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Price had insisted on it. Said that it would help boost morale, and be a fun trip. Somehow, it seemed to be anything but that, or at least to Ghost. For multiple reasons, the next few days were going to be hellish.
He was uncomfortable in the civilian clothing that he was instructed to wear. He missed his bullet vest, tactical gear, and even the uncomfortable night vision helmet. He felt naked, almost, without any protection. Instead, he was dressed in straight blue jeans, a fitted black tee, and a warm Carhart jacket. He kept hiking the jacket up around his ears in an attempt to offer a bit more protection.
He got a lot of looks from his face covering, which he expected. He did not expect the glares. For some reason, people did not like only being able to see his eyes. But, then again, he didn’t like them being able to see him in general.
He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, subconsciously in defense. Fuck, this place was cold.
“Ghost, look at that!” Soap bumped shoulders with him, knocking Ghost out of his own head. He paused in front of a brightly lit display window for a toy store. “Whit dae ye cry thon yin?”
“Come again?”
“Sorry, forgot yer slow,” Soap chuckled, ducking away from Ghost’s attempted punch. “What do you call that one?”
Ghost looked back into the window, letting his eyes travel around the miniature village. “You’ll have to be more specific, Soap.”
“That,” Soap gestured towards the only moving object.
Circling around the village was a small, bright red toy train. It glittered with gold around the tires, and had delicate golden vines across each cart. Small puffs of smoke came out the chimney, and every now and again a small choo, choo! could faintly be heard from the other side of the glass.
“It’s a toy train,” Ghost uttered. “Have you never seen one?”
“We never had gifts when I was young,” Soap shrugged, his gaze still captured by the train.
Ghost watched his sergeant’s eyes shine with childlike joy, and was already starting to kick himself for what was to come next. He glanced at Price and Alejandro quickly, formulating his plan.
“You catch up with them,” Ghost nodded, his hands shoving deeper into his armpits. “I have to take a piss.”
“Aye, haste ye back!” Soap grinned before jogging away.
“Stupid fuckin’ Scots,” Ghost grumbled, only vaguely aware of how much fondness laced his tone.
He watched the men meet and chat for a moment, before rounding the corner. He slipped his phone out quickly, shooting off a text to Price.
Keep Soap busy. Don’t tell him I said that.
Ghost didn’t bother to wait for a response, instead opting to put his phone away and push open the door to the toy shop.
He felt like a little boy again, useless toys surrounding him as he gazed in awe at them. Everything from nutcrackers to trucks to dolls could be found in the store. Tinsel lined the shelves and trim, intertwined with twinkling lights. It all alluded to the whimsical “Christmas spirit” that Price had been speaking of so fondly.
Ghost got caught up in the joy of watching an animated dinosaur roar and attack a small soldier figure, and didn’t even notice the person stepping up beside him.
“You’re not from around here.”
Ghost’s hands immediately shifted in front of him in a defensive position as his body went into fight or flight, only to have his eyes land on a small girl dressed all in black. He dropped the position quickly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.
“Uh… Nope.”
The girl quirked an eyebrow, but did not press him. Instead, she glanced at the clock hanging above the door, and audibly sighed.
“Is there any way I can help you make your Christmas gift magical?” She smiled forcefully, doing almost-jazz hands.
“Is that part of the job?”
“Unfortunately.”
Ghost chuckled at this, before quickly remembering why he was there.
“The train in the window. How much?”
“Forty. Or you can get the whole town for sixty.”
Ghost closed his eyes tightly, remembering the look on Soap’s face when he had seen the toy.
“I’ll take the town.”
“Sick,” The girl replied, practically running behind the counter. “Do you want it wrapped?”
“No, I don’t need any bubble wrap,” Ghost shook his head, peering at a small shelf of books.
“That’s not what I meant. Like, Christmas wrapping.”
Ghost, ever the stubborn bastard, persisted. “Obviously, I knew that. I said no.”
The girl watched as he moved from books to snowglobes. She shook her head and decided that she didn’t care what he wanted, he was getting the fucking thing wrapped. So, she pulled out a sheet of paper and started to arrange it.
“Have you ever celebrated Christmas before?”
Ghost shook a snowglobe curiously, watching the snow swirl around the glass ball. He glanced at the girl from the corner of his eye, careful not to let her see.
“Not quite.” He left out how every Christmas is a permanent reminder of his past, the people he couldn’t save, and the people who ruined his life.
The girl nodded, taping one end of paper to the box. She peeled off a few more pieces of tape in preparation, and stuck them on the edge of the table.
“Do you want to know what you’re up against?”
Ghost didn’t like the way she phrased that.
“It’s not a battle, is it?” He asked softly, wary at Price’s intentions.
“No,” the girl snorted. “It’s a family tradition. On Christmas Eve, the twenty-fourth, you leave milk and cookies out on the table before you go to bed. Then, while you sleep, Santa Claus sneaks in and leaves presents under the tree. When you wake up, the milk and cookies are gone, and you get to open the presents.”
