Chapter Text
Ghost doesn’t even really remember promising Soap the favour. It was during a particularly grisly mission somewhere in Nevada, where their intel had been outdated and Ghost had gotten caught in the crossfire when he was supposed to be sniping from a distance. Soap had been the one to guide him to safety, a constant voice in his ear, a reversal of roles back in Las Almas. Somewhere during the whole ordeal apparently Ghost had sworn he would owe one to Soap if he made it out alive, and now that promise was back to bite him in the arse.
Soap had strolled over, as he was wont to do, and flopped down onto the bench next to where Ghost was watching the new recruits and their live ammo practice. Ghost didn’t acknowledge his arrival - he never did. Soap knew he knew he was there, so he just waits for him to do whatever it was Soap had sought him out for. Silence settles between them and Ghost fights the urge to steal a glance. He can feel Soap’s eyes on him, and he doesn’t need the ribbing he knows he’ll get if he looks.
Johnny must be bored if he's out here, Ghost thinks. Soap has the rest of the day off, so the only reason he would have for being out would be to annoy Ghost. Or try to. As much as Ghost would never admit it, Soap has not annoyed him for close to a year now. Sure he was a bit of a nuisance at first, more cocksure than was useful in a sergeant, but he had proved himself quickly enough in Ghost’s eyes. As much as Ghost hated to admit it, Soap had brought out a younger version of himself, making jokes in Soap’s ear during quiet moments in missions, playful punches and not so playful sparring in the gym. Soap managed to peel away a lot of the Ghost layers of him, and let the Simon ones spill out.
Ghost hated it at first. But then Johnny would give him that toothy, shit-eating grin right before he said something dumb, or the way he would groan and cover his face with his hands whenever Ghost told an exceptionally bad dad joke, and Ghost would think maybe losing some of his Ghost-ness maybe wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.
He wasn’t sure when it happened, but over the year and a half they had come to know each other, Ghost had realised one day, with a start that he would kill or be killed for Soap. Without question. They had been on a mission in the middle of Buttfuck Nowhere, and Soap had made some throwaway comment about not wanting to share Ghost with anyone else. It had made more sense in context of whatever the conversation that he and Gaz were having, but it had rung out like a church bell in the dead of night in his mind. He was Johnny’s. He’d do anything for Johnny, and he’d die of embarrassment before he let Johnny know that. Evey now and then he slipped and called him Johnny, and he would fucking beam at him like he had just won the lottery.
Ghost gives in and steals a glance at Soap, as he’s managed a whole five minutes of sitting in silence, which is wholly unlike him. Soap is fiddling with the hem of his shirt, a faded grey thing, and pulling at a loose thread absentmindedly, and his leg is bouncing erratically. Ghost hated that fucking shirt. At one point it had been loose, but the 141’s training regime meant that Soap now filled the shirt out, the fabric taut across his pecs and arms. It was almost obscene, the way it showed his tits off. Ghost hoped he would never stop wearing it. He looks away before he does or says something he regrets.
After a couple minutes, Soap clears his throat.
“Can I ask you something, Lt?”
“About time Sergeant, you’ve been sitting there thinking so loudly I’m surprised the recruits couldn’t hear you. Spit it out.” A picture of nonchalance, like he hasn’t been waiting on tenterhooks for Soap to speak. Johnny scowls at him and pulls a face. Ghost doesn’t see it, but he knows Soap well enough to know that's what he did.
“I was hoping I could call in that favour you owe me.” This does get him to turn. He fixes his gaze on Soap, who, to his credit, doesn’t waver like everyone else on the base does whenever he makes direct eye contact with them (except for maybe Price).
“Favour?”
“You know, the one you said you owed me back in Nevada, after I saved your sorry arse.”
“Ah, yes I remember.” Vaguely. Not really. Soap isn’t one for lying though. He pauses for a moment. “Depends on what that favour is.”
Soap snorts. “Don't worry Lt, I'm not gonna ask you to suck my dick or anything like that. Although you'd be missing out, I've been told I have a bangin dick.” They stare at each other in silence and Ghost thanks whoever the hell is up there that he wears a mask, and that Soap cannot see exactly how he would be more than happy to suck his cock. Hell, he'd suck it right then and there if Johnny asked him too. But he wouldn't, so he doesn't. Instead, Ghost just raises a brow expectantly, hoping the action is noticeable enough beneath the worn fabric of his mask.
Johnny has gone a rather impressive shade of pink. “Christ, sorry sir, I'm definitely getting way too comfortable around you, aren't I? Nothing like that I promise.” The silence stretches out between them again, and Ghost gives him a look that hopefully says ‘ask then’. It must work because Soap jumps. “Right! My favour. Got any plans this weekend?”
“You're positive you're not gonna ask me for any sexual favours Johnny?”
