Work Text:
The pub was winding down, the noise not nearly as loud as it had been only an hour prior. Glasses clinked together in the sink as the bartender washed them and the television played sports highlights at a low volume. Soap couldn’t help but smile as he watched Ghost wait at the bar for their final round of drinks. “Arthur.” Soap said confidently.
“You really think his name is Arthur?” Gaz raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a chair next to Price after returning from the bathroom.
“It could be.” Soap said petulantly, kicking the seat of Gaz’s chair, almost knocking him over.
“You’re even dumber than you look, and that’s a feat even for you.” He reached over to slug Soap’s arm as hard as he could, but he deftly avoided the hit.
“Can ye at least give me a hint?” Soap groaned and leaned his head in his palm, looking at Price expectantly.
Price merely raised a bushy eyebrow in response.
Guess that was a no.
“Mate, you’ve only been with us for a few months, he’s not just going to spill his name to someone like you.”
“What do ye mean someone like me?” Soap glared, hurt. He swiped his thumb along the bottle, the condensation being easily wiped away at his touch.
“You’re a…Cap what word am I looking for here?” Gaz waved his wrist in a circle.
“Loudmouth?” Price suggested with a smile as he took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired, and Soap wanted to poke fun at him, but thought better of it. He was still a little nervous around the Captain.
“Am nae!” Soap said loudly.
“Shut up, Soap.” Ghost said good naturedly and set down four bottles of beer, two bottles threaded between the fingers of each hand.
Gaz grinned, his cheeks slightly red from the alcohol and laughter, but said nothing, his point already proven.
“Ye never tell Gaz to shut up.” Soap muttered as he dipped his head down to look in his lap, his eyes narrowed to a squint.
Ghost rolled his eyes and grabbed two of the bottles, setting one down in front of Soap before himself.
“That’s because Gaz knows when to shut his gob.” Without a second thought, Ghost popped the cap off the bottle of beer for him.
“That'd be the day.” Price mumbled under his breath.
“What were you talking about? Could practically hear Soap pouting from all the way over at the bar.”
“He’s trying to guess your first name.” Ghost slid his eyes over to Soap who pointedly avoided his sharp stare, drawing imaginary circles with his finger into the tabletop.
“You already know my first name.” That made Soap pause. Ghost held up a hand and wiped it across the air in front of him as he spoke, “First name Lieutenant, last name Ghost.” His balaclava was pulled up just to the very top of his lip and Soap couldn’t take his eyes off of his lieutenant's crooked smile.
Ghost’s smile slowly disappeared as Soap's stare lingered a bit too long, and he pulled the fabric back over his mouth, snapping Soap out of his stupor. “What’d he guess?” His attention shifted back to the other men.
“Arthur.” Gaz spoke up with an amused glint in his eyes.
“Hmm. Here’s a hint,” Ghost leaned his head to the side as if he were going to tell Soap a secret. “My mum named me.”
“Ach, piss off.” Soap threw up his hands in exasperation, and Ghost snorted, settling back into his seat. “Yer really not going to tell me?”
Ghost laughed quietly, “No, Soap, I’m not.”
“Is it because it’s something really bad?”
“It’s not–”
"Albie? Reggie? Theodore? Jaxon?" Soap flicked the names off on his fingers.
Ghost grabbed those same fingers in a warm grip and time seemed to slow, thoughts of only his lieutenant filling his head.
“You’ll never guess it in a million years, even with a hint.”
“M-Michael?” Soap choked on the name, already knowing it was wrong by the sly look in Ghost’s dark eyes.
“Not even close.” Ghost forced Soap’s hand down to the table, telling him without words that he was done with his little guessing game.
“But–”
“You know what they call a group of curious crows?” Ghost interrupted.
“Sir?”
“A tempted murder.”
Gaz groaned at the same time Soap let out a surprised guffaw, “That’s it, I’m heading back to base.” Gaz shook Price awake, who had dozed off with his arms crossed and head tilted down. “Let’s go, Cap. I think I’m gonna get sick if I stay here any longer.” Price hummed his agreement and grabbed his hat, placing it sloppily over his head.
“Night, boys.” The duo stumbled off together and then disappeared out the doors.
Soap really appreciated when they all got together once a month, usually talking and drinking late into the night, none of them in a rush to get back to base until morning came. It was almost a miracle that he even ended up on the task force to begin with. Price and Gaz were welcoming enough, but when he met his lieutenant? Soap had stumbled into something amazing.
Every day that he spent with Ghost had him wondering how he’d got so lucky. Being with him was effortless, easy, and somewhere along the way he found himself falling headfirst for him.
Soap lifted his beer and took a long drink from it, feeling his cheeks heat up to blazing.
“Why do you wanna know so badly?” Ghost asked after a long moment of silence.
“Huh?”
“My name. Keep up, Johnny.”
“See?” Soap pointed accusingly at him, “Ye know my name.”
“So? You were the one who wanted to tell me so bad that you spilled it in the first thirty minutes of meeting me.”
Soap couldn’t help it, being around Ghost made him want to talk, to share things about himself. Stories came pouring out of him, some mundane, some embarrassing–it didn’t matter he told them all. Soap was always rambling about something to Ghost.
Most importantly, Ghost listened. At first glance, you’d think he wasn’t, usually staring straight ahead or continuing on whatever task he was working on. But Soap was floored when Ghost eventually started responding to him, asking his own questions, interjecting with his own comments, which only spurred him on more.
“Lt?” Ghost only grunted to show he was listening. “Would ye tell me if I guessed it correctly?”
“Doubt it.”
“That's nae fair.” Soap whined and let his head fall to the table, his folded hands cushioning the drop.
