Ghost finally relaxed and lightened his grip around Soap. “That was so stupid,” he muttered.

“Worked, didn’t it?” Soap was grinning under the helmet. That had worked way better than he had been expecting.

“You’re so dumb.”

Soap laughed. “Just like you like it, sir.”

They got to the location just fine. But as soon as they were there, they realized that Price was full of shit. They couldn’t have been on the road for more than three hours and yet everybody was already there.

They had gotten there last. Ghost didn’t seem to care one bit but Soap was actually upset.

“Price promised free pickings on the bunks,” Soap explained when Gaz questioned his crestfallen expression upon entering the building.

Gaz nodded as if he totally understood and patted his shoulder as he passed by him.

Ghost came up next to Soap. “I’ll let you pick out of the last two.”

He turned to him, an amused smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “Careful, Lt., I might just start liking you too.”

Even though he was joking, recalling their earlier conversation, somehow those words rang truer than anything he had said all day.

“I take it back,” Ghost deadpanned and started walking in the direction of the last bunks.

“No!” Soap yelled, immediately hurrying after him. “Ghost, wait!”

At this point, Ghost, the absolute bastard, knew all about Soap’s sleeping preferences and intentionally went for the one bunk Soap would have picked.

“Get to your bunks, soldiers,” Price hollered from somewhere behind Soap, finally making his appearance. “We have enough of this on the comms.”

And Soap being Soap, he winked at Price, rushing to get his things on the bunk he wanted. Even if Ghost was technically already standing over it, he still hadn’t put his things there. Soap could still get his way.

He didn’t really think about what Price said. He and Ghost liked to talk to each other on the comms during their missions. So what. It helped Soap stay calm in dangerous and high-stress situations. For a second, Soap thought he would definitely analyze the words and their meaning later. But he would sooner forget all about it.

Price gave them ten minutes and then called a meeting. They needed to figure out what the fuck happened.

Soap threw his duffel on the bunk he wanted. Ghost watched him and easily took the other one, no complaint. He was just messing with him, of course.

As always, Soap and Ghost sat next to each other. It wasn’t really a conscious thing. They worked a lot together, they were close friends. Soap didn’t even think about it. After everything with Graves, when the team was meeting, when they had dinners together, in transport, anywhere. They sat together.

The others eventually started leaving an empty seat next to either of them when one was running late or expected to come as well.

The captain arrived, and stopped in front of the table. There wasn’t anything on it yet, but Soap was sure that would change later. It could hardly be called a meeting room, with random chairs strewn out everywhere around. Price had his hands on his hips as he took in the soldiers inside. He had their full attention.

“This one might take longer than we expected,” he started.

Loud groans erupted all around.

Chapter Text

“We found a leak on the base,” Price said to them, his expression growing angrier with every word. “They got it from my personal computer,” he snapped.

Despite everything, there was utter silence in the room.

“It was somebody really good, escaped all notice.” Price leaned away from the table, crossing his arms and gaining some of his calm back. “We’re questioning all support personnel from the base.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Ghost said.

Price nodded.

“This leak… when’s the estimated time?” Soap asked next.

“It happened a day after most of you left the base for your homes,” Price answered.

“So a lot less potential witnesses,” Soap concluded.

“Obviously,” Gaz said.

Soap glared at him. Price cleared his throat to get the attention back. “We’re looking at at least a week in this safe house.”

“Means we have nothing,” Ghost said.

Price let out a tired sigh. “You’re not too far. We’ve got something. Soap got us an ID. It’s a good lead.”

And yet they still didn’t find them. Soap didn’t need to say it, they were all thinking it. Price was already working hard, he didn’t need to add more to his problems.

The meeting was over soon. Everybody seemed a little down, not because they needed to stay in the safe house instead of their homes, but because once again, they were looking at a betrayal. Somebody from their own base was responsible for this.

Responsible for killers sent to their homes. That didn’t feel too good.

Even Soap didn’t have anything to say right now, his mind too wrapped up in how anybody could do this to them. And why.

But it had already happened once so he supposed that was a question answered.

It was happening and there was no sense wasting brain power on why. Soap wasn’t responsible for finding out. Once they had the answers, Price would let them all know.

.

The information came a week and a half later.

Soap was with Ghost, sitting on foldable plastic chairs outside the safe-house. The early afternoon air was kind of cold, but they were in their hoodies and most of all, it was quiet out here. Or quiet as long as Soap didn’t start talking.

Ghost seemed to get increasingly annoyed with the rest of the people in the house so Soap asked him to come outside with him and play some cards.

He had no idea whose cards they were, but Ghost agreed immediately. They ended up playing for about six minutes before they realised it was impossible because of the light breeze. Their cards kept getting away from them no matter what kind of game they started.

So now, Soap was absentmindedly shuffling the cards in his hands, quiet until the next random thought popped up into his mind.

Ghost said next to him, watching his hands move the cards around.

The silence got interrupted with a car engine. They could hear it from the distance with how remote this house was, nothing but stretching fields of overgrown grass. The road that led up to it was nothing more than gravel and dirt. Ghost beside him stilled, eyes turning to the road.

He didn’t reach for his weapon. Soap was sure that even here, there would be at least one knife on his person. And frankly, Soap had a pocket knife on him too. The past few weeks, well, he had learned to be ready at any time for anything.

They watched in anticipation as the car pulled into view and then relaxed. It was just Price.

“We should get inside,” Soap said, but made no move whatsoever to stand up. If Price was here after more than a week, that meant he was bringing news and he didn’t particularly want to know.

Yes, he was curious. He could have died several times over the past few weeks, but the plastic chair was oddly comfortable, Ghost’s hoodie he had on was too big but also covered him up nicely in the chilly weather, and the company was always good.

Soap put the cards together and slipped them in his pocket. He rolled down the sleeves to cover his cold fingers. He was actually considering stealing this hoodie later. He only had it because he escaped his flat with just a few things in his duffel bag. Then he had stayed with Ghost and managed to take some of his clothes. Well, he borrowed them. They didn’t know how long they would have to steer clear of the Russians. Eventually, Soap would be back at his flat, where all his clothes were, but until then, he relied on Ghost.

But this particular hoodie was just too damn comfortable. And it smelled really nice. Whatever Ghost used for his laundry, Soap was stealing that too.

Wearing it here had gotten him some teasing, of course it did. A couple wolf whistles too, but Ghost quickly ended that. All it took was one comment about how unlike them, Soap was hit first and didn’t have time to pack his shit. Thanks to his warning they all managed to pack and leave.

He still caught Gaz looking at him a couple times, eyes squinted. He didn’t say anything but it was kind of weird.

But then Price walked up to the front door and only nodded his head in their direction. He was too far to speak to them, but he could have beckoned them in if he wanted to.

“Guess not,” Soap said, brows furrowing lightly. He leaned down further in his chair and crossed his arms to keep his warmth. They were slowly losing visibility out here. He hadn’t seen any outdoor lights this far along the wall.

Well, it was just a few meters from the door. They would be fine. Soap didn’t mind staying out here for longer. Or at least for as long as Ghost remained next to him. It would get boring if he stayed there on his own.

“Ye think we’re going home?” Soap asked.

“No.”

Soap turned to him, resting the back of his head on the chair. “Care to elaborate?”

“Not particularly.”

Soap kicked him in the shin. Well, it was more of a light tap.

“He would want us for that conversation.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Soap sighed.

“It’s going to be more work.”

Soon, Price walked out of the house again but instead of heading for his car, he walked up to the two of them. “Soap, Ghost.”

Soap saluted him, not bothering to stand up. Price sighed heavily. “I need to talk to you, Simon.”

“Sir?”

Ghost stayed seated. Price looked from him to Soap, probably hoping that Soap would sooner get what he meant. Right. He wanted to speak to Ghost alone. Soap nodded to himself and stood up. Ghost stood up too.

“Um,” Soap said intelligently. “I’ll leave you two to—”

“You can speak, sir,” Ghost said at the same time as Soap.

Price sighed again. Clearly, he wasn’t having the easiest time trying to find the person responsible and keeping their whole task force including himself safe. At least he had Laswell’s help in this.

“Fine, I guess Soap can know too, but keep this to yourself, Sergeant.”

Soap nodded, getting serious as he recognised the direct command.

“We found the person responsible. Ivana Stevenson. Been working at the base for three months, in administration. She passed the initial checks and questions, but so did all the others. We did a more thorough background check, her grandfather was Russian. The guy we ID’d is an associate of one of her cousins.”

“That can’t be a coincidence,” Soap said.

“There’s an order to detain her. I want you to do it, Ghost.”

“When?”

“Alone?” Soap said at the same time again.

“Now. You ride with me.” He turned to Soap briefly. “It’s right up his alley. You do it silently. No casualties. She lives with her family and we don’t know if it’s her.”

There was no doubting that. Ghost had done all kinds of infiltration work before their task force was put together. Soap didn’t know the half of it. His insides squirmed at the idea of Ghost going out there alone, after all, they always had each other or one of the others to watch their backs.

Soap clapped his hand on Ghost’s shoulder, letting it linger for a couple seconds. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Ghost turned to watch him but didn’t say anything.

“Meet me in the car in five minutes,” Price told him and so Ghost headed inside to grab his things.

With a sigh, Soap bent down and started folding the chairs. He would have to bring them inside. He could feel Price worrying about something behind him.

“He’ll be fine,” he said.

Soap’s hand stilled on the second chair. “I know.” He didn’t turn around until he had the chairs in his hands.

“Right.” Price cleared his throat. “How have you been, Soap?”

Soap laughed despite his turmoil of inner feelings he didn’t really know how to voice. “I kind of thought it would be a boring time off, sir. Been anything but.”

Price put his hands on his hips, an understanding look on his face. “If this goes right, you might get some of that boring vacation.”

“Eh, don’t think so, sir.”

“It’s always something, I know. But I’ll make it happen for you boys.”

“Don’t let the gals in the team hear you say that.”

Price mock-glared at him. “Sometimes they’re more men than us.”

“Aye, sir.” Soap laughed. They sure were something.

.

Price had told him they would be back in a day or two. That there was nothing to worry about. And Soap knew that. He had seen Ghost in action countless times. He could probably take out Soap without breaking out in sweat. Okay, a little sweat. The point was, Soap shouldn’t worry.

But here he was. Worrying.

Even Gaz had noticed and the guy was notoriously oblivious to a lot of things. Soap had snapped at two people over the most random stuff, then immediately felt bad for it. His mood was terrible until Gaz had sat him down to talk.

The others were sparring in the backyard, some watching and cheering them on, calling out advice, the usual. Soap was moping around, laying on Ghost’s bunk and shuffling those cards again. Nobody had come asking for them.

Gaz found him there and knocked his legs away so that he could sit down next to him on the bed. He had to be careful not to hit his head on the top bunk, but they were all used to conditions like this. He nudged his knee. “Soap, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You know him better than anyone.”

Soap glared at him for assuming his bad mood was because of Ghost’s mission. A mission where he could encounter Russian hostiles and would be very much alone.

“I know all that. Ye lot can stop fucking telling me.”

Gaz’s brows went up. Soap groaned and dropped the cards in his lap. He ran his hands across his face, then across the mohawk. He had done it again. Gaz was just concerned. “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Really?” Gaz frowned.

“What do ye mean, really? Aye, I feel like a pile of shit.” And behaving even worse, Soap thought to himself.

“You two have been together for a long time,” Gaz started slowly.

“Yeah. They shot up my place, then Ghost’s. Which sucked, he had a nice house.” Soap felt both delighted that he had had the chance to see it, and horrible for knowing Ghost would never be able to live there again.

Maybe they could go back later and grab all his candles?

Soap froze as the thought registered. Why the hell would Ghost need him there if he wanted to go back and pack some of his own things? As far as he had seen, Ghost didn’t have many belongings. He could easily get them out himself. Soap couldn’t even come up with the excuse of helping him with the heavy stuff or with his boxes upon boxes.

And why the fuck was he already thinking about excuses to come and get the stuff with him?

“Soap? Did I lose you there?”

“Whit ye say?” Soap snapped back to reality. He hadn’t heard anything Gaz had been saying.

Gaz sighed. “Just think about it.” He stood up and started walking in the direction of the excited shouts from the outside.

Soap stared at him, mouth gaping. “Think about what?” he yelled after him but Gaz only waved in the air and then turned the corner in the hall and was gone.

“The fuck…” Soap muttered to himself as he looked at the top bunk over his head. His own bunk.

Now that he thought of it, Gaz might have mentioned something about the bunks in his little speech. His mind was cloudy on the details. His face heated up. So what if he was on Ghost’s bunk? He didn’t always feel like getting up to his own and Ghost wasn’t around to complain about it.

And his pillow smelled just as nice as the hoodie. That, he was not telling Gaz. Or Ghost. Or anyone.

Well, nobody was there now. Soap turned to the side, the cards spilling all over the bed. Two made it down to the floor. He pulled the pillow closer against his cheek and relaxed some, closing his eyes.

He missed Ghost. He missed waking up to those familiar eyes around, missed the terrible leaf water Ghost drank every day. Missed the quiet but strong presence next to him. Having Ghost around was grounding, comforting. He was safe and safety personified. At least to Soap. He hadn’t cared when there were dozen Russians waiting for them when he had known Ghost would be there next to him.

He missed talking to him. That dry and dark humour. The perfect delivery every time. He missed the caring and thoughtful man hidden behind all that rough exterior. Most of all he missed his best friend. Because that was what they had become over time.

Ghost listened to him talk, even if he complained about it most of the time. Soap knew that was just his humour and that he didn’t actually mind. Ghost wasn’t much for words, but he cared. He showed him all the time. He kept him safe. And Soap loved it.

And just like that, it clicked.

He missed his best friend, yes. He was worried about his best friend, yes. But Ghost also meant more to him. Soap couldn’t say when the shift happened, but Ghost wasn’t just a best friend to him anymore.

He was anxious but not because he suddenly lost faith in Ghost’s combat abilities. He couldn’t imagine Ghost not coming back. While that was a danger they were all aware of, Soap didn’t even want to think about it.

This wasn’t a crush. No. Soap was already way beyond that. As stupid as that made him—loving Ghost. Loving him when Soap was who he was. When they had the job they had. Loving a man whose name he probably wouldn’t have known if Price hadn’t told them. Loving a man who could probably never love him the same way.

It was no silly infatuation. He wasn’t a rookie who wanted to worship the guy because of his skills and experience in the field. Soap wanted to get closer. Learn more about him. Help him make new memories to chase away whatever horrors in his nightmares. He wanted to hold him tight and never let him go. He wanted to grab his stupid mask, pull it off and kiss that pretty face all over. Soap wanted so much.

.

Two full days went by. Soap refused to think that something had gone wrong. Ghost just got delayed, was all. Maybe he wanted to stay for the interrogation or something. He was fine wherever he was. Ghost had been through many dangerous operations. Even their last one could have been considered more dangerous.

Soap wasn’t sure how, but somebody had put on a football match on their phone, just loud enough for most of them to hear the commentary. Soap liked the sport, used to play himself back in the day, but with the sound only, he soon drifted off.

Something heavy landing on his shins woke him up.

“Get off my bed, Soap,” Ghost said.

Soap took in the bag on his legs and Ghost. His eyes swiftly went over every inch of the man, checking for any visible injuries or new bandages. But there was nothing. Even his balaclava sat on his face as usual, no visible blood or anything. His eyes, though, they seemed exhausted.

He grinned up at Ghost and got out of the bed. “Sorry about that, Lt., I’m starting to think I should’ve picked this one.”

Ghost hummed something and immediately laid down. And that was it. He closed his eyes, pulled his hands behind his head and got comfortable. Soap waited another moment to see if the man would say anything.

Nothing.

With a slight frown, Soap climbed up onto his own bunk and wondered if he should keep everything in for later. Ghost probably hadn’t slept in a while. Soap could ask him questions later.

Only later came and Ghost stayed equally unresponsive to all his attempts. He laid in his bunk most of the time, avoided the shared meals. He took his tea outside to the porch even when it was drizzling. He didn’t respond to any of Soap’s jokes or teasing. Didn’t laugh—well, Ghost didn’t really laugh, but his shoulders shook, ever so slightly, and Soap knew how to look for it.

He was colder and reclusive. Soap wanted to think he wasn’t himself ever since he came back, but that wasn’t true. They had all met Ghost like this. Only that was when their task force had formed and they didn’t really know each other yet.

So it wasn’t some weird Ghost. Instead, he was reverting back to his old ways.

At night, after another day of Ghost avoiding everyone and everything passed, Ghost was in his bunk. As was Soap, pretending to be asleep. It had been two hours since the lights were turned off, since he tried to calm his thoughts enough to fall asleep.

He couldn’t. Something must have happened on that mission. He had no other explanation for Ghost’s switch in behaviour. Only Ghost wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t let him in. So far, Soap had given him space. Maybe Ghost just needed time to get out of his own head. But almost two days passed now and nothing seemed to work.

Ghost got out of his bunk. Soap could hear his socked feet padding on the floor lightly, even through the snores of others. Usually, Ghost would mask his steps. Or he wouldn’t even think about it and do it automatically.

And maybe Soap was overthinking this—he really needed the sleep—but maybe this was Ghost asking for help. In his own way. Maybe he wanted Soap to follow. Ghost being Ghost, the man must have realized that Soap wasn’t asleep yet.

He gave him ten minutes just in case he was wrong and Ghost wanted to wander around some because he also couldn’t sleep. Ghost was in the big kitchen, standing by the window and watching as the rain pelted the glass from the outside. He didn’t react to Soap’s arrival.

So Soap let it be. He could do this on Ghost’s terms. Soap walked up to the kettle and put some water in. He grabbed two mugs and threw in the tea bags. It would be disgusting to him, but Ghost could probably use something warm.

When it was ready, he took the mugs and approached Ghost. Wordlessly, Ghost took it, their bare hands brushing. He cradled the mug, but made no move to pull up his mask.

Soap had seen Ghost prepare his tea many times. He knew the exact steps, the exact amounts of everything he liked in there. “C’mon, let’s sit down before some lost lad sees you in that window and has a heart attack.”

“Nobody’s coming here.”

Soap heisted with his question as turned to the table. When Ghost didn’t immediately follow, Soap grabbed his elbow and steered him away from the elbow. He quickly let go, not pushing his luck with the current Ghost. Finally, the other man followed him to the table. They sat next to each other. As always. It was subconscious at this point.

“Because you took care of it?” he asked carefully, knowing that Ghost would be able to follow his train of thought.

Ghost didn’t answer. Soap sipped at the tea, wincing at how hot it still was. It tasted too bitter to him.

He pulled the mask off, startling Soap a little. He didn’t drink the tea, though. Soap bit down on a joke about it not being poisoned. Ghost was getting ready for something here. Soap wouldn’t ruin it.

“There was a chime next to the door. I didn’t see it. Her son woke up. Thought it was their cat.”

Soap watched Ghost, not sure what to say to that.

But Ghost continued, his voice getting choked up. “But it was me. The kid’s the same age as— I wondered. If that’s what J— what my nephew looked like then.”

“Ghost, I don—”

“Before they killed him.”

Soap’s mouth froze as anything he was about to say disappeared at the revelation. Ghost had had a nephew. That meant he must have a family. Only…

“What happened?” Soap asked gently, not really sure what he was asking. What happened to his nephew. To his family. What happened at the Stevensons’ house.

“I didn’t kill the kid.”

“Of course not.”

“It doesn’t matter. He saw me there. Saw me drag out his mother, pacify his father. Lock his older brother in the other room. It’s going to stay with him.”

“You had to do that,” Soap reminded him. They had to do all kinds of things. All of them were killers here. Monsters in the eyes of many. Heroes in the others of the rest. Soap just saw them as the people willing to do what was necessary. Even the ugly things.

Ghost shook his head, his hair falling over his forehead. He was frowning, eyes still on the mug. “She’s got a place outside London. This isn’t an active warzone. The rules are different.”

He was right. “They can blur easily for people like us, but what can happen out there can happen here in England too.” And they did stuff to prevent that. That was the whole point, wasn’t it.

“They don’t care what country it is. They will kill. They will come to your home, for your family. I… to the kid, I was just like them.”

“Like who, Simon?”

“The fucks that murdered them.”

Ghost told him a bit about his dead family. About his brother and his wife. And his nephew. It wasn’t much. Ghost spoke clinically, as if he was just reciting some facts. Soap had a feeling there was still so much he wasn’t telling him.

But it was a part of him. Part of his terrible past. And it was yet another thing that made Soap understand why that mask stayed on. Why, to most, he was Ghost, no other names.

He understood why it had shaken him so. To be seen as the same as those people who had killed his nephew. But he wasn’t. And Soap told him just that.

Ghost was silent for a long time. Soap wanted to do more for him, but he didn’t know how.

