Chapter Text
Soap thought that he should've updated his will before doing this, hell he should've probably written down his own eulogy to make sure they wouldn't fuck up the speeches at his unavoidable funeral, maybe should've ordered a headstone too: Here lies Soap, killed by his own stupidity. Soldier. Son. Sexy as hell.
He barged into the room without knocking, like he always did, really no point in going for politeness now.
“Ye ken how I am yer favourite person in the world?” He started speaking before Ghost could react and send him out again, even if that would probably be best for both of them. Ghost looked up from his desk, paperwork spread out before him, a cup of tea by his right hand, mask secured over his head like always, even though the curtains were drawn and the only person stupid enough to come in without an invitation was Soap.
“Price is my favourite person,” Ghost huffed.
“Right, but ye would do anything for good old Johnny, right?”
Another huff. “I am not washin’ your dirty socks again.” The eyes through the holes of his mask were hard, but Soap could hear the smile in his voice without a problem. He didn't understand how people could claim Ghost was hard to read when most of his emotions were right there to see, one just needed to know what to look out for.
“This is nae about the socks.” Though that had been one of his greatest achievements, getting The Ghost to wash his socks just with a bit of whining. He loved this game they played, loved to see how much he could get away with, made him feel special, invincible. It was stupid, probably immature too, but he didn't really care. He had earned it, this closeness with Ghost, had worked hard for it, years to crack that shell bit by bit and even now he knew there were still a lot of fucking layers to get through. But it was okay, Soap had patience, at least in this one thing. He knew not to pressure Ghost past his limits, made it much more valuable, every small information about Ghost, every confession, every remark or quiet admission. Soap took it all, handled it carefully, like he had learned to handle explosives, and filed it away under his ever growing Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley folder, guarding his treasure with bared teeth and burning passion. So what if he prided himself in it a little bit? Nothing wrong with that.
“Fucking hell just spit it out, Johnny.”
The nickname was by far the best thing that had come out of this. Everytime Ghost drawled it in his deep manc accent Soap felt his insides turn into goo. If he could, he would record just that one word and play it on repeat over and over again until it was burned into his eardrums. Yeah okay maybe a little crush was playing into all of this too. A big little crush. A massive crush. A pathetic, hopeless crush. Because in all the pride he held in befriending Ghost, he didn't fool himself by thinking it could ever go further than that. There was a lot standing between them, their stations and the walls of trauma Ghost had erected around himself like a fortress were only the most important points. And even if these things were out of the way, how high were the chances that Ghost was into blokes as well? Really fucking small. Soap had done the maths, more than once.
“So, ye remember how Laswell is making us all take leave for the foreseeable future after that last fuck up of a job?”
“Course I fuckin’ remember, I was there, wasn't I?”
“Yeah, so…” Fuck, now he started to get nervous. There was still time for a tactical retreat, but if there was one thing MacTavishes stood for it was standing their ground and not running away. Even if they might get beaten into a pulp by their massive and massively hot Lieutenant any minute now. Soap opened his mouth again and rushed it all out in one single breath. “Ineedyetobemyfakeboyfriendforthenextfewdays.”
Ghost blinked at him slowly. “The fuck you just said? Was that even english?”
Soap took a deep breath and repeated his sentence, a bit slower this time. “I need ye to be my fake boyfriend for the next few days.”
The confusion in Ghost's eyes didn't clear up one bit. Soap would even argue that it thickened. Immensely. “Wot?”
Soap felt his face heat up and not for the first time he wished he had one of Ghost's balaclavas to pull over his head.
“I might've fucked up in the past…”
“What else is new?”
“Oi! And now I am so deep into the lie I cannae easily get out of it. But Jesus the harpies kept nagging me ‘When will ye settle down, John?’, ‘When will ye bring a nice lass or lad home, John?’,‘Look at yer sister and her wife, they already have three bairns, John!’, ‘Yer nae getting younger, John.’ One day I just snapped, told them I had a boyfriend, obviously ma wouldn't leave it alone until I showed her a picture and I thought ‘who is the most terrifying bastard I know?’ hoping she would leave it alone, so I showed her a picture of ye, told her we met at work. That was a year ago.”
“Your family thinks we've been in a relationship for a year?”