Ghost suddenly paused, and Soap peeked out from his hands just in time to see him finish his beer. His eyes were fixated on Ghost's throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
Soap had seen Ghost’s full face only once, and he was hit with such whiplash that he barely was able to take it all in. He wanted to race back to base and pull out his sketchpad, drawing every single detail he could remember of his perfect face.
All at once, Soap suddenly started to feel very drunk.
“What about yer last name?” Soap slurred, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling settle over him.
“Right. That's enough for tonight, let’s head on out.” Ghost bent down and shouldered himself underneath Soap, wrapping a hand around his neck to lift him from his chair.
“Aww, c’mon, Lt. Throw me a bone here.” Soap stumbled alongside his lieutenant.
“You a dog now, Johnny?” Ghost pushed the exit door open and the muggy summer air hit Soap right in the face. The humidity was suffocating him and he couldn’t wait to get in the truck for some much needed a/c.
“Why, want me to bark for ye?” Soap smiled like an idiot and Ghost opened the passenger door so roughly that it creaked.
Ghost let out a shaky exhale, “Get in the car, Soap.” Ghost sounded tense and that set off alarm bells in his head. Had he gone too far? Usually they joked like this all the time. He wanted to apologize but Ghost just shoved him into the car seat roughly with a grunt. The door slammed shut and he saw Ghost wipe his hands down his covered face. When Ghost finally looked back at the truck Soap snapped his head away.
Soap kept his head turned away from Ghost, staring purposefully out the window so he didn’t make eye contact with him accidentally.
“Soap.” Was this the moment where Ghost tells him he’s just as annoying as everyone else?
Despite the sweltering weather outside, Soap felt a cold emptiness lingering at the edges of his heart.
“...Soap?” He felt his brow twitch as dread washed over him. He thought Ghost was his friend, best friend even. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it, but maybe Ghost was growing tired of him. It made sense, he could be overbearing, too much.
“Johnny!” Ghost yelled in his ear and he flinched away so hard he almost smacked his head against the car window.
“Fuck! I hear ye, what?” Soap rubbed his ear, trying to stop the ringing while Ghost gave him a loaded stare.
Everyone always said Ghost was hard to read but Soap begged to differ, his eyes were such an open book. The way his brow pinched, the way his eyes curved when he smiled, the wrinkle in the corner of his eyes when he was annoyed, it was all clear as day to him.
“Seat belt.”
“Ah ken.”
“...So put it on.”
“Why?” Soap wanted to push his luck, to tease his lieutenant and make sure they were still okay. Ghost let out a hefty sigh and reached over Soap to grab his seat belt.
The top of Ghost’s balaclava rubbed against the underside of his chin and he could feel Ghost’s breath on his chest. Soap himself seemed to forget how to breathe.
“Ye never answered my question.” Soap somehow managed to speak while Ghost clicked his own seat belt shut.
“What question?” Ghost said absently, turning the key and starting the car.
“Yer last name.”
“You want my last name now, too?” Soap could hear the smirk in his voice.
“Aye.”
“Hell of a way to propose, Johnny. I’ll have to think on it.” Ghost placed his hand on the back of Soap’s headrest as he reversed out of the parking spot.
Affection threatened to burst out of Soap like water through a worn out dam.
“Give it up already.” Gaz was running laps with him in the early morning, and was already regretting it. “What does it matter?” Soap could feel the shirt clinging to his back with sweat.
“Ye get tae know his name.”
Gaz scoffed, “So what?” Gaz didn't even know how lucky he was to be one of the few people who got to have the privilege.
“Please!” He whined
“Alright, fine, I'll tell you after the next lap."
“Really?” Soap brightened.
“Hell no! I’m not about to incur Ghost’s wrath.”
“So what? I piss him off all the time and it's fine.”
“That’s because he likes you, idiot. The rest of us don't get the same leeway as you.”
That very conversation was what brought him here, to stand nervously outside of Ghost’s office door. His forehead was pressed against the wood and he was trying to psych himself up to knock.
Just as he found his resolve, he was interrupted.
“What are you doing at my door, sergeant?” An embarrassing squeak left Soap as he backed away from the door.
“W-waiting for ye, sir.” Soap panicked. There was something dangerous swirling in Ghost's eyes and Soap decided to proceed with caution.
Ghost watched him suspiciously for a few moments, and then tucked the folders he was holding underneath his arm. He fished his key card out of his pocket and pressed it against the pad, unlocking the door and stepping inside.
“Well?” He asked over his shoulder to a confused Soap, “Get in.”
Soap didn’t have to be told twice as he followed him in, shutting the door behind him with a resounding click. His lieutenant sat behind his desk and let out a groan, stretching his back with a pop and Soap felt his stomach flip.
“Let’s hear it then.” Soap was enraptured as Ghost slowly began peeling his gloves off. He felt the back of his neck grow hot as he pulled each finger out of the fabric. “What do you need, Soap?” The question came again.
He had to hold back a whine as Ghost pulled the glove off slowly, almost teasingly, leaving his hands bare. He stretched his hands out, flexing the stiffness from his fingers.
It felt like Ghost was putting on a performance for him, as if he was front row at a burlesque show. “Sometime today would be nice.”
Soap blushed furiously at being caught staring, “Um, can I guess?”
“Guess what, Soap? Spit it out, I've got a lot of work to do.” As if to illustrate, he uncapped a pen and started scribbling on a document.
“Yer name.”
To his credit, Ghost only froze for a half second. “Will this get you to leave me alone?”
“I’d wager it’d probably make it worse.”
Annoyance flickered in Ghost’s eyes. “Then no.”
“What if I do anyway?” Soap wandered shamelessly around his office, ending up right in front of his desk with his hands flicking through a cup of office supplies in an aimless manner.
That's because he likes you, idiot
“Why do you need to know it?” Ghost slammed his pen down and leaned backwards in his chair and he briefly wondered if Gaz had been wrong. "What the hell is this about, really?"
