Chapter Text
Soap had this thing where he bounced his leg when he was absolutely bursting to say something but couldn’t for whatever ridiculous reason he’d fabricated for himself. Usually Ghost could ignore it well enough but they were in the truck going to their next mission and he could feel the car bouncing with how erratically Soap’s foot was thumping the ground. He glanced at Soap through the corner of his eye, seeing worry lines marring his forehead and Soap’s hand brought to his mouth as he chewed his nails which had Ghost instinctively reach out to slap it away.
That utterly disrupted Soap’s rhythm, making him pause and turn to his Lieutenant whose eyes had reverted back to the road. “What’s wrong, Soap?” Ghost asked, feeling Soap’s gaze on him. His voice was brusque, borderline scolding. Soap sighed, stretching his legs out as he deliberately ignored the question. He instead curled his hands into fists on his knees as he looked at them, transfixed. Ghost simmered, he didn’t appreciate being ignored but he gave the Sergeant a few more seconds to answer.
When it was clear his silent streak was going to continue, Ghost clarified, “I need you focused for the mission. If there’s something you need to say then spit it out.” His fingers were tightly clenched on the wheel as Soap still avoided answering him. He couldn’t afford to have Soap in an avoidant state when it was just the two of them entering the field. In addition to the fact that the pout that rested on his face didn’t suit the man at all.
Soap pursed his lips, mulling over it for a few seconds before finally speaking, expression serious as he said, “I need to take a piss.”
Ghost groaned, “I told you to go beforehand.”
“You don’t tell Mother Nature when to call.” Soap retorted, genuinely offended by the suggestion. Ghost rolled his eyes but his grip on the wheel relaxed, he was worried for a moment that there was something serious plaguing Soap. He’d take his poor bladder control over the alternative any day.
“Don’t care. Hold it.” Ghost warned.
“Fine.” Soap said, tone petulant as he sat back down, forcefully hitting his head against the back of the seat so it made a tiny thud and if Ghost believed in God he’d be ruing him right there and then for entwining their fates together. At least Soap was quiet. His leg did begin to bounce again after a few minutes but he at least didn’t indulge in his awful nail biting habit and the car wasn’t shaking anymore.
Such a peace didn’t last long before Soap was turning to Ghost again. “Are you sure we can’t stop? I really need to piss.”
Ghost slammed the brakes hard and Soap yelped as his head hit the dashboard with a loud thunk. “Yer gettin’ skelped ye fuckin’ minger.” Soap seethed, nursing his throbbing forehead with the palm of one hand as his free hand went flying towards Ghost but the other man caught it easily. Soap tried to move but Ghost kept his grip firm, tightening it ever so slightly to teeter on uncomfortable before releasing it entirely. Soap snatched it back to his chest like he’d been scathed by boiling water and furiously mumbled what sounded like a bunch of gibberish to Ghost.
“English, MacTavish.” Ghost said and Soap held his stare in defiance, mouth thinning in a tight line before shaking his head.
“Nae. Ye dinnae deserve the English, ya sassenach bas.” He said and before Ghost could retaliate Soap was out of the truck already, stomping over to the forest line which had bordered the road they’d been driving down for a few hours now.
Ghost reclined in his seat, his focus still aimed at where Soap had wandered in just in case something happened. Nothing should, realistically, but Ghost never left things up to chance, especially when it came to Soap. The man was still too fresh, too naive, it struck this protective instinct in Ghost that had him in the throes of what felt like insanity at times. He’d never known that you could care for someone so much you want to throttle their neck and run a hand through their messy mohawk at the same time.
Care, the word didn’t resonate right when Ghost thought about it. He cares for Soap but he also cares for Price and for Gaz. For his compatriots in Las Almas: Alejandro and Rodolfo. He cared for them all but Soap was different, he set off these alarm bells in his head that flared red. “Danger, danger,” it called. He should’ve been listening but when he saw that half-cocked grin he was lured in even deeper to that enigmatic charisma Soap exuded.
It didn’t matter what the implication of those warnings that went off in his head were; he was simply content to have Soap as a friend that saw beyond the hard shell mask.
Soap popped back in the car, still middling with the button of his jeans after he wisely decided to strap himself in the truck this time. “You done?” Ghost asked as Soap completely ignored his presence.
“Yeah, you can drive, Lt.” Soap said, like nothing had ever happened.