“We’re not built for this normal civilian life. Not anymore. Not me,” Ghost said, his eyes on his mask.

Soap reached out, then pulled his hand back. He did it again, his thoughts warring inside him. He wanted to comfort him, but—

Ghost sighed. It was barely audible, but Soap was right next to him. “What?” he asked, tired of Soap’s feeble attempts.

Soap held back a sigh of his own. A wry smile pulled at his lips. Talking always helped him, he knew that. Even if he didn’t always say the right words. And just like that, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. “I wanna wrap ye in a warm hug, Ghost. You look like you need it. But you don’t like people touching ye and I respect that.”

Ghost quietly stared into his tea. Untouched and definitely cold by now. “When have I said that,” he said, so softly Soap wouldn’t have heard if he was even a chair further from him.

Soap frowned. Everybody knew that. You didn’t touch Ghost. Ever. Soap only got away with it because they were friends. “Guess it’s something you didn’t have to. Yer cold heart and all that.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Ghost said eventually, but he sounded so sad about it and Soap didn’t know what to do, his heart breaking for this man.

Soap’s hand twitched again. Ghost stood up, pulling his mask over his face again. “Good night,” he said quietly before leaving the kitchen. Leaving Soap.

Chapter Text

Soap stared at the mug Ghost hadn't taken a single sip from. His own was empty, just because he had found himself with too many thoughts, restless, and needed to do something with his hands.

Mechanically, Soap took the mugs to the sink, poured the liquid down the drain and left them there. He would take care of them in the morning if nobody bothered to do it till then.

He heard the click.

Somebody had unlocked the main door and walked out into the rain. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the person was. Ghost was notorious for taking his night walks around the base every time he couldn't sleep.

But it was raining hard and Ghost was deep in his dark mood. "Stupid, stupid Brit," Soap cursed under his breath and hurried to their bunks.

Ghost's boots were gone. Soap quickly put on his own, ignoring König waking up in his own bunk and asking him what was going on. Soap waved him off, even though there was no way König could see that and whispered for the man to return to his sleep.

Soap had glimpsed a drying raincoat by the door earlier. He thought he might have seen Gaz wearing that. Didn’t matter. It would fit.

He knew exactly where Ghost kept his own raincoat and grabbed that as well, lowly cursing when he realized this meant that Ghost was out there, getting absolutely soaked. And he probably didn't care in the least.

Soap put on the borrowed raincoat and a flashlight somebody had left on the window sill. With all he needed in his hands, he stumbled out into the rain.

There weren’t many options. Just one road unless Ghost wanted to blindly walk through the fields. Unpredictable terrain. Ghost wasn’t that stupid. He would have taken the road.

Soap jogged along the road, trying to avoid the biggest piddles and failing most of the time. He could feel the sweatpants he slept in getting absolutely drenched. From the bottom as well as from the rain itself.

"Ghost!" he called out into the night. He used the flashlight to light his way but also to search around. He couldn’t see more than ten meters ahead. The rain was quickly turning into a downpour.

He was about to call out his name again when he heard another pair of boots sloshing in the muddy ground. Soon, Ghost's hulking frame appeared in the area lit by the flashlight.

Soap stopped and let Ghost jog up to him. "What are you doing?" Ghost shouted so that Soap would hear him through the sound of the rain. He had to get really close, towering over Soap as they were nearly chest to chest.

Soap thrust out the flashlight against Ghost's chest. On instinct, his hand flew up and he caught it.

"What are ye doin'?" Soap yelled back, his tone much more accusing when compared to Ghost's usual neutral one. Hands free, he slipped the other raincoat from where it was loosely hanging over his shoulder. He had to stand on his tiptoes to properly get it around Ghost.

His hands stayed on the lapels of the raincoat. Soap looked up, his eyes meeting Ghost’s. They were silent, just watching, but Soap was anything but calm. He wanted to tell Ghost so many things. Only one sentence made it out. “I’m sorry.”

“Wh—” clearly confused, Ghost started speaking, but there was only one thing Soap wanted to do right now. He didn’t let Ghost finish and instead, he let go of his raincoat and put his arms around Ghost’s middle. He was cold and Ghost’s clothes were way beyond damp against his cheek, but Soap pulled him in closer, plastering the side of his face against the wet fabric with emotion.

Ghost stood frozen and stiff. For about a second. Soap didn’t even think about pulling back. Not at all. He should have done this back in the kitchen. He should have never hesitated.

Then, Ghost returned it. His arms circled Soap, going around his shoulders, and he bent down, burrowing his forehead against Soap’s neck. And Soap just held him closer, forgetting all about the increasing rain.

After a while, Soap spoke up again. He didn’t need to shout over the rain, not when they were this close. “Don’t withdraw from us.” He swallowed. No. That wasn’t what he wanted to say. “From me.”

“Alright,” Ghost whispered the word. His hold tightened. “Alright, Johnny,” he said again, louder, more determined.

Ghost straightened up, turning his face slightly away from Soap as he pulled away. “C’mon, this rain is disgusting.”

A smile rose to Soap’s lips. “Aye.” His Ghost was slowly coming back. “I’ll make us some fresh tea,” he said as they started the short trek back to the house.

“You hate tea.”

“But you don’t.”

Ghost was silent until they got inside. They had to take off most of their clothes until they were left in their underwear, socks and shirts. Everything else was gone for. At least the house was heated, all nice and cozy. Soap didn’t really care, though his fingers were shaking a bit with the cold. He headed for the kitchen, intent on making that tea.

Ghost didn’t immediately follow, but Soap heard him moving around so he wasn’t worried about the other man suddenly running off again.

Two minutes later, Ghost showed up in the kitchen with two hand-towels and a wide bed sheet. It was too big for any of the bunks so it had been left behind. Soap had only gotten new mugs out of the cabinet so far. He thanked Ghost as he took the towel, as tiny as it was, and quickly ran it through his dripping hair.

Ghost left the sheet over the chair and walked up to him, he pressed the back of his hand against Soap’s side and pushed him lightly out of the way. “Sit down.”

With no other option, Soap shrugged and backed up. He still watched Ghost suspiciously. Maybe he didn’t want Soap making the tea. Soap didn’t go far, though. He grabbed that sheet, and nearly knocked over the chair as he pulled at it. He wrapped it around his shoulders, and moved back by the counter, leaning on it and watching what the hell Ghost was doing.

The milk should have told him enough, but then Ghost got the cocoa powder from god knew where and Soap couldn’t stop the instant grin. “What ye got there?”

“Shut up.”

Soap grinned wider. He fucking loved hot cocoa. And Ghost knew that. He probably felt bad that Soap had followed him outside and looked like a wet cat right now.

They ended up drinking their drinks on the ground, sharing the sheet. It wasn’t like they hadn’t been close before and well, Soap was starting to see that Ghost didn’t mind his touch all that much. Most of the time. They were pressed side by side, their back to the counter. And they talked.

Soap had said the first bullshit thing that came to his mind, knowing it would get Ghost fired up. Not many things did, but if you knew the right thing… All Soap needed to do was say something untrue about the type of knives Ghost used.

That got Ghost talking for about an hour about how wrong he was and then he proceeded to talk some more about various types of knives, the manufacturers, the cons and pros of different types, which were the best for throwing, or stabbing.

Soap listened. He fucking loved that voice and the goddamn accent more than he would ever admit. Especially to Ghost. That man would never find out.

And finally, Ghost wasn’t thinking about his past and his recent solo operation.

At the crack of dawn, König was the first up. He walked into the kitchen and rubbed his eyes as he rounded the table. He stopped dead when he finally noticed Soap and Ghost—Soap kept talking, not caring about the person coming in, but Ghost had turned to him and stared, as usual.

König stared back for about three seconds. Even Soap noticed that he had lost Ghost’s attention and turned to the tall man. He was about to greet König when he spun on his heel and hurried out of the kitchen.

“What the—” Soap said. He turned to Ghost, wondering if he had any idea. Right. Ghost didn’t have the balaclava on and was huddled in a single sheet with Soap, their socked feet sticking out, holding an empty bright orange mug. Soap bit down on his lower lip to keep himself from bursting out into a laugh.

Ghost was quite the sight, his hair was messy and hanging in his eyes. The scars peppered around his pale face were more visible in the terrible lighting in the kitchen. König had never seen Ghost’s full face as far as Soap knew.

With a surprise, Soap realized that he himself had gotten used to seeing that face. It no longer fazed him when Ghost pulled off the mask in front of him. It only ever happened when they were alone and not that often, and while it was still something that made his heart stop for a beat, he no longer felt the initial shock.

More steps sounded outside the kitchen. Gaz stepped through, already talking. “What did you do to König—ah, I see.” Gaz didn’t keep his eyes on Ghost for long, respecting his wishes for the most part. He headed straight for the fridge and ignored them.

“You traumatized the lad,” Soap said, finally laughing. “He probably thinks he saw something he shouldn’t have. He’s not going to look ye in the eye for the whole week.”

“Two weeks, minimum,” Gaz piped up, frowning into his glass when the milk barely reached the half.

“Wanna bet?”

“You’re on.”

“Three weeks,” Ghost said suddenly.

“Absolutely not. You can’t be in. You’d try to intimidate him further and win.”

Gaz stopped looking for a new carton of milk. “Shit. You can still do that now.”

“But that would ruin my chances! Ghost, you wouldn’t.” Soap paused. “Would you?”

“Yes,” Ghost answered immediately and Soap feigned offence, very theatrically.

Gaz just rolled his eyes, muttering, “That’s so gay.”

“I’m bi!”

“Hello, Bi, I’m dad,” Price said as he entered the kitchen as well.

Soap gaped. “Who taught you that?”

Even Ghost snickered lightly under his breath.

“What is happening?” Soap nearly yelled.

Gaz looked too pleased with himself, so he was definitely the one. “Sir. Didn’t know you were coming so soon,” Gaz said, ignoring Soap.

Price shrugged. “Got updates.” He stretched his neck and yawned. “I drove all night. Didn’t expect half the house up and running.”

Soap groaned. “Whatever you’re going to say, it’s gonna ruin the bet.”

Price’s brows rose. “What bet.”

“No bet,” Ghost said.

Soap turned to glare at him. “Mhm, you’re just gonna tell ‘im later so you can all get money off me.”

“What money?” Ghost asked.

“Steamin’ hell! I can’t believe I hugged you!” That truly was a low-blow. Ghost knew very well why Soap currently didn’t have access to his bank account. None of them did.

Gaz choked on his milk. Price immediately stepped forward to hit his back a couple times. Gaz coughed, eyes tearing up, until his airway cleared. “Thanks, dad.”

If Soap was drinking something, he would be choking too. It wasn’t even the first time this had happened. Gaz closed his eyes, an absolutely resigned look on his face. “I’ve got work to do,” he said and hurried out of the kitchen. Although he tried to keep his pace steady so it wouldn’t look like he was running away.

Price only had this amused and lowkey pleased little grin on his face. “Always fun around here at—” he glanced down to his wrist watch “—5.35. Did you two even sleep?”

“Yes,” Soap lied immediately.

“No,” Ghost said at the same time.

“I’m not gonna ask.” His gaze stayed on them for another lingering second. “On that floor? Really?” He shook his head and walked off, probably off to wake up the rest of the soldiers in the house.

“What’s wrong with the floor?” Soap asked belatedly after Price was gone.

Ghost just shrugged and got up. He would want his mask on before more people were walking around. The sheet fell to the floor. He held out his hand for Soap who immediately took it even though he was very much able to stand up on his own.

After getting up, Soap let go off his hand and tapped his bicep twice in thanks. He gathered up the sheet and took it with him as if it was a blanket. He wasn’t entirely sure where to put it, but didn’t want people tripping over it in the kitchen.

They headed back to their bunks silently, until Soap started joking about how they should probably get dressed. Well, it wasn’t like every soldier in here, of whatever gender, hadn’t seen plenty of skin. Ghost just rolled his eyes.

“What? Do you own terrible jokes?”

“You like them.”

“No, never,” Soap said.

“Sure, Johnny.”

“They’re so bad. Worse than the captain and his dad jokes.”

“Alright.”

“I mean it.”

This time, it was Ghost who clapped his shoulder and it fully derailed anything Soap might have wanted to say. Not like the conversation had much of a point. He did find Ghost genuinely funny. Even if the jokes themselves were usually bad.

So instead, Soap did what he did best, he deflected when he didn’t know what to do with his feelings. So he threw the sheet at Ghost’s face. “Heh, Ghost, see?” It was just a coincidence that a couple people were walking towards the kitchen and would pass them soon. He wanted to make sure nobody had to see Ghost if he didn’t want that, but it was also a fairly convenient distraction.

Soap might have hurried a little too much to his bunk after that. With no comment from Ghost. If he woke up dead the next morning, at least he would know why.

Of course, after Ghost got back to his bunk—Soap’s was right on top of his so it wasn’t like he had managed to get far—he put on a clean balaclava and then threw the sheet right back at Soap.

“Oi!”

“Meeting in five!” Price yelled from the door. There were a couple groans from the people who were already awake, most of them subdued. Soap got an intense déjà vu and fought off the sheet.

Chapter Text

Price sure had updates for them. Not about the person responsible. As far as that went, they had Ivana Stevenson in custody and professionals were interrogating her. They were trying to trace the Russians and their new base, while she gave the details.

But that didn’t mean much for Soap and the rest. What did mean something, was their relocation in a couple hours. They had known that this safe house was going to be temporary only. They had been living here for something over two weeks when it should have been just one.

They were paired off and each handed an envelope with an address, a key and cash. Price said they had been considering getting everyone fake identities for the time being but that would have been too much hassle so instead he told them to keep to themselves out there. Not to tempt fate.

“Ghost, Soap, you two are together,” Price told him as he handed Soap his own envelope. After a pause, he added, “Don’t make me regret that.”

He moved on to hand out more of the envelopes. Soap didn’t really get the comment, but he just brushed it off and looked around the room to find Ghost. As always, the man was close by.

Soap pulled out the key and waved it in front of Ghost’s face. “Got the keys, Lt.”

Ghost silently watched him for a second, then he pulled out his own. A tag with a room number and fob for the main door were attached to his. He slowly waved them in the air, a terrible copy of what Soap had just done. “You’ve got the spare.”

Soap looked at his key. Just that. They hadn’t bothered giving them two fobs. Which meant they would have to share. Soap groaned heavily. He knew better than to complain—they were lucky they were getting a temporary place, but it still annoyed him.

His own flat had been amazing and because of some goddamn terrorists, he would have to move into a place he couldn’t even properly access on his own.

But Price assured them that it wouldn’t take long. Like the last time. One week had turned into 17 days. Now Price said it would be another week or two. He had also told Soap that he would get his relaxing vacation. Was this what he had meant? Had he already been working on securing these places all over England for them?

Over the day, cars came to pick them up. Soap and Ghost rode with Gaz and another guy. They were the first to get off. Soap and Ghost then spent two more hours in the car and ended up in a city not far from the coast. For them, Price had decided a busier area would work best.

Ghost would have easier time blending in with his mask out here rather than in some small rural town. The anonymity that came with hundreds of thousands of people would be an advantage here.

Their neighborhood wasn’t that far from a busy part of the town, with shops and cafes and a couple offices. The flats were small and stacked on top of each other, one building after another. There was no parking space and even their driver had to stop further down the street.

Soap hefted his duffel bag over his shoulder. Ghost had put some of his stuff in there since Soap didn’t have much. Still. Price had privately stopped him before their car had taken off and had given Soap some extra money to ‘buy some clothes for Christ’s sake’. And ‘I expect the money back when all this is sorted.’.

It was very nice of him, even if Soap secretly liked the excuse that let him steal from Ghost. Without any consequence. It was a once in the lifetime kind of opportunity.

The bag was definitely heavy. As if Ghost had put most of his weapons in there. Soap didn’t know whether to feel flattered that Ghost trusted him with his precious knives or to be annoyed that Ghost was messing with him.

Well, Soap didn’t really care. He could use the very light workout. His side had healed up nicely over the past month. Almost a month. It felt like their original operation and storming of the Russian compound had happened a lifetime ago. And it hadn’t been even a full month.

Ghost still had the fob, so Soap let him go ahead. While he waited for him to fish it out of his pockets and let them in, Soap noticed that something moved in the window on the ground floor. He turned his head to the side, just slightly, but then he noticed it was an older lady, squinting at them through her fancy curtain.

Their eyes met. Soap could either ignore her and move on, keep his head down, but that wasn’t him. It was an elderly neighbor. He doubted she could do any damage here. So Soap grinned and waved at her.

She froze for a second, but she smiled too, genuinely, and waved back.

Ghost finally got the door open. They had to go up to the third floor. The elevator didn’t look reliable but Soap didn’t see any signs that read not to use it. They opted for the stairs so that they could check out the building’s layout. It went unsaid as they walked up, checking out everything.

There were some light touches in the halls, a piece of every person living here shining through. Umbrellas by the doors, drying shoes. He even saw a pet carrier and a couple plants.

It was nice here. And quiet. The building was definitely old and some of the stairs creaked under their feet, but they wouldn’t be staying long and it was better than the crowded room full of bunks.

Inside, a small entry hall opened up to a tiny living room, doors leading further into a kitchen, two bedrooms and one bathroom. Ghost took the master bedroom since the bed was bigger. Soap was left with the room that looked like a teenager had lived there. But he had his space and a bed he would fit in. He wondered who had lived here until they got here. The flat was still furnished, with things like pots and pans, and cleaning supplies. There were a few bottles of shampoos and toothpaste left in the bathroom too.

Soap had a weird feeling about this. Like he was intruding in someone’s home. He didn’t even start unpacking his things. On second thought, maybe the safe house in the middle of nothing hadn’t been that bad.

He found Ghost in the living room, a framed picture in his hand. Soap came to stand at his side. “Where are they now, you think?”

Ghost shrugged. “Not our concern.”

“You must be at least a little curious,” Soap said, already moving to the kitchen to check out what supplies they had. He didn’t really want to look at the family picture for longer than he needed to.

“No.” Ghost joined him in the kitchen, watching him intently.

Soap laughed a little but it didn’t really hit. He tried to dislodge that weird feeling. They had plenty of their own shit to deal with. This family shouldn’t be on his mind right now.

“I think we can pull together something simple today. We’ll need to stop by the store tomorrow.”

“I’ll—”

“Right here,” Soap interrupted him as he put a notebook and a pen in front of Ghost. It was by the coffee machine.

“—write up the list,” Ghost finished belatedly. He looked at Soap, then at the notebook and slowly pulled it closer.

Soap smiled at him.

.

Soap was nearly asleep, his consciousness about to slip, when his bedroom door burst open. Soap immediately sat up, whole body tensing, but it was just Ghost. “What time is it?” he asked, rubbing his face.

“They’re on a business trip. They’ll be back in two months.”

“Who? A business trip?” Soap couldn’t wrap his head around it. He had no idea what Ghost was talking about.

They had been in this flat for one day.

“The family.” Ghost turned the bedside lamp on. Soap shielded his eyes. Only then did he notice the documents in Ghost’s hand.

He wordlessly took them from Ghost and skimmed the text. There was a name, and information. Lots of information. Stuff they probably had no right to see. Legally or otherwise. It was an official company document that had details about the business trip.

“The wife runs an online store, the kid is doing a gap year. They all went to Madrid together.”

“Good for them,” Soap said and laid back down. He let the document slip through his hands and onto his blanket.

There was silence. For about a minute. Soap had almost fallen asleep. “You wanted to know about them,” Ghost said.

Soap flinched a little, his mind dragged out of the sleepy haze again. “Wh— ah, yeah, I did.”

There was more silence.

Soap opened his eyes, Ghost stood there, his balaclava on, but even if Soap couldn’t see his expression, his body language was pretty loud. He wanted to say something but didn’t know how and it was frustrating him.

He blindly reached out, his hand coming around Ghost’s wrists. He squeezed and then let go. “Sorry, Simon. Ah dae want to know. Ye can tell me a’ about over breakfast.”

“We ran out of bread.”

“Over coffee?”

“Fine.”

Ghost turned off the lamp and left, closing the door behind him, slowly and without a sound.

Soap didn’t fall asleep immediately. He took the document and put it on the table, then turned on his side, adjusting the blanket for maximum comfort. He didn’t think Ghost had noticed how anxious he had become, thinking about the family.

When he fell asleep, it was with a small smile on his face.

.

“She’s avoiding us.”

“No, she’s n—”

“That thing with mail this morning,” Ghost pointed out.

“She just got confused. It’s nothing. She’s old. That happens.”

Ghost shook his head.

“It’s not weird not to see yer neighbor for a couple of days,” Soap pointed out.

Ghost crossed his arms. “She’s not gonna like this.”

“C’mon. It’s food. She’s gonna loue it.”