“One and a half, we kept it quiet for a few months.” Soap scratched the back of his neck, felt the heat on his face creep down his throat and wished the floor would open up to swallow him whole. He cleared his throat and pushed the rest of the story out before he could think better of it. At least Ghost hadn't yet stabbed him, but maybe he had to recover from the shock first.
“Now it's my cousin's big ass wedding and obviously everybody is insisting I bring my boyfriend, so…”
“Just tell ‘em you lied.”
“And be the laughing stock for years? Thanks no. Thought about telling them we broke up but I dinnae want tae break my grans heart, she is almost 90.”
“Yeah, we wouldn't want that.” Ghost crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. It creaked dangerously under his weight. His shirt stretched over the expanse of his wide chest and Soap suddenly was reminded of the fact that Ghost had choked off a guy with his left arm just a few days ago, and now he was begging him to meet his extended family to keep up a pathetic lie? God, what a stupid thing to do. Sometimes Soap wondered if Gaz was right and he should think about the consequences of his actions more often.
“What's in it for me?”
Soap tried for one of his charming smiles. It seemed to have no effect on Ghost today, what a shame. “The beautiful Scottish countryside and my delightful company?”
“Try harder.”
“I'll do yer laundry for a month.”
“Not good enough.”
“I'll do yer laundry for a month and take over yer training duties.”
Ghost hummed. “Almost there.”
“Laundry, training duty and I'll make sure ye are stocked up on these disgusting cornflakes ye call food.”
“Laundry and training duty for a month, cornflakes for a year.”
Soap groaned. “Och, come on, a year? Ye know how hard it is to find these stupid things! Think they are banned in most countries, they are just sugar, food colouring and deadly chemicals.”
“The chemicals are the best part, give you the kick you need in the morning. We have a deal?”
“Yeah.” Soap stepped forward to take Ghost's outstretched hand. The leather of his gloves was cold and rough, his grip strong and sure. They shook on it once.
“We'll need to leave tomorrow, the wedding is next weekend but ma wants us to come earlier. We'll discuss Intel about my family and our POA on the train ride. Oh and dinnae forget to bring a suit.”
Soap did not wait for Ghost's answer, he fled out of his office as soon as he finished speaking and made a beeline for Gaz’ room, slamming the door behind himself wide eyed.
“Oh my god. I just did the stupidest, stupidest, soapiest thing you could think of.”
Gaz, stretched out on his bed, pulled his airpods out of his ears and raised his eyebrows. “Blew up the microwave again?”
“Worse.”
“Confessed your feelings to Ghost?”
“Still worse, somehow.”
Gaz blanched. “Tell me you didn't.”
“I did.”
“I thought we agreed to tell them ‘your boyfriend’ couldn't make it?”
“We did but then my ma called again and fuck ye know how she is, gets right under yer skin, so I might've promised her I'm bringing him.”
“You still have all your limbs so I assume you haven't told him yet?”
“I have. He agreed.”
“Wow, fucked up.”
“Right?” Soap crossed the room to dramatically flop down on the bed besides Gaz, digging his fingers into the top of his mohawk. “He wasn't even angry or anything. Just made me promise to do his laundry and take over training duty, fuck and get him these radioactive cornflakes he eats.”
“That shit’ll kill him, you knew Price throws them away when he finds his stash?”
“Really? How does he… wait dinnae try and distract me! The fuck am I supposed to do now? My family will expect us to be all couplely and shit, can ye imagine Ghost holding hands?” A hysterical laugh broke out of Soap. Not that he hadn't pictured that ever before, a lot of times actually, more often than any sane person should. Because really, holding hands? But the thought of holding Ghost's hand made his heart rate pick up like a teenager with his first crush. There was just something about Ghost that made everything more intense.
“I can't even imagine him smiling, mate.” Gaz pressed his shoulder into Soap's. “But you know he likes you, in his own, weird Ghost way, don't think he would've agreed otherwise, so don't worry too much.”
Soap groaned and buried his face in his hands. “He will hate me when the week is over. Gaz, I will absolutely humiliate myself in front of him. My family will finish him off.”
“You can always fake your death and start wearing a mask, bro.”
That at least got a good laugh out of Soap.
“And I don't think there is much that could scare him off, at least when it's you. Two weeks ago he gave you his mask.”