Ghost pressed on the pedal again, trying to focus on the road but he found his eyes still being drawn to Soap who was still fiddling with the button on his jeans. There was a sarcastic remark laying thick on his tongue but he decided to leave it. There was no need to prod the man more when the bump beginning to form on Soap’s forehead was payment enough for his odd aloofness this ride.
At least Ghost had thought so because that satisfaction was quickly vanishing every time he heard Soap mutter a curse word as his thumb slipped and he could the sharp click where nail flicked metal. “It’s not that hard.” Ghost said, voice level as he tried to not betray his irritation too much but failed miserably. Soap frowned at him before letting the button go and let his arms fall to their sides. Ghost noticed they were trembling.
His lips twitched downwards as he saw Soap move his hands over his thighs, rubbing small circles to the side of them as he actively avoided Ghost’s stare. It seemed the pissing was a ruse for what was really bothering him. “Soap.” Ghost commanded, worry fraying his voice as he sought some sort of honesty from his Sergeant. Usually it only took the initial “Spit it.” and Soap was ready to pour his heart and soul out in Ghost’s cupped and open hands.
“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Lt.”
Ah, it was the mission. “Course you don’t, you always end up some sort of knocked or bruised after a mission.” Ghost stated and he thought it came across as playful but Soap’s whole body tensed, taut as a pulled back bowstring. “I’ll patch you up if that’s what you’re worried about.” Soap relaxed at the words, tossing his head back to look at Ghost and he had that signature sideways smirk on his face that always had Ghost desperately reeled in.
“You always do.” Soap replied, his tone unexpectedly soft. He shifted his hips to turn to Ghost, sniffing once as he ran a hand errantly through his mohawk, mussing the messy cut even further. “It’s not that.” His smile fell and Ghost’s chest tightened at the sudden somber expression that gripped Soap.
“So what is it?”
“You’re going to make fun of me.”
“I don’t have to, Soap. You’re already a walking joke.” Ghost regretted that one as soon as he saw Soap’s face twitch in a momentary grimace. Wrong time, wrong place, how typical of him. He was going to apologise but Soap interrupted.
“Simon.”
Ghost paused his jokes when his name left Soap’s lips. Soap had that effect on him, could silence him with the simple mention of his name and not have Ghost question it most of the time. It was so seldom of an occurrence that the few times he did resonated, had Ghost’s blood pumping and ears ringing as he wondered what sort of man did Soap actually see when he looked at him.
“I’m listening, Johnny.” Ghost said, voice barely a whisper.
“I had a dream last night, a dream that you…you didn’t make it back.”
Pussy, was the instinctive reaction, probably the right one too. He wouldn’t have hesitated if it was anyone else but it was Soap and he cared about Soap even if he didn’t really understand what those words actually meant yet. He should’ve mocked him for prattling about dreams but Ghost knew a thing or two about dreams as well, how quickly they’d descend into nightmares and hold you by the throat in a chokehold.
More importantly he knew what it was like to dream about Soap, to dream about him dying, to wake up and feel that hollow emptiness, a grief he didn’t feel entitled to experience because he was one bed away, reachable by the simple stretch of an arm. He wondered if Soap woke up last night after his dream, if he dared to reach out and graze Ghost’s shoulder just to make sure he was still there. Ghost wondered if he would’ve minded at all.
“We’re not dying, at least not today. Get that thought our your head, it’ll only mess with your concentration.”
“Aye. But just so we’re clear, if something happens and someone needs to make a choice, you’re going home.”
“It’s not your call to make.” Ghost bit, his tone venomous. He was glad his gloves were thick to mask the twitching of his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn’t need Soap to pick up on his anxiety, how his heart quickened in his chest as now he was wondering where the hell this insistence was coming from? Why was Soap even thinking of dying today like Ghost would let him?
Soap smiled then, a small thing as he looked at his hands that picked at the holes on his denim jeans. “I know, but I’d be too dead to care about that then.” He tilted his head up, cocking it slightly as he spoke with that timid smile still on his face, “wouldn’t I?”
Ghost ignored the question, he had to in order to get the pounding sound of blood out of his ears. “Promise me then.” He said instead.
“What?”
“Promise me you won’t die and I’ll promise the same.”
“Shake a pinky on it too?” Soap teased, wagging his finger in front of Ghost’s face.
“Fuck off.” Ghost said reflexively, gentle nudging the other man’s hand away.