They had been living in the flat for six days. After they had moved in, while Ghost was in the middle of explaining how he found out everything about the family from the stuff in their apartment, somebody had knocked on their door.

It could have only been somebody living in the building, otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten past the main door, but they both still immediately dropped what they were doing. Ghost made quick hand signals at Soap, who nodded in understanding.

Ghost retrieved the closest weapon—he had stashed them around the flat on the first day—and got into position, while Soap cautiously approached the door. Another knock sounded. Soap opened the door.

It had been the old lady, bringing them some home-made scones. Soap had quickly signaled Ghost to get back inside where he wouldn’t be seen. He had then talked with the lady.

They had met a couple times over the week, as Soap was taking out the trash or going to and from the store. He had even stopped for a tea once—only because he had been sure that Ghost had seen him enter the building already and wouldn’t be worried.

She was a kind person, loved to share recipes. Apparently her family lived far away and didn’t visit much, and Soap was pretty bored out here. He had always needed people around. Ghost needed his alone time, so Soap cooked and sometimes brought her a plate to taste and discuss.

But then, she had met Ghost.

Ghost’s whole body had been screaming anxiety when he had made it back from his walk. He had said he would only be out a few minutes, needed to get out. Soap had only nodded his head. Ghost hadn’t asked him to go with him and he hadn’t minded.

As soon as he had seen him, Soap had been convinced Russians would be involved and that they would have to scramble out of the flat, running into hiding again.

But no, Ghost had run into their elderly neighbor. Apparently, they had run into each other at the main door. Ghost hadn’t yet had the key fob in his hand. He had worn his dark clothes, a hood covering his head and his balaclava. An oversight.

And now he was claiming that she had been avoiding him ever since.

Ghost had done his best to reassure her, telling her he lived with her new friend, the friendly guy—Soap. He even showed her the keys. But she had been pretty spooked.

Soap could agree on that, but he also didn’t think she would go as far as avoiding them both. But the truth was, it had been just a tiny bit weird that morning. Soap had gone to throw out the trash and she had just exited her flat to check her mail. She had her key ready and everything. But then she had heard Soap, and gave him a tense smile, and then returned to her flat, mumbling something about already doing this.

As soon as he had recounted the meeting to Ghost, the other man had been sure of the avoiding.

And well, Soap could at least attempt to fix this. It had been going on for three days—if Ghost was right.

He was almost finished perfecting the plate. He was cooking dinner today. While Ghost was a better cook—just slightly—he hadn’t felt like cooking tonight, so Soap took it upon himself, preparing something special for them. And their neighbor.

“And there, perfect. You can go down now and give it to Jill.”

“What?” Ghost asked as if he couldn’t believe Soap had just said that.

“Bring her the food. She’ll love you afterwards.”

“She’ll sooner call the coppers when she sees me at her door.”

“Bullshit. Besides, you could use the trip down the stairs,” Soap said, doing his best to hide his smile.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Ghost asked, utterly serious.

“I’m just saying. You’ve been baking an awful lot.”

Ghost seemed to like that much more. He didn’t mind cooking, when he was in the mood for it. New thing Soap learned, Ghost would not handle raw meat, absolutely hating it. He hadn’t really noticed that Ghost only really had vegetarian ingredients back at his own house. He didn’t mind eating meat, but only if somebody else prepared it. Soap hadn’t noticed that at their base.

“There’s nothing to do.”

Soap hummed. “I need to stir this sauce. I told ye. It’s a special recipe my— no, not explaining it. Go. And be careful, it’s still hot.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. He took the plate. Soap saw it from the side, his attention already focused on the sauce on the stove top. A minute later, he heard their door closing with a soft click.

Smiling to himself, he finished the sauce and got ready to take the pan to the table where the rest of their dinner waited. When the food was served, Soap went to the fridge to get the mineral water. He had grabbed this particular brand at random during the first trip to the shop and Ghost really liked it. He hadn’t drunk anything else since they got here.

Soap didn’t mind the taste so he got the bottle out of the fridge—the biggest one he could get at the store—and filled their glasses. Now he only had to wait for Ghost to come back.

He started tapping at the table, first nothing at particular, then the first song that came to his mind. Something he had heard from the downstairs neighbor when the window in the living room had been open earlier.

The sauce—he hadn’t tasted it yet. Without thinking, Soap grabbed the wooden spoon and brought some of it to his mouth. It was still hot. Hissing, he grabbed the water from the fridge and downed it. Soap cringed at the taste.

The water tasted bitter. Soap would have immediately spit it out if not for the cold sensation it left on his burned tongue. He stood up to check the bottle, wondering if it was expired or something, but as he turned the bottle in his hands, reading the information and looking for the date, the words started blurring slightly.

Frowning, Soap closed the door of the fridge with his elbow and moved to put the bottle on the kitchen counter but he missed, his hold weakening. The bottle hit the ground and rolled towards the table.

Something wasn’t right. The water—Soap turned his head up. The sun was setting already, the last few minutes of the light, probably, and it reflected. On something in the window across the street.

He willed his body to react, to move, but lifting his legs felt like dragging them through the mud, like there were weights chained to his ankles.

He had to get out of here. He had to warn Ghost.

They found them.

Soap didn’t know how. One of them was always in the flat. He only went out to get food and throw out the trash. Ghost knew how to walk around unnoticed. They had done everything right. And it still hadn’t been enough.

He made it to the door, his hand gripping the handle for support, but he had no strength left. The hand slipped and Soap ended up on his knees.

He had to make it out of the kitchen. He had to.

His knees dragged on the carpet in the living room, he used the coffee table to steady himself but it didn’t help much. Everything swam in front of him. He wouldn’t be able to make it to the door. The realization creeped in as his limbs gave out and he fell to his side.

The kitchen was out of his sight like this, but he heard the window breaking. Of course he did. The thin decorative curtain stood no chance as the shards rained on the floor, over the dinner he had just cooked. Something hit the floor—not glass—then a second later another one.

Soap closed his eyes because he knew that sound. Knew exactly which object had just been thrown into the flat. Two of them.

At least Ghost wasn’t here with him.

Chapter Text

Ghost held the plate in his hand. While it was hot, Ghost hardly felt it. He had never minded such things.

He went down the stairs, knowing very well that nothing he had baked showed on his body. Soap was just being Soap. Most of what he made ended up in Soap's stomach anyways. Or with Jill. Soap always carried a batch to her.

He didn't meet anyone on the stairs. At this hour, a couple of the inhabitants were still at work. Ghost had catalogued everything he could in his brain. He knew the approximate schedule of everyone in the building. Jill was the only unknown variable. She had certain routines, but she didn’t stick to any exact schedule.

That had been why he had met her that night. Ghost had timed the end of his walk precisely. The nurse on the second floor went out for her night shift. Then, the teenager from the first floor got back from his friend's house or whoever he visited. Nobody else would be going in and out. Wasn’t supposed to.

And then Jill had.

Ghost didn’t particularly care about her even after Soap had befriended her so quickly. He didn’t care about anyone in this building. He didn’t even care about the family that owned the flat.

And of course, Soap cared so much.

Ghost had paid closer attention to her, trying to see why Soap liked her so much. They were similar. Both kind people. She had thought Soap was as alone as her. He wasn't close with his mother, so she wasn't far off.

She took a walk every other morning, she threw out trash after lunch. Her shopping was done twice a week, on Wednesday and Saturday, early when most other people were at work.

But since she had met Ghost, her schedule had completely changed. She was coming in and out at random hours. Ghost hadn't been able to figure out the pattern yet.

His free hand moved to knock on the door, but something stopped him and he aborted the move. Jill had been terrified. For just a moment, but her expression had stuck with Ghost. He hadn't exactly told Soap everything.

He had been surprised she hadn't started screaming. She had been too shocked to do so.

Ghost pulled off his balaclava before he could second-guess himself. He slipped it into his pocket and knocked on the door. His skin itched, exposed to a stranger. He regretted it immediately and was about to reach for it again—his scarred face wasn't much better—but then the door opened and it was too late.

Jill looked up at him, frowning. "Can I help you?"

He could feel her stare. Her eyes roaming over every scar on his face. Ghost balled his fist. "Soap cooked," he said, his voice coming out blunt. He couldn't help it.

Her brows rose in shock and she glanced down at the plate he was holding. "Oh," she let out a breath, as if she hadn't even noticed the food until now. "He's cooking again?"

"Every day."

She laughed a little. It sounded stressed even to Ghost. "Of course. Silly me."

She was skittish. Her hands were in front of her, fidgeting. "Right. Come on in. I didn’t catch your name."

"G—Riley." He couldn't be Simon to her, this stranger. He could not handle that.

"That's lovely. I'm Jill," she said as she left the door open and walked into the flat, Ghost expected to follow.

"I know," he said.

She turned to him with a smile, this time a genuine one, but her fidgeting hadn't stopped. "I have some of your plates over here, one second."

They ended up in the kitchen. Her flat had the same layout as their current one. She picked up a pile of plates and put them on the counter. She took a rag and picked another one from where it was drying by the sink. She hurriedly dried it to perfection. While she was doing so, Ghost put the full plate on the table.

"How long have you two been together?" she asked, filling the uncomfortable silence. She didn’t turn to face him.

Ghost didn’t answer right away. They weren't together. He could easily lie. Maybe Johnny had already made up some sort of a cover story. It wouldn't be too odd. Just like he had done with that police officer.

He must have been thinking for too long, because next, Jill glanced at him, her hands with the plate and the rag stilling. "I might be the older generation but I'm not like that. My grandson is" —she waved the rag around— "like one of the kitchen things. Pot? No, not that. I can never remember it."

"Pan."

"Yes."

He still hadn’t answered her initial question. He and Soap weren't together. But she made him think about it. And to be honest, it wasn't the first time.

When it had been just them, at his house, in the hotel, when Soap had hugged him in the rain, Ghost had thought about it. About Soap. What it would be like to be his.

It felt like a taste of something he could never have. Ghost wasn't built for it. Too broken. Nobody would genuinely care for him, not after they truly got to know him. He was too broken to care for others too.

A man like Ghost—people didn't fall in love with people like him. People like Soap were the ones who received all that love. He could see it every day on the base, when meeting new allies. Even Jill was the proof of it. Even Ghost himself.

Ghost would be sooner dead than make somebody happy.

He had seen it right away from their first interaction. Soap didn't fear him. Wasn't intimidated by him. When they had first met, he had tapped his shoulder like they were the best of friends.

And they were. Now. Even if Ghost had kept his distance, had tried, his attempts had failed. So fast it was ridiculous. He had warmed up to that infuriating man before their first operation was over.

The task force came next. And now, Ghost would die for every single one of them. But Soap—he would burn the world for Soap.

Parts of Simon were coming back because of all of them. Only here and there. Tiny parts. Glacially slow. Ghost was opening up. Accepting that he was worthy of some good things too—everything his old therapist had tried to put in his mind back then when he wasn't quite ready to hear it, had only focused on getting back to work.

This kind of progress came slowly and he would never make Soap wait for him. Not when he himself wasn't sure when, or rather if, he would ever get somewhere where he could appreciate Soap the way he deserved.

Friends and allies were one thing. Loyalty came easy, trust much slower, but he now had a list of people he would trust with his life.

But love? That was a whole new level. The intimacy, the vulnerability—

Two consecutive explosions shook the whole building. Jill screamed. Ghost automatically bent down, hands coming up to shield his head and neck.

But nothing happened to them. Dust rained down on them and a burglar alarm in one of the flats above turned on, damaged. Ghost's mind logged the sound, analyzed it, within a split second. Grenades. Two of them. Blown so soon after each other it had sounded like one big explosion to other people.

It came from the top floor.

Where Soap was.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Jill kept repeating, her hands around her head, trembling.

"Call the paramedics," Ghost yelled at her and left her behind as he sprinted out of her flat and up the stairs. He pulled the balaclava on. It would shield him from the settling dust as well as the eyes of the panicked neighbors.

It couldn't have been a gas leak, not an accident. Soap was cooking, far away from his stash of weapons. Ghost had been downstairs for only a few minutes. And Soap knew how to safely handle grenades.

This was no accident at all. And he had no idea how it had happened. Had no idea if Soap was even alive right now.

He raced to their flat, avoiding the damage and debris on the stairs. He had to crawl over the bigger pieces.

The door had blown open from the blast.

Ghost was panicking. He wasn’t reacting well. Nit as he should have. They were soldiers. They—no, this was nothing like getting killed in a battle.

Soap was still conscious when Ghost cleared the way to him and dropped by his side.

Conscious, but barely. Soap was repeating his name. 'Simon. Simon.' His nightmares came to life.

His eyes were on Ghost, but unfocussed, his pupils blown wide. "Simon," he slurred again, his fingers twitched, drawing Ghost's attention, but he didn't move his hand. Maybe he couldn't.

Soap was a mess. A bloody, scary mess. Ghost didn’t know where to put his hands. Didn’t know how to help. All his training went out the window at the sight of Soap.

There was just so much. It looked like he was bleeding everywhere, blood pooling under him, soaking into the carpet. His hair was slick with it, his clothes red and dust covered. His leg all the way to his knee was stuck under a concrete pillar. These old buildings were built from solid, heavy materials. A rebar went through his abdomen.

"Stay with me, Johnny. Help will be here soon." He grabbed a blanket off the couch, dirty and torn, and held it around the rebar. It seemed like a spot that was bleeding the most and Ghost only had two hands. Soap whined in pain, the sound he made like that of a dying animal.

"Ah can't... can't move," Soap croaked, then coughed.

"They'll be here soon." He didn't know if they would. If Jill had called for help. If anyone did.

He shouldn't have been surprised when the moment came—Soap losing consciousness. And yet it froze him for a whole second, before his mind kicked in again. Soap didn’t just lose his consciousness. His chest stopped rising as the sound of sirens finally reached the building.

Ghost pried his mask off and started on compressions. He didn’t register the paramedics coming in, or their shouts. Somebody bodily pulled him away from Soap and then they were working. They shocked him. It worked, his heart beat again.

The truth snapped in place as Ghost watched them free Soap and then put him on a stretcher and carry him out. A truth he already knew but had been avoiding. Everything he had thought back in Jill’s flat was moot. He loved Soap. He loved this ridiculous, brave man. This annoying, relentless sod. Ghost loved him.

And he might lose him today.

Ghost wasn’t an optimist, never had been. He saw the world for what it was. And most of all, he wasn’t a liar. Not when it mattered. He had seen the extensive injuries. Soap had already coded once.

He couldn’t ride with them to the hospital. Couldn’t follow them on his own either. They would ask for names and Ghost had worked too hard to eliminate every trace of himself out there. An explosion like this would require an investigation. He couldn’t follow but he couldn’t stay.

More sirens filled the suddenly empty flat.

He was Ghost. And that was what he had to do now—disappear.

But Ghost could never let this be. Let go of Johnny like this.

So he disappeared, but he didn’t go far. He got real help—he called Price. He and Laswell could pull any strings necessary to make sure there would be no questions asked and that Soap would get the help he needed without any more danger from the Russians.

And they did. Price had let him know he had people watching the hospital where Soap had been transported. Had said that Soap was undergoing surgery. But he couldn’t get enough people there in time.

Ghost couldn’t handle that. The Russians were fucking relentless and Ghost wouldn’t give them another chance. He had already lost everything and he wasn’t ready to do it again.

At night, he sneaked into the hospital. Soap had his own room in the ICU. Compared to his covert jobs over the years, this was nothing. Soap’s door opened with a light click, not even locked. Ghost entered the room. He had made sure to find clean clothes before coming in here, not too keen on dragging in more of the dust and Soap’s blood. He needed a clean environment.

Soap was hooked up on various tubes, connected to a heart monitor. The rhythm was steady. Ghost took him in, the few injuries he could see peeking out from beneath the blanket and clean bandages. It didn’t even look too bad. Soap’s face was pale, his skin ashen, small cuts all over the right side of his face and arm.

It didn’t matter how he looked. He had needed surgery. It was bad. Ghost had seen him in the flat. It had been worse than bad.

The surgery had lasted several hours, but they had done what they needed to. Soap was still asleep and from what Ghost had overheard at the nurses’ station, would be asleep for a while longer. But that was good for his recovery.

He should turn around and leave him to it. Leave him to his peace and calm.

Ghost grabbed Soap’s file from where it rested at the end of his bed. He unhooked it from the frame and read through it, trying to parse out as much as he could from the medical jargon.

There was a crack in Soap’s shin. Luckily nothing too major, though he still had a cast. He had a light concussion and bruises and cuts all over. The biggest problem was the rebar that had torn into his small intestine. He was still alive because the rebar had lodged in pretty well and hadn’t moved much and therefore kept everything in place until they could get it out in surgery and repair the tear. Soap should make a full recovery on that.

Ghost had been incredibly worried about what Soap had said. He hadn’t been able to move, but as it turned out, there was no damage to his spine or legs. But a big dose of ketamine had been found in his system.

He had nearly folded the plastic sheet in half when he had read that part.

Instead of leaving, Ghost put his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and sat in the chair in the corner of the room. He carefully watched Soap, the door in his sight too. He watched the steady rise of his chest. The drip of the IV. The heartbeat on the monitor.

Soap only had to make it through this night. Ghost would watch over him and make sure of it.

He was gone before the morning nurse came to check Soap’s vitals and gave him a fresh IV bag.

The next night, Ghost was back in his chair.

The night after that, Ghost fell asleep in the chair. He hadn’t been sleeping much since the explosion in the flat. He had been eating even less. Couldn’t even remember the last time he drank some water.

The nurse shook him awake in the morning. Ghost had nearly hit her in the face, but his muscles had locked in before his brain could register the situation fully. She was of no danger to him or Soap. “You don’t need to leave every night.” She smiled at him sweetly, understandingly. She didn’t question the balaclava.

Ghost didn’t ask her how she knew he had been there every single night. He didn’t really care.

Price showed up an hour later. He wanted to check on Soap himself. Apparently, he had also called the hospital ahead and told them to let the tall guy in a mask in whenever he wanted.

Ghost was in his chair, and Price stood next to Soap’s bed, watching him just as Ghost had done these past few nights.

He sighed heavily and brushed a hand against his face. Price looked exhausted. “They tell me he’s going to make it. That he’s out of danger now.”

Ghost nodded. He had been told the same.

For a while, there was only the steady beeping of the monitor.

“We cracked Stevenson last night. It was her.”

“Did she know?”

“About this?” Price asked, but Ghost didn’t need to answer. Price shook his head. “She couldn’t have. We moved you long after she was detained.” He crossed his arms against his chest. “She was desperate for money. Her husband just got diagnosed. Cancer. Nasty stuff. Two young kids… They used her desperation. Found that she had been working at the base for a while.” Price shrugged one shoulder.

“What now?” Was the only thing Ghost asked. The only thing he wanted to know.

“Kate’s working on that. We haven’t found them yet.”

Price couldn’t stay for too long. That was fine. Ghost would make sure Soap was fine. Even if there was a guy at the door now at all times and Ghost technically didn’t need to be there anymore. He wasn’t leaving.

On the fourth day—if Ghost’s count was right, he wasn’t too sure—Soap woke up for the first time. He was clearly disoriented, didn’t know where he was, but he mumbled something. When Ghost stood to get closer to him, he figured out the words. “Ghost...”

Ghost didn’t know what to do. The tubes had been removed earlier when Ghost hadn’t been there. He mumbled some more, but he clearly wasn’t perfectly conscious. Whatever Ghost said, it would probably go right over his head. So he did the next best thing and took Soap’s hand in his, conscious of the IV hooked up to the said hand. He squeezed lightly, hoping it was enough to assure Soap of his presence and then he let go.

It still didn’t come easy to him. Ghost was paranoid when it came to any physical contact. It made his skin crawl, made him want to lash out. With most people.

Everywhere Soap touched him, his skin burned.

Ghost didn’t initiate. Never. Unless it was absolutely necessary.

Or he hadn’t. Until recently. The never part wasn’t true anymore. Not with Johnny. Some days, Ghost would touch him before his mind even registered that he was doing it.

Laswell came to check on Soap too, but because she had been home in the US, it had taken her a while to get there.

She had brought flowers, a nice little thing in a pot. She had taken Soap’s hand in hers, held it for a while. She started speaking with her eyes still on Soap, sad. “We confirmed it earlier today. It was one of your neighbors.”

“Jill.”

Laswell nodded. She let go off Soap’s hand, carefully putting it back over his bed sheet. “She reported you because of the mask. You scared her. The police told her they couldn’t do anything unless you actually did something. It didn’t matter that you didn’t. They were looking and as soon as your description was on the computer…” she trailed off. Ghost figured out the rest on his own.