“Because I was freezing my fucking face off.”
Gaz snorted. “Yeah well, he wouldn't give a rats ass about my freezing face. Would only pull one of his ratty ass jokes.”
“He did one on me too. Cold weather snow laughing matter!” Soap shook his head. “Can't believe I am into that.”
“That's what I've been telling you, mate. But I guess there is a pyromatic lid for every psychopathic pot.”
“Jesus, shut up. Put yer stupid music back on and let me wallow in self pity.” He snatched one of Gaz’ airpods and put it into his ear.
Gaz pulled a face. “Great, that's what I needed, your nasty earwax all over my headphones. Fuck you.” But he did take the other one and started his music back up, even switched to a sad heartbreak playlist just for Soap, a minute later they were screaming along to Someone you loved at the tops of their lungs.
**
“Nice weather we are having, right?” Soap asked as he shuffled along at Ghost's side over to the main entrance of the train station. He was, for lack of better wording, losing his fucking mind. Ghost and him had been friends for a while now, teammates for even longer, but never, not once, had they spent leave together or just in general spent some time out in the civilian world. Ghost was either at base, on a mission or he vanished into thin air. But he didn't do train stations or families or vacations or any of the other normal shit other people were up to on their leaves. So being here with him was more than weird. And Soap had the big urge to make it as comfortable and entertaining as possible, which naturally meant that he was making an ass of himself.
“You really never shut up, do you?” Ghost stared at him out of the shadow of his hood. He didn't look all that different from what he normally looked like, black hoodie, black balaclava with skull print, black jeans, black duffel bag. The only things missing were the weapon holsters that were normally strapped to his person at all times. Soap had the strong suspicion that he was sleeping with the damned things. Seeing him without any kind of (obvious) weaponry was eerie and wrong, made him look naked and much softer.
“Dinnae pretend ye dinnae like my blabbering.” Soap grinned and nudged his shoulder.
Ghost rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” The closest thing to an admission Soap would get.
They pushed into the train station building. It was full of people hurrying around, laughing and talking, speakers played announcements for different trains and departure times, a group of children was screaming and a few metres away from them a businessman was shouting into his phone with a red face. Soap pulled a face and hurried on, automatically clocking the entrances and hiding spots, scanning the area around them for danger. Ghost at his side was rigid as a statue, the grip on his bag was white knuckled and his eyes wide open. He looked like a hare caught in a trap, ready to bolt the second he got the chance to do so.
“Our train’s over there,” Soap said as softly as he could and grabbed the hem of Ghost's sleeve to pull him along through the sea of people. Ghost followed with quick steps, trusting Soap enough to guide him through this. Soap's heart sank a little bit. “Last time I went up tae Glasgow the train was delayed by 2 hours because of a fucking tree on the tracks, can ye believe it? Had half a mind to get out and carry the damned thing off the tracks myself. Was after that shit mission in the fucking arabian desert, still had sand all up in my arsecrack and that stupid train wouldn't drive.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see the way Ghost leaned his head into his direction, focusing on Soap's story instead of the mayhem around them. “Finally made it home, opened my bag and more fucking sand rained out, that red shit all over my carpet, between my teeth and everywhere and the first thing my nieces wanted to do when they see me? Play in the fucking sandbox.”
Ghost huffed a small laugh. The sound made Soap's heart soar. “But they are cute little brats so I couldnae say no obviously, spent the whole day in the fucking sand again. I swear I dreamed about nothing but sand for weeks.”
Soap pushed the button to open the train door and led the way inside. It was quiet here, they were early, the train still mostly empty. Soap had hoped it would be like this, easier for Ghost to settle down.
He had reserved the four seater at the end of the wagon, two chairs had their backs to the wall, they had a table in the middle and enough room to stretch their legs. Soap pushed Ghost into the window seat, threw their bags onto the free seats and then sat down beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed and their thighs touched. Not that there was any option to leave room between them anyways, they were both big men and the seats were definitely not made for them to sit side by side like this.
“Your nieces will be there?” Ghost mumbled. There was still a haunted quality to his eyes, the way they fitted over the people around them instead of settling on Soap.
“Yeah, they are twins, Ava and Ella, they have a little brother, Rory. My sister Erin's kids. Wait, I made ye a chart actually.”