Soap chuffed. “I know you’re a sweetheart, Lt. You don’t need to put on a whole show.” To that Ghost promptly responded by flipping him off, making Soap laugh and Ghost felt himself relax at the sound. Right, this was how it was supposed to go, letting this nice and easy banter flow between the two of them, not sweating the big stuff. “I promise.” Soap finally said when his laughter had calmed.
“I promise too.” Ghost said back.
“Good.” Soap responded, a comforting finality in his statement. He slouched back in his seat, at last relaxed as he spread this thighs out, humming as he tapped his fingers one by one of the open window.
Ghost rolled his jaw, trying to drop the tension he’d accumulated that still made his muscles feel tight. The promise only brought the slightest of reliefs to his amounting worries. He couldn’t let Soap die, it was simply an impossibility that Ghost could not conceptualise in his reality. They’d both brushed death in Las Almas, he remembered like it was yesterday, how he tore down the road with Soap sitting him. He was as pale as a sheet of snow and half his shirt was drenched with his own blood. He could only muster enough energy to turn his head and look at Ghost with those big grey eyes. There had been a quiet acceptance of death written on his face and it kept Ghost up for weeks after when he realised Soap had actually wanted Ghost to be the final thing he looked at before he died and not the photo of his family he kept nestled in his jacket.
He’d laid Johnny on the floor once they reached the safe house, Soap’s eyes drooping closed as Ghost begged him to stay awake he realised that if Soap died then the little humanity he had left in his soul would wither too. The Sergeant may have had a will of steel and the grace of a three legged dog but he’d somehow wormed his way through the cracks of Ghost’s stoicism and Ghost couldn’t bare to pluck him away.
He had said he kept Soap far enough away: Ghost wasn’t compromised, he reminded himself. But he knew that was a lie. He’d die for Soap in a heartbeat and to hear the same words he thought from Soap’s lips was petrifying. Ghost had nothing, if he died all he’d leave behind was a redacted file to be thrown into a shredder. Soap wasn’t like that, he had people, a life, family who still wrote letters to him. He was cared for, by more than just Ghost. To throw that away for an apparition, a trick of the eye, Ghost wouldn’t stand for it.
“Do you want to hear a joke, Johnny?” He asked, breaking the silence between them. He needed a rest from his thoughts and usually Soap was so quick to reject any proposal of a joke but this time he just smiled.
“Do I have a choice, Lt?”
Ghost shook his head. “An ice cream cone and a slice of cheesecake joined the army. They eventually abandoned their fellow soldiers. You know what that makes them wanted for?”
“Ghost…” Soap pleaded, voice low and whiny as he saw how Ghost’s eyes lit up, waiting for a dramatic pause to drop the punchline.
“Dessertion.” He finally said and Soap couldn’t hold back the quick hark of a laugh that escaped his throat. It was a harsh sound but it had Ghost’s chest tightening as Soap’s expression lightened entirely and Ghost could stare at him all day but his attention was still required on the road.
“These get worse every time I hear them, are you stealing some jokes from Price now?” Oh and wouldn’t that be a treat, Ghost thought. The opinion that Price’s jokes were the shittiest rendition of a dad joke ever conceived on this earth were one of the few things he and Soap had ever agreed upon.
“Price doesn’t have taste, I do.” Ghost said with absolute confidence that didn’t falter even with Soap’s laughter.
“Yeah, the same quality of taste as an eighty year old chain smoker.” Soap effortlessly quipped back.
“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Johnny.” Ghost said, letting his voice dip ever so slightly and Soap froze up for a second, eyes blinking quickly as Ghost could see the tips of his ears turn pink.
“Yer being a wee scunner.” Soap mumbled back.
Ghost’s lips curled, the shadow of a smile on his lips as he took in the frazzled Scotsman. He’d always found it amusing how quickly he’d slip into his accent the second he got even mildly flustered. The casual flirting was simply what they did and he didn’t mind, there was nothing more to it than banter and it kept his mind occupied for a response, not allowing him to lapse into a moment from before the one they shared in that truck with Soap’s blush slowly fading.
Sometimes he wondered if his words meant more, more than just a way to satiate the boredom that sept into their bones. However, Ghost never let it flourish past a fleeting thought. Entertaining such notions in their line of work never went well. Ghost knew that, he’d learnt that lesson long ago from his youth when he’d first been uncuffed from the shackles of his childhood home, still a fresh face invigorated by the call of duty and desperate to prove he was not his father’s son. It always caught up to him in the end, either through bitter battle or a flag laid upon a coffin. Ghost would never make the same mistakes Simon made again. Instead he only indulged himself in these little luxuries of their verbal parlay, safe and detached.