“Gaz and Price know, Laswell knows, why not me?” Once it left his mouth it sounded even more immature than he originally thought.
“Alejandro doesn't know it.” Ghost pointed out as if that made a difference to him.
“I dinnae care–”
“Quit looming over me like some kind of gargoyle. Some of us actually have work to do, so make yourself useful or fuck off.”
“But–”
“Out!”
The perfect opportunity to approach Ghost again, presented itself a week later, when Soap caught him on his smoke break.
“Does Rudy ken?” Ghost didn’t even startle as he immediately flicked his cigarette to the ground and crushed it underneath his boot. He probably heard Soap coming from halfway across the base.
“Morning, Soap, I slept like shit, thanks for checking on me though. I appreciate it.” Ghost said with a dry tone. Soap greedily watched his mouth move, eyes fixated on the blonde stubble growing along his jaw.
Soap’s question fizzled out as a more important one replaced it. “Ye did nae sleep well?”
“I never sleep well.” Ghost seemed to drift off for a second before returning to himself with a shake of his head. “Never mind. Anyway, does Rudy know what?”
“Dinnae change the subject.”
“If you don’t have anything worthwhile, I’m quite busy.” Ghost continued to stand there, leaning against the building as they both breathed in the morning air. It was still too early for the heat to really kick in and he was grateful for the minor reprieve.
“Yer just standing there.”
“I’m keeping the building upright.” He gestured to the foundation and then back to himself. “It’s a tough job not just anyone can do.” Soap rolled his eyes. “What about you? Don't you have someone else you can irritate?”
Soap looked down and checked his watch, he didn’t have anything until later in the day, “Not until 14:00.” He answered honestly with a shrug.
“Smartass.” Ghost huffed a laugh.
“So…are ye named after a person or a thing…an animal maybe?”
“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”
“I’m a dog with a bone, sir.” The idiom reminded him of a hazy memory in a rundown bar.
Ghost pushed off the wall with his foot and loomed over Soap. “Offered to bark for me not too long ago, and now you’re showing off your new bone? Ya like being my dog that much, Johnny?” Ghost appraised him.
“S-sir?” Soap was thankful that his knees didn't give out right then and there.
“I’ll see you at 14:00 sharp for training, don’t be late.”
Soap peered down at Price, who stood about five stories underneath him. If he would have known today training would involve all three of them repelling down a building in full gear and oppressive heat, he might have just chosen to go AWOL instead.
Ghost was already standing near the edge as he adjusted his rappelling gear and double checked the rope securing him to the top of the building.
“Ready?!” Price’s voice called from down below. The three men lined up at the edge, side by side.
“If you beat me down there, I’ll give you a hint about my name, Johnny.” Ghost nudged him with the butt of his rifle.
“Promise? Gaz, ye heard him, right?”
Gaz gasped in faux surprise, “And did you know if you just jump off and face plant into the concrete, you’ll beat Ghost for sure!”
“Ha ha.” Soap glared while Gaz smiled wide.
“Go!” Price shouted into his radio and the men were off.
“You can get three guesses,” They were nearly halfway down the building when Ghost shouted up to Soap. The bastard didn’t even sound like he was out of breath. Meanwhile, Soap was trying to focus on breathing through his nose while trying to increase his speed. The heavy gear was weighing him down, and the relentless heat of the day certainly weren’t helping.
Yet Ghost looked as relaxed as could be, and he was still beating himself and Gaz by a large margin.
“Aye, Rumpelstiltskin.”
“Keep it up and I’ll count that as one of your guesses.” Ghost suddenly started to descend even faster and Soap swore loudly, trying to pick up the pace.
In the end, Ghost won.
“At least…I came in…second place.” Soap would do anything for a cool bottle of water right now and a change of clothes.
“You mean…first…loser.” Gaz shot back.
“Still beat ye.”
“By three bloody seconds!” Gaz protested and shoved Soap.
The pair were flat on their backs, panting and drenched in sweat. Price stood above them, smiling with a stopwatch. “The both of you did well, you should be proud of these times.” Soap tried to focus and concentrate on what the Captain was saying. “Soap, you improved by a whole minute.”
“Alright lads, enough horsing around.” Ghost slung his pack of equipment over his shoulder and placed himself right next to Price.
“Yer not human, Lt.” Soap watched him with open admiration and Ghost held out his hand to help him up.
“So I’ve heard.” Soap took his hand and was lifted up like it was nothing.
“Up you go, son.” Price grunted and helped Gaz up from the ground in much the same way.
“Guess that means no hint, but I still get three guesses, right? Ye promised.”
“Yeah, Soap, that was like fifteen minutes ago. I’m not senile like Price is.” Price leaned over and smacked his lieutenant in the back of his head.
“What happens if I dinnae guess it in three?”
“You never bring this shit up to me ever again.”
That was a risk he was willing to take.
“Deal.”
His first guess happened two weeks later. Ghost was in the gym, racking his weights with a grunt when Soap confidently walked in. “I’ve finally deduced it!”
“Big word for you, Sherlock.”
“I’m gonna ignore that,” Soap stood proudly in front of Ghost’s weight rack. “Because I know yer name,” Soap paused, waiting for some sort of reaction from Ghost. “Charles.”
“If you’re just spouting out nonsense, go make yourself useful and spot for me.” Ghost laid back down on the bench and Soap dejectedly took up his position on the other side of the barbell.
“I really thought that’d be it.” Ghost let out a strained laugh of disbelief underneath the weight. “I mean, I could see ye being a Charlie.”
“Keep dreaming.”
“Why cannae ye just tell–”
“My name is my own business, Soap.” Ghost had a sharp edge to his voice that made Soap pause, “It might be shocking to you, but not everyone goes around announcing every little annoying detail of their lives to anyone within fifty meters.”