“The fuck do I need a chart for?”
“Ye’ll see.” Soap stretched over the table for his bag and cursed under his breath when his fingers couldn't reach. He pushed himself further up, basically straddling the table, and finally managed to grab his bag and rip it open. He took the chart out and returned to his seat. Ghost was staring intensely out of the window, even if all there was to see was the train station wall. The skin around his eyes looked weirdly flushed. Maybe he was warm. Soap always found that trains heated too much.
“Only wrote down the important family members, mainly because I cannae remember all the cousins and shit.” Soap spread the paper out between them. He had drawn the family tree as well as he could. “The first is my gran, Agnes’. She is the head of the family. She was married to my grandpa but he croaked it like 10 years ago. They had six children, one of them is my da, Douglas, and then all of my aunts and uncles. My da and my ma, Gail, have three children, my eldest sister Claire, my older sister Erin and me. Then Erin went and married her wife and they also have three children, the twins both 8, and Rory is four now. I also wrote some important information about everyone down, for example Claire got divorced last year. Ye better remember this shit. Also I dinnae really know who's fucking wedding it is, Martha or Luke or something, disnae matter. They are all the same.”
Ghost took the paper and let out a low groan. “Didn't know there was homework involved in this.” He studied the family tree anyways. Soap could see the way he noted the information down, ever efficient, ever observant. “Fucking hell how many people are going to be there?”
Soap shrugged. “With all the uncles and aunts and cousins and children and great aunts and great uncles and partners and family friends? 100? 150? And that will be only our side.”
Ghost tensed. “150? I thought it would be like fucking 20 or something. What the fuck, you lot breed like rabbits.”
“It's not our fault we MacTavishes are so sexy and irresistible. Well except for Larry. I fucking hate Larry.”
“What did Larry do?”
“Made some money on the stock market and now he thinks he's better than anybody else. Runs around giving ye financial advice if ye want it or not. If he starts talking to ye just shove him over and pretend it was an accident, that's what my sisters and I do.”
“Anything else I need to know?”
“Well…” Finally the train started to move and for a few seconds they were distracted by the city zipping past the window. Soap cleared his throat and felt some heat rise into his cheeks. To the uncomfortable part then. “Guess we should make sure our stories align?”
“Right.” Ghost shuffled the family tree over the table with one hand and rolled his neck as if he too was very uncomfortable all of a sudden. Soap still didn't understand why he had agreed to come along in the first place. Surely the deal they had made didn't cut it at all. Maybe he would ask him another day. Knowing himself the question would explode out of him sooner or later.
“As I said I told them we've been together for one and a half years, our anniversary is in February and we met at work…” Soap's voice trailed off while he talked and he avoided looking at Ghost directly. This lie seemed very ridiculous all of a sudden. Really what had he been thinking? Clearly nothing at all. And now he was dragging Ghost into all of this. His friend. His teammate. His superior officer. What a shitshow. It was hitting him only now how weird all of this must be to Ghost, how stupid it was. Here he was, almost 30, and he couldn't stand up to his nagging family. What did they even care if he was in a relationship? What did Soap care?
Ghost snorted. “What our eyes met over the cooling body of a terrorist and we fell madly in love?”
Soap blushed a little bit more. Because yeah well that was basically what had happened to him, wasn't it? He had seen Ghost work, his brutality and efficiency, had learned what it felt like to fight alongside him, had listened to his god awful jokes and had fallen harder than Gaz out of that helicopter.
He put on a cocky grin. “I would say ye saw my devilishly good looks, smart brains and otherworldly fighting techniques and basically begged me to go out with you.”
Ghost huffed. “I wouldn't beg.”
“You would for me.” The words were out faster than he could hold them in, a classic case of his lacking brain to mouth filter. Well he couldn't take them back now so he might as well stand up to them. When he looked up, Ghost was already staring back at him. The look in his eyes was hard to read, even to Soap. Intense, slightly aggressive and for a second Soap feared that he had gone too far, even if that had definitely not been the most unhinged thing he had ever said. But then again there was a difference if you said stuff like this in the heat of battle, pumped full of adrenaline, or sat in a train up to Glasgow.
“In your dreams.”
“How did ye know, Lt?”
“Bloody hell, shut the fuck up, Johnny. Just tell them it's classified.”
