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“Settle down, Christ’s sake,” Gaz hissed into his pint, “What’s got you all giddy?” in the distance they could hear a match playing over the telly, the room was filled with low chatter and some laughing. They had decided it was best to decompress at the pub for once, couple of pints and go home. That was the plan, however they never stick to it, a couple of pints turns into a couple more, and then by the end of the night they are having to hold each other as they make their way back to base.
It had taken months of trying, pleading and borderline begging to get Ghost to come to the pub with them, Soap had been trying like his life depended on it. The only time they had some shred of success was when Rudy and Alejandro were visiting for the week, Ghost grumbled something inaudible under his breath and agreed to come. Since that day, Soap made it his personal mission to get Ghost to hang out with them more often when they are off duty.
“Nothin’,” he was practically vibrating, “Just happy to be here,” he was not going to lie, he was happy that he was able to spend another evening with his team, the people he trusted most, to the extent he would even call them his family. However there was a second layer to that, he was excited that Ghost had begrudgingly agreed to join them for a drink.
“Stop being a twat, MacTavish,” Price rolled his eyes, “You’re just glad that Ghost wanted to come this evening, we all know it,” he sighed, picking up the empty pint glasses, “You lads want another?” he asked, pulling himself to his feet.
“Sure, if I have to deal with this all night,” Gaz replied, Soap scoffed, pushing his glass toward Price, “Please, just calm down,” he begged. Soap turned to snap at Gaz, nonetheless, whatever argument he was about to present was contradicted by the way he practically lit up at Ghost returning to the table. Gaz loved Soap, they were best mates, but put him in the same vicinity as Ghost and alcohol, Gaz has the burning urge to commit a few indictable offences.
This was not a new discovery, it started not long after Las Almas, Soap would try and find any excuse to be around Ghost a little more, hang out for a bit outside of their job. If it was just being alone together in their off time, he would spend every silent moment with Ghost, or Soap would find any reason to be sat next to Ghost on their way back from missions. It took Price two weeks to catch on to this, he bit his tongue and waited for it to play out.
Gaz took a less subtle approach, he had little control over the situation, as much as he wanted to turn their heads together and make them kiss like dolls, he valued his life. To deal with the pain of the situation, he took to making sarcastic comments under his breath, once or twice Ghost caught onto what he was saying, Gaz had never been more scared in his life. There was another time where he bluntly stated that they should switch to a different channel if they were going to flirt all mission, he wanted to blame it on the sleep deprivation, and he did, albeit no one believed him.
“Fancy another one, L.T.?” Soap asked, leaning his elbows against the table, nodding towards the pint glass.
“Nah, I’m good,” he shook his head, Soap felt his stomach hit the floor, “I’m gonna head back to base now, see you lads tomorrow,” Ghost announced.
“What?” Soap blurted out, the words falling out of his mouther sooner than he could realised. Soap cringed internally, “Why?” he added, in a desperate attempt to make his voice sound a little more level.
Ghost clenched his jaw, “I’m tired, Johnny,” Soap suppressed a scold at the unconvincing argument, the tone of Ghost’s voice irked him a little bit. There was something that he was holding back, Soap, with all of his infinite wisdom, wanted to get to the bottom of it, “Enjoy your night, lads,” Ghost smiled lightly under the mask. Gaz muttered a goodbye, while Soap spent a little longer trying to formulate a plan.
Soap had been able to catalog all of Ghost’s characteristics, the way his voice would change depending on the situation. If they were on a mission, Ghost would be formal and monotone. If it was just the two of them, Soap would try his hardest to pick out the moments where Ghost would flirt back, where his voice would be filled with something that was just for him to hear. The tone of voice that he had just heard, that was the way that Ghost addressed most people, politely enough, but at the same time, not allowing for them to follow up with anything.
If he would go on to make a tit of himself, Soap would blame it on the alcohol and pray that nothing will come of it. Soap stayed seated for a few more moments, his leg bouncing under the table a he tried to hype himself up. Price came back with three more pints in hand, he placed them down in front of the other two. Him and Gaz spoke about something, Soap was not paying enough attention to retain the information. Instead of joining the conversation, Soap burst out of his seat, racing towards the door.