It was all Ghost’s fault. He had scared Jill, not Soap. Soap had been nothing but friendly and kind to her. A perfectly pleasant companion. Price should have paired him up with literally anyone else.

He should have insisted that Soap bring her the food himself, like he had always done until that day. He should have been the one in the flat when it had happened.

Now, Ghost understood why Jill had apologized. She couldn’t have known what had happened, or who had struck them, but on some level, she had recognized that she had been the indirect cause of it.

“That’s not all,” Laswell interrupted his dark mental spiral. “Soap’s not the only reason why I flew down here. We pinned them down. We know where they are. I wanted to be here for it.”

“Tell me.”

She didn’t do so immediately. Ghost stood up, about to push for the information.

An annoyed expression passed her face, then quickly disappeared. “We’re wheeling up asap.” She looked at Soap. “The doc said he’ll wake up soon.

Ghost turned to look at him too. Soap’s face was relaxed as he slept. He would have to choose.

“Ghost. The Russians… we can’t wait.” In a way, she was asking him if he wanted to stay here or go with her and the team.

He stared at the man he loved. The man his actions had nearly killed. “I’m coming.”

They were all going to pay for this. They had taken their homes from them, then this. Soap would have understood his decision. He would have done the same thing.

.

Ghost made them pay.

It was revenge. Cold blooded one.

He was a brutal fighter. Always had been. But here? Ghost did not hold back. He slashed and he shot and he didn’t look further. Every single one responsible had to pay.

Ghost had always been a brutal fighter, but that night, if any had survived, they would not forget him. Not ever. His mask would plague their nightmares and waking hours alike. Every time they looked into the dark, they would see the ghost. They would shake in fear, afraid for their life.

If any of them survived…

He would just have to come for them later. They had nearly taken everything from him. Nobody was taking shit from Ghost.

Chapter Text

The light beeping kept going. And going. Soap couldn’t tell what it was. He was on a field, sitting by the edge, watching the grass sway. He didn’t feel cold at all, he didn’t really feel anything. But that beeping.

Not annoying. Nor disruptive. Just there.

He turned his head to look to the side. Something coarse brushed his cheek as he did so. Soap frowned, blinked. And then closed his eyes again as he was assaulted by the sharp artificial light.

He blinked slowly, one hand rising to shield his eyes, but he felt a tug of something. He turned his head, his whole body aching as he did that. His hand was hooked to an IV.

Right.

Soap wasn’t chilling on some field. He was in a hospital.

His heartbeat sped up as he remembered the last moments before losing consciousness. The monitor started beeping more rapidly. He couldn’t move. Whatever had happened, Soap had known there was danger. Had heard the sound of the falling grenades. And he couldn’t have done anything to escape as his own body had betrayed him.

But that had passed. His hand was up in the air, his elbow supporting the weight as he watched the IV line. He moved his fingers. He could do that now. Slowly, Soap relaxed and dropped his hand back down. He looked around.

The light was turned on so it must have been afternoon. He didn’t bother trying to guess the date. The more he woke up, the more pain he felt pretty much everywhere. To be fair, he had thought that was it. That he wouldn’t get to wake up.

The light meant it was still visiting hours and not the time to sleep for the patients.

But his room was empty and Soap was alone.

He looked up at the ceiling, taking in the grainy white pattern. He couldn’t quite remember getting to the hospital. Not even the explosion, not really. But he did see Ghost by his side, on that empty chair next to his hospital bed. He could imagine a hand lightly carding through his hair, a grounding weight around his wrist.

But Soap was alone so he must have dreamt it all up, just like that calm field. Now that he thought of that, he had seen that field before. In front of the safe house Price had provided for their task force. The one he had sat in front of with Ghost, on folding chairs. That moment had been so simple and yet Soap treasured it so much.

It felt like an eternity ago, but Ghost wasn’t here now. Most likely hadn’t been there at all. He wouldn’t come. Not to a public hospital. Soap knew that. He respected that. Ghost had his identity to protect and Soap would hate himself if he ever compromised all the effort Ghost had put into that.

And yet… right now…

A toilet flushed, somewhere very close, instantly derailing his thoughts. Soap looked around. There was a thin door in the corner, a small room. He hadn’t really paid much attention but that must have been his private bathroom.

And then, he heard water running and a second later the door opened. Ghost walked out, his eyes on the paper towel in his hands as he dried them. He had to step through turned to the side.

Soap’s breath stuttered. He thought…

But he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t. Ghost was there. And then it all came crashing back. All the fear he had felt when he couldn’t move. And he did remember some of it now. The rubble, the pressure on his legs. There was nothing he could have done. He couldn’t move. Had barely managed to get his jaw to open, to call for the only person he trusted and wanted there.

And up until now he had thought that Ghost had never come. But he had. He was still here.

Soap didn’t know when his heart monitor sped up again, he couldn’t focus on anything besides the thoughts screaming in his head. His vision blurred, eyes burning with unshed tears.

Ghost finally noticed. Noticed that he was awake and distressed and probably a minute away from a full-blown panic attack.
He dropped the paper towel, not caring about it and rushed to Soap. He hesitated only a split second before he grabbed his free hand in both of his larger ones and pulled it close to his chest. “It’s over, Johnny. All of it. They’re gone. Every single one. I made sure of it.”

Soap nodded, blinking away those tears. He was fine. He knew that. He had Ghost by his side, he was awake. He could feel the pain and even that was reassuring. As long as he could still feel it, he knew he could heal. That there were still parts to heal.

He was probably gripping Ghost’s fingers too hard, but he couldn’t get himself to let go. Not when Ghost offered the comfort. A thing that couldn’t have come easy to him. And Soap needed it. Right now. He didn’t care how weak he looked, how pathetic he sounded. He needed Ghost. He needed to touch him and feel him. He needed it.

Then, Ghost reached out and wiped the tears from his cheek with his thumb. He left his hand by his hand, a ghost of touch lingering. And Soap laughed. Of all the things, he laughed.

“Johnny—” Ghost started, actually sounding worried.

“It’s over?” Soap asked, barely containing his laugh. If he kept it up it would have turned into a hysteric one, all his emotions poured into it. But he didn’t want to worry Ghost. He was a soldier. He was supposed to be strong. He didn’t break down over getting injured. That was just part of the job.

It always had been. Always would be.

So what if this time he had nearly died while waiting to start eating dinner with Ghost in a small city apartment.

Ghost nodded. “I’ll tell you all about it. After the doctor sees you.”

Soap wanted to know everything right now, but he was also in pain and maybe Ghost was onto something. So he let Ghost call for the nurse who then got the doctor. They checked him out, asked him questions about how he was feeling and stuff, got him some painkillers.

The nurse left a water pitcher on the small desk beside his bed and a glass with a straw. She smiled at Ghost. “You can take care of him from here,” she said with a knowing smile and quickly left the room, probably busy with other patients that needed her care.

Both Ghost and Soap stared after her. Luckily, nobody had pointed out the red in his eyes. They had been enough of a distraction to drive Soap out of his thoughts about the whole thing.

“I should have be—”

“I’m thirsty,” Soap interrupted Ghost. He couldn’t deal with this now. He couldn’t listen to Ghost talk about it. Not without breaking down again. It was too soon. And he would listen to Ghost, he would, but not now.

Soap couldn’t handle it.

Ghost immediately stopped talking. He stared at Soap, not saying anything. After about a minute, Soap thought he might start to protest, to push, but instead, Ghost wordlessly went about getting him some water.

This time round, Soap was the one carefully watching him. The way he grabbed the pitcher, poured half the glass. The straw swirled, got in the way. Ghost paused then resumed pouring more of the water. He put it back down and turned to Soap.

“Can you get up?”

Soap thought about it. The painkiller had already kicked in. So he nodded and tried it, but he had underestimated the power of that painkiller and winced as his abdominal muscles screamed at the motion.

It must have showed on his face, because Ghost reached out and put a hand behind his slightly raised back, supporting his weight and taking off the pressure on his body.

Soap breathed out, slightly winded from the whole thing. Ghost waited, the arm still there and then put the glass in front of his mouth. Soap only needed to get the straw, but his tongue easily found it. He reminded himself to drink slowly. A choking fit would probably end him right now.

Ghost helped him lay back down. Soap sighed into the pillow. The next couple of weeks, even months, were going to be hell. He was so going to complain to Price the next time he saw him. A relaxing vacation his ass.

For once, Soap didn’t know what to talk about. There were so many thoughts in his head but he didn’t particularly want to voice those. So he focused on the easiest one. Ghost had said it was over.

And their banter, their jokes, had always come the easiest. “I’ll have to move again.” He looked at Ghost. “So do you.” Soap grinned because grinning at Ghost had never been hard. “Would ye fancy a roommate, Ghost?”

After all, it was only logical. They were off duty until the next terrorist threat. Soap potentially even longer after all his recent injuries. They both needed a place. Not some temporary safe house. Ghost’s house was done for, just like Soap’s apartment. At least security-wise.

And they had gotten so used to each other. They worked. It was comfortable, living together. All their little quirks and habits fit into this well-oiled machine. And it was fun. Soap could spend hours with Ghost and never grow tired of it.

That was a whole nother can of worms that he didn’t really want to think about now—his feelings. They had no place here. Ghost was his friend and Soap would always treat him as such. He would never intentionally make Ghost uncomfortable. A partner like that, out in the field, Soap didn’t want to lose him. Ghost just didn’t do things like love and Soap understood.

Maybe he was setting himself up for disappointment if Ghost said no, or even more slow torture if Ghost said yes.

Soap didn’t even really know if his question was a joke or not.

Until Ghost answered. “I would,” he said, not needing any time to decide.

Soap grinned at him, all teeth, even if it pulled at the light mostly-healed cuts on the right side of his face. He had meant it—that question—it wasn’t a joke, not quite. He genuinely wanted Ghost by his side.

And Ghost wanted the same. Probably not the way Soap did. Definitely not. But somehow, this was enough.

.

“W-which one?” Soap exclaimed loudly, confused and utterly unable to believe what Ghost was telling him.

“Does it matter?”

Soap froze. “Guess not.”

Back then, he hadn’t paid attention to who he was shooting at. Not when they were shooting at him just as enthusiastically. The Russians had been armed and ready for combat. It wasn’t like Soap knew all of them individually. Out there, they were all potential hostiles.

Ghost had blamed it on the intelligence gatherers. Said he had already had some words with Laswell. Apparently, they had failed to notice that an uncle of a man responsible for those particular terrorist attacks had been present at the compound.

The intel hadn’t been there because the man hadn’t been a blood-relative, but something more of a found family to the guy. A mentor, a role model. And in the flurry of action, when people were shooting and fighting, bullets and dust flying, when all you could focus on were your guys and the people against you, Soap had shot that man.

And people were not happy about that. Within a day, there had been a lot of bad blood against Soap. But all those people were dead now. Thanks to Ghost.

.

Whatever Soap needed, Ghost found it for him. He didn’t ask where from or how. Didn’t really care. Especially not when he was stuck in the hospital and bored out of his mind.

He had been taken out of the ICU wing two days after waking up. More people could visit him now, and they did. Price had come with Gaz once, bringing him expensive chocolates he couldn’t really eat right now. He had secretly given those to Ghost after they had left.

Laswell had been in the city so she visited him as well. Told him about everything that had happened in more detail. Soap was surprised to hear about Jill. And a bit hurt too. He also felt guilty the whole apartment building was a mess now.

Alejandro and Rudy had called, waking Soap up at around 5 am. They had slightly miscalculated the time zone differences. Apparently they had had quite a busy time at work and had been glad to finally be able to call.

Soap could have sworn they had been wearing matching bathrobes, and even if it had been a group call, with Alejandro and Rudy on their own phones each, their backgrounds were oddly similar, same lamps and all.

Still, it was nice of them to call. Even Farah had sent him a ‘get well soon’ text.

Ghost had brought him a card that had been signed by everyone in the task force.

Soap hadn’t told his mother about what had happened. He didn’t want to worry her and she was up in Scotland anyway. But somebody must have notified her because Soap was getting calls every other day and constant questions about his well-being.

But the visit he hadn’t been expecting at all was Jill.

As soon as the doctor cleared him for slightly more solid food, Soap had given Ghost the task of procuring him some pudding. He needed something with actual taste.

A minute after Ghost had left, there was a light knock on his door. Nobody from their task force would have knocked like that, except maybe König. Soap called out for the person to enter and was shocked to see Jill.

She looked like she had seen a ghost. Within the privacy of his own mind, Soap laughed at that little pun, but then realized she might have actually seen Ghost. He had a feeling the other man wouldn’t be pleased with her.

She came to apologize, with a peace offering of some cookies. Soap knew they were excellent, but he couldn’t help the bitter quip about how he couldn’t eat them right now. He felt sorry about that comment, but only a little bit.

She had called the police on Ghost after all. When he hadn’t done anything to her. When he was perfectly harmless. Well. To people like Jill.

Jill was genuinely sorry, he could tell. Eventually, Soap might forgive her but it was still too fresh and he still couldn’t sit up without feeling slight pain.

As it turned out, Laswell had explained things to Jill. Or at least Soap thought it might have been her. ‘A stern American woman,’ Jill had called her. Laswell hadn’t given her any details about their operation, but she had told Jill about why they were in that apartment. That they had been hiding. And she had ruined that for them and Soap had nearly died for it.

She hadn’t stayed for long. “That Riley… I can’t change back what I did, but tell him I’m sorry too. He didn’t let me speak earlier, and well, doesn’t matter. He’s a good man.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see that soon enough. Keep him close, John.”

.

With nothing to do, Soap spent his time looking for houses and apartments. They didn’t really have a town or a city in mind, but they both agreed somewhere not too far from the base would be the most convenient.

Soap didn’t worry about the paperwork that would come later, especially after he had decided to move to the UK. It wasn’t like Ghost could properly understand the Scottish accent and well, Soap didn’t mind that much. They would be back to base soon.

First, he actually needed to find a suitable place for them, though.

He found two flats that sounded pretty good, the pictures were nice, each had something to offer. Soap called the landlord and arranged a date for apartment viewing. He would still have to talk about it with his doctor, but Soap was sure it would all work out.

After his results improved, Soap had been transported to a hospital closer to the base. This way, Ghost could stay on the base and visit whenever he wanted. Gaz came pretty often too. Price as well, but he always claimed there was some other urgent business that brought him to town.

The new doctor wasn’t too happy about the apartment viewing, neither was Ghost, but Soap had been talking about finishing his recovery at home. For that he needed an actual home. So the doctor okayed it after Soap promised to be careful.

The first issue came up when they entered the apartment building after the landlord had let them in from where he was waiting for them on the second floor where the empty apartment was located.

Soap still had his leg in a cast and had to use crutches to move around, which wasn’t the best for all the other parts of his body. The doctor told him to limit the walking to the minimum. And now, the elevator had a piece of paper taped on it that said it wasn’t working.

Ghost glared at that paper as if it had personally offended him.

“I’ll, uh, call the landlord?”

“No. We already got here.” Ghost turned to him. He didn’t have the paint over his eyes out in public, and Soap had convinced him to wear a black face-mask with a hood covering his hair. Just for a little while if he could handle that. “Lift the crutches on your left.”

“What?” Soap frowned. How the fuck was that going to help him get up all those stairs.

And really, that was a stupid question, because next, Ghost bent down a bit and put one hand at his back, the under his knees. Soap bit down on his tongue to keep from making a startled sound. Ghost moved him into his arms slowly and gently, so that nothing would hurt.

If not for his still healing middle, Soap was sure he would have gotten thrown into a fireman’s carry with no consideration.

“A'm nae some pumpin' princess,” Soap grumbled under his breath.

“What’s that, Johnny?” Ghost asked, already getting up the stairs as if Soap didn’t weigh anything.

Soap turned to face him to glare, but goddamn were they close. Heat travelled up his neck, up his cheeks. He had to turn away again, doing his best to ignore Ghost and his hands on him. He gripped the crutches tighter.

The apartment viewing went by fine. The landlord kept apologizing about the elevator, saying it was scheduled for maintenance the following week. The place had two bedrooms. The furniture was only basic and pretty old, but the essentials were there and the kitchen had all the important appliances too.

Ghost did a more thorough check. He wasn’t as satisfied. The drain in the kitchen sink was slightly clogged up. The door on one of the bedrooms didn’t close properly. The bathroom had mold growing over the window because of the bad ventilation. He complained about the smell of weed from the carpet in the living room.

Soap then reminded him there was a parking spot that came with the flat, a supermarket nearby. The rent was a bit higher because of the two bedrooms and the location, but well within their range.

Still, compared to the house Ghost had before, Soap could understand. It didn’t really compare. Soap briefly wondered if maybe Ghost was finding random reasons not to like the flat so that he could back out of his promise to get a place with him.

Maybe before he knew it, Ghost would be off somewhere far away, in some tiny ass town, with no people around and nobody knowing where exactly. Just like before.

But Soap still hoped. So he got on the phone with the estate agent that was responsible for the other place. That one was much smaller. Just the ground floor and the first floor. Three small flats in one building. One on the first floor was available.

They discussed the place on the phone and the agent assured him there was no need to worry about the stairs. They did have a lift. An older one but apparently the residents all took care of it and the building in general. He kept talking about the lovely community and such. Soap was a little worried that didn’t sound like something Ghost would like but kept it to himself.

Soap’s recovery was going great and three days after the first viewing, they went to check out the second apartment. It was a bit of a drive to get there, on the outskirts of the city. It was pretty calm over there and reminded Soap of the small town Ghost had lived in before.

He took that as a good sign already. There were actual trees and grass around, and not just in parks.

Soap had the address written down and a message from the estate agent telling him he was waiting for them and that the main door would be open. So they went in, used the elevator. Ghost let Soap walk in front of him.

The apartment door was slightly ajar so Soap shrugged to himself and entered. He called out a greeting, putting on a friendly smile. The agent had been very nice over the phone.

The agent was there, checking something on his phone. When he heard Soap, he immediately put it away and turned to him with a smile. That smile dropped quickly.

Soap frowned. The bruises and cuts on his face had already healed. He hadn’t been able to style his mohawk lately, and even the buzzed hair on his sides had sort of grown out, but that reaction… Only then did he notice that the agent was actually looking slightly up and behind him. The intimidated stare wasn’t directed at Soap, but rather at Ghost behind him. That happened a lot but Soap still always forgot. He had never been afraid of Ghost, not like many people tended to.

So he put more cheer into his grin and started talking. Soon, the agent had gone from wary, to slightly cautious, to more or less ignoring Ghost’s presence in favor of Soap. Until Ghost had a question. Then it was back to wary and the process resumed.

He started with the basic facts, the previous tenants, the building itself and the location. Then he started with the living room they were standing in that was connected to the kitchen but the space didn’t feel cramped.

“We can move to the flat’s bedroom now, if you would follow me,” he told them, already walking toward the small hallway that contained three doors.

“Bedroom?” Ghost said, voice thoughtful, but the tone was clear only to Soap.

The agent halted and turned to them. He looked from Soap to Ghost and then back to Soap. “Yes. The bedroom. The first door here. Next is the bathroom and then a small pantry, or a closet if you wish.”

Even Soap frowned now. “But that’s just one.”

“Is that an issue?” the agent asked, confused. “Over the phone, I thought you were a couple and this flat sounded like the perfect fit to what you had in mind.”

Soap gaped, mouth closing and opening like a fish. He didn’t dare look at Ghost. “An honest mistake.” He laughed, a little tense.

Soap quickly replayed the conversation with the agent over the phone in his head. What the fuck had he said to make the agent think that? And say it in front of Ghost, no less.

‘We travel a lot.’

‘We’ve been spending so much time with each other that one place together made sense, you know?’

‘Aye, the kitchen’s important. We both like to cook, sure. And bake, yeah, he bakes. So a good oven, for sure. Ah, no, no. Doesn’t have to be big, just good. He’s a big guy, haha, yes, but we take turns, it’s fine.’

‘He’d prefer an open bedroom, lots of sunlight, not a bed against a wall, stuff like that.’

‘Is there a bathtub? Laird… a bath would be so nice. He doesn’t really care but if you got us this? Aye, that’s a place I could loue.’

‘Glasgow, yes. Good guess, laddie. You been? Aye, I like it plenty there. But I can understand ye just fine. You know how it is, gotta compromise in any relationship.’

Soap actually blushed as the memories came rushing back. Not just a bit of pink dusting his cheeks. His entire face was red, his ears, his neck. “Anyways, we're 'ere noo sae a dinnae ken, juist finish telling us aboot th' steid.”

Both the agent and Ghost stared at him. Right, fuck, Soap always ended up with a heavier accent when he was tired or flustered and he was actually incredibly flustered right now. Not even a faked laugh would save this now. “Just tell us about the flat, man.”

“Alright…” the agent said, unsure. “So, the bedroom, then.”