“Ah yeah, the Ghost way of life. Cannae ask questions if there aren't any answers.”
“Damn straight.”
Soap had to actively bite his tongue to keep himself from saying another stupid thing.
“Do we live together?”
“What do I know?”
“Ye really are no help!”
“It's your lie not mine.” Ghost crossed his arms over his chest. “Stay close to the truth, it's easier to remember the details. We live on base, we are away a lot anyways, no need to rent a flat. We keep our relationship out of our work, the rest is nobody's business. Problem solved.”
“Yer a natural, Lt. Not yer first rodeo, eh?”
“Just grew up lying a lot. What else?”
Soap wasn't sure how to broach the subject. Knowing Ghost, Ghost hadn't even thought about it himself. “Touching,” he said and very bravely held Ghost's gaze. Soap was from a very touchy family. He loved touching people. He hugged and kissed and shook hands, gave reassuring squeezes or bumps to the shoulder. But Ghost was different. Ghost didn't do touch. Even with Soap he never initiated, only tolerated and Soap tried his best to respect his boundaries. But it was hard, the urge was always there. His skin itched with the desire to be pressed against Ghost's, his hands longed for the feel of his warmth under his palm, for just the barest hint of touch unobscured by layers of clothing. It was something he had learned to navigate, ignored it mostly and reduced his touches to the barest minimum.
“Touching?” Ghost echoed and some of the haunted quality returned to his eyes. Soap wasn't sure what exactly the reason for his touch averseness was. Ghost held his cards close to his chest, revealed bits and pieces of him only when he deemed it necessary. Soap knew about Ghost's past in general terms, torture and trauma enough to fuck up anybody, but he didn't know enough to paint the full picture. He wasn't sure if anybody did, wasn't sure if he could take the full truth, or if it wouldn't break him to hear about it, about the things that had shattered such a beautiful soul like Simon's.
“I mean- uh…” Soap dug his fingernails into the cheap plastic edge of the table. His right leg started to jump without a conscious decision. “... my family might expect a certain… closeness?”
Ghost tensed. “Like?”
“I dinnae ken, holding hands? Hugging? Stuff like that.”
Ghost was quiet for quite a while, long enough that Soap started to fear he might break the window and jump out of the speeding train to escape the situation. Soap wouldn't put it past him. Hell, he might consider it himself if this got any more uncomfortable. He was sure he could find a way to break the glass, in the end brute force always worked.
“Hand holding and hugs, no kissing. And the mask stays on.” He sounded weirdly strained. Soap couldn't really place the tone of his voice.
“Fine by me. Just tell me when you are uncomfortable and fair warning my family might try to hug ye, we are all very touchy. I told them not to but they might forget in their excitement.”
“Bloody brilliant.”
Soap bit his lip and turned away from Ghost's burning gaze to stare at the table instead. “Sorry for dragging ye into this mess. Not my most glorious moment.”
“It's fine, Johnny,” said so gentle and so natural for such a brutal man. Soap wished the rest of the world could see the person he knew Ghost was. He wished he could show them all the soft and gentle pieces and beg them to handle them with care, there were so few left and they kept shattering and Soap was the only person close enough to catch them before they could hit the ground, not even Ghost bothered to hold onto them. The world had shown him that kindness was weakness and all Soap wanted was to prove him wrong. He pressed his knee against Ghost's, just for a second, and imagined he could feel the heat of his body seep through the denim of his jeans.
“Still better than that fuck up in Azerbaijan,” Ghost muttered. The skin around his eyes crinkled with mirth.
Soap pouted. “That was one time! And it was an accident.”
“You broke a tank. How do you break a tank? They are unbreakable, that's their whole thing.”
“It was a shite tank then. Cheap.”
“That general seemed to think otherwise.”
“He had it out for me, didnae like me.”
Ghost chuckled. “Might be ‘cause I told him you were a better tactician than him. Didn't like the way he talked about you.”
Soap suddenly felt very very warm. A wide grin spread out over his face. “Aww ye big ass softie. Ye do like me!”
“Don't be ridiculous. It was what was best for the mission.” Ghost sounded bashful and turned his head away to stare out of the window.
Soap grinned wider. “Aye, keep telling yerself that, but I know the truth.” He tapped his own head and winked at Ghost. “And I'll never let ye forget it.”