Soap flushes again and rubs the back of his neck. “No, I swear Lt. Listen, I've got an invite to a wedding that I RSVP'd to almost 3 years ago, and at the time I had a date and now I don’t, which would be fine except I've already paid for everything and I can't really let the room and food go to waste. It would be strictly platonic, free food and a bougie ass hotel. It'll be fun.”
A wedding sounds the furthest possible thing from ‘fun’ that Ghost can imagine, but the idea of spending a long weekend with Soap is appealing. Not that he would ever let Soap know that. He makes a show of considering the offer.
“Please Lt, you’d be doing me a solid and we’d be even. You get a pretty sweet deal out of it yourself.”
“What about the room? Didn’t you say you booked it when you had a date?” Ghost tries not to think too hard about Soap’s previous date.
“Don't worry, I've already called ahead and requested a twin room. It'll be fun!”
Ghost sighs heavily. The idea of socialising with a bunch of civilians for a whole weekend is a special kind of hell to him, but again, the prospect of spending time with Johnny is enough to outweigh it. Soap pouts at his hesitation and, contrary to his nickname, Ghost is only human. He exhales loudly through his nose.
“Fine. Then we’re even.” He grumbles, barely loud enough to be heard. Soap hears him regardless and lights up like a bloody Christmas tree.
“Thanks Lt! You're the best.”
“It would be best that you didn’t go around telling everyone about this, sergeant. I’m not entirely sure it’s completely above board, what with me being your commanding officer.”
“Aye, don’t worry sir. My lips are sealed. Be ready to go on Friday evening, I want to avoid the rush hour traffic.”
Soap walks away from that conversation like he didn't accidentally proposition his commanding officer.
At the time it had seemed like a fantastic idea. Asking Ghost to come along to Yvonne’s wedding as his plus one would mean they could spend the whole weekend together, and make the most of the facilities of the hotel he’d booked. It was some nice manor house with all the bells and whistles in the middle of nowhere. Now that the day was here though, Soap was absolutely shitting himself. What on god's green earth made him think 48+ hours of one-on-one time with a straight man he had a massive crush on was a good idea? At a wedding too! So many members of Soap’s family were going to be there, and they would all be asking about Ghost. Or his ex. Or if Ghost was the guy he’d been crushing on for the past year or so. Either way, Soap was not looking forward to having to deflect all that. He had originally asked Gaz to come with him instead, and the promise of free booze had been tempting, but he had declined, claiming he already had plans.
It had made Soap realise that aside from Gaz, he didn’t really have many friends anymore. None outside the 141 that he was close enough to call on for a favour at such short notice, or that he would actually enjoy spending a weekend with. So he panicked and asked Ghost. His superior. Sometimes Soap forgot he had that over him, not to mention the guy was several years older than him too. When he was cracking those god awful jokes from behind the mask it was hard to remember the fact. Soap had figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask, at the very least he would get to chat with Ghost for a bit.
What had been more surprising was that Ghost had said yes. He had grumbled and didn’t seem thrilled, but he had agreed. Soap had fully expected to be laughed at, or his eyes to roll and to tell him to be serious, but Ghost had just sighed and said he would. Maybe Soap really was wearing him down. Or he really had meant to stick to his word and owe him a favour. Soap was surprised he had even remembered he owed him one - he was 90% sure he had just said it and hadn’t actually expected to have to follow through.
But here they are, about to go away on what may as well be a fucking couples retreat for the weekend. Ghost had managed to convince Price to lend them one of the base’s jeeps, on the promise that it would come back in perfect condition. Soap finishes his duties for the week, changes into jeans that rarely get much use and pops his head in to say goodbye to Gaz, who is busy packing his own duffle, and promises to send any videos he can get of Ghost drunk.
Ghost is waiting for him when he is finally done with his duties, leaning against the hood of the jeep they’re borrowing, hands shoved deep in the pockets of the joggers he’s wearing, a simple black balaclava underneath his hoodie. The only indication he’s noticed Soap arriving is that he pulls the keys for the car out of his pocket. It's odd seeing Ghost out of uniform, the plain black clothes giving very little of Ghost’s personality away. Soap realises he wants to get Ghost a hoodie with a ghost on it. Not that Ghost would ever wear it, but the image is cute. Johnny shakes that image out his head before it takes up permanent residence, and gets into the car on the passenger side. Ghost slides into the driver's seat after tossing his own duffle into the backseat, and starts up the car, pulling out onto the main road silently.
He realises it's kinda odd to see Ghost in normal clothes still wearing a mask. It doesn’t look entirely out of place with all the kit on, but just under a hoodie without any of his eye makeup, it looks a little bizarre, like Ghost is doing a poor cosplay of a bank robber. Ghost notices Soap eyeing the mask.
“Don't wanna scare the birds, Johnny.” Soap holds his hands up innocently.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything. But I wouldn't worry about that Lt, you're so tall they cannae even see that mug of yours, mask or no.” Ghost scoffs, but the lack of eye makeup means his face is less hidden than usual, and Soap sees his cheeks twitch with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.