They still went through the whole showing, but Ghost didn’t say a single word for the rest of it and Soap tried not to think about it and instead talked and joked with the agent as if nothing had happened.

Ghost drove him back to the hospital room. The doctor checked his healing wounds, asked a couple of questions, but decided that the trip hadn’t harmed him in any way. Soap sat on his bed, leaning on pillows and Ghost was still there.

So Soap decided to be the first one to bite the bullet. “The first flat wasn’t that bad.”

“I didn’t like it.”

Soap groaned. “You gotta work with me here, Lt.”

“I don’t like it.”

“And the other one?” Well, Soap was not a coward. Most of the time. He jumped into things head on, not always thinking about them first. And this, he couldn’t start to think about or he might just back out.

“That one was alright.”

“Is… that all? No more comments?”

Ghost didn’t reply.

“Well, ah suppose we could get a bunk bed.” Soap was not that brave. “Like at the base, ye know? A little familiar thing.”

“Or we can share.”

Soap nearly choked on air. He couldn’t find appropriate words fast enough.

Ghost mistook his quiet for hesitation. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he added, watching Soap.

And really, it wouldn’t. But it would be a pretty permanent set up. One were accidental touches were always a possibility. Also lack of personal space. And Ghost—Soap didn’t expect Ghost of all people to say that. Even after taking into account all their recent interactions.

“I liked that town. And the kitchen. There was a tub,” Ghost kept going.

Soap smiled. Ghost didn’t give a shit about that bathtub, but he did know that Soap loved it. He only complained about the showers at the base every single day. “There was. A pretty big one for such a flat.”

“And the neighbors.”

On the way back, they had met one of the neighbors. It was a woman in her early twenties, clearly some sort of an artist judging by the paint streaks all over her clothes. She had taken one look at Ghost’s slightly rolled up sleeves. “Rad tats,” she had said and that was it.

The apartment on the ground floor was occupied by a middle-aged couple whose kid was out studying at a university. The woman worked as a child therapist and her husband was a veteran who now worked part-time at some local carpenter.

“Perfect place,” Soap said. It really was.

“With one bed.”

But Ghost had already said that was fine, so Soap shrugged. “I’m good with that.” He ignored the little voice in his head telling him how much he would have to endure with Ghost so close every night, and Soap unable to touch.

“We’ll be deployed soon enough.”

“Always some threat to deal with,” Soap agreed.

“Yes.”

And that was that.

Chapter Text

Soap had to stay in the hospital for another week. Until the doctor was certain everything was healing right post-surgery and that Soap could actually take care of himself from then on.

Then it took another week to get everything organized and their new flat furnished and supplied with all they would need. Soap hadn’t been present for most of that. His mother, of all people, had packed all the stuff he had left back at his apartment in Glasgow.

A moving van had brought it over and well, Soap would probably never forget the bill for that service.

Gaz and Ghost went to Ghost’s old house to get his stuff. Ghost moved in first and pretty much sorted his and Soap’s stuff too. So when Soap was finally able to get to their new flat, all his things were there, the fridge was stocked, the bed made. There were candles on the coffee table in the living room and his old sketchbooks stacked on the shelf.

The blanket from Ghost’s living room had survived the whole mess at his house and laid over the arm-rest of the couch. Ghost had also neatly divided the closet in half. Also, when Soap had checked the small pantry, there was a lot of apple puree from the store. Exactly what the doctor had advised him to eat for a while now.

.

Another week and a half later, his cast was off and the doctor told him to start out slow, but to definitely exercise. Soap needed to get fit again. He would have to pass some tests to be allowed back to work. So he started with some light walks around the neighborhood. Sometimes Ghost joined him when it was already dark outside, sometimes he went alone.

Soap liked discovering what the town had to offer and lo and behold, just two blocks from their flat, there was a small family-owned hairdressers’. He had nearly missed it, stuck between ordinary residential houses.

And they were open. Soap finally got his haircut. The woman working there buzzed the sides, but left his mohawk longer than he was normally used to. But Soap liked it. It was different, but it would take some time till he returned to work so it wasn’t like the longer hair would get in his eyes when that was dangerous.

.

They were in bed, plenty of space for each of them on the king sized one. Soap could feel sleep pulling in him, a few minutes at most and he would be asleep. Idly, he was still thinking about the groceries. He had looked over Ghost’s list earlier and there was something missing and he still couldn’t recall what that one thing had been.

The mattress moved slightly as Ghost turned over. His hand accidentally brushed against the side of Soap’s head. Fingers lightly skimming over the fresh buzz.

Soap could feel it, the way Ghost had been nearly asleep as well, but registered the sensation, then froze. Soap could almost feel the gears turning in Ghost’s mind, could almost feel the twitch of his fingers that had moved further down to rest on Soap’s pillow.

And whatever inner battle Ghost was fighting in his tired mind, the impulse won over. His hand moved back. Without much conscious thought, Soap turned his head slightly to give Ghost better access and the man took it. He ran his fingers over the buzzed hair, again and again and again.

Three minutes later, when Ghost’s hand still hadn’t stopped, Soap spoke up. “Ghost?” Just his name, soft and quiet in the dark apartment.

Ghost stopped and started pulling away. Soap reached out in the dark and nearly poked his own eye out, but his hand grabbed Ghost’s wrist. He pulled the fingers back into his hair. “Didn’t say ye had to stop.”

Ghost hesitated but he resumed the light brushing. His fingers always went upwards, against the buzz. Soap had long gotten used to the feeling, but he supposed Ghost hadn’t really felt this before.

“Are you okay?” he asked Ghost, just as quietly. He couldn’t really see him that well, not even the worn-out balaclava he liked to sleep in sometimes. The wide window was covered right now. Some nights when Ghost couldn’t sleep, he pulled the curtain away and let the moonlight in, but not tonight. Soap could only guess by some dark shapes where Ghost was.

Ghost grunted something, probably a yes. “I like how it feels,” he added.

Soap smiled. Ghost kept at it until he fell asleep.

.

The weekend arrived extremely slowly. They were both starting to get a little stir crazy, sitting in the apartment all day. Even Soap didn’t feel like watching more of Grey’s Anatomy at this point—they had progressed pretty well, going on the fourth season.

But Soap could feel his mind buzzing and even Ghost had baked a little too much for them to eat. They both needed to spend their energy somewhere. So Soap checked the program of the local cinema and grinned as the results showed on his screen.

Ghost had grumbled about it for only about a minute before he agreed to tag along. Soap had already ordered two tickets so it wasn’t like he was giving Ghost a choice here.

A horror film. Not something bloody and gory. They saw enough of that in real life. But one with ghosts. Based on the reviews, it was really fucked up. Proper scary.

He had only joked about the ghost thing about five times before Ghost had flicked him over the head in warning, utterly done with him.

Soap didn’t want to upset his stomach with the popcorn and Ghost refused to eat in front of that many strangers so they didn’t get any food. As it turned out, the cinema in this town wasn’t that popular, other than them, there were like ten people. He thought one of them might have been their artsy neighbor on a date with some girl. Nobody in a cinema sat with their shoulders plastered to the other person if they weren’t interested.

Another good reason why he hadn’t bought any food was the film itself. The reviews had not lied. Soap had seen his fair share of horrors. He had long gotten used to the jump scares, knew when to anticipate the next one. He spent half of the time laughing at the dumb decisions that only ever came with horror flicks.

But Ghost—the man was terrified. He was tense and jumpy. He tried to hide it, he didn’t make a single sound, but their arms were touching on the arm-rest the whole time and Soap could feel every micro-movement.

He might have laughed about that more than the film itself, actually.

After the film, they slowly walked back to their flat. The night wasn’t too cold and it wasn’t far. Maybe a half-hour or so.

“No, but her face in that scene! Ye can’t tell me she honestly didn’t expect the guy to hear her!” Soap said, his voice getting a bit too loud at times as he animatedly talked about the film they had just seen.

“It was stupid,” Ghost agreed, voice much calmer.

“And that—what was his name? Right, Roy. That man. That man, I swear to god, Ghost. How could he just leave them like that? Can you believe it?”

“Roy’s a dickhead.”

“Steamin’ garbage of a man. He deserved what was coming for him.” Soap shook his head. “Na, I’m still not over it. Absolutely not. She was his friend, literally his childhood friend. They even went to uni together and he still left her? I get that other friend. Like okay, fine, Roy, knew that girl for like a week. But—”

Ghost pushed a hand against his chest, splaying his whole hand to put enough force behind it. It stopped Soap in his tracks, both literal and mental. Confused, he looked around. There was a sign on the street, a name of the coffee shop with the special deals for the day. It wasn’t even half a meter from him.

Soap had nearly walked right into it. And the cracked bone in his leg had just healed, too. He laughed lightly and patted the hand on his chest, thanking Ghost and then they were back on track, Soap carefully walking around the sign.

He returned to what he had been saying, with a little less zeal. He felt safe walking the street with Ghost near him. Even by himself it had never been an issue. But with how observant Ghost was of everything, Soap could just turn that off. He could be in his full civilian mode here. A little too loud, talking about a film he had fun watching with Ghost, a little uncoordinated because his life didn’t depend on it.

“Oh, and the music. That was an experience.”

“One word for it,” Ghost said lowly.

Soap laughed. “It brought out the horror for sure, didn’t it… You know, for such a B film, it was pretty good. The combination of the effects and the sound—”

Ghost had to push him out of the way again, this time with more strength. Soap had nearly stumbled back, but Ghost had an arm around his shoulders and steadied him. “Bloody hell, Johnny.”

Right. Soap watched the cyclist speed off now, but a second ago, he had been right in their way. He hadn’t heard them at all. Before he could say anything, Ghost let go of his shoulders. His hand slid down his arm and he took Soap’s hand in his and pulled so that Soap would keep walking again.

Soap had to jog a little to catch up to him. With a grin, he grabbed Ghost’s hand and pulled it inside his elbow, linking their arms. All that before Ghost could let go first.

Soap didn’t have to think about it. He had just grabbed Ghost’s hand and that was it. He resumed talking about the film and whatever else came to mind as they walked and Ghost kept their arms linked all the way until they got back to their flat.

He had learned something about Ghost recently. Soap could get away with a lot of small touches if the time was. When Ghost initiated in any way, that was the biggest green light. That meant that he wouldn’t mind if Soap touched back. And every time that happened, Soap took full advantage.

He didn’t think about what that meant. Ghost wanted his touch and Soap had a lot of it to offer. A touch that didn’t intend to harm—Soap could read it on Ghost. That man craved it but most often didn’t know how to ask for it.

And as Soap never made a big deal out of the touches—they weren’t a big deal to such a touchy person as Soap, but when he touched Ghost, it sent butterflies to his stomach. And since Soap never commented on it, never teased Ghost about this particular thing, Simon sought out the touch.

Not too often, not yet. But Soap loved every second of it.

Chapter Text

Their new couch was plenty big for both of them. A little too big for the living room in general but they didn’t really need that much space to walk around and they could walk around so it was all good.

So a new big couch, and yet, there was only about an inch between their thighs as they watched some cooking show on the tv. Soap didn’t know the hosts or even the program itself, but before Ghost could have booted up Netflix, the recipe they were making caught his attention and that was it.

Until the screen suddenly flashed black, the small lamp in the corner of the room went with it. Soap’s phone, charging next to the couch beeped as well and they found themselves in total darkness.

“Uh…” Soap said intelligently.

“The power’s out,” Ghost said, already moving from his seat on the couch. He swiftly lit a couple of the candles on the coffee table.

Soap laughed lightly, not too worried about their situation, even though it would be a shame they didn’t get the whole recipe. When the guy had gotten to the middle of the explanation, Soap had gotten pretty interested too. “Well, glad we have all these candles now.”

He saw Ghost rolling his eyes. Sure, the candles would provide light for now, but they were all scented and having five of them on would probably sooner lead to a headache for them both.

Ghost took one and moved to the window while Soap took the others and placed them around the living room in a couple strategic places to have enough light everywhere in the room.

“The other houses are dark, too,” Ghost said from where he stood, the curtain in one hand.

“’s probably the wind.” It had been awfully loud this evening. This was still the first time the power had cut out since they moved here. At least it wasn’t anything with their flat in particular.

Soap wanted to google it, but the wifi was out too, and well, they had electrical heating in this place. That was more of a problem especially with how cold it was already getting some nights.

With nothing better to do, Ghost went to search for different candles. Soap just laughed about how Ghost apparently had even more stashed somewhere. It was extremely endearing.

He didn’t focus much on that last thought—if anyone else heard him call Ghost of all people endearing, they would probably think he needed a mental eval.

Instead, he put his mind to work and opened the fridge, checking out what they had there and what needed to be eaten first. The electricity could be back any time, or it could take all night till it was fixed. It could easily be some issue with cables out there somewhere. And if there was an actual storm later, it might take even longer.

So he put together some dinner, Ghost joining him a few minutes later, putting up different candles. These were pretty ordinary and big, apparently Ghost was ready for a situation like this.

Soap knew there was at least one flashlight in the apartment, but he sort of liked the cozy mood the candles created. It made him feel a bit warmer in the increasingly cold apartment.

Soon, they were both in hoodies and thick socks. Soap never wore those so he swiped a pair from Ghost’s drawer. He was used to always running hot, but that wasn’t working for him right now.

Ghost was on the couch again later, it was still kind of early for them to go to sleep. Soap would probably easily do so, but Ghost already had enough troubles with his sleep.

And when Soap looked closer, Ghost was honest to god shivering out there, even with a fluffy blanket thrown over his shoulders. He seemed to be ignoring it for most part, his gaze transfixed on one of the candle flames.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he muttered and grabbed an even bigger and fluffier blanket from the closet in the hallway. This one had been a new addition to their flat, and very loved during their movie nights.

“Scoot over,” he told Ghost when he approached him and the couch.

Soap intentionally didn’t think about what he was doing and just did it. The couch was shaped like an L and Ghost was already sitting there with his legs spread out in front of him. Soap sat down right next to him and on his side, throwing the blanket over Ghost’s legs.

“What are you doing, Johnny?”

“What does it look like?” Soap said absentmindedly, his focus on getting the blanket over Ghost’s legs properly. He then slid down the couch a little and put his legs against Ghost’s, tangling them. He slipped an arm behind Ghost’s back and then pretty much laid on Ghost’s side. “We’re both cold,” he said as if it perfectly explained their current position.

And it did. They were just cold and so it made sense to huddle together for warmth. Ghost had gone through the same survival training, he knew the current best source of heat next to him was Soap.

Stiff and watching Soap intently, Ghost didn’t move for a couple seconds. Soap just about started to doubt that this was a good idea and wondered if Ghost would flip him and kick him out of the couch for good measure, but that didn’t come.

Ghost slowly relaxed into his hold. He put his own hand under the blanket and then pulled it across Soap’s back, slightly pushing him even closer into his side. All of Soap’s evaporated and he put his other hand over Ghost’s chest, idly playing with the strings of his hoodie that rested there.

And as hard as he tried not to think about it, he couldn’t stop. Not when Simon was so close, not when his own head rested on his broad shoulder, when he could feel the warmth of his hoodie and the body underneath.

This was the first time they were—well, cuddling, really. Or at least, the first time they had done so intentionally. There was a good reason for it. It was cold, that was all.

But it was so hard to cling to that when Soap was sure he felt Ghost’s balaclava brushing against the hair on top of his head.

Sometimes, they would brush against each other in their sleep, arms getting caught, or feet hitting shins, legs accidentally tangling in the sheets. But they were both used to sleeping on the field. Both light sleepers, both not moving much. Soap had never woken up in those arms, not accidentally.

So now, he couldn’t stop thinking about those arms around him, his own around the strong and warm body. So deadly and yet so soft and pliant under the blanket. Soap closed his eyes, biting at the inside of his cheek. This was getting ridiculous. He needed to seriously get over himself.

So he focused on the couch instead. It had been a bit of an investment but a really useful one. When one of them couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares—usually Ghost, but even Soap had his fair share—the other didn’t want to disrupt the other’s sleep. So they moved to the couch, distracted by the tv.

But the couch was also comfortable, and even better for cuddling and maybe the switch in topic in his brain didn’t actually work all that much. Soap was right back to thinking about Ghost.

When Ghost got annoyed with the way Soap was toying with the strings, he placed a hand on top of his, stilling him. And he just kept it there. Soap couldn’t pull his eyes from that hand and stared.

Simon’s earlier words rushed to his mind. ‘When have I said that.’

“Ye… don’t mind this?” Soap asked, not specifying.

Against his chest like this, Soap could feel the sudden intake of breath. He must have known what Soap was talking about, but he didn’t reply.

When the silence stretched, Soap added softly, “You don’t have any issues with personal touches?”

Ghost’s body went rigid, his hand over Soap’s twitched, but he didn’t pull away. “Sometimes. Most times. With most people,” he said. And Soap thought that was it, frowning a little because he was very much all over Ghost right now, but then Ghost spoke again, “But not with you.”

Oh.

Soap moved his head to look directly at Ghost. Their gazes met. “You like this,” Soap said, almost reverently in the dark. The flames of the candles were reflected in Ghost’s eyes, as mesmerizing as ever.

Simon was quiet. But not for long. “Yes,” he said. The word so simple yet so powerful. Not a joke. Simon meant it. Soap could feel as his breath stopped in an anxious anticipation. His hand over Soap’s had moved to grip him more tightly than before—Soap didn’t think that Ghost realized.

Soap turned his head to watch the hand on his. He flipped them and then twined their fingers together. He laid his head over Ghost’s chest again. His heart was racing.

“I like when you touch my hair,” Soap said, just as softly.

A truth for a truth.

Tentatively, Ghost reached out, his arm slipping from Soap’s back into his hair. Soap sighed as blunt nails scraped along the side of his head and he melted into the warmth when they didn’t stop.

.

“We could’ve just ordered it,” Ghost grumbled as they walked to the new waffle place that had opened up in the town center.

“I told you. The walk will do us good. And for my leg, remember?” Soap said, excited even when Ghost was complaining. He had wanted to go try the place out as soon as they got the flier in the post box.

“Yeah, the bloody leg. You’ve only said it six times.”

“I—”

“Today.”

Soap laughed and draped a hand over Ghost’s shoulder. Since Ghost was taller, it didn’t really work all that well, but Ghost allowed himself to be dragged down slightly. “Aw, did ye count, Ghost?”

He rolled his eyes. Soap just grinned further. For all his talk, Ghost had folded pretty fast. He always did when Soap really wanted something.

Soap wouldn’t have forced him to go outside with him if he sensed that Ghost was truly against the idea, but for all his complaints, Soap could read him pretty well and all of them were more light annoyance than anything serious as crossing boundaries.

They had compromised on ordering the food and taking it with them. They always prepared food faster when they knew you were waiting right there.

Ghost still had the balaclava on, as well as his hood. The hood wasn’t that odd in this cold weather and when Soap was next to him, grinning and laughing, most people didn’t really care about the balaclava and the skull print on it.

But sometimes, Ghost just wasn’t comfortable going outside without it, or even with it. Soap understood the safety risks. Ghost had lived further outside of town, and now, while in the suburbs, they were still pretty close to everything—even though technically the town was so small everyone was close to everything.

If Ghost went without the mask and ended up on some camera footage, it would be easy to identify him by his face. Especially if somebody managed to make the connection to Soap. Walking next to a man with a build like that constantly on cameras? It would be easy to connect the dots that the man with such a build was actually the military operative Ghost who also happened to have the same build and hang out with Soap.

So that mask stayed on.

“Ah was talking to Lora earlier th’day, that painter from 1A, ye know her. Her cousin is a firefighter a tae toun ower. Said a tree fell ‘n’ tore some cables those… Whit wis it? Three days ago noo?” Soap was saying, deep in his head as he recalled the encounter.

And as always, he didn’t pay attention to their surroundings out here. He had seen the familiar café a while back so they were pretty close to the town center now. And maybe, he hadn’t really paid attention to his volume, as unaware of it as he got sometimes. Others heard him talking too.

A couple loud laughs startled him out of his thoughts. His eyes immediately scanned the street. In a couple steps, they would pass a bar. There was a group of four guys hanging outside, clearly already tipsy even though it was only about 19:30.

“And?” Ghost prompted him, ignoring the drunkards as if they weren’t even there.

Soap frowned, but continued. “Aye, sae th’ power outage was because o’ that. They fixed it, but—”

“Oi, look at that, a Jock all the way here,” one of the drunk men called. The others laughed like it was the funniest shit they had heard all day.

Ghost’s stance went stiff, but Soap merely rolled his eyes.

The guy was close enough to see his reaction and didn’t seem to like it. He pushed off the wall, hurling more hateful comments at Soap. They were a bit hard to make out since the more agitated the man got, the more slurred his speech became.