Soap felt like he had been slapped, shrinking away from the violence in Ghost’s voice. “Ye think I’m annoying?” His voice was noticeably brittle.
Ghost suddenly racked the weights with a grunt and spun around to face him with pleading eyes, “No! Fuck, Johnny, no. I just meant,” Ghost rubbed his eyes, “Look, I’ve already died once, I buried that man along with all the shit that came with him. I’m just…careful.”
“Hmm.” Soap hummed, still not meeting his eyes, “Understood, sir.”
“Johnny.” Ghosts tone was gentle, “I always want to hear what you have to say. Don’t stop talking, ever, please.” The sad look on Soap still remained, his eyes trailing on the textured mats of the floor.
“Understood, sir.” Soap repeated and started walking to the exit so he wouldn't bother Ghost anymore.
“Soap–Johnny, wait–”
Before the door could fully close, Soap heard a loud crash and a furious curse ring out behind him.
Things were tense between them for a while after their conversation. Ghost was the epitome of professionalism and only spoke to Soap in short, clinical sentences.
If he even spoke to him at all.
He knew Ghost was avoiding him and wanted to apologize, but to the surprise of no one, Ghost was a hard man to find if he didn’t want to be found.
His final Hail Mary, was to approach him when he knew he’d be doing ammunition's inventory. He’d be in that supply room for at least a few hours, and thankfully when Soap arrived, that's exactly where he found him diligently counting their stock.
“Sergeant.” Ghost said without even turning around as he wrote on his clipboard. His broad shoulders were nearly hiked up to his ears, clearly agitated, and Soap wanted to map out every line, every scar, every wrinkle on the expanse of skin with his lips. He wanted to take Ghost apart, piece by piece.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Soap fiddled with his dog tags that hung against his chest. “For how I was actin' the last time we spoke.” The sound of pencil lead snapping echoed in the room like an gun shot.
“What?”
Soap’s jaw clenched, “I know ye dinnae really mean it, I just, I guess it hurt,” His next words were quieter, “coming from ye, is all.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m the one who should’ve said sorry.” He wiped a hand across his forehead, “but instead my fucking Sergeant is apologizing to me. What kind of superior officer does that make me?” Ghost joked without any real humor.
Soap didn’t know what to say, he had so much that he could say, but he didn’t want to be overbearing. ”Ghost?”
“Soap?” Ghost answered his call and it made some of his anxiety melt.
“Is it Jensen?” Ghost eyed him like he was a crazy person until the wires in his brain finally connected.
“Christ, Soap, my name's not fucking Jensen.” Ghost let out a loud laugh, and it looked like it surprised him just as much as it had Soap. His booming laughter filled the small room, becoming contagious, becoming something Soap wanted to bottle up and keep forever. His rib cage felt like it was too small, constricting his lungs as he doubled over in laughter with his lieutenant.
Sometimes if Soap were bored he’d steal one of Gaz’s romance novels from his pack to read. They always talked about love like it was a soft, and grand thing. It was sunlight breaking through the dark clouds, or a cool breeze on a hot day.
And it was.
But it was also something that made him afraid. Like a fear of heights, or the unknown abyss of the ocean. It was innate, already built into him. It was a scary thought, freely giving yourself to another person while there was a chance they’d chew up your heart and spit it back out.
In that moment, standing with Ghost as they tried to quiet their giggles, Soap felt invincible, like there was nothing left to be afraid of.
A month after his last guess he was lounging on the couch in Ghost’s office, tossing a baseball up and catching it.
“Put a hole in my ceiling and I’ll put a hole in your head.” Ghost had warned him, but otherwise allowed him to stay.
“Lt, I think I’m ready for my final guess.”
Ghost sighed and tossed the packet he was reading onto his desk. “Let’s hear it, Johnny.”
“Thomas,” Soap was still tossing the ball so he didn’t notice Ghost go rigid, “I could see ye being a Tommy, good name for a good kid like ye probably were. Scratch that, I could definitely imagine the trouble ye got up to, probably a terror, weren’t ye?”
The dead silence that followed made Soap sit up, “Shocked into silence because I was right, eh Gho–” Soap froze as he saw his lieutenant shaking, staring straight ahead but not really seeing. Soap sprung up and made his way over to Ghost’s side, his hands hovering over him without touching.
“Lt? Ghost? Hey! Ghost!” Soap grabbed his face in his hands and stared at the glassy and unfocused eyes of his lieutenant.
“He’s burning.” Was all that Ghost said.
“Who’s burning?” Ghost tried to wrench out of Soap’s hold, desperate to escape.
“My fault, it’s all my fault.”
“Ghost–”
“Get the fuck away from me!” Ghost broke out of Soap’s grip and pressed his back to the wall.
He reached out to him carefully, “Ghost–”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” He snarled while he shrank even further.
“It’s me, Lt, it’s Johnny.”
Ghost heaved another few breaths before sliding down the wall, his knees almost hitting his chin. He gripped the back of his balaclava and pulled, probably taking some of his hair with the fabric by the looks of the pained expression on his face.
“Johnny. Right.”
Panic rose in his throat, strangling the very blood in his veins until it hurt, “Ghost I’m sor–”
“S’alright.” Ghost placated, “Just…just give me a second.”
Once Soap counted to one hundred, he carefully shuffled over to his lieutenant on his knees. “Ghost?”
“...Soap.”
He carefully grabbed the hand that still had the balaclava in a death grip. There was little to no resistance as he relaxed his fingers and allowed Soap to guide his hand to rest on his leg.
Soap sat back on his heels and reached up to place a hand at the nape of Ghost’s neck, carefully digging his thumb into the tightly clenched knot he found at the base of the skull. The finger circled once, twice, three times before Ghost flinched, but didn’t pull away.