“The hell was that all about?” Price questioned glancing towards the door and back down at Gaz, setting down three pints he just paid for,
“Don’t ask,” Gaz sighed, reaching for the new pint glass.
The air was thick with spring, the smell was bringing back all the nostalgia for Soap, the smell of the air back home was enough to cause his stomach to churn uncomfortably. He did not give himself a chance to enjoy it, he was on a mission, the three pints in his system was giving him enough confidence to do something stupid. Catching up to Ghost, he called out “Oi, L.T., what’s the matter?”
Groaning under his breath, Ghost was reaching his limit, Soap was persistent, unrelating and stubborn to all hell. Maybe that was why Ghost had grown to like Soap quicker than he was willing to admit, they had a similar sense of humour, they naturally clicked. There was just something else there, something that had been untouched, and truth be told, Ghost wanted to keep it that way. Because if he dared look at that part of himself ever again, he did not want experience the consequences that would surely follow.
“I’m not in the mood, sergeant,” Ghost grumbled, tensing as he felt Soap’s hand wrap about his elbow, anyone would not dare to do such an action, lest they would want to loose said limb. Ghost felt his stomach knot as he turned around to face Soap, he felt like a coward and fraud, facing Soap knowing what he felt. It irked him, nothing had made his heart race like this in years, it was when he allowed himself to stop question his existence.
For years after everything, he questioned if he ever made it out of that grave, every morning that question would linger. However, upon meeting Soap, that question seemed to fade. Ghost knew he was mad, might be the furtherest thing from sane, but he can swear up and down the country that there is no way his mind would make someone up like John MacTavish. Why would he make someone like that up, he hated to admit the Scottish bastard grounded him. But that was just another weakness to him.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Soap snarked, his accent becoming increasing prominent, the alcohol mixing with his anger, “but it’s taken me so fuckin’ long to actually get to come down the pub with us, and when I finally get you to come, you sod off in less than two hours with a piss poor excuse,” his stomach twisting at the hurt behind Ghost’s eyes, he was not asking for that type of a reaction.
“Go back,” Ghost might as well have growled, his voice low and borderline dangerous, Soap pushed away the flutter in the depth of his stomach (as it was not the time to get turned on by Ghost’s voice), “Enjoy your night. I’m done,” Ghost repeated through gritted teeth, but Soap refused to let go.
“No,” he said simply.
“You’re out of line, sergeant,” Ghost reprimanded in a low voice, Soap refused to let that turn him on the way he knew it would, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crossing every boundary known to man. Soap knew he was Ghost’s exception to almost every rule he put in front of him, the walls he built up only to allow Soap to climb over some. But the closer the other man may get to Ghost, the more he worried Soap would get hurt. Because if he burnt Soap, Ghost would not ever find it in him to forgive himself.
“You ran out of there like a penguin with it’s arse on fire, sorry that I have some fuckin’ concerns,” Soap bit, shaking his head slightly as reality began to set in for him. He was making a tit of himself, not in the way he would normally, he felt the guilt rise as he crossed every boundary Ghost put in place, “I’m sorry,” he said genuinely, letting go of Ghost’s elbow, “Just,” he sighed, “when I feel like I’m makin’ progress with you, you go all cold and shut down, fuck’s with my head, that’s all,” Ghost dropped his gaze, biting his lip, “Night, L.T.,” Soap conceded, turning his back and making his way back to the pub.
Soap sulked back to the pub, running through the events in his head, it was breaking his heart. He was breaking his own heart, he was fed up with the lack of clarity in the situation. Every little comment they make, the little flirty remarks, light touches. It was too much, but it was not enough, it was never going to be enough. But he was not only risking his job, Ghost is his commanding officer, he could not risk all this.
Time seems like a bit of a misnomer when in Artic regions at any point the in year, the sun would always be up or never make an appearance. As much as Soap loved the mountains in Scotland, spending half his winters snowboarding or enjoying the cold weather, he liked that there was some sense of day, “Guess I can take Alta off the list of places I’m gonna retire to,” Soap joked over comms.