“Steamin’ hell,” Soap muttered under his breath, tired, as the man was clearly approaching him. He didn’t seem to like being ignored, whatever the fuck he was trying to achieve here.

All four of them were big guys, more working class than some gym bros. They would be strong, he could tell, but Soap still didn’t feel threatened. Even if they could outdo him in sheer strength, he could handle them.

The guy said something again. Soap sighed and approached him, sidestepping Ghost. He put his hands up slightly, placating. “Look, there’s no—”

Then the guy went for it, his fist flying at Soap.

He saw it coming. He could have managed this whole situation.

Instead, Ghost stepped up, acted immediately and hit the guy in the face. Hard.

He was only acting in Soap’s defense, he could see that, even though Soap was ready to step to the side to avoid the drunk’s punch altogether. His aim had been pretty shit.

But Ghost, well… “Get lost,” Ghost pretty much growled at them.

The other drunks rushed to their friend, one grabbing him under the arm and checking on his bleeding nose. The rest seemed like they might try something, but then their attention finally slipped from Soap to Ghost and even Soap had to admit that compared to him, angry Ghost wasn’t someone you would like to fight. Ghost was still the tallest one here, legs apart in a ready stance, and of course, the skull mask. The drunks thought better of it.

They backed up, taking their groaning friend. Anyone on the street who had seen what was happening had promptly turned around. There were a couple faces in the window of the bar, though, watching with excitement.

Well, they weren’t getting a fight tonight.

Further down, and very much out of Ghost’s fists’ range, one of the drunks turned around and threw Soap a finger.

Before Soap could laugh at the sheer audacity, Ghost already had a throwing knife in one hand.

Soap took it from him and stashed it. “Don’t waste a perfectly good knife.”

“I’ll fucking waste that idiot’s life,” Ghost said darkly.

Soap fought the urge to roll his eyes. Simon could be really dramatic sometimes without even realizing it. Soap didn’t really mind, but, well. “It’s fine, Lt. Just some drunk assholes. I can handle them no worries.”

Ghost sagged a little, the move of his shoulders visible. Like he hadn’t realized who Soap really was in that moment and just acted on instinct. “They shouldn’t get away with saying shit like that to you.”

“You say it all the time.” And Soap joked about the Brits. It was what they did.

“That’s different,” Ghost snapped.

Soap paused, looking at him. “Aye… guess it is.” Soap didn’t actually hate the Brits, nor Ghost for being one. The teasing, the jokes—they were just that. Teasing and jokes.

He took Ghost’s hand, willing him to keep going. The drunks were now gone and he could still feel the stares of the people from the bar. He was also still very hungry and wanted his waffles.

Soap planned to drop his hand as soon as Ghost turned and started walking again, but Ghost intertwined their fingers and held on. Soap went red all over, his neck and face flushing. He didn’t look at Ghost.

A small smile appeared on his face and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Ghost had leapt to his defense. He had done so many times at work, sure, but this was a little different. Very unnecessary. With no real danger.

It still warmed him inside.

Chapter Text

Sitting on the couch, Soap idly paged through the book he had gotten from the library earlier. Something about the history of this town and the region. It was pretty interesting, but some sections got too long for his current attention span so he skipped as he pleased.

When he turned to the next page, a small piece of paper fell out. Brows rising, he picked it up from where it had fallen on his lap and inspected it. It was folded in half but the ink was visibly already.

Soap opened it and read through it, eyes sparkling in excitement. “Ghost!” he called out to the man. “Come check this out,” he added.

“Wait a second,” Ghost called back from somewhere in the flat.

As he waited, Soap took a better look at the pages between which the note had been stuck. There were several pictures of a small park in the middle of the town. A couple lines that said more about the history and the origin. There was a picture of a bench and next to it a note about how some famous romance novelist used to sit there and get inspiration for some books.

Soap’s mind had gotten lost in the inspection of what was special about these particular pages, when he felt pressure against the back of the couch as Ghost put his hand on the back for support. It brushed Soap’s shoulder and stayed there, lightly touching. His other hand ended up near Soap’s thigh as Ghost leaned down to take a look at the open pages of the book.

Without another second to spare, Soap immediately started talking. “Here, look. A bit hard to read, but the note says to meet at the usual time. I guess at this park? And the note doesn’t look old, couldn’t have been in there for more than a few days. Do you th—”

Soap turned to look at him. The words died on his tongue. Simon stood there, leaning over him, no mask. His hair was dark from the water, pale eyelashes glistening. He had been in the shower. Right. Soap had completely forgotten.

He was so close.

“Is that my bathrobe?” Soap said instead of the things that were running through his mind. Inappropriate things he had no right saying to Ghost right now.

Soap watched, absolutely fascinated, as Ghost glanced down at himself. It was a fluffy white thing, and the sides barely held together with the belt. Ghost’s naked chest was right there in front of his face. Soap gulped.

“You’ll stretch it,” Soap accused, glad that his mouth was behaving for once.

“It’s fine. Calm down,” Simon said, voice low and slow and so unbothered. Soap almost felt a little foolish for thinking… well, anything.

And yet, when their eyes met, Soap’s heart stopped beating. So close. So fucking close. He wanted… but he couldn’t.

“Keep going,” Ghost said.

“Wha…” Soap couldn’t focus with those eyes on him.

“The note.”

He broke out of his stupor. “Aye. The note. Um, where was I… I think it’s connected to this park. Has to be.”

As he kept talking, Soap risked one last glance at Ghost and saw a faint red dusting his cheeks. He was flushed from the shower. That must have been it.

.

They were both skilled soldiers, and yet.

Soap wasn’t paying too much attention to where he was going, mind already on something. He didn’t see Ghost leaving the kitchen area before it was too late.

Ghost was carrying his evening tea and Soap just had to run right into him. The scalding hot tea poured down his shirt. And goddammit it was hot. Soap hissed in pain.

Ghost acted instantly. He dropped the cup off to the side, not caring one bit as it hit the ground. Soap couldn’t focus enough to tell if it shattered or not.

“Get it off,” Ghost yelled out, his commanding voice from the field coming through. His full attention was solely on Soap.

But Soap was still reeling from the whole thing and it burned.

So Ghost did it for him. He ripped the front of his shirt, buttons flying everywhere. Soap didn’t care. The burning sensation was finally gone as the soaked fabric was finally off his chest and his skin.

Soap sighed in relief. His forehead fell against Ghost’s own chest. He took a couple deep breaths, grounding himself. It still hurt, but less. Ghost wordlessly helped him out of the sleeves and got the remaining shirt off of him. Soap shivered as the slightly colder air of the room hit his bare skin.

Ghost rubbed his arms to warm him up. “Are you okay, Johnny?”

He nodded against Ghost’s chest. Well, he wasn’t fine, but he was slightly better than thirty seconds ago and this was hardly the worst injury he had sustained. Not even in comparison to his whole life, just the past few months. With a bit more clarity, he let go and backed up. “Damn. What a mess.”

“Get yourself sorted. I’ve got it,” Ghost told him.

“Aye.” Soap nodded again. “Sorry about yer tea.” He cringed slightly when he saw the cup on the floor in two big pieces. And this one in particular… it was one of Ghost’s favorites.

Nothing he could do about it now.

Soap stepped over the cup and the puddle on the floor and went to their bathroom. He needed to get some cold water on his tender skin, but he would be fine.

The initial shock was nearly gone and Ghost had acted fast.

A few minutes later, Ghost came to the bathroom to check on him. Soap hadn’t bothered closing the door. He was about done anyway. It hadn’t been the easiest thing. He had to lean over the sink, cupped the cold water in his hands and poured it over his chest. Couldn’t he have burned his hand or something?

His sweatpants were absolutely gone for, but the heat was finally gone. The pain was a bit different now. He had started drying his torso just as Ghost got there.

Ghost entered the bathroom fully and grabbed Soap by the hip. He turned him around so that they would be face to face. But then Ghost just had to get down on one knee and Soap pretty much stopped breathing from then on.

And Ghost must have noticed that, but he ignored it, his attention on Soap’s chest. He had kept that hand on his hip and put his other one lightly on his chest, below his stomach, where he wasn’t hurt. Ghost inspected the now slightly pink skin.

“Breathe,” Ghost reminded him, brows furrowing as if his lack of breathing was in any way connected to his injury.

Soap let out a shaky breath. Ghost didn’t have the balaclava on. He had been getting ready to drink his tea. And now. Now his gorgeous face was centimeters from his naked chest and he was reminding Soap to fucking breathe.

So Soap just watched as those intense eyes roamed his skin, as those big hands burned against his skin more than the actual injury. It didn’t even hurt anymore. His pain tolerance was pretty high, but he had Simon in front of him and his mind simply couldn’t focus on two things at once.

Ghost’s hand was resting so close to his scar—the one that was more or less a result of Ghost’s own stitching. Back at his place. It felt like ages ago. Just as Soap thought about it, Ghost’s hand moved over there. It slid across his skin, skimming the new scar tissue. “It healed well.”

Soap didn’t have any words at all. He let out some kind of a sound, maybe agreement, he didn’t really know.

He needed to leave this bathroom and put some clothes on. He didn’t even care that he should put some burn cream over his chest, just to be sure. Soap needed to create some distance before he did something colossally stupid.

Like kissing the stupidly massive Brit.

Chapter Text

Gaz smiled to himself. They had been back on base for three days now and it was extremely obvious—Ghost and Soap had finally figured it out. They must have. Not even his parents acted as married as them, and they were actually married. Gaz had once had a lunch with Laswell, her wife and Price and still Ghost and Soap outdid the actually married duo.

He hadn’t been sure if Soap had listened to the encouragements he had told him a while back, but something must have stuck with him. Or happened out there in the weeks prior.

Gaz knew about the explosion at their location. He had also been part of the squad that had gone after the Russians with Ghost. Gaz had never seen something so bloody and efficient.

That had meant something, he knew.

And after that, with Soap in recovery, he had heard from the man himself about how they got a flat together. Gaz hadn’t questioned it, thought it made sense after the last operation against the Russians.

Gaz smiled, happy for his friends.

.

Soap couldn’t really go into the field yet but he was in a good enough form to be called back on base. He could start with training, getting his skills back after the long recovery.

It had been three days now on the base. Gaz kept throwing him these weird smiles all the time. And if that wasn’t odd enough, Price came out of his office and called Soap and Ghost in for a short meeting.

Just them.

“Do ye know what this’s about?” Soap asked Ghost as they walked to the office together. Ghost had waited for him near the entrance to the hall so that they could go together.

He could tell that Ghost was frowning under the mask. “No.”

It didn’t ease Soap’s slight nerves, the lack of knowledge was making him antsy, but at least Ghost was here with him. Just the two of them called like this, it made him wonder if they had missed something with the Russians back then.

Whatever it was, they would learn soon enough, no need to worry excessively. They would deal with it like with everything.

Soap knocked on the door of the office and was already grabbing the door knob when Price called for them to enter. Ghost silently followed him. They ended up standing in front of the desk where Price was seated.

He didn’t seem to like that.

“Sit down, boys,” he said, but he himself stood up, arms crossed and a pinched expression on his face. His hands twitched, probably for one of his cigars.

Soap and Ghost exchanged a quick look. Ghost was just as confused but willing to do as Price wanted. They sat down. Soap tried not to dwell on being called ‘boys’ and not by their ranks. It confused him further. Surely anything to do with the Russians would be official military business.

Price paced behind his table, nearly hitting his chair once. He was trying to find the right words. Soap’s leg bounced and he was about to ask what the fuck was going on, when Ghost put a hand to his knee, calming him. The bouncing stopped. For now.

Price sighed and put his hands on the back of his chair. “I need to know if this is going to be an issue out there.” Soap and Ghost stared at him, not comprehending, so he elaborated, “I need you to have full focus.”

“We always do?” Soap said, uncertain.

“I know you do, but this is a new situation. I don— I need to be sure.”

Soap glanced at Ghost again. Then at Price when Ghost didn’t offer anything. “I don’t get it, sir.”

“In the field, we all know injuries can happen. Or worse. And I need you to be out there with your heads clear. No slip ups. No emotions in the way,” Price said slowly.

“Aye, of course. We know that,” Soap said. He didn’t even have to think about it.

Price frowned as if they weren’t getting the true meaning, and Soap supposed they were not. All this was just common practice and they both had years of experience in the field.

“Christ’s sake,” Price snapped, his patience running out. “I mean you two dating!”

Soap was pretty sure his jaw was on the floor. Ghost was equally speechless. Out of the corner of his eyes, Soap saw him lean back in shock.

“We are not?” Soap said, but it came out as a question. Which probably wasn’t helping their case, but he was too stunned by Price’s words.

They weren’t dating, that was the truth. No matter how much Soap would like something like that. Ghost was his best friend, and that was what he was to the man too. There was no sense in telling him about his deeper feelings. Not when it could affect the easy cooperation they had going on in the field. Not to mention how awkward it would be since they shared a flat. And their bed.

Ghost would probably kick him out and to the couch, if he didn’t immediately pack his things to leave.

“Oh,” Price said, looking just as stunned. When nobody said anything else, he added, “alright then, meeting over. Dismissed, soldiers.”

Soap didn’t run out of there, but it was a close thing. Ghost was right behind him.

Out in the hallway, Soap didn’t meet his eyes, but he could feel it, Ghost’s gaze boring into the back of his head. Soap resisted the urge to turn or rub at his neck. “So, that, uh—” Soap said, but the words failed him so he just laughed. A very tense and awkward laugh.

“There’s something I… need to do,” Ghost said and for once Soap hated that he couldn’t tell what that tone meant.

He nodded, only glancing at Ghost for a second as the man passed by him, hurrying down the corridor. “Right, okay, Lt., I’ll see ye later.”

“Yeah,” Ghost said, and then he turned the corridor and he was out of Soap’s sight.

Soap stopped and let out a tired sigh. The hallway was empty. He leaned on the wall with his back, just staying there and breathing for a minute. What the fuck had all that been about?

Ghost would now… Soap shook his head. Price said it, not Soap. Soap could always say it was stupid, claim Price must have heard some stupid rumor, or blame it on the others pulling a prank. Anything but the truth. He couldn’t imagine his life without Ghost there, close to him. But if he knew…

Soap hadn’t blamed it on some prank or a rumor. He had hesitated when they had left the office. Of course he had. Of course he had when he really wanted to tell Price that yes, he was right.

Something like that, Soap’s utterly weak response, Ghost would have noticed that.

Even before dinner, Soap knew he had been right. Ghost had figured him out and was now avoiding him. He was probably uncomfortable around him and couldn’t be near him for however long now.

It felt shitty. It fucking hurt. And Soap should count his losses and move on, but goddamn he couldn’t do that. He needed to find Ghost and explain everything. He needed to tell him how this happened, how they got here. If just for himself, to get some closure. Surely Ghost considered him a friend enough that he wouldn’t begrudge him as much.

As it turned out, finding Ghost when he was avoiding him wasn’t exactly the easiest. Soap had searched the whole base twice and nothing. It had been going for two hours. Frustrated, he stopped Gaz in the kitchen. “Where’s Ghost?” he asked him without a preamble.

Gaz turned to him, brows rising. “I saw him half an hour ago, by the— what did you do, Soap? He was weird.”

“Weird?” Soap’s shoulders sagged, all the frustration from before forgotten.

Gaz shrugged briefly. “Weirder than usual.”

Soap threw a kitchen towel at him. “Ghost’s not weird.”

“I didn’t say it’s bad, but he kinda is. So, what did you do?”

“I—” Soap took a deep breath. “Nothing, it’s… we’ve got shit to talk about. Where did you say you saw him?”

Gaz took in his tone, his expression, then nodded to himself. “Outside, near Price’s special parking spot. You know which one.”

Soap nodded. He knew. Everybody knew. Only Price thought nobody knew and that he was super smart for getting that spot. They all left it to him.

He quickly thanked Gaz and hurried outside. At least it wasn’t raining for once. He found Ghost a bit further from the parking spot. There was a passage between two buildings that nobody really frequented. A car couldn’t pass there. It was more an architectural error and a waste of good space.

But it was a pretty good spot if you wanted to hide out somewhere. There was a little nook where a window was supposed to be, but somebody had decided not to put one there. It was like a bench in the wall, a little higher up but nothing for a guy like Ghost.

Ghost was up there, Soap could see his boot hanging out. The closer he got, the clearer it became that Ghost was sharpening his knives. Soap gulped but kept going. He didn’t think Ghost would do anything to him no matter how angry he made the guy. Well, he wouldn’t put it past a punch, maybe, but no permanent damage. Nothing serious.

He put his hands in his pockets, steeled himself and approached Ghost. “Hey,” he said and stopped next to the nook.

Ghost didn’t stop what he was doing. He must have already known somebody was approaching.

Well, Soap had already gotten this far. His eyes ended up somewhere behind Ghost’s shoulder. “Look, Ghost, thir's a bit o' a misunderstanding 'ere. Or, weel, nae a misunderstanding, tis mair... Ah think ye awready ken, a'm juist—”

“MacTavish.”

Ghost didn’t bark the name, didn’t say it all offended, but it still made Soap flinch. Ghost’s hands with the knife stilled. It had been a while since he had called Soap that, and in that way. Well, it was probably better than if he had called him ‘sergeant’.

Soap didn’t immediately continue speaking, a little thrown. A little hurt too, but he had no right feeling that right now.

Ghost put away the knife and turned to watch him. “English, Johnny,” he said, voice getting softer.

Soap breathed in the fresh evening air. “About what Price said earlier, I—”

“I thought we were,” Ghost said, interrupting him.

Soap’s gaze snapped to him, but Ghost avoided his eyes. “What?”

“I sorta thought we were already dating.”

Soap stared at him. “But— You— You don’t feel like that about me,” he said lamely.

Ghost turned to him, took in his truly shocked expression, all that disbelief. He hopped down from the window nook and landed right in front of Soap. Soap took a tiny step back. They were way too close.

“When have I said that?” Ghost said, voice quiet but charged with something. He stepped forward to bring them closer. “I like you.”

When Soap took another step back, Ghost didn’t follow. “As a friend, right?”

“No, Johnny.”

Soap hadn’t thought that Ghost could feel the same way, he couldn’t even entertain that idea, fearing his own disappointment, but what Ghost was saying right now. Maybe…

Soap took a step forward, bringing them nearly chest to chest. Ghost watched him, head bent low to maintain eye-contact. Ghost’s hands immediately rose to rest on Soap’s hips, as if he had been waiting for the other man to get closer on his own.

Soap put his hands around his neck, fingers skimming the edge of the mask. “Johnny,” Ghost whispered the name. But this close, Soap couldn’t not hear. It sounded like a plea.

He slipped his fingers under the edge, slowly dragging it up. Ghost could stop him at any time if he wished to. The moments passed so agonizingly slowly as he pulled it up and up, their eyes never leaving each other. Soap pulled it over his nose and stopped there.

Yes, he had seen Ghost’s face before, but this, this was an undiscovered world for the both of them. Soap didn’t want to presume Ghost would be comfortable with everything he wanted to do. And Soap couldn’t mess this up.

Ghost’s eyes flitted from his right eye, to his left, then down to his mouth and fixated on his lips. Soap reflexively licked them. Ghost’s hands moved from his hips to the small of his back as he pressed him into his body. At the same time, Ghost lowered his head and Soap angled his slightly back. Their lips met.

The first touch was tentative, lips on lips, but they had been waiting so long for this. Soap couldn’t even count how many weeks ago the idea first occurred to him. And here it finally was. He was kissing Ghost.

When Ghost turned his head slightly to the side, Soap opened his mouth and Ghost immediately pulled him even closer, licking his lower lip, taking it in between his. Soap made a sound he hadn’t heard from himself in a very long time.

It broke something in Ghost. The man groaned, pulled a bit tighter at his lower lip. And fuck, if Soap didn’t absolutely love that.

Then, Simon took one hand off Soap, to which the man barely resisted a whine. He tore the mask off himself and quickly stashed it in his back pocket. Soap immediately put his hands in Simon’s hair as they continued to make out. The intensity of it rose and rose, until Soap couldn’t breathe.

They parted, but neither went too far. “Simon,” he panted, gasping for air and pushing his nose against his neck.

Ghost too needed the air just as much, leaning his chin against the side of Soap’s head.

It didn’t take Soap long to recover, he was already in the best position, Ghost’s neck so inviting. So he grasped his shoulder for support, raised himself up and started peppering kisses all over that neck, he licked Simon under his jaw, made the man shudder in his arms. He worked his way up to his lips again and then they were kissing again, the whole world lost to them. Soap couldn’t focus on anything else.

Just Simon. Simon. Simon.

A hand slipped under his shirt. Simon still had gloves on. The coarse fabric ran up his spine, making Soap shiver in pleasure. He grinded against Simon’s thigh, already half hard. He could feel Simon, his body reacting very much the same.