It was strange how much Ghost clearly wanted his touch, but at the same time he was averse to it. He continued to knead into the tension as he waited for Ghost’s breathing to settle.
“Soap?”
“Ghost.” Soap paused in his ministrations as Ghost raised his head, his eyes a little red.
“Sorry ‘bout all this.”
“Nothin' to apologize for, Lt.” Soap tried to reassure him.
“Tommy was my brother’s name.” His voice was thick as Soap watched him in mortification.
“Oh.” Was all Soap could say as the hand at his side turned into a tight fist. He had caught the past tense of Ghost’s words and wanted to go back in time to bite his own tongue off.
“He, ah, well, died...obviously.”
“Ye dinnae have to say anything.”
“I know, I just…I find myself wanting to.” And wasn’t that a precious and brittle thing for Ghost to admit?
“Okay.” Soap resumed his movements, sliding closer to Ghost as he settled in, waiting patiently for him to speak.
“You know I always wanted to be a butcher?” Soap shook his head, absorbing every detail Ghost was about to tell him.
“Worked at a little grocer in town and it made me…happy.” Soap’s heart constricted, “My father–piece of shit that he was–was the one who got me interested in it. He took Tommy and I hunting, Tommy never had a knack for it, little shit couldn’t sit still.” The hint of humor in Ghost’s voice was buried underneath decades of pain. “So he just took me instead. It was better than him hunting by himself and then coming home to taunt me with their carcasses.”
“Wh–”
“Made me kiss a snake once, too.” Soap swallowed a horrified noise before it could escape. Ghost was talking in a tone that someone would use if they were talking about something casual like the weather. “It was probably a sign I was fucked in the head when I found it calming to butcher an animal after we had killed it.” Ghost paused, “Do ya think I’m crazy, Johnny?”
“No, sir.” Soap said instantly.
“You’re a shit liar, but thanks. So was Tommy, could always tell when he was lyin’. When I first came back home from leave I found him face down in his own vomit. He’d fallen into drugs, and I felt responsible. I had gotten out, I was free, and I left my little brother behind in that hellhole. Couldn’t bring myself to go back to the service until I knew he’d be okay. He was my kid brother, y’know?”
Soap knew, he had sisters of his own and he’d do damn near anything to help them if they needed it.
“Eventually, he got clean, I had never been prouder.” Ghost’s eyes watered but the tears never fell. “After that, he got married to Beth, she was such a beautiful woman. She was kind, patient with him when I couldn’t be...she was lovely.” Ghost tilted his head Soap’s way, “I was the best man at their wedding.” He sounded proud.
A vision of Ghost standing up at a wedding seemed to plant roots in his mind.
“I actually became an un–” Ghost physically choked on the word, “uncle. The little sprout’s name was Joseph.” Ghost adjusted his posture, clearly uncomfortable, “I uh, I got captured down in Mexico. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I was gone for...months.” He scratched his cheek absently with a bit too much force, leaving behind red lines on his face when he dropped his hand.
“When I came home–when I finally fucking made it back after crawling through mud, and shit, and grime, what do I come home to? I come home to a bunch of bodies piled up in my mum’s living room.”
A long and impossible painful silence settled in the room. Soap couldn’t help but feel like this was all his fault for dredging up old trauma.
“Mum, Tommy, Beth…Joseph.” The contents of Soap’s stomach threatened to empty out right on the floor in front of him. “Something broke in me that day, Johnny.” Ghost grabbed Soap’s wrist, a grip hard enough to bruise. “I became numb, I had to shelve being Si–” He cleared his throat, “Being myself, and turned into Ghost.” A tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and Soap bit the inside of his cheek to stop the automatic impulse to smile back at him.
Soap inhaled a shaky breath and let his head fall to Ghost’s shoulder, the grip on the back of his neck tightening ever so. “Do you understand now, Johnny?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Soap felt his heart call out to Ghost’s, full of longing. “I should have never pried.” His own tears fell quietly down his cheeks. Soap had seen the myriad of scars on his body before, he knew he had been through a type of pain and torture that he could never imagine.
“Soap–Johnny, that’s not what I mean.” He lifted his head to meet Ghost’s open and honest eyes. He took Soap’s chin in his fingers and rubbed along his jawline, “I’m just saying...I trust you.”
“Soap! Go!” Ghost had hollered–and then they were running.
He raced alongside Ghost as they weaved through the dark and dense woods, praying they were headed in the right direction as bullets whizzed past them every few seconds. The thicket turned into an uneven, stony clearing and Soap could have screamed.
Now they were even more exposed.
“Keep running, Soap!” Ghost grabbed him by the elbow and urged him forward. He had already been shot in the shoulder, almost damn near the same spot he got hit in Las Almas.
Surely that’d leave another pretty scar.
They ran until the bullets faded into echoes and eventually died out. Soap slowed to a speed walk, exhaustion finally catching up to him.
“We…we need to contact…Laswell.” Soap wheezed out.
“Affirm.” It was a relief that Ghost didn’t sound any worse for wear. “Watcher-01, this is Bravo-07 in the blind, do you copy?” Ghost released the button on his radio and while he waited for a response that might never come, he kneeled down next to Soap.
“I think we lost 'em, Lt.” Soap whispered as Ghost moved his tac vest aside to get a better look at the wound. “What’s the diagnosis, doc?”
“Went through, you’ll live.” His heart was still hammering in his ribcage. “We should keep moving.”
“Just…give me one more second.” Soap wiped the sweat from his brow as he tried to calm his breathing.
“One.” Ghost said and Soap wanted to punch him in his stupid, beautiful, face.
“Fine, help me up at least.” Ghost rolled his eyes but complied, lifting him up out of the dirt.
“Watcher-01 this is Bravo-07, do you copy?” He tried again as they started moving.