“Don’t like the cold, eh?” Ghost did not even try and hid the chuckle in his voice, Soap was thanking whatever god listening to him that things had stopped feeling so awkward. Ghost hated that Soap pulled away after the night in Hereford, the burning need to reach out and hold him close, to apologise over and over until Soap forgave him. He knew his walls were back up, Price even went as far to make a comment, his was in his head again, and nothing good will come of it if he stays there.
“Nah, cold ain’t the issue,” Soap began explain, “It’s the light, sun’s already settin’ and it ain’t even half three yet,” Ghost chuckled lightly, a spike running through Soap’s stomach at the sound, it had been a while since he had heard Ghost laugh in any way at something he said. He just wished it was not while they were camped out in Norway, freezing their tits off while waiting for a leader of a new cell organisation to make an appearance, “Gotta give him credit though, who would’ve looked for him in Alta?”
“Definitely not from them Jet2 ads,” Ghost joked, “Thought you would have liked Norway, all this snow for you to be a little savage in,”
“Oi, I ain’t that much shorter than you, ya cunt,” Soap gasped, feigning hurt, “Besides, thought skiin’ was a little too posh for ya,”
“Not that it’s posh, Johnny, just couldn’t afford it growing up,” Soap had not heard anything outside of work related topics from Ghost in three weeks, he could not fight the smile growing on his lips, “Started doing it when I joined up, became one of the best slalom skiers in my old unit,” Ghost added, “Mainly because didn’t have much of a will to live back then, all them lot thought I was a mad bastard,”
“All due respect, sir, ya still are one,” Soap deadpanned, repositioning his scope to look through the entrance of the safe house.
“Pot meet kettle,” Ghost retorted, “Think about retirement much?” Soap couldn’t make out why Ghost’s voice lost all emotion, something switched. Soap waned to kid himself and say that it’s because Ghost would see him sad to go, but at the end of the day, Soap is still a realist, and he needs to come to terms with reality.
“Aye, sometimes,” Soap answered honestly, “My sister’s got another kid on the way, missed out on most my nieces and nephews lives enough as it is. Might put my folks at ease once I retire too,” the knot was twisting in his chest, “An’ as much as I wanna, can’t keep this job up for good, gonna have to know when to call it quits while we still can,” Ghost grunted a response, Soap’s heart sank, “What about you, L.T., think about retirin’?”
“No,” Ghost replied.
Fuck sake, Soap mouthed, gripping his rifle for a moment, ‘When I feel like I’m makin’ progress with you, you go all cold and shut down,’ rang in his head. Biting his tongue, Soap did not want to get into it again during a mission, especially not one where he has to keep a clear head and slip through the building. Moving his thoughts back to the mission at hand, they were dealing with someone who was highly dangerous, but there wasn’t enough evidence to get him arrested.
The plan was simple, he was a British citizen hiding in the Artic Regions, bouncing around when he can, hiding somewhere during blizzards — he was smart, using the weather to his advantage. But he was getting cocky, which meant he would make mistakes, if he believed he was untouchable, he would leave files around, times, maybe even a post-it note or two. Price wanted to get to him before a storm set them back again, they were up against a clock.
Soap was instructed to grab anything of value, evidence that could get him extradited back to the UK, or a time of where his next location would be. Soap would kiss someone if he was able to find a time and place for when he would next be in the UK, he’s been out of the country for six months, he’ll have to go back at some point. The local authorities had been informed of him and his connections, but they only had so much time before he would burn all traces of his presence at Alta and bolt.
Announcing that he was going to make his way into the building, the sun was officially down, plunging them into darkness. Seemed like the guards were loitering around the main entrance, slipping through the back, Ghost watched as he wanted to do anything to switch placed with Soap. Even though he was a fully qualified soldier, Ghost wanted to be the one collecting the information, only being able to catch glimpses of Soap he was lucky wasn’t enough to quell his anxiety.
“Just be carefully, Johnny,” Ghost let out before Soap made his way closer to the building.
“When am I not?” Soap remarked.