Simon moaned, the sound swallowed in Soap’s mouth. This was getting dangerous. They were still outside, on base, Soap had to—he gripped Simon’s hair tighter, pulled him away. Simon went, pliant under his hands. He was breathing hard, hair mussed, lips red and his whole pale face now flushed. His eyes were dazed for just a moment, before snapping into focus and roaming all over Soap’s face. He must have looked just as disheveled.

Soap pulled him in for one last peck, the touch of their lips lingering. “We can’t do this here,” he said, as much as it pained him to admit. He wanted to do so much more.

“No,” Ghost agreed.

Neither moved at all. Then, Ghost bowed his head and let it rest on Soap’s shoulder. He let his hands drop from where they were still under his shirt and settled on the edge of his jeans. Ghost breathed him in as he took deep breaths, calming himself down.

It sort of helped Soap calm too. They both needed a minute. He still kept his hands around Ghost’s neck. The calmer he was, the more the realization of where they were right now dawned on him. His hands moved back to Simon’s hair, but not to pull. Soap tried to brush his fingers through them, gentle so that he wouldn’t pull at any knots. He combed them back down some.

Ghost squeezed him, grateful for the effort but not really having any words right now. Soap wouldn’t be surprised if the man was a little overwhelmed. That was a whole lot of touching.

He thought back to their own flat. They would be off duty soon. This trip back to the base wasn’t much of official business. They weren’t getting deployed again. It was more for training, health checks, administrative stuff.

Two more weeks and they would be home. In their own place. Just Ghost and Soap. Just their one bed.

Soap blushed even more, his dick twitching in his pants. He immediately purged the image from his mind. He couldn’t be thinking about Simon and that bed right now. He was trying to calm down after all.

Knowing Ghost reciprocated his feelings brought a wide grin to his face. He almost kissed the man again. Somehow, he had let his passion override his mind back there, but what Ghost had said… Soap couldn’t stop grinning.

Chapter Text

The van rocked them, the bench as uncomfortable as always. They had been on the plane for an ungodly amount of time, then met with Alejandro and his unit for the debrief. Now they were moving again and Ghost had fallen asleep.

Soap would have been dead to the world too if he hadn’t managed to sleep through most of the flight. As soon as Ghost had put his hand to his hair and started carding his fingers through his mohawk, Soap had been lost to the world.

Ghost’s head leaned on Soap’s shoulder. He had slid down in his seat a tiny bit, just enough to make that position comfortable for him and his neck, but it was clear that he was asleep, his eyes closed under the skull mask. He had his arms crossed over his chest, legs spread apart. Even in sleep, he could still be a little intimidating.

Soap supposed that was the reason why Alejandro and Rudy had stayed silent for as long as they have about the whole thing.

Ghost didn’t do this. Usually it was the other way around, with Soap the one that fell asleep and subconsciously used Ghost as his pillow—even before they had started dating. Now, after all those months since their fucked up operation with the Russians, Simon trusted him to keep him safe, going as far as to sleep in front of others.

Well, only if those others were Alejandro and Rudy and other members of the task force. People they both considered trustworthy.

It had been ten minutes since Ghost had fallen asleep, since his head had bent to the side. Now, he moved a little in his sleep as the whole car got jostled and he pressed even closer to Soap.

Rudy stared, mouth opening. No words came out.

Well, Soap was going to use this. He smirked and turned his head slightly. He kissed the top of Ghost’s mask.

Alejandro muttered some curses in Spanish that were too fast for Soap to catch.

Then, Soap realized something. He and Ghost had been acting like they had been dating for a long time and so once they officially started, they may have forgotten to update their foreign friends.

Soap could barely suppress his grin. Oh, he was going to have so much fun with this. He had no doubt that Ghost would be on board too. The man would never say it out loud but he enjoyed Soap’s chaos here and then.

They had a whole covert operation in front of them. He wondered how far he could push it before Rudy and Alejandro figured it out.

Or maybe if he didn’t tell Ghost, it would be more authentic, but then Ghost might misspeak and reveal it to them. His acting was kind of shit, though, so Soap would just tell him not to tell them yet and simply act the way they always did.

.

“You’ve got my back?” Ghost muttered into his comm as he walked through the compound under the cover of the dark, his weapon ready in his hands. He, Alenjandro, Rudy and Price had gone in, while Gaz stayed behind guarding their exit strategy and Soap was up on the tallest building with a sniper rifle, making sure there would be no surprise attacks.

But when the local guards had been alerted to their presence, they had abandoned all strategy and focused on outnumbering them. Ghost had gotten separated from the rest. It was an easy decision to focus his scope on Ghost. Not because of his feelings—the decision was made with logic. The rest of the guys could handle themselves.

They didn’t leave each other alone. “Always, Lt.,” Soap said, grinning and watching Ghost’s surroundings.

.

Soap couldn’t get a clear shot. Ghost was engaging in hand-to-hand combat with one of the hostiles. He had lost his grip on his weapon and had to improvise but the hostile was a good match to his skills.

“Three more incoming,” Soap said into the comm.

“Yeah, I can hear them, love. I’m kinda busy. Take care of them,” he growled as he landed a fist to the man’s nose, blood spurting everywhere as it broke.

Before Soap had the chance to do anything about it, the scope already moving, Alejandro and Rudy came running from the other direction.

“Thought you called him Johnny,” Alejandro said, clearly a little out of breath. Soap saw him pull a guy against his knee before throwing him to the side for Rudy to quickly handle, their cooperation seamless.

Soap shot the next guy in the line and Price the last one as he finally joined them too. Ghost quickly took care of the hostile in front of him with one of his knives.

“You don’t want to know the shit they call each other. Fucking unbearable,” Price said, loud enough for the comm to pick it up too. Soap rolled his eyes, a grin still on his face, but he quickly returned to watching their surroundings.

Ghost wiped his knife on the other soldier’s trousers and stood up, sheathing it. Price then called for a report. Ghost went first, then Soap added a couple things he had seen from up here. Gaz said everything was clear on his end.

According to the intel, they had pretty much cleared the compound. Price sent Ghost ahead back inside to get the information they came there for. He was going to follow him but before that, he wanted Rudy and Soap to go check out the line of lackluster buildings at the end of the property.

Alejandro didn’t really like that order too much and insisted on going with them as well. Price allowed it, not minding that. He had thought Alejandro would want to see what they were bound to find inside, for the sake of his own government, but Alejandro had his trust in Ghost and only laughed at that.

Soap didn’t question the orders. He would have liked to stay up here to watch everything, make sure there would be no unexpected surprises—he didn’t like letting his guard down in the field even when it looked like the danger was gone now. But this building had been cleared so Ghost and Price would be fine.

He let them know through the comm channel to go ahead and that he would join them in a minute. He had to get down from here first.

“Don’t take too long,” Alejandro replied. “You might miss all the fun.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Ghost sighed on the comms.

Soap laughed as he scaled the old ladder on the side of the building. He was already having fun, he just hadn’t told anybody.

He jogged toward the buildings on the other side of the property. Alejandro and Rudy had already cleared the first two. It wasn’t really worth calling them buildings, more like some sheds, a garage and the like. They would see soon enough what the insides held.

Turned out, pretty much nothing. An impressive stash of weapons, but that was it. The three of them headed for the main building,

“Stay out here,” Alejandro said, motioning next to the main entrance. Soap nodded and did as told, staying on the look-out.

Gaz’s voice crackled through the comms. “A car is approaching. Four to six hostiles. They’re coming from the north entrance.”

So behind the line of buildings they had just checked. “Armed?” Soap asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, seemed like the same stuff as the rest of them. I didn’t get the best look, though.”

“Stay on comms. Soap, get back up there,” Price ordered.

“How’s the intel gathering going?” Soap asked as he hurried to the tallest building and up that ladder. His sniper rifle had been left there so at least that saved him some time. He was sure he could take down at least a half of them by the time they spotted his location and returned fire.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Ghost replied.

“Alright, cupcake,” Soap said automatically, still very much intent on fucking with Alejandro and Rudy. He did call Ghost various pet names whenever he felt like it, more to tease him and see his reaction, but this time that wasn’t his goal.

“For fuck’s sake, Johnny,” Ghost mumbled.

He snickered, hefting himself up on the roof and laying down next to his rifle. Alejandro and Rudy were silent on the comms, didn’t mean there was no reaction. Oh, well. He would just have to see later.

He watched as the car approached but instead of going further, they parked all the way back there. Soap would have to wait for them to get closer. It wasn’t ideal. They would be on guard, and he doubted they would be stupid enough to run in one close group. There wasn’t much for a cover, but they wouldn’t risk giving him too many openings.

Not that they necessarily knew he was up there. But they could know from the previous batch of soldiers that had been at the compound. If backup had made it there, somebody had called them. That somebody could have easily reported a sniper and his exact location.

Soap cursed under his breath, the lack of time meant he had no chance to relocate now. A couple inches would do jack shit.

He kept his eye on the hostiles, waiting for a right moment. Alejandro announced over the comms that they were done inside. Soap raised his head above the rifle and surveyed everything underneath.

“There are five of them. One by the car near the north exit. Two approaching the main entrance to where you are. The last three are heading for the back to block your only other exit.”

“I saw a window by the south wall,” Rudy spoke up. “We can create our own exit there.”

“Close to the gate, sí,” Alejandro said. They had sneaked inside through the main gate on the south. It was the closest route to their getaway van where Gaz was waiting for them and keeping watch.

“You two get to the car,” Price spoke. Soap wasn’t sure who that was referring to, but it wasn’t like he needed to know. “I’ll surprise the two heading from the front. Soap, do you have visual on the other three?”

“Aye. They’re approaching cautiously. I can still get them. Two of them at least.”

“Copy. Ghost, get the rest. Then we wait for the driver. If he engages, Soap, distract him while Ghost finishes him.”

They all called their affirmatives and then got ready to enact the impromptu plan. Soap was confident they could easily pull this off. There had been more than five hostiles before and they had taken care of them with minimal injuries.

Soap didn’t pay attention to Alejandro and Rudy as they made their way out of there, most likely with the intel they needed. He didn’t hear the window breaking so it must have been easily opened. They also would go through the gate directly since they would have been visible. The hostiles had night vision goggles too.

They would be fine. Soap had to focus on his part of the plan. He saw the two approaching men, but they hadn’t spotted him. He was still good. Price must have prepared some kind of a trap inside for them. It would probably get loud soon. They were only a couple steps away from the door.

He had to time it right. The three guys heading for the back of the building would be soon out of his view, but he didn’t want to startle the two that Price would face.

Still, he didn’t want Ghost facing three of them alone. The man must have already had a plan of his own for such a situation. Some kind of contingency if he couldn’t improvise it—which he could—but it didn’t sit well with Soap. Not when he was still able to help him out.

He kept the scope on those three and counted the seconds in his head. Price would be able to handle himself. He had more cover inside. Ghost wouldn’t have that. He aimed. Just a few more seconds left before they would round the corner and disappear from his range.

Soap held his breath and fired. Then immediately fired again. And the third time. His first shot hit the mark. “One hostile down,” he said into the comm, not daring to shout it out on instinct. “One injured.” The second shot had hit, but wasn’t lethal. The third shot missed the mark. They scrambled to hide from him. Soap couldn’t do more for Ghost.

He could, however, do something for Price.

Quickly, he angled the rifle toward the main entrance to the building opposite him. He could see the moment these two heard of the commotion through their own comm channel. They must have figured out Soap’s general location. Must have figured that he was there, above them, so, so close. Because next, they ran for the door.

Soap hit the second one in the back several times before the man could follow his colleague inside. “A hostile down,” Soap reported.

Right after, the sound of shots fired reverberated through the grounds. Coming from the inside. Three shots in quick succession and then Price spoke on the comms, “Another hostile down.”

Soap refocused on the car, watching for now. “Ghost, how copy?” he said into the comms. The next part of the plan, if they were still sticking to it—and he had no intention of doubting they were—was to wait for Ghost so he could distract the driver.

No immediate answer. The driver had gotten out of the car and ran to hide behind it. Soap could try shooting him, but he was too far and the further the guy was, the less accurate Soap’s hits would be. With the slightly windy weather out here, he would just uselessly reveal his exact position to the enemy.

The driver was getting frantic, not quite fully covered behind the car. He was yelling into his comm, probably getting desperate with no replies. Soap refused to empathize. His insides twisted as there was still no reply from Ghost.

“Ghost, h—”

“Two hostiles down,” Ghost said, panting slightly.

Soap’s shoulders sagged in relief, tension leaving his body. They weren’t down yet, but there was only one guy left and Ghost sounded tired, but not necessarily injured.

“You alright, Lt.?” he asked. Ghost had a tendency to hide his injuries so not sounding injured didn’t mean he wasn’t.

“Fine.”

Soap asked for Ghost’s location next. So far, the driver didn’t seem like he was planning on getting closer and Ghost couldn’t get to him without running in the open. As the last one alive, the driver didn’t seem too eager to go in.

Price then asked all of them to report their current status. Gaz was still in the car and Alejandro and Rudy confirmed they had gotten there without issues too.

“I’ll clear out the rest inside,” Price said. “Ghost, Soap, watch the last guy.”

“Aye, sir,” Soap said, but then, Ghost started speaking, disrupting their easy plan.

“Get back, sir. You too, Soap. The driver will be gone soon. They made contact with someone outside. An airstrike is coming, a drone,” Ghost said.

Price swore. Soap shared the sentiment. “They don’t want us getting that intel.”

“Too late,” Soap said.

“You heard him, Sergeant. Head to others, right now. Ghost, you too. The driver isn’t important,” Price said, most likely on his own way back.

“We left rope on the fence, three meters from the south gate,” Alejandro told them. The fence was more like a thick wall of bricks, but that would do. At least for Price and Ghost.

“I’ll make a run for it,” Soap said. “The gate’s still open.” They hadn’t bothered locking it after them before. “Ah doubt the driver’s gonna spot me.”

“Wait for me—”

“No, Ghost. You get out of here and join the others. This is faster, and we don’t know when the drone will get here,” Soap quickly said. He abandoned the rifle. Not that leaving evidence of being there mattered. Not when they were ready to bomb their whole compound.

They were terrorists. Who would they go to with their grievances anyway.

“Fucking hell, Johnny, you can’t get down without exposing your back to the driver.”

“I’ll be quick,” Soap said, already one foot on the first step of the ladder.

Ghost cursed but Soap didn’t listen to it. He cringed as he heard shots. But nothing hit him. Nor the wall next to him. And it wasn’t coming from the car. This time, Soap swore up a storm as he rushed down the ladder.

Price was yelling something into the comm too, but blood was rushing in Soap’s ears and all he could concentrate on was going faster. And faster. Ghost was distracting the driver for him, just in case. Soap had to use that to his advantage. He still had the night vision on, as he ran to the other building, near the wall. It wouldn’t give him much cover, but it was better than running on the open yard.

He sprinted toward the gate. Just a couple steps. He barreled through it, shoulder ramming into the tall metal thing. The mechanism snapped under his momentum, the gate flying open with a loud crash. Quickly, Soap banked left, behind the cover of the brick fence.

“I’m out, Ghost, get the fuck out of there,” he yelled into the comm, not caring about the volume one bit.

Rudy startled at the sound, quickly muttering something in Spanish. Soap only caught something about ‘loud’.

“He’ll be fine, get to the car, Soap!” Price yelled into the comm too, equally agitated with the whole situation. This wasn’t going how it was supposed to.

Soap’s heart was beating wildly in his chest and he ignored the pulsing pain in his shoulder. He ran toward the car to meet the rest. Price was already waiting at the back of the van and grabbed Soap’s elbow to drag him inside. But it was the arm he had used like a battering ram. His vision whited out for a couple seconds and Soap screamed, but then he saw again. He was on his back on the floor of the car, Alejandro kneeling at his side, mouth moving.

He looked up where Price was, also yelling something. But he was also holding his radio and not looking at them.

“Ghost…” Soap mumbled, letting Alejandro pull him up to a seating position. Soap was fine. His arm hurt like a bitch, but it was bearable when nobody was touching it.

His hearing snapped into focus. “—meet you at the rendezvous point.”

“Copy that, Lieutenant. You better not be late,” Price said.

Ghost copied and then the comm channel went silent.

“What?” Soap asked, frowning and immediately alert when he saw Price pulling the van door shut. Soap rose to his feet, lightly slapping away Rudy’s approaching hand. “What about Ghost?”

Price gave him a tired look, a bit of a withering glare sneaking in as he sat down on the bench. “Sit down, soldier. Ghost’s fine. He stole their car and will meet us later. It was faster than getting back here.”

Soap relaxed and let Rudy and Alejandro manhandle him into a seat. Simon was fine. Of course he was. Soap let his head rest on the cool window behind him. Yeah, stealing the other car when Ghost had already been close to it made sense.

It was a good plan. Ghost was really fucking good at this. Soap knew that. He shouldn’t have worried. And Ghost shouldn’t have abandoned his post to provide cover for Soap. And yet.

But they were both fine. Would be together again in a few minutes. And would probably get a bit of a lecture from Price again, but that was fine too.

As Gaz hit the gas pedal and they drove off, the adrenalin started to fade and Soap cringed, feeling everything all of a sudden. “I think I dislocated my shoulder,” he announced into the silence.

Price just sighed.

“We could pop it in,” Alejandro offered.

“No, leave it to the medic,” Price said. “And give him some space. Don’t jostle it, you should be fine till we get back.”

A professional doing the popping wouldn’t come with a risk of fucking up his shoulder and the nerves and tendons and whatever. Soap closed his eyes and nodded lightly. “Tell that to Gaz.”

“Sorry, man. Blame the road, not me,” Gaz called out, hearing him.

“Blamin’ ye. You’re the one behind the wheel.”

They made it to the rendezvous point first. Laswell was waiting for them at the small camp they had set up there. She directed Soap to the medic. Rudy went with him. When Alejandro didn’t immediately follow, Rudy turned back and dragged him by the arm. They were exchanging some choice words, Soap was sure, but it was too fast for him to understand. He shrugged absentmindedly and quickly regretted it.

Price went off to update Laswell and give her the intel and evidence they had gathered. He must have been fine, uninjured.

Unsurprisingly, this wasn’t the first time Soap had dislocated his shoulder. He knew what to expect. It still hurt, but his mind was too distracted to pay much attention to the pain of it all.

Rudy didn’t seem hurt, but Alejandro was sporting a rather large bruise around his eye and Soap couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed that. The medic had given him an ice pack.

As soon as his arm was in a sling, to make sure the arm healed up nicely, Soap got some painkiller and then he was out of the tent. Rudy called after him but Soap only waved a hand, dismissing his worries. The medic had said that there was no damage to his shoulder, as far as he could tell. Soap had heard that he was fine and could leave.

He walked up to the road and sat on the back of the van. Somebody had left the door open. So Soap sat there and waited.

As soon as another vehicle approached, thirteen minutes later, Soap stood up. He wasn’t immediately alert. He had watched the thing with his scope for long enough to recognize it. The dark of the night was slowly fading and the sun would be up soon. He clearly saw that it was the same car that Ghost had stolen.

Soap registered the approaching steps. He turned briefly to see Alejandro walking toward him, but his head was on the car too. Rudy was jogging after him. Cursing lightly about the ice pack that Alejandro had left in the medical tent.

“He made it,” Alejandro said, sounding relieved too as he watched Ghost’s approach.

“Yes, it’s Ghost,” Rudy said, not hiding his annoyed look as he pressed the ice pack to Alejandro’s face again. Alejandro hissed at the sudden pressure but Soap had seen just how gently Rudy had done it. Still, a bruise was a bruise.

Ghost was driving as recklessly as always. The car even slid off the uneven road for a moment, then got back, dust flying everywhere. Ghost hit the brakes so loud they could hear it, cringing at the sound. He parked the car a couple meters away from them and killed the engine. The automatic headlights stayed on, would probably turn off in a minute.

Ghost didn’t even close the door behind him as he jogged toward them. Soap could read the obvious tension in his posture. Ghost didn’t stop running until he was directly in front of Soap who had subconsciously stood up from where he had been sitting at the back of the van.

One of Ghost’s hands rested on his good shoulder, the other hovered near the injured hand. “Are you hurt?” he said, the voice demanding an answer.

“’s fine now. Are you?” Soap said, not caring much about himself. He slightly pushed at Ghost’s chest, making him take a step back. It was still pretty dark outside, but Soap needed to look him over, which he couldn’t do from as close.

He couldn’t see any blood, and Ghost didn’t seem to favor any hand, or a leg. Still, there were others around and Ghost didn’t even think before he started masking things. Soap put his hand to Ghost’s covered cheek, then slid it down to his neck, then around his ribs. He couldn’t feel the sticky wetness of fresh blood. But Ghost winced a little as his hand made contact with his chest. Soap frowned and eased up on the pressure.

