Chapter Text
Ghost was tired of being sent to the medical wing, only recently having recovered from his injured shoulder. It was just his luck that he'd been further injured on the first real mission back. Price had never looked so furious at him, foolishly running off into open fire to retrieve the intel a private had dropped. It wasn’t his fault that the rookies were getting more incompetent by the day. If he hadn’t gone back, they would have lost the precious information and been lagging behind in their search to find El Desconocido. In his valiant attempt to regain the information, he’d been shot twice in the leg and abdomen, causing him to collapse as soon as he returned. He’d received plenty of an ear full of the captain, but deep down; he was more worried about the wrecking Johnny might unleash upon him.
Speak of the damn devil; his door slammed open with a furious sergeant in toe. The man was red in the face with barely checked fury as he stormed over to his bed. “Morning, Johnny.” He attempted to sound casual, but the unbridled rage in the sergeant left him on edge. The Ghost was scared of very few things, but an upset Soap MacTavish was definitely one of them. “You fucking eejit! I have half a mind to put a fucking bullet in your brain too! What were you bloody thinking!”
Ghost sighed, rubbing his face with a slight wince at his still-sore shoulder. “We couldn’t lose that information. El Desconocido disappears at the drop of a hat; we can’t afford that to happen.” Soap laughed bitterly, practically collapsing into the chair beside his bed with an annoyed huff. “Oh, so your solution was to throw your life away carelessly. We would have found him again, Simon!” The lieutenant was now the one to huff in annoyance and stubbornly looked away. While he was always anxious around an angry Johnny, this interaction left him uncomfortably guilty. “I was fine in the end, sergeant.”
“You might not have been! What if that bullet was slightly higher? Or one of them got a headshot! I am not dragging your lifeless corpse out of the battlefield.” Ghost noticed the way the man’s voice cracked slightly at the words, turning swiftly to face him again. Tears had begun bubbling in his eyes; Soap was forced to scrub at his face in an attempt to cover it up. “I can’t lose you, Lt. I love you so fucking much, and I just… Don’t you ever fucking do that again.”
Ghost sat in astonishment as he watched the man he cared for break down over him. The man had never been too careful with himself out on the field, never truly caring what happened to him. When Johnny showed up, though, something had changed. Ghost had changed. He felt more inclined to return home from missions to see the smiling face of his sergeant again. While he wasn’t always the safest on the field, there was a noticeable difference between himself before and now. Hearing the man cared, let alone potentially loved him, made his heart rate rocket.
“You… love me?” His voice was timid and weak, the Scot instantly picking up on it and looking like a deer caught in headlights. Apparently, he hadn’t even realized he had even said the words. “I…” Soap looked around momentarily, finally steeling himself and looking the lieutenant dead in the eyes. “Yes, I am in love with you. I… have been for a while.” Simon couldn’t help but react in shock, his slow mind responding with a dumbfounded, “Why?”
Caught so off guard by the question, Soap burst out into colorful laughter. His tears turned into those of happiness as he giggled at the innocent question. He had been so afraid he’d be met with rejection and disgust; the sincere inquiry caught him off guard. “How could I not? Simon, you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. You’re resilient on the field and fiercely determined with every mission you do. Though, you’re also a complete dork who tells me jokes that calm me when I doubt my skills. I wouldn’t have made it out of Las Almas if it weren't for you. You… You make me feel safe.” Soap’s face was a fiery burst of crimson, though Ghost found he adored the bashful look on the sergeant.
“Oh… I…” He wanted to say so many things in response to the confession. Elation at his feelings being returned, so full-heartedly at that. Anxiety because he had no idea how to navigate the new ground their relationship was entering. Perhaps, even relief at the knowledge that Johnny truly cared for him as much as he cared for the man. “You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready,” Soap said, somehow knowing exactly what to tell the lieutenant. Ghost’s shoulders slumped back into a relaxed position, not even noticing the anxiety that had built in them. They spent the rest of their visiting hours acting as though nothing had changed, simply allowing themselves to be Simon and Johnny.
“I’m being sent on a short recon, but I’ll see you in two days,” Soap said, gently squeezing his good shoulder before leaving the room. Ghost leaned back into his bed, content with his life’s direction. When the lieutenant turned to grab his water off the nightstand that night, he noticed a flash of silver. Carefully picking it up, he found dog tags that definitely weren’t his and a note.
“Don’t miss me too much.”
He slipped the dog tags onto his neck, tenderly thumbing the engraved “John ‘Soap’ MacTavish.”