Ghost bit the inside of his cheek at the list of injured Soap sustained during mission, an odd bruise here and there, some cuts, few scraps and bullets. The taste of metal pulled himself from his mouth pulled him from his spiral, “Want the colour-coded list? The chronological or severity?” Ghost bit back, the venom in his voice seeping through.
Soap stopped for a moment, the frustration in Ghost’s voice flowing through the comms, it’s almost as if he cares. Soap pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, he couldn’t allow himself the delusion while on a mission. If one thing he learnt in his life, he could turn is biggest weakness into his strength, even though he isn’t actually dating Ghost, he can push himself to survive this mission in order to get answers tomorrow, “Thalla gu Taigh na Galla,” Soap hissed.
Suppressing a chuckle, Ghost rolled his eyes, that was a new one for him. He could see the mental lists in his mind, he catalogued every time Soap got hurt, he remembered the ache in his chest, the need to take it away. He couldn’t keep watching Soap get hurt, but Soap didn’t see his future in the SAS, and Ghost didn’t see much of his own, “English?” Ghost sighed.
“Let ya’ figure that one out for yourself, big boy,” Soap retorted, Ghost flinched at the roughness to Soap’s voice. There was one solution available, Ghost had to be honest with Soap, he had to let him in on why he is the way he is. However, he favoured shooting himself in the foot over trying to build a relationship, the fear was crushing him, the every time he allowed himself the delusion, he remembered why he keeps Soap at arms length.
Moving through the building with partial ease, Soap cleared each floor, until he hit the fourth, which was where his office was meant to be. Only a few stragglers were left behind, Ghost took them out before they could spot Soap. The office was just down the corridor, the building thankfully had heating on and Soap was slowly regaining some feeling back in his body. It was the little things in life that he would be grateful for, he had spent an hour freezing his arse off just to be able to warm up in an enemy base. Maybe it was about time he was sectioned.
The office was bare bones, just a random desk in the middle of the room, piles of paper scattered from the floor to the desktop, “Maybe it’s our lucky day after all,” Soap announced over comms.
“Don’t believe in luck,” Ghost replied sharply.
Soap rolled his eyes at the answer, “Course you don’t, sir,” he snarked back, approaching the desk. Scanning over all the papers there, hoping that he would come across something of use.
Behind him the floor groaned under the weight of an unexpected person, Soap shot around, pulling his rifle up. Soap wanted to go sight seeing while they were in Norway, but if they were on the move constantly, he would have to do it another time. He wished it would be with Ghost. The fight was nasty, the bloke knew how to fight dirty. With his head banged against the desk one final time, Soap could not make out the words the man spat at him.
His ribs were broken, probably punctured his lung. Bruises were going to be littered all along his skin, he did not mind though, expect for when Gaz decided it would be funny to poke them. Something blinding was stabbing into his side, not that he cared, with the amount of pain he’s had in his joints since he was a teenager, he managed to convince himself the pain was not real. None of it was, he could get up, he would be able to walk out, but it wasn’t safe enough.
The target may still be in the building, maybe any intel is gone. He winced at the thought, he messed up, not just on the mission, but with things between him and Ghost. If this was not a sign from the universe, Soap did not know what was. Pulling his bloodied hand in to view, Soap tried to give Ghost the heads up, “Think I’m gonna need some help,” he coughed, “Pain’s a bit worse than I thought,” his voice faded around the edges.
“How do you mean?” Ghost’s voice almost sounded like he cared, Soap laughed at himself for even entertaining the thought, “What’s happened, Johnny?”
“Got into a bit of a scrap, nothin’ too serious,” he groaned as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, back against desk. He was tired beyond belief, in all fairness, Soap had not been sleeping too well recently, might be the stress.
Waking up in a hospital bed was not how Soap wanted to catch up on sleep, in his mind he would have rathered his own bed; preferably with Ghost there too. The lights were dim, which meant it would be sometime in the night, the beeping was doing his head in. Looking across the room, Soap clocked on to sighs written in Norwegian, because that would make sense. He messed up on the mission, gave away that they were looking for him, probably set them back months.
