Chapter Text
It was supposed to be a normal mission, but things can never go to plan for the 141. They could handle a few bullet wounds and blows to the head, but what happened that day was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before.
The ringing in Ghost’s ears hadn’t stopped as he stared at the pile of dust on the ground. Gaz was on the ground pawing desperately at another pile, he was screaming something but Ghost couldn’t make out anything. Alejandro seemed to be the only one with his senses still intact and had Gaz by the hood of his jacket, dragging the younger man towards Ghost. The man was thrust at him and he was overwhelmed by a flurry of Gaz trying to hold onto him as his hearing came back.
“-ave to get out of here, hermanos!” Alejandro’s voice slammed into him like a truck.
Ghost just looked around. There were still a few hostiles around, only one or two were still shooting, others in the same state of disbelief. There was only one thing Ghost could think about in that moment,
Why?
—
Alejandro and Rodolfo requested aid from the 141 in a particularly difficult drug case near Las Almas. After the imprisonment of Valeria, smaller gangs began to crop up in an attempt to fill the gap. The town knew peace for all of a week before Hell returned. When word of leaked Stark tech was in the hands of minor gangs, Laswell was notified immediately and the 141 made their return to Mexico.
That leak landed them in the middle of nowhere investigating a series of abandoned warehouses and villages. They split into their usual pairs on the fourth day to cover more ground, Price and Gaz, Alejandro and Rudy, and Ghost and Soap.
Ghost would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy more one on one time with the Scot. Their back and forth banter was extremely endearing even to the coldest of hearts, the persistence of Soap kept Ghost from lingering thoughts and feelings about himself and his past. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s not strong enough to ask for help. With how it worked out for him in the past, just barely clinging to his friendship with Soap was all Ghost needed in his mind.
In the moments he was alone, though, there was always that one thought he refused to entertain. Soap was just a friend, a teammate, nothing more. He can’t be, not to someone like Ghost. Perhaps Simon Riley would’ve considered him to be more than a friend, but the Ghost cannot.
Keeping these feelings deep down is the safest option for Soap. It doesn’t hurt Ghost. He doesn’t stay up at night thinking about him, his stupid mohawk, the never ending jokes, the constant invitations for drinks or to just hang out. It doesn’t hurt to see the man’s dejected look when Ghost turns him down every time. It shouldn’t hurt that he’s resigned himself to a life of solitude, it’s a perfectly logical plan.
So when Soap brushes past him and flashes a smile he definitely doesn’t feel a pain in his chest knowing he shouldn’t accept this bit of affection.
“Ghost, you with me or do you wanna stare at tha’ wall all day?” Soap chuckled and stared at him, waiting for a response.
“With you, something happen?” He grunted.
“Gaz and Price’ve got something, sent us coordinates. A base camp in a fuckin’ ravine.”
“Let’s get going then.” Ghost gathered the few items they had brought with them and headed for the exit of their makeshift camp.
“Right,” Soap skipped after him.
He had something else to say. He can spit it out or keep it to himself, Ghost told himself. If it wasn’t related to the mission then it could wait for someone who would want to hear the man’s ramblings like Gaz or Rudy.
“Somethin’ crazy went down in New York earlier.”
Dammit.
Ghost just hummed in response. They had a vehicle stashed amongst an outcrop of rocks. He led the way over and Soap continued.
“A fuckin’ donut came out of the sky, like a spaceship! In’nt that the craziest thing you’ve ever heard?”
In a world where a man flies around in a suit of armor that’s worth trillions of dollars and a man from the 40’s looks not a day over 30, he’s heard crazier shit than a spaceship looking like a donut.
“Normal day in that hellhole of a city.”
“I dunno, Lt, they’re saying that Ironman and that freaky wizard guy just disappeared. Y’think something bad’s coming up?”
“Nothing that lot of freaks can’t handle. Get in the car or I’m leavin’ you to walk, Soap.” He demanded.
They both piled into the vehicle and set out.
Ghost kept his focus on the road, looking over to Soap every so often, either catching his eyes and immediately looking away or seeing the man nervously fiddling with his hands. The man was always caught up on the latest superhero shenanigans, usually he was extremely enthusiastic about all of that shit. Whatever was happening now, though, seemed to have the man on edge. It’ll be fine, he’s just overreacting.
The urge to comfort Soap burned at Ghost’s heart. While none of the 141 was used to or liked seeing Soap of all people scared, it reminded Ghost too much of the night of the betrayal. Being in the pitch black darkness, unsure whether either of them would make it out of that night. He spent the entire night leading and comforting Soap, keeping him focused, alert, and alive.
That’s all he needed, a little reassurance.
“It’ll be fine, Johnny.” He offered, reaching over to pat the Sergeant on the knee, instantly regretting the contact as Soap lightly held onto that hand.
“I hope so.” Soap muttered.
—
Alejandro had dragged whoever remained far enough away from the firefight and disappeared around a corner, presumably to finish things off. Ghost found himself stiffly holding onto Gaz as the young man blabbered out strings of words and names. Ghost could believe aliens existed, he could believe that there was a ragtag group of random people protecting entire boroughs of New York City, he could even believe in Norse Gods coming to life.
What happened today? He still couldn’t bring himself to believe it.
Left and right people just faded into ash, helicopters falling from the sky, trucks crashing into everything or speeding off into the desert. His hug on Gaz tightened as he remembered Soap’s voice call to him.
“Ghost?”
—
“Ghost,” Soap broke the silence in the vehicle.
“What.”
“I always wanted to be a superhero.”
“In’nt that what you are now?” He cast a glance at Soap and the man was looking directly at him.
“Kinda, but just imagine it! Fighting aliens from the top of skyscrapers or swinging from building to building like that one guy! Spider-Boy!”
He didn’t indulge Soap’s ramblings. Half of him was exasperated and the other reminded him to not get attached. He was never all that into the super freaks anyways. Sure as a kid he looked up to captain America, but every boy that age did, it wasn’t unique.
“And everything turns out fine in the end… for the most part, y’know”
“Yeah a couple hundred civvies dead but hey, Stark goes home to his penthouse and drowns himself in alcohol.”
Soap purses his lips, he’s expecting a retort, but instead the Sergeant rests back in his seat facing front. A pang of regret flashes through Ghost, sure the answer was practical but he also didn’t want to hurt Soap no matter how truthful it is.
“Listen, Soap, we’ll be fine. Maybe we’ll get called in for cleanup. Remember South Korea after that freak robot incident?” He offered.
As much as he hated cleaning up after the supers, it warmed his heart to catch glimpses of Soap geeking out over where Captain America logged his shield or finding a few loose arrow tips from Hawkeye.
“Yeah, I guess.” Soap smiled softly and looked back at the lieutenant.
“We’re close to the rest of the team, should continue on foot from here.”
“Lead the way then, Lt. Let’s hope this goes smoothly.” Soap chirped and hopped out of the car as soon as it stopped.
Oh how he wished it would.