“Bravo-07 this is Watcher-01 I read you, have you got the files?” Ghost slid his eyes over to Soap who patted his vest pocket where the usb drive was safely secured.
“Affirmative.”
“Bravo-07 rendezvous at pickup in fifteen, don’t be late.”
“Copy.”
“How far out is that?” Soap wondered, wincing as another spike of pain shot through his shoulder.
“Should be there in a few, it’s dead straight ahead.”
When they reached the exfil point, Soap sighed with relief.
“Now maybe you can quit your whinin’.” Ghost said with humor in his voice.
“Hey! Nae like I got shot or anything, we cannae all be perfect soldiers like ye.” The pain in his shoulder had ebbed to an ache as his body adjusted to the unfortunately familiar sensation. “I’m gonna have the biggest fucking drink when we get back, slam a whole case of beer by myself if I gotta.”
“Soap?” Ghost’s voice sounded uneven.
“Ghost?" He turned just in time to watch Ghost fall to his knees. “Ghost!” Soap rushed over and slid onto his own knees, landing just in time to stop him from falling face first into the dirt.
His hands became coated in something sticky and warm, “Where?” He demanded. Ghost coughed and it sounded too wet for Soap’s comfort.
“I’m here, Lt.” He had to swallow back the bile rising in his throat. When was he hit? Had he known the whole time? Fuck his shoulder, Ghost had been shot. “Lt?” He heard the sound of shallow breathing and his hands grabbed Ghost’s face, trying to get a good look at his eyes. The darkness of the night did him no favors.
“Johnny.” A rough gasp clawed its way out of his throat.
“No, no, stop talking. Save your energy.” Ghost placed a shaking hand on Soap’s shoulder while he let himself be checked over. “Fuck!”
“That don’t sound too good.” Ghost’s eyes were drooping.
“How the fuck did ye not feel this?” The wound on Ghost’s side was bleeding profusely, only hidden by their dark gear.
“Adrenaline's a hell of a thing. Don't worry, I’ve had worse than this.” Ghost steadied himself with both hands on Soap’s shoulders while he desperately searched his bag for gauze to pack the gaping wound.
“I dinnae want to know what’s worse than this.” Soap whispered under his breath.
“Being vivisected while–”
“Fuck ye! I said I dinnae want to know!” Soap’s mind tried to generate a horrific image but he ripped it into pieces before it could truly form. “This wasnae from a bullet, how long ago did this fucking happen?” His own pain was long forgotten, his mind solely focused on Ghost.
“When I had to save…save your ass from…from…” Ghost drifted off. Guilt and fear twisted together inside of his chest as he remembered being caught off guard by someone hiding behind a door. Ghost had nearly taken down the wall as he slammed his entire body into the assailant.
“Ghost?!” Soap glanced up to see his eyes roll back and he panicked, tears burning the corner of his eyes. “Ghost!” He reared back and slapped him across the face. “Save my ass from what?” He had to keep him talking, if he was talking then he was still alive.
“Ya trying to dislocate my jaw too?” Ghost heaved. Soap’s hands shook as he stuffed the nasty looking knife wound across his stomach with all the gauze he could get his hands on.
“Where’s that fucking helo?” Soap snarled as he listened to Ghost’s feeble words. “Nik, I’m gonna fuckin kill ye.” He squeezed his eyes shut for just a second in an attempt to pull himself together.
“I gotta tell ya somethin', Joh…Johnny.” Ghosts fabric covered lips were resting on Soap’s throat and oh how he wished they were in different circumstances. The nausea burning in his guts only worsened with every word that came out of Ghost’s mouth.
Soap’s lips trembled as he tried to calm himself, “Ye can tell me later, right now I need–”
“Gonna tell ya m’name.” Soap sucked in a breath of damp air with a hiss, emotion settling deep within him.
“No!” Tears fell down his face, Ghost was acting like this was goodbye, that this was the end. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t end so quickly. He hadn’t even–they didn’t–there was no time to…
“If yer gonna give me a pity win, give it to me after we get ye fixed up.” He glanced down at his watch, noting that there were still five minutes until pickup.
Ghost clawed at the bottom of his mask, and Soap helped him lift it up to his nose so he could breathe better. “M’name’s Simon…Simon Riley.” Soap’s heart squeezed at the admission, his nostrils flaring and lips curling as his self control was slipping.
“Ye sure it’s nae Jensen?” Soap croaked and Ghost attempted to laugh, but what came out was more of a depressing wheeze.
“Still wanna take m’last name?” Ghost smiled with blood in his teeth and Soap couldn’t help himself. He grabbed Ghost by the back of the neck, cradling him gently in his arms in a warm embrace.
Ghost stalled, inhaling a surprised breath through his nose before sagging into the hug. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the whir of helicopter blades finally sounded above him.
“Ghost?” Soap pulled back as Nikolai finally touched down nearby. He could barely hear the shallow puffs of air wheezing out of him.
He was still alive.
Time teetered on a choking precipice and Soap started bracing himself for the fall.
“Don’t ye fucking die on me now, ye piece of shit. What kind of last words are those?!” He exclaimed, dragging his lieutenant towards the helicopter. Price came rushing out to help, racing over to him like a bat out of hell, easily lifting the other side of Ghost.
“Sitrep now, Soap!” Price slammed the doors shut once they were inside. He inspected the injury and applied more gauze as Soap dazedly recounted the mission. “Put some pressure on this.” His captain commanded and Soap complied without a thought, pressing harshly onto the wound.
Ghost gasped, eyes flying open, “Fuck!”
“Don’t die on me, lieutenant, and that’s an order!” Price shouted as Ghost mumbled out a yessir, and then he turned his attention to Soap. “Keep him talking, I need to radio Laswell.” Price made his way to the cockpit, leaving them alone.
“S-Simon?”