“Guess I'll have to kill you then. How do you want to go out?”
“Oh I get a choice? Sweet. I want an explosion, but an epic one! Not a measly little thing.”
“An explosion as big as your ego. Noted.”
“Great.” Soap sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Okay last question and then we have the basics down I think. What about pet names?”
“Don't care what you call me.”
“Oh? So ye wouldn't mind the occasional Sugar Plum or Pookie Bear? What about My Little Pumpkin? Snuggle Buggle? Honey Bun?”
“You could try. Once.”
“So ye would mind!”
Ghost's head fell against the headrest and he stared up at the ceiling, probably regretting all his life choices. “Just use my fucking name then, that's what they are there for, aren't they?”
“Boring, but fine. This will be a walk in the park. We'll be back sooner than you can say ‘Latrine duty for a month, Sergeant!’”
“Not a bad idea.”
“Och, come on, ye wouldn't make yer favourite Sergeant clean toilets.”
“Garrick is my favourite Sergeant.”
Soap grabbed his own chest and let out a pitiful wail, pouting up at Ghost. “Ye just broke my heart, Lt!”
“Johnny.”
“No! I cannae hear that name right now. Ye betrayed me! I will never know happiness again!” He pretended to wipe tears off his face and sniffled.
“Fine. I'll take it back. Happy?”
Soap stopped his act immediately and started grinning again. “Very.”
Ghost rolled his eyes.
“Just so ye know, ye are also my favourite Lieutenant.”
“Great, I'll put that on my uniform.”
“I can make ye a medal.”
Ghost snorted in amusement. The sound made Soap grin wider. “But only if ye wear it!”
“With pride, Johnny.”
The rest of the train ride passed much more comfortably than Soap had expected. It was a long drive, over five hours and he had been afraid it would get awkward. But it didn't. He shouldn't have worried. It never was with Ghost, at least not when it was only them, as if they did stuff like this all the time, as if they were cut out of the same speck of stardust. It were thoughts like this that did him in mostly. Thoughts he tried not to let grow too much. How he felt safe with Ghost by his side, safer than anywhere else in the world. Didn't matter if bombs and bullets were raining down around them, if he was bleeding out in the streets of Las Almas or almost falling out of a skyscraper, as long as Ghost was there, he was good. Even if he died one day, which seemed likely, he thought it would be fine as long as Ghost was by his side. Because what better hand was there to guide him to sleep than the one he felt the most home with? And he would happily wait for him on the other side, how long it might take, would watch him from the breeze over the Highlands and the sunset over the sea and make sure he was never alone wherever he went.
So it were thoughts like this that squeezed his heart and made his breath stutter in his chest. The devotion he felt and couldn't get rid of. He knew deep down, even if he did not like to acknowledge it, that he was done for, that this was it and that there was no turning back, at least not for him, not anymore. And he would happily take whatever Ghost wanted to offer him. Even if it was just this, sitting side by side in a train to Glasgow.
**
By the time their train arrived in Glasgow Ghost was uncharacteristically quiet and fidgety and Soap was an absolute wreck. His da would pick them up from the station, which had sounded like a good idea then but sounded like an awful idea now, because now they were only five minutes away from Ghost and his dad meeting. Five minutes. Soap was hyperventilating.
He guided Ghost outside, avoiding the crowded areas, and looked around with a racing heart. He spotted his dad immediately, leaned against his rusty VW Golf. Ghost in a 2001 VW Golf. Soap almost broke down in nervous laughter.
Douglas MacTavish was a sturdy man with a big belly and a flourishing beard and the kindest smile known to mankind. He waved as soon as he saw them and strode over in big steps.
“John!”
Soap was smothered in a hug before he could wave back. His dad was a bit smaller than himself but that didn't hinder him from squeezing the life out of his son. Soap patted his back and stepped back after a few, breathless seconds.
“So- uh this is Simon. Simon my da.”
The height difference between the two of them was hilarious. They looked like two completely different species.
The smile on his dad's face widened. “Very nice to meet ye! We've heard alot about ye.” He stretched his hand out for Ghost to shake. Ghost took it. Soap could see the tremble in his fingers. Was he nervous about meeting Soap's dad? Cute.
“Likewise, sir.”