Something warm was beside him, reaching out a tentative hand, Soap’s fingers drifted through Ghost’s hair. He a dreamed so many times about touching Ghost, in any was imaginable, nothing would compare to the real thing. Pulling in a deep breath, Soap let out a pained sound at the reminder of his broken ribs, no amount of painkillers can take away that, or maybe the meds were wearing off. The sound caused Ghost to jump up, panic written all along his face, if this was in his room, Soap was sure he would pull his gun out.
“You look rough,” Soap chuckled, even if Ghost had bags under his eyes, greasy hair, even if the man looked like he had moved heaven and earth, Soap would still go weak in the knees.
“Says you,” Ghost cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure, “Been out for half the day, just about got you out there,” Soap could not, “You’re a heavy bugger,”
“Sure know how to flatter a guy,” Soap snorted, ignoring the way his face still flushed at their easy banter.
“I weren’t trying to flatter you,” Ghost responded, his accent flowing through his voice like it was the most natural thing, Soap loved hearing his real accent. It was this little piece of Ghost he was allowed to hear, made him feel just that much closer to Ghost.
“How did you manage to find me?” Soap asked, the air in the room growing thicker at the change in conversation.
Ghost’s eyes shot down, his shoulders pulled back, “You mumbled some shite over comms, made my way from my position down to you, thought you,” he cleared his throat again, “thought we lost you this time,”
“Nah,” Soap tried to lighten the conversation, “not that difficult to get rid of, me. Sorry I fucked the mission, guess we’re back to square one,” his voice failed him, neutrality was gone, he was riddled with panic.
“You didn’t fuck up, Johnny,” Ghost shook his head in disbelief, “He was ahead of us long before we knew, shouldn’t have gone in there alone. We’re coming at it from a new approach, nothing lost,”
“Expect some blood, aye,” Soap was trying his hardest, but he just seemed to make everything worse, “We ever gonna talk about it?” Soap let out before he could stop himself, it had been on the tip of his tongue for weeks.
Ghost’s head shot up, “Talk about what?” his defences were up, they had been for weeks now.
“Whatever it is that’s between us, can’t keep goin’ on like this,” Soap had not heard his voice this vulnerable in a long while, “Can we just sort it, please, this is killing me,” he pleaded.
“What do you want me to say?” Ghost whispered, Soap was taken aback at how small he made himself, Soap just shrugged, “Think I scared most the staff half to death, refused to leave your side,” he confessed, “Think Price had to convince them so hard not to fill me full of Midazolam,” Ghost chuckled bitterly, he couldn’t find it in himself to look up at Soap, “I can’t lose you, Johnny. I’m not one for feelings, but then this crazy, Scottish prick showed up in my life, kinda up ended all my plans,” Ghost scoffed, “Started thinking about retirement, a life outside the Taskforce. Began to feel, more human than I had done in years,”
Soap’s heart raced, this was not what he was asking for, he looking for a rejection, almost begging for it, “Not what I was expectin’ you to say. Thought you’d piss off, get all mad with me, somethin’ a little more what I’m used to,”
“Nah,” Ghost sniffed, “Can’t be bothered with that shite anymore, what’s the point? Don’t get us anywhere, if this is gonna be something, might as well give it a go,”
“‘Give it a go’, fuck me, LT, you’re not much of a hopeless romantic, are you?” Soap laughed.
“Eh, I have my moments,” Ghost smirked, leaning into Soap’s space, “You ain’t dying on me, you hear that,” his hands made their way up to hold Soap’s face gently, “I ain’t carrying your lifeless body, and I sure as fuck ain’t calling up your folks to tell ‘em you’ve died,” his voice flooded with hurt.
“I’ll try,” was all he could promise, “Now would you please just kiss me, been waiting ages for one,”
“And you were just bitching about my romance,” Ghost grumbled as he obliged, leaning in to press a light kiss on Soap’s lips. He did not get a chance to pull away and tell Soap to rest some more, Soap’s hand shot up and grab a hold of Ghost’s nape, keeping in close. If the world ended here and now, neither of them would complain a second.
Something that he sisters said the first time they met Simon, was that he seemed to be a big softie, that was not completely untrue, nonetheless it took Soap months of his unrelenting personality to see even the slightest bit of softness from Ghost. It was a mini success in the early days of knowing one another, Ghost laughed at a silly little comment that Soap made under his breath during a meeting. They earned a look from Price, taking them both back to secondary school, being scolded by the teacher for disrupting the lesson.