“Name sounds good comin’ outta yer mouth…” Ghost coughed out and Soap could have cried tears of joy at receiving an actual response.
“John Riley does have a nice ring to it.” Soap attempted to laugh but he didn’t have the energy and Ghost limply grabbed for his mask, leaving messy streaks of blood along his face. With effort he pulled it off completely and in the low lights of the cabin Soap’s breathing stopped.
“Had a good run-well, not really.” Ghost turned his head and spit a glob of blood on the floor. His face looked gaunt, his blonde curls matted down to his head.
“Simon, I cannae lose ye.” Soap whispered and he pushed down even harder. Ghost didn’t even flinch this time and that worried Soap further.
“Would’ve loved t’settle down with ya.”
“No!” Soap snarled and leaned down as a sob slipped past his lips. “Ye cannae leave me alone, Si.”
“D’ya think Tommy'll forgive me?” Ghost asked suddenly.
Soap's stomach dropped, “I’m sure he will.”
“I burned down everyone that hurt ‘em, Johnny.”
“I believe ye.” Soap turned his head and wiped his tears on his shoulder, still keeping his hands pushing down on Ghost’s abdomen.
“I don’t think I’m coming back to life this time, Johnny.”
“Do not say that!”
“Promise me somethin’”
“Anything.” Soap pledged.
“Always wanted to see that lake y'were talkin’ about.”
“Aye, Loch Maree.” Soap had mentioned it once in passing and he couldn’t believe Ghost had actually remembered, “We can still see it, we can go together when ye get better.”
“They’re gonna burn me too.” Ghost slurred.
“What?”
“When I die.”
“Simon, shut up.” Soap spoke through gritted teeth.
“Take me to the lake when I'm done burning…” Ghost trailed off and his head lolled to the side.
“Simon! No, I’m begging ye.”
“ETA ten minutes!” Price came back to Soap’s side and stuttered at the sight of Ghost’s uncovered face.
“Cap…?” Soap croaked and Price knelt down next to him, placing an ear next to Ghost’s lips.
“He’s still breathing, but barely.”
Soap didn’t know if he could live with only the memory of Simon Riley. A strangled shout of anger bounced off the walls as Soap yelled. There’d never be anything to fill the chasm of his heart that Simon had carved out and made his home in.
There was metal in Soap’s mouth and the air smelled like iron. He thought he might have heard his name, but it was too far off, like the final sounds of an echo.
Would’ve loved t’settle down with ya
Everything hurt.
Everything was too bright.
His head pounded as his ears rang, he could barely form a coherent thought.
Soap clenched his jaw, the thought of death never used to scare him, it was something he came to expect in this life. Soap had grown up Catholic, but he wasn’t so sure there was anything…after. It didn’t make sense to be afraid of nothing. Life just ended, and somewhere along the way that knowledge became a comfort.
He was wrong. He hadn’t imagined it could feel like this, to watch someone he loved so deeply be at the edge of death. It didn’t seem like death scared Ghost, but he wondered if Simon were ever afraid.
Soap wanted to go back and find the body of the man that stabbed Ghost, a body that had long since been dead by Ghost's own hands, and beat the corpse until his knuckles were raw.
After all the time they had spent together, he had convinced himself that Ghost was indestructible. There was no way he would ever lose him.
Ghost was fearsome, unbreakable, stubborn. It never even once occurred to him that one day he'd witness his fall.
His forehead hit his clenched hands, funny, it could’ve looked like he was praying.
Maybe he was.
“Unfortunately, the lieutenant didn’t make it through surgery.” Soap overheard a nurse and he shot out of his chair, wobbly on his legs like a newborn calf. “I’m sorry.” It felt like the nurse landed a killing blow, stabbed him right in his heart. His lungs felt frozen in his chest, tears clogging his throat.
“Soap! Hey!” Two arms grabbed him and pulled him away from the shocked nurse speaking to a distraught man.
“It’s not Ghost.” Gaz guided him back to his seat.
Thank God it wasn’t Ghost.
Soap instantly felt guilty, someone's lieutenant had just died and there he was, filled with relief that it wasn’t his own?
“Right.” He sat down heavily.
“You’ve been in here for a few days now, I uh, I brought you something to eat.” Gaz handed him a small bag of crisps from the vending machine outside. Soap wanted to laugh at the comically small size. “They said I couldn’t bring any actual food in here.” He said defensively. "Believe me, I tried."
“How’s the shoulder?” Soap startled, as if he hadn’t expected Gaz to still be next to him.
“Alright, I guess.” Soap lightly shifted his shoulder to emphasize the arm in a sling.
“You should eat.” Gaz tried to encourage him and Soap nodded absently. Soap’s eyes tracked the movement of the staff bustling around the small reception area. They hadn’t let him in to see Ghost, he still hadn’t been stable enough for visitors. He had tried to sneak in one night, and was almost immediately caught, only catching a glimpse of Ghost.
Now there was a staff sergeant posted by the door, guarding Ghost against Soap of all people. He shot daggers at her every chance he could get. Merely a month ago he was overseeing her squad during drills, and now she was his biggest obstacle.
“Eating usually involves putting the food in your mouth.” Gaz moved his head into his direct line of sight, blocking him from doing his daily ritual of giving death stares to the staff sergeant.
“Really?” The pointed stare Gaz gave him irked him deeply. “Learn something new everyday.” Soap dramatically ripped open the bag of crisps, keeping his injured shoulder steady. “Now what do I do after I put it in my mouth, chew? Or is it something more complicated?”
“Piss off.” Gaz said without heat. Soap popped a crisp in his mouth and Gaz nodded, content.
“Sergeant MacTavish?” The staff sergeant called his name from her position at Ghost’s door.
“What now? I dinnae even do anything!” He complained with his mouth full, worried he’d be reprimanded by the doctors again. If they kicked him out he didn't know what he'd do.