Then, Alejandro asked Ghost the same question, but didn’t get as hands on about the checking of the injuries.

Ghost took Soap’s hand in his, pulled it away from his chest, but he squeezed it reassuringly. “Some sore ribs,” he maintained eye contact with Soap as he said, then squeezed the hand again for good measure. He turned to Alejandro. “One of them kicked me. It’s nothing. Are you?”

Alejandro laughed. “This?” He waved the ice pack around. “This is nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. He could’ve blinded you,” Rudy said.

“And he didn’t. See? All fine.”

Rudy shook his head, exasperated, but with an incredibly fond look in his eyes all the same.

But then, Alejandro turned to Rudy. “Do I have a concussion?”

Rudy blanched. “Are you dizzy? Why? What is it?” His arms reached out toward Alejandro as if he was going to keel over any second.

“’cause I would swear those two idiots are holding hands,” Alejandro said and turned at Soap and Ghost with a raised brow.

Rudy’s shoulders fell slightly and Soap was pretty sure he didn’t hit Alejandro’s shoulder or something only because the man had been injured.

Price joined them then. He chuckled, having heard that last comment. “Wasn’t it obvious?” he asked, then took a good look at Ghost. “You alright, son?”

Ghost nodded at him and that was enough for Price. “Have the medic check you out, still.”

But Rudy and Alejandro weren’t done with Price. “What was supposed to be obvious?” Rudy asked.

“Their annoying asses on the comm,” Price said as if that really was obvious. And well, Soap had been trying to make it obvious. He had called Ghost his cupcake. And probably some other things he couldn’t remember now.

Alejandro still had his confused yet amused look on. “They always talk like that.”

Price nodded, expression so serious as if somebody had just handed him the holy grail. He turned to Soap, giving him this particular look that screamed ‘See? Exactly what I had been telling you.’

Yeah, that seriousness was probably more smugness now that Soap looked for a bit longer. So what if Price had figured out Soap was in love with Ghost before he himself had.

“Oh,” Rudy exclaimed, a smile lighting up his features. “You’re finally dating?”

Alejandro’s mouth opened in a slight ‘o’ as if he had finally understood some great mystery. “How long have you two been together? Must be years now, isn’t it? You are so— before Graves… you two were hiding it back then, weren’t you?”

“What?” Soap asked, dumbfounded.

“Two months, twelve days,” Ghost deadpanned.

“You’re lying,” Rudy said. “Only two months?”

Alejandro had forgotten to keep the ice pack to his face at the surprise. Rudy had to gently push his elbow again. “Is this for real, Soap, amigo?”

Soap laughed, a grin pulling at his lips. “Aye, it is.”

“They’re both dense,” Price added.

Soap spluttered, that grin falling. “We’re nae!”

Alejandro was laughing his ass off and Soap most definitely took offence. Until he realized that Ghost’s shoulders were lightly shaking in mirth and okay, maybe he wasn’t really angry. Maybe it was kind of funny. And they were definitely a little oblivious. At least Soap had been. Not that the captain had to throw it in his face like that.

.

Price was staying for longer, needing to get everything organized with Laswell, along with the next steps. Soap and Ghost were the soldiers who dirtied their hands, not the guys coming up with the big plans and so Alejandro and Rudy had asked them to stay a couple days—a bit of a vacation.

Soap loved the idea and Ghost reluctantly agreed. But as soon as Soap had spotted the karaoke bar in the city, Ghost had drawn a line and threatened Soap, saying he was going to hop on the first plane back to the UK.

So, there had been no karaoke that night, just a nice dinner and some drinks. Alejandro and Rudy were a great company and it was nice hanging out like this, no stress from work and no shitty connection during their occasional calls.

Alejandro insisted on showing them the best sights and Rudy instead showed them the quieter spots, places worth seeing that a tourist would never stumble upon.

All in all, the past three days had been pleasant. Even his shoulder was more or less okay now. Soap still needed to keep the sling on and ease up on it, but a few weeks and he would be fine, no permanent damage.

And the best part, they were all staying in this lovely hotel. A lovely hotel with an even lovelier bathtub.

Now, Soap was chilling in their bathroom, soaking in the warm water. More lukewarm at this point, but he didn’t care, it felt heavenly.

He heard the steps, not bothering to open his eyes. It could only be one person and well, after sharing a flat and many intimate moments with Ghost, he hadn’t bothered with locking the bathroom door.

“I haven’t been in here that long,” Soap whined, ready for Ghost’s complaints. When none came, he slightly turned his head and opened his eyes.

Oh.

Ghost didn’t have his balaclava on. That itself wasn’t anything huge, not when it was just the two of them. Ghost had gotten pretty comfortable showing his face to Soap. It happened more and more lately—always with them alone, though. Always.

“Simon…” Soap said, a bit of caution in his voice. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t have to wait for long.

Ghost did whatever Ghost wanted. And so as he started pulling his clothes off, Soap’s eyes widening at the display, there wasn’t anything he could really do about it. Soap automatically sat up in the tub. “We’ll never fit,” he called out, protesting.

This was going to be a disaster. The tub was filled nearly to the brim with Soap’s added weight. If Ghost—

When his eyes landed on Simon, in his full naked glory, every thought and worry evaporated from his mind. He had seen Ghost and his body, all those scars and planes of muscles, and yet it was always like he was looking at him for the first time.

Sometimes, Soap still couldn’t believe it. That he was allowed to look. Allowed to touch. And when Simon initiated something like this? Oh, Soap was definitely allowed to touch.

As Ghost got in, Soap couldn’t hold in his mad laugh. The water tipped over the edge, just a bit at first, and then Ghost fully sat down opposite him, legs touching, and the water rose, flooding the bathroom.

“We’re gonna get into so much trouble,” Soap said, a giggle escaping him when he noticed the satisfied and frankly rather mischievous smile on Simon’s face.

“Alejandro will take care of it,” he said. And yes, Alejandro had mentioned that it wasn’t only the best hotel in the whole city, but was also owned by some cousin of his. Ghost leaned down towards Soap.

“Don’t talk about Alejandro right now,” Soap replied, accent getting thicker and his voice lowering. Ghost captured his lips in his, bracketing Soap in with hands around him. That was enough talking for a while.

The concept of time lost all meaning to Soap so he wouldn’t be able to tell how long they had stayed in the bathtub. But it looked like they wouldn’t be staying for much longer as a voice interrupted them.

“—you okay? You didn’t answer the door and—” Rudy frozen, one hand on the bathroom door that Ghost had left ajar.

They stopped immediately, pulling away. Soap’s face was already flushed so it wasn’t like his heated cheeks would be visible now.

Rudy’s mouth dropped. He looked traumatized, seeing Soap and Ghost with their hands and mouths all over each other. Then, he backed up, yelling in Spanish, “Not my problem. I saw nothing.” Rudy fled the room, the door shutting with a bang a few seconds later.

Reluctantly, they got out of the tub. The water had turned cold long ago, they just hadn’t really noticed in the heat of the moment. Literally.

Soap took in the state of their bathroom. Yeah, flooded was the right term. And since Ghost hadn’t closed the door, he didn’t really want to see how the rest of their room looked. If Rudy had come up here, it meant there was some kind of a problem.

It didn’t take much to figure out what the issue was. Rudy and Alejandro had a room directly underneath them. The ceiling must have started dripping from some crevice. The hotel was great but not the newest. More people were bound to come and complain.

Cringing, Soap put on a robe and headed to where a phone lay on the bed side table. He brushed past Ghost who was drying his hair, his hand idly moving along Ghost’s arm until he was out of reach.

Soap’s Spanish was better than Ghost’s so it was up to him to explain the problem to the receptionist. He told her there was something wrong with the pipes. She told him there were already other guests calling in about spotting water and wet walls. Alejandro was going to gut them.

The receptionist assured him somebody would come up there in a few minutes so he thanked her and hung up. He found Ghost’s balaclava resting on the bed and returned to the bathroom to relay the news.

“Blamed it on pipes,” he said and then laughed when his mind registered just what Ghost was doing.

“I heard you.” Ah, somebody had been working on their Spanish.

The pipe above the bathtub burst under his knife. Ghost used the knife to further bend the jagged metal. As a demolitions expert, Soap would say that the water explosion looked pretty believable. Not that the hotel would bother investigating the origin of the damage. Old pipes. Easy.

Ghost turned to him and gave him a thumbs up. With both hands. Soap grinned, shaking his head. The water kept rising and they needed to get their stuff out of the way.

Chapter Text

It had been a while since they got back from their impromptu vacation. And straight into another operation. That one had come after they had all recuperated. Price got back to the base with another assignment ready—they had to tie up some loose ends.

And they had done that too.

Now, all that was left was the meeting and the reports. At the end of it, Price had promised to tell them what the near future would look like for them. That was the only reason why Soap still paid attention.

Or, well, attempted to. Gaz was currently talking, adding some details to the report. It was all very boring, especially since Soap had been there and knew everything that had happened.

He zoned out, fingers twitching on the table. They had already been sitting there for over an hour. He had been the second one to go over his report and had nothing to do since then. Without anything to do now, Soap was starting to get restless.

Under the table, his leg bounced, getting louder and louder with every minute, Soap unaware of the volume. A warm hand landed on his thigh and slid to his knee. Ghost squeezed and stopped his bouncing. Just like always, the others had let them sit together. There had been two chairs waiting for them, next to each other.

But Soap still needed to do something, so he grabbed that hand and pulled it further into his lap. He played with Ghost’s fingers absentmindedly, stopping for only a moment when Price asked him to confirm something from where he had been on the roof and had seen more from above. Doing something with his hands helped him redirect energy and focus on what was being said.

Another half an hour later, even Ghost’s hand lost its appeal. He lowered himself in his seat and pushed the hand closer to himself and grabbed a pen. Ghost hadn’t moved away, so Soap knew he was fine.

He pulled at Ghost’s sleeve slightly, lifting it up, he moved the tip of the pen above the edge of Ghost’s glove and started doodling on the clear strip of skin between his glove and his tattoos. It wouldn’t have been the first time Soap had done something similar.

Ghost only twitched once when Soap accidentally tickled him.

His little drawing was going great, all it needed were some finishing touches, when Price not so subtly called out his name—his rank too—to get his attention. Apparently, his absence of mind wasn’t as subtle as Soap had hoped. Ghost took his hand when Price had glared at him too.

“Pack your bags if you want, the next three weeks we’re off,” Price said. Then, he spoke some more about what might be waiting for them after those three weeks. Some intel Laswell had, some people they had been keeping an eye on.

Soap focused on the fact that they could go home. Three weeks wasn’t that long, some decided to stay on base for the time, train, spar, hone their skills. But Soap couldn’t wait to be back at their apartment.

Later, Soap was among the first with their bags packed and ready to go. Ghost, however, didn’t. Soap sat down on Ghost’s bunk and watched him slowly fold his shirts. “You’re taking your time,” Soap commented neutrally. Ghost did keep his belongings in order, but Soap knew for a fact that Ghost could do this much faster.

Ghost glanced at him, keeping the eye contact for a few seconds, before he turned back to his clothes. He shrugged.

Soap sighed and leaned on the post of the bed, fluffing Ghost’s pillow behind his back. “I was thinking pasta for lunch. From a can, unless you feel like going to the store.” They would probably be home just in time for that.

Ghost’s hands stilled for a second, but Soap noticed. “I have some business to take care of.”

He didn’t let his body move, didn’t let himself sit up, didn’t let the shock show. “You’re not coming back with me?” Soap asked, keeping the slight hurt out of his voice. Feeling hurt was silly. Ghost could do as he pleased.

“No.” Ghost returned to his packing, now faster than before, as if he had been trying to avoid that question by making Soap pack and leave before he could have. At Soap’s silence, he looked at him from the corner of his eye.

Soap’s mind was running, thoughts spiraling just a bit. But he wasn’t going to pry and ask Ghost what his business to take care of was. Clearly Ghost didn’t want to tell him.

But of course, a silence like that wasn’t how Soap usually operated and Ghost could read him just as well.

“I’ll be back before dinner, though,” Ghost added.

“Alright,” Soap said and that was it. Ghost could do whatever he wanted. And when he wanted to share with Soap, he would.

Soap didn’t even know why he was so upset about it. This was fine. They had had a nice vacation not so long ago. So what if he would have to wait half a day longer to be alone with Ghost again?

Another part of him knew it was because they had wasted so much time being dumb and could have spent all those weeks sharing their apartment in a very different fashion.

“So, is the pasta okay? I guess ah can stop by the store. Won’t have much to do till you get back,” Soap said, his whole face heating up the second the words registered. “I mean…” He cleared his throat. “We could cook something nicer for dinner.”

“I like the sound of that,” Ghost said.

.

Without Ghost there, the apartment was kind of boring. Soap went to the store just so he had something to do. Even dusted and cleaned the place. He wondered if he should change the sheets too or if that would be a wasted effort.

Ghost arrived. Finally. Just in time to get started on that dinner. Since Soap had the time to go to the store, they didn’t have to settle for spaghetti with the canned stuff.

As always, Ghost took care of the vegetables, he chopped as Soap moved around the kitchen, getting a pan ready. He had to reach for the spices that were in the cupboard right where Ghost stood. Soap caught a whiff of disinfectant, but quickly shook his head, thinking his nose was messing with him. They both got injured so much it wouldn’t be weird for his mind to be playing with him. Soap knew neither of them was hurt right now—for fucking once.

The dinner was a quiet affair. Ghost didn’t speak much and Soap had a feeling he was missing something. Ghost’s silence wasn’t unusual, but there was something about it tonight that didn’t seem quite right. As if Ghost was waiting for something.

He probably thought Soap was bursting with the urge to ask him where he had been. But Soap didn’t want to be that person. He trusted Ghost with his life and this was just a couple hours Ghost was out there somewhere doing god knew what. Soap didn’t have to know. He wanted to, but he wouldn’t ask.

Maybe Ghost was testing him? Testing his reaction? Soap really didn’t know. He figured Ghost would just tell him whatever this was when he was ready, or done with Soap. Clearly, Soap could be a little dense sometimes.

Whatever question Ghost was waiting for, Soap wouldn’t ask it.

It didn’t stay quiet for long. Soap recalled something he had seen in the store and started retelling the story and from there, the conversation flowed as always.

Ghost didn’t want to do the dishes today, so Soap did that. Ghost promised to dry them later. And really, what was Soap supposed to say to that when he was washing a plate in the sink and Ghost had put his arms around his middle and had whispered the promise into the skin of Soap’s neck, his balaclava pulled up to his nose just for this purpose. Soap really didn’t mind doing the dishes when Ghost stayed there, playing with his ear with his mouth like that.

And if Soap ended up rewashing some plates more than once, well…

.

Despite everything, they weren’t a couple of horny teenagers. The night was still long, anyways.

They had had that early meeting at the base, then had the drive back to their apartment—at their own times—then cooked dinner. A little relaxing didn’t sound so bad after that. They ended up on their comfortable couch, Soap booting up the first movie that had a vaguely interesting title.

It started off as any action flick, but ended up pretty great. With some immortal warriors and Charlize Theron kicking ass, and the gay plotline was a nice addition. Soap had his eyes trained on the screen throughout the whole movie.

He felt Ghost’s eyes on him here and there. He could always feel that gaze. When he asked Ghost about it, the man didn’t tell him and had him turn back to his movie instead as he snuggled even closer.

.

Ghost made him change the sheets later and Soap really regretted his decision then. They were both too tired for anything, Soap was pretty sleepy after the movie too, and now he had to change the sheets too.

At least with Ghost’s help, they had it done under a few minutes. With a content sigh, Soap made himself comfortable against Ghost’s back and pulled him in closer. The idea of calling Ghost the little spoon was silly, the man was anything but little, but he liked to be held and Soap wouldn’t change this for the world.

He rested his forehead against the back of Ghost’s head, the fair hair tickling him slightly. Soap snaked his arm across Ghost’s, about to intertwine their fingers and rest their hands against Ghost’s chest. But as his hands slid down his forearm, Soap felt something odd.

He quickly ran his hand back up, knowing without looking that this was the place where Ghost’s tattoos ended. A place where he had no injury this very morning. Now, a light film covered his skin, not quite plastic, not quite… Soap couldn’t really describe it.

He needed to see. “What…” he muttered to himself and pulled back. He automatically turned on the bedside lamp and then focused back on Ghost. He took him by the elbow. Ghost let himself be manhandled and flipped on his back.

Soap took his arm, fingers careful, and then when the dim light hit the shine of the film around Ghost’s hand, Soap finally realized what he was seeing. The second skin that was used to protect a fresh tattoo for the first few days.

Soap inhaled shakily, pulling that hand closer, cradling Ghost’s wrist. There, where his sleeve ended, a new and very familiar tattoo rested.

Ghost sat up so that Soap could keep holding his hand without the position staying uncomfortable. With his free hand, he grabbed Soap by the hip and pulled him closer so that Soap was essentially sitting in between his thighs, legs resting over Ghost’s leg and hanging off the bed.

“I drew this,” Soap said, voice barely audible. His head snapped to Ghost’s face, then back down, and back to Ghost again. Soap’s mouth dropped but no more words came out.

“Yeah.” Ghost watched him, an amused private little smile on his face.

“Is that where you were earlier?”

Ghost nodded. “Tia’s girlfriend owns that tattoo studio in the town.”

“Tia? Our neighbour?”

“She’s got some tattoos too, I asked her where she got them.” He shrugged.

“She does? What kind? Can’t be on her arms, I’ve see—not the point right now,” Soap stopped himself before his thoughts could derail. He ran his finger over the edge of the second skin. The tattoo copied his drawing in every single detail. It was impossible to mistake it for anything else.

Ghost couldn’t have planned this. He couldn’t have known Soap would use his hand like a sketchbook this morning.

Just like that, Soap realized this must have been the question Ghost had been waiting for. He must have waited so long for Soap to notice the tattoo. And Soap hadn’t. Not when they had cooked, not when Ghost refused to do the dishes and put his fresh ink into the sink water. Not when they had cuddled on the couch.

All those lingering stares made sense now. Soap looked up at Ghost, those eyes already on him, and was overcome with so much fondness and love for this man, he couldn’t have stopped the words even if he had wanted to. “I love you.”

Ghost stiffened. His fingers flexed into a fist, eyes widening. “You—” He averted his gaze. “You love Simon.”

Soap rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it. He pulled Ghost into a hug, it took some careful maneuvering, but he had the man in his arms soon enough. Ghost returned the embrace, pliant in his arms. Soap could feel him exhale against his skin. “Bullshit,” Soap said. “Simon, Ghost, I don’t care. I was already halfway there before I knew your name was Simon.”

It had taken him quite a while to fully realize, but it was true. Soap had been falling long before he had words for it.

“And you know, as far as names go, Simon is kinda—”

Ghost gripped him tighter, but not to the point it hurt. “Alright, I get it, Johnny. I… I was being stupid.”

Soap had to look up, blinking his eyes to keep the tears at bay. “No,” he whispered, drawing circles across Simon’s back. “No, never.” He slid his hand up to rest on the back of Ghost’s head. He turned to kiss his temple.

Whatever Ghost was feeling, Soap would listen. He would never try to invalidate his feelings, knowing how much his partner had been through. Maybe Ghost wasn’t ready to hear those words yet. The big L word, but Soap knew how he felt.

He pushed Ghost away slightly, far enough to be able to take his face in his hands, cupping his cheeks. When Soap got closer, Ghost automatically closed his eyes. Soap kissed his forehead. “I love you.” He kissed his left eyelid. “I love you, Ghost.” He kissed the right one. “I love you, Simon.”

He peppered him with more kisses, over his scars, the bridge of his nose, on his chin, the light stubble scratching just right. Soap leaned his forehead against Ghost’s. “I love this man that is right here in front of me. The man that has my back out there. The man that cooks with me and watches my trash shows with me. The man that listens and has jokes even worse than me.”

Ghost chuckled and Soap’s heart sore, because finally, finally Ghost didn’t sound so raw, so vulnerable.

Soap kissed him. A short, sweet thing. When he pulled away, their eyes met. “You don’t have to say it back, I’m good with that. But I know what I feel.”

A smile crept up Ghost’s face as he chased after Soap’s mouth again. Their kiss longer this time. Then, Ghost left his hands on Soap’s face, his thumb brushing his damp lips. Soap could see Ghost’s eyes slowly trailing up his face, over his lips, nose, to his eyes. His gaze lingered on every part of him.

“I love you too, Johnny. There are no doubts about that in my mind.”

Soap grinned. “In your heart too, I hope.”

Simon laughed. “There too.” He kissed him again.

.

They had to change the sheets in the morning again, but Soap wasn’t too pressed about it.