Soap went on a small strop after Simon met his family for the first time, Soap was glad that Simon felt comfortable enough to be more soft around them, but there was this little puddle of anger in the back of his mind. It took him months, countless comments from Gaz about how he might as well be a dog with a bone. Soap looked for any and every way for Ghost to stifle a laugh, smile from under the mask or slap Soap up the back of the head for being an idiot.
“What’s got you all moody?” Simon asked, leaning back against the pillows propped against the wall, they were back in Soap’s childhood bedroom, the walls covered in drawings, much to his mum’s annoyance. He glanced up from his book, the glasses were doing too many things for Soap, enough to wake up the whole house.
“Nothin’,” Soap grumbled, tugging off his jeans and placing himself next to Simon, “I’m just tired,” he lied, rocking over to one side, turning his back to Simon.
There was a little more shuffling behind him, Simon was taking off his glasses to put them out the way behind the curtain, on the window cill. He sat up for a moment, placing the book at the foot of the bed, instead of laying back down or turning off the lamp, Simon gripped Soap’s right shoulder and pushed him until his back reached the mattress. Looming over him, Simon had this glint in his eyes, it wasn’t new, there were slight variations of it, this time round, he was looking for information that didn’t pertain to their day jobs.
“Mhm,” he hummed, “Was a long drive, seems like the world and it’s wife was out today,” he sympathised, even though he was the one driving up all the way from Hereford, Soap hated sitting still for too long, “But,” he drawled, “there’s something else, you’ve been pissy since after tea and before you came up for the night,”
“Fuck’s sake, Ghost,” Soap squirmed, “Just drop it,” he pleaded.
“You said you were gonna have a quick chat with your sisters, what’d they say?” he queried, Soap was hyper aware of where Simon’s thighs were positioned, one on the outside of his leg, the other dangerously too close to his crotch, “Am I gonna have to force it out of you, Johnny, ‘cause I’m not complain either way,”
Gritting his teeth, Soap managed to gather enough strength to bite back, “Fuckin’ sadist,” he gripped Simon by the hips, “Mind getting off me, ya great big, gangly, twat,”
Pinching Soap’s thigh slightly, Simon chuckled at the blush that sat along Soap’s cheekbones, despite the protests, Simon never managed to fail bringing out some questionable sounds from Soap, “Aw, did I embarrasses you,” he cooed.
“Hate you,” he muttered to himself.
“Nah, you don’t,” Simon pressed a kiss into Soap’s cheek, “C’mon, tell us what’s got you all pissed off, maybe I can fix it,”
“You’re gonna call me an eejit,” Soap mumbled, turning his head away, looking intensely at the door.
“That’s your word, love, I’d go for mardy arse instead,” Simon continued to Soap’s face, scattering them anywhere he could reach.
“Those two aren’t the same thing,” Soap sighed, desperately wanted to sleep.
“You’re right, you’re not an eejit, but you’re a fucking mardy arse right now, so,” he paused, biting lightly on the hinge of Soap’s jaw, earning him a slap, he just chuckled as he pulled his head away.
Taking a deep breath, “Don’t laugh at me, but, I’m kinda pissed at how easy it was for my family to call you a softie,” Simon cocked his head, “Just that, it took me ages to get you to even react to half the jokes I made, you were colder than a witches tit,”
“Ever the man of words,” Simon pressed his lips together, stopped himself from laughing.
“Do one,” Soap snarked, “I just,” words failed him, the point made sense in his head, “I’m happy that you are comfortable around my family, just, why did it take you so long to warm up to me?”
Simon’s face fell, the smile he was trying to hide faded and Soap felt ill at the thought of what he had just done, “Y’know,” Simon finally moved, reach across the pillow to take a hold of Soap’s cheek, “was nothing against you personally, I’m like that with everyone. Admittedly, yeah, you were a bit of an annoying prick at first, gobby little shite who seemed to not think his actions through, like your genius idea to go into that bloody house unarmed. But that gobby little shite grew on me, got used to it all, wasn’t as bad as I was making it out to be,” Simon pressed a light kiss on Soap’s lips.