“Watch it, Johnny.”
“Ah, you can’t pull rank sir, we’re just regular people this weekend.”
“If that’s the case, Johnny, you might want to start by not calling me ‘sir’.” Ghost’s constant use of his nickname was doing things to Johnny that it really shouldn't be. He flushes slightly.
“Right. Yes. Well, what should I call you then?”
Ghost chuckles. “You could start with my name, Johnny, it's what most people would start with,” his usual sarcasm dripping.
“I dunno, it feels kinda invasive…”
Ghost shoots him an incredulous look, an eyebrow raised. “My name? How?”
“I never use your name otherwise! No one does.”
“Well, I can’t exactly go around this wedding introducing myself as ‘Ghost’ can I? Don’t wanna weird out your relatives. It’s not like I don’t use yours, Johnny.”
“That’s different! No one else calls me Johnny, it's no different from calling me Soap or just MacTavish.” Ghost rolls his eyes.
“You can use my name Johnny, I’m not gonna be mad or … wait, do you even know my name?”
Soap opens his mouth and snaps it shut, making Ghost laugh. It's the most openly Soap has ever heard Ghost laugh. It's kind of weird, hearing such a light sound come out of the usually gruff man.
“Oh shut your mouth, of course I do! I’m not that much of a moron.”
“Sure.”
“Oi.”
“You can prove it very easily Johnny. Just say it.”
“Fine. Simon.” The name feels foreign in his mouth.
“Correct. Glad to hear you were paying attention during orientation.”
The rest of the drive is quiet. It's dark, and most of the journey is down winding country lanes, and Soap closes his eyes, just resting them to stave off the vague carsickness he’s getting from all the turns in the road. He must fall asleep at some point, because the jeep stopping wakes him up with a start, blinking against the bright light of the car park of the hotel.
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty, good to have you back in the land of the living.”
“Oh, shut up, Ghost. Why did you let me sleep the whole way? I could have driven.”
Ghost shrugs. “It was only a few hours. Didn’t want to interrupt your precious beauty sleep, you clearly needed it. You can drive us back if it's that big of a deal to you.” Soap nodded. “This the right place? Looks a bit fancy for us.” Johnny squinted out the window at the manor house in the distance, barely illuminated by concealed lights.
“Looks like the pictures on Google, yeah.” He checks his watch. Almost 2200. “We better get moving, check in closes soon.”
The interior of the hotel, manor house, whatever it is, is even more opulent than its outside looks. High ceilings, rich, deep red velvet draped across the many windows, and an honest to god chandelier hanging above the curving staircase in the centre of the room. Ghost suddenly felt very small and very underdressed, two feelings he very rarely felt. The receptionist eyed them uneasily but her customer service smile didn’t falter.
“Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Byrd Manor. Do you have a reservation?”
Ghost was grateful Soap was handling all this, he was always the one with better people skills. He leans an elbow on the desk and smiles easily at the woman and Ghost rolls his eyes. Trust Johnny to flirt with the first woman they meet once they get off base.
“Aye, it should be under MacTavish.” He’s really laying the Scottish accent on thick, thicker than usual and Ghost distantly wonders if that improves his chances with women, then squashes that thought alongside the sick feeling it manifests in his stomach.
The woman searches on the computer for a moment before looking back at Soap apologetically. “Sorry sir, could I have a first name? There’s a lot of MacTavishes staying here this weekend.”
“Oh right! Sorry, I forgot half my family is here too. It's John. It should be a twin, I called a week ago to change it.”
The woman clicks around for a few moments before paling slightly. “I do have your booking sir, but I’m afraid it's not a twin. I’m afraid we’ve been fully booked for a while and there were no twin rooms available by the time you called.”
“What?” Both Soap and Ghost ask in unison.
“I can only apologise sirs, if you had arrived earlier I could have organised for an additional bed to be made up for you in your room, but as we’re about to close for the night I can only offer that for tomorrow night.” The woman looked genuinely petrified, and Ghost realised belatedly that he probably had something to do with it. He didn’t get out all that much, and forgot he was wearing a balaclava half the time, and that most normal people found that combined with his height and bulk intimidating.
Soap had turned to look at him, clearly asking for his opinion. Whilst Ghost would be more than happy to share a bed with Soap, he looks less than thrilled about the idea. He doesn’t look against it either though, and Ghost finds he’s too tired to be dealing with this.
“Whatever. We’re adults, we can share.”
So that’s how Ghost ended up in bed with Soap. He had to admit, he had imagined it happening differently. Mostly involving a strip tease. And kissing. Instead they’re both lying flat on their backs, fully clothed, mask still on and staring silently at the top of the four poster bed they were given. Despite the awkward tension, Ghost finds himself drifting off, the bed softer than anything he’s ever slept on, and the exhaustion from working all day and driving for several hours catching up with him, he slips into a deep sleep.