“Lieutenant Ghost is awake and asking for you.”
Soap blinked.
“I don’t think you should keep him waiting, sir.” Soap made it to the door in record time, the crisps and Gaz long forgotten. The staff sergeant gave him one final glare she excused herself. He didn't care, he was too excited to finally see Ghost after all this time.
When he opened the door, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, or what state he would find Ghost in. He definitely wasn’t expecting him to be in the middle of an attempt to sit up in bed with his bare face on display.
“Simon?” It felt like all the skin on his body had been rubbed raw and then seared with flames.
He felt like he had been sliced up, exposing his most vulnerable parts to Ghost as he bled all over the room.
“Lieutenant! You should be laying down.” A nurse rushed in and pushed past Soap to get to Ghost’s bedside.
“M’fine.” His voice was gravel as she gently tried to press him back down.
“Ghost, lay down.” Soap approached and Ghost paused.
“...Fine.” He finally allowed the nurse to settle him.
“He might still be a little out of it, but I’ll give you a few moments alone.” Soap was eternally grateful. “Call us if you need anything.”
Once the nurse left, Soap stood at Ghost’s side, wringing his hands.
“Soap?” When had it become this hard to talk to Ghost? There was always a natural ease with him, a mutual understanding. It often brought him comfort, he could always talk to his lieutenant if he needed someone to lean on.
It felt like Soap had forgotten how to draw, and was just asked to sketch a landscape. He knew the technicalities, but he couldn’t execute it. There was a huge obstacle in his way and he couldn’t see it. Something sitting heavy on his chest, squeezing his throat closed so words couldn’t escape.
“Johnny?” Ghost’s voice was a plea as much as an open offer. He lifted his arm with considerable effort, and twisted his fingers in the hem of Soap’s shirt. “This my shirt?” He squinted, confusion evident in his uncovered face.
It was, and Soap forgot he was wearing it. He had promised himself that he’d change into something else before he woke up.
“You been in my room?” Soap’s throat ached and he covered Ghost’s hand with his own. He had slept in Ghost’s room too, it was the only way he could get any sleep. So many sleepless nights were solved by pressing his face into the pillow, sucking in the scent of black tea and citrus from the body wash he used, mixed with a scent that was so uniquely Ghost. He had felt like a child hiding from a nightmare, curling up into the bed and pulling the covers over his head.
No matter what, every time he closed his eyes he still saw Ghost on the dirty ground, leaning against him for support as he bled out.
“Need ya to say something so I know I’m not still dreaming.” An uncertain look crossed his features. “The real Johnny isn’t able to stop talking for more than three seconds.”
“Ach, that’s nae true.” Soap responded with a knee jerk reaction and it made a small smile form on Ghost’s face.
“There he is.” Ghost pulled Soap closer by the grip he had on his shirt. “How’s your shoulder?”
“For the love of-why does everyone care about my god damn shoulder?” He muttered, “Christ’s sake, ye got sliced open and yer checking on a wee little gunshot wound?” Ghost ran his fingers along the sling gently.
“Y’alright?”
Soap choked on his tears, making ugly noises in the small room. “No, I’m nae fucking alright, ye bastard!” He sat down at the edge of his bed and leaned onto Ghost’s shoulder as lightly as he could. A light kiss was pressed to the top of Soap’s head and he heaved out another sob.
“Usually the people in my bed don’t cry this much.” One of Soap’s sobs became a wet laugh, and he kept laughing, bordering on hysterics.
“I thought ye were dead, and yer crackin’ jokes?” He asked in disbelief. Soap’s head rose and fell with Ghost’s shrug.
“Thought it might get ya to smile.”
Soap raised his head, surely covered in snot and tears, but Ghost just smiled at him like he hung the moon and stars just for him.
He wished he would’ve.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, back then. I really didn’t think it was that bad at the time. I know that–”
“I love you, Simon.” The words tasted so right in his mouth and Ghost’s eyes sparked with warmth that was so bright and genuine.
“You what?” There wasn’t even a chance given to respond as Ghost cradled the back of his head and slotted his lips against Soap’s.
Soap wondered if the remnants of the words could be pushed into Ghost’s mouth, I love you, I love you, I love you. Begging him to taste them on his tongue, to understand his heartfelt confession was sincere.
The final piece of the puzzle seemed to click, a puzzle that had been half solved his entire life but always showed the wrong picture–was now complete.
“Simon.” He gasped against his lips and Ghost actually let out a low growl, biting gently into Soap’s lower lip, tugging it for a few seconds before letting it go. “Simon,” Soap whispered his name against his lips, the name dripping like honey from swollen lips.
“Say it again.” Ghost’s voice was threatening to tremble, sounding considerably more rough that normal.
“Simon. Simon. Simon.” Soap repeated it like a mantra.
“Johnny.” Soap never knew how perfect his name could sound on the lips of his lieutenant. The hand at Soap’s head moved down towards his neck, fingers just barely dipping below the collar of his shirt, tracing the top of his spine.
He shivered and gasped into Ghost, who swallowed it with zero hesitation. They moved in tandem just like they did out in the field, it was as easy as breathing. The immediate euphoria he felt was an impossible high shooting through his veins, electric.
“You drive me crazy.” Ghost pulled back and Soap was left in a mellow daze. “Coming in here with my clothes on, walking around base with my name plastered on your back for everyone to see.” Soap shivered as he nuzzled into his neck. “Proud of being mine aren’t ya?” Ghost linked their hands together, pressing a kiss to Soap’s bruised knuckles.
In the quiet of the room, in their own little bubble, Soap let himself be held, closing his eyes with a feeling of peace he hadn’t allowed himself in days.
“Love ya, Johnny.”
It was a promise of a brighter future-of things to come and lakes to visit.