“Am I any less annoying?” Soap was waiting for the world to swallow him.
“Nah,” Simon replied earnestly, “don’t bother me though, it’s who you are,” he punctuated with kisses, “Don’t make me love you any less, now does it?” Soap wanted to push Simon away, that was the first time Simon had said something like that to Soap, he normally opted to show how much he loved Soap. It would range from the way they had sex to letting Soap keep Simon’s hoodies longer than he should, to could be that Simon picks up some new pencils or a new sketchbook, or agreeing to spend his leave with the MacTavishes.
Soap on the other hand was not as show-y and tell-y, it only took him two weeks into dating Simon to confess his love, he made it his personally mission to remind Simon that he was loved every little chance he got, it could be before they set out on a mission, a quick goodbye. Or, as it has happened too many times to count, in the middle of sex and Soap just couldn’t stop himself. Instead he got distracted, Ghost kissed him square on the lips, shifting his weight and dragging his knee slightly higher.
The distant sound of birds was the first thing he heard, they had left the windows open, a cool breeze flowed through, it was early summer, the heat wasn’t too intense thankfully. Reaching over to the other side of the bed, Soap sighed as he found that his boyfriend was missing, the sheets cold, assuming that it was around about seven, the normal time he wakes up on leave. Soap shot up as he picked his phone up to find that it was in fact closer to nine.
Walking downstairs felt strange, there was this slight feeling in his chest that he was doing the walk of shame, in his parents’ home, it wouldn’t be the first time, but he was closer to thirty than seventeen. There was some chatter coming out of the kitchen, both coming from his parents and Simon, with the radio on in the background. His heart lurched at the domesticity of it all, he wouldn’t have thought this was where his life would end up, all those years ago, but he wasn’t complaining.
“Look who’s finally woken up,” Iona commented as Soap walked through the kitchen door, Simon turned around, looking Soap up and down, a small smirk formed on his lips.
“Mornin’,” he grumbled, pulling a mug out of the cupboard and switching the kettle on to make a coffee for himself, the kitchen smelt of his childhood, back on the weekends when his mum would cook them breakfast. They would all sit together, it would take them so long just to get through the meal, even though he would complain, he loved that time with his family.
“Grab your food out the oven and sit yourself down,” she pointed towards the still warm over, the single plate full of food was sitting in the middle, “Simon was just telling us about work,” she smiled.
Soap dropped the plate the rest of the way on the table, making a small thud as he began to list off all the possible stories Simon could be telling them, “Mhm,” he nodded, sitting himself down, “What ya been telling ‘em?”
Smirking into this mug, Simon shrugged, “Something Gaz told me about when you went to the pub a couple years back, made that bet to nick Price’s hat,”
Soap’s head shot up, “Oh Christ,” he cringed at the memory, since that night he hadn’t touched vodka, “That was the worst hangover,” he needed up with a two day hangover, he wasn’t able to take time off for because of how busy everyone on base was, instead he was stuck filling in to train new Cadets.
“There’s something to that story Gaz isn’t tell me,” Simon added, “Got any clue?” he asked.
Soap shook his head, swallowing his food before pushed further, “Do I wanna know what else?”
“Yeah,” Simon nodded, “told them that you’re an insubordinate little shit,”
“You’re just as bad as me,” Soap countered.
“So you finally admit it, not like it took you five sodding years,” Simon joked, Iona chuckled, she picked up the empty plates on the table, setting them by the sink.
Jack muttered something under his breath, making Soap’s cheek’s flush as he stood up, “Looks like you got mauled last night,” he added, pushing against Soap’s head as he walked away.
“What?” Soap stopped in his tracks, dropping his cutlery and grasping his neck, “You cunt,” he hissed in Simon’s direction, there was no fight in Simon, he was proud of what he had done. Which was successfully embarrass his boyfriend in front of his parents, chuckling into his mug, Simon winced as Soap kicked him under the table, “I hate you,”
“Nah, you don’t” Simon smirked into his mug.