“We’re close right?” Soap asked and Ghost nodded. It was another ten minutes or so before they reached their parking zone and had to continue on foot. “Let’s spice this mission up.” Soap proposed, a feral grin on his face and those alarm bells Ghost had ringing were particularly violent as Soap’s teeth looked like canines with the angle Ghost saw them. It was predatory, a vicious intent in their baring.
“What’re you thinking?” He responded levely, trying hard to not betray the intrigue he had at exactly what the Sergeant was plotting nor to focus on the stir of heat in his belly as Soap’s eyes twinkled with the promise of trouble. It was the same glint he got when he held an explosive in his hand, the sort you loved in the field but within the tight confines of this truck Ghost would have rather chucked the man out so he could deal with those tumultuous desires as they impulsively arose from his chest.
“The mask.” Soap started and Ghost cut him off immediately.
“No.” He clenched his jaw. Of course that would be his rotten luck for getting his hopes up. It always came down to the mask and how badly Soap wanted to pry it off his face like there was anything worth looking at underneath it.
Soap clicked his tongue. “You don’t even know what I’m asking!” He exclaimed, seeming genuinely frustrated but the Lieutenant shook his head tersely.
“I’m not taking it off.” He affirmed.
“I don’t want to see your ugly mug, I want to know if you have another one.” He said and that did reel in a little bit of interest back. He flicked his gaze to the side, amused as he saw how intently Soap was studying his face, just like the first time he’d seen it bare.
“Of course.” Ghost responded flatly.
“Where is it?” Soap asked, already unbuckling his seat belt and crawling into the backseat. Ghost should have probably ordered him to strap himself back in, maybe even brake test the idiot again and see just how much Price would scream at them when he had to calmly explain that Soap’s ass broke the windscreen because the Lieutenant felt like being a dick. But he rather enjoyed the view he could see, watching the Sergeant’s shirt begin to ride up his toned back as his arms stretched overhead to begin rustling through Ghost’s bag
“What’re you planning?” Ghost asked. Soap ignored him, humming as his body began to sway side to side with the way the truck began to jostle on the harder paved road. Ghost did his best to keep his eyes trained on the road but the view was borderline sinful. It was always the small things about the other man that captured his attention with such rigorous immediacy. He’d had plenty of time to learn to conceal those fleeting temptations, only surrendering the smallest of glances before returning his eyes to the road.
“Found it.” Soap chirped, launching himself back into his seat and not redoing his seat belt as he twirled the mask in his fingers, a smirk on his face as stroked the front of it. “I can’t believe you painted it fucking camo.”
“I told you I had one.” Ghost said with a lilt to his voice. He loved the references they bounced off one another, loved doing it around other people and watching their brows knit in confusion as their eyes flickered between the two of them in deeply entrenched uncertainty. Especially Gaz, he was always pressing Price as to what the hell was going on between them but Price always shrugged it off. Immediately following would be Gaz trying to make his own references with Price but the Captain always pretended to have no clue what he was talking about much to Gaz’s chagrin.
“I’m wearing it.” Soap said resolutely, Ghost’s focus snapping back.
“Why?”
“I want to have some fun. See who the enemy thinks is the better Ghost.” Oh, now that was certainly fun for Ghost. He was already planning on how he was going to rub his victory in Soap’s face and boast about the man’s misplaced confidence to the rest of the team.
“A good Ghost wouldn’t leave the other person alive long enough to think about it.” He said, leaving the floor open for Soap to compete.
Of course he did. “Guess I’ll just kill them faster.” He easily rebutted.
Ghost snorted. “You think you’re better than me already, Johnny?”
Soap replied without missing a beat, “I know it.”
“Prove it.” Ghost said and there the challenge was confirmed. Soap slipped the mask over his head and all Ghost could see was the crinkle of his eyes as he undoubtedly had a wide grin rocking his face.
“Now where’s your eye liner?”
“Eye black.” Ghost corrected, his tone irritated as this was not the first time Soap had gotten it wrong and he knew it certainly would not be the last.
“Same difference.” Soap said, voice laced with mischievous intent and all Ghost could do was roll his eyes.