“Ye got here well?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Attaboy, no need tae call me sir. Let's get goin’, Gail has already walked a trail into the carpet I bet.”
They stuffed their bags into the boot of the car and dad forced Soap to take the backseat so Ghost could have the legroom of the passenger seat. Ghost looked immensely uncomfortable, his shoulders tense and back straight.
The car engine came to life and then they pulled out of the parking lot out onto the street.
His dad was already talking, filling the silence with meaningless conversation. A skill Soap had copied from his father early on. It seemed to have a soothing effect on Ghost too, like a horse being talked down after it had been spooked by a shadow in the corner. With the tension slowly leaking out of Ghost he felt himself relax too. It would be fine. Somehow. His parents were good people, kind, they had taught Soap everything he knew about morals and values, they would do their best to be kind to Ghost too.
“Gail is so excited she has been stress baking and stress cooking the whole day. You aren't vegetarian, Simon, right?”
“Vegan,” Ghost huffed.
Da’s hands cramped around the steering wheel, undoubtedly thinking about the fuss ma would make once she found out Ghost couldn't eat any of the food she prepared.
Soap kicked the back of Ghost's chair hard enough to rattle him a bit. “He is not vegan, he's just taking the piss. He eats everything, one time I saw him gobble down a live beetle. I heard the crunch and everything. Disgusting.” Soap made a retching sound and kicked the chair again, for good measure.
“Stop that, MacTavish.”
“Or what?”
Ghost turned around to glare at him, but Soap felt perfectly safe on the backseat out of Ghost's reach. That was until Ghost's hand wandered over to the seat belt fastener.
“Hey! Keep the seatbelt on, this is a civilian car, ye behemoth!”
Ghost snorted. “Big word, you sure you know what it means?”
“Aye, because I am the stupid one, yeah? At least I am nae blonde!”
“Tell one blonde joke and I'll write you up for insulting your superior.”
Soap stretched his leg out to kick the backrest again. “Two blondes fell down a hole…” Ghost hands found their way between the front seats and grabbed Soap's foot. Hard. Soap squeaked. “Let go! I'll file a formal complaint about ye!”
“Do you even know how to write?”
“Do ye know how to write?” Soap pulled at Ghost's fingers to get him to loosen his grip but he had a feeling that Ghost would rather let him break his hand than give up.
His da snorted in amusement. Soap and Ghost froze at the same time, simultaneously remembering that they weren't alone in the car. Ghost withdrew his hand. Soap cleared his throat.
Okay yeah so that was going to be weird. Gaz and Price were used to their bickering by now and just ignored it most of the time but he guessed it would take some getting used to for his parents. It wasn't that Soap didn't make jokes with his family or was quiet all the time, he just held back. A lot. They didn't understand his humour most of the time, would get worried about the things Soap made jokes about. They didn't understand and he had no energy to explain because really there were no words for the lifestyle he led, for the way he had numbed to the sight of death and suffering. Ghost understood, had seen things even Soap couldn't comprehend. Gaz and Price understood. His family didn't. It made Soap feel slightly out of place every time he came back home, as if his family was expecting a person he wasn't anymore and everytime it got harder to play that role. And it wasn't their fault really. It wasn't even his own fault. It just was, a stretch of no-man's-land that separated the lot of them.
“Yer sisters and the kids will come around for dinner later,” his dad said after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
“Alright.” He had hoped they would give Ghost longer to acclimatise himself with the situation but obviously that wasn't the case. He loved his family dearly, but they could be a bit overbearing and over excited at times. It was a wonder the whole clan hadn't pulled up to pick them up from the train. It was probably only dad's doing that they had at least this small window of peace.
The drive took around 30 minutes and finally they pulled up into his parents driveway. By the time they arrived, Soap was more than ready to leave the car, dad's nervous talking and Ghost's uncomfortable silence behind.
Soap let his dad take the lead in walking up to the house and took Ghost to the side under the guise of getting their luggage out of the car.
“Ye’re sure? Ye can still run.”
“Don't worry about it, Johnny.” Ghost grabbed both of their bags and left Soap to trail behind him to the front door.
The door opened instantly, as if his mum had been waiting behind it the whole time, which she probably had, and then there was no turning back anymore. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley was about to meet Soap's mum. What the fuck.