“Some man is supposed to break into our c- house, willingly?” Ghost scoffed. His eyes travelled the snowglobes, finding one particularly heart-warming. He held it up, gesturing at the girl, before moving to set it on the counter. “This too.”
The girl hid her smile by ducking her head further. She wondered what would happen if she let this hulking man believe a children’s story.
“Yep. You’ll know it’s him by the jingle of his belt, and the hooves on the roof.”
Ghost frowned quietly, uncomfortable with the entire idea. It was then he thought to check his phone, which was on silent.
Price:
Got it.
He’s getting suspicious.
He keeps trying to look for you. Where are you?
Ghost, call me.
He’s on his way.
Soap:
Where are you??
You didn’t say it’d take this long
You alright???
I’m coming back
Alejandro:
you are so fucked, hermano
“Oh, shit,” Ghost hissed, quickly shooting off a text to Price to delay Soap as much as possible. “How fast can you wrap that-”
“You want a bag?” The girl interrupted, the two boxes fully wrapped, and the snowglobe practically unrecognisable as she rushed to roll it in more protection.
“Please,” Ghost uttered, one foot anxiously tapping the ground as he watched the windows.
“Sixty, even,” the girl announced.
“The globe was fifteen,” Ghost corrected, biting his tongue the moment he let it slip.
“I gave you my discount. Pay up, gramps,” the girl grinned, her eyes far behind him.
Ghost didn’t complain an ounce as he pulled the money out of his wallet. They finished the transaction in silence, and he grabbed his bags as she tore the receipt. One hand extended, reaching to grab it, when she leaned over the counter and slipped some papers into the bag, as well as the receipt.
“Before you put those under the tree, write ‘from: Santa’ on those stickers, and then put one on each gift. And write who it’s for!” She shoved his shoulder gently, ignoring the glare. “Now get going. We close in two minutes.”
Ghost turned on his heel, striding off quickly before stopping just before the door.
“Thank you,” he called out, refusing to look over his shoulder as he left the shop.
He stacked the bags onto one arm, grabbed his phone with the other, and dialled Price as he started jogging away from where the men had gone.
“Where are you, dumbass?” Price growled down the line, picking up only seconds after the ring.
“Cover for me? I had to buy something.”
“You didn’t have to take forty fucking minutes! Soap about had a heart attack!”
Ghost could hear Soap’s protests in the background, and he let the warm feeling settle in his chest for a moment before getting back on task.
“Do you have any ideas on how I can keep… someone from seeing what I have?”
“Shove it in the hidden storage compartment. I’ll make sure nobody looks in it, and you can have the seat guarding it.”
Ghost huffed in affirmation. They exchanged final words swiftly, neither wanting to prolong the trip anymore, and hung up.
Ghost pulled his coat tighter around him as he stepped outside, the wind cutting through mask and denim as snow fell softly. It was finally winter.
⭑✶⭑
Soap had bitched at him for a while afterwards, with Price backing him up the entire time.
“Why didn’t you just say you were buying something?” Soap hissed in the truck, glaring at Ghost across the aisle.
“You didn’t have to lie. We were worried,” Price jumped in. His hands stayed loose on the wheel, and a smirk lighted his words, so clearly he wasn’t that upset.
“Not to mention ignoring us the entire time! That was stupid, Ghost. We thought you might have been captured.”
Ghost didn’t dwell on the tightness in his chest when Soap’s worry still leaked through his tone.
“I’ve admitted my mistakes, can we move on already?” He grumbled, turning away from the anger still emanating around him.
The truck was uncomfortably silent for about a solid minute before Price spoke up.
“Since it’s Christmas Eve, we’ll let you off.”
“Hey-”
“Soap, shut up.”
Soap slouched in his seat, looking more like a petulant toddler than a grown man. Ghost smiled softly, glancing away when their eyes locked.
The ride back to the compound was heavy, weighing on Ghost’s shoulders. He had started to pick up certain tells of Soap’s, and it was clear that he was still upset by the time they were all stepping out of the truck.
Ghost lingered awkwardly, hoping that nobody would ask him why. No such luck.
“What are you stickin’ around for, Lt?” Soap questioned, his voice gruffer than normal.
“I… need some alone time,” Ghost covered, regretting it as Soap’s eyes narrowed.
“Seems like you had enough at the mall.”
For some reason, this particularly got under Ghost’s skin. He felt the rage bubbling beneath the surface as someone beneath him spoke back to him.
“Is there something you’d like to say, MacTavish?” Ghost spat, their usual friendly banter falling to pieces as frustration built up inside both of them.
“There’s a lot of things I’d like to say, Lieutenant,” Soap hissed his rank in disgust. “But I think I’d best keep them to myself.”
Soap spun on his heel, his muscles even tenser than when they were in the truck. Ghost had every intention to let him storm off and deal with it another time, but he caught Alejandro’s eye.
The man was giving him the worst stink eye he’d ever seen.
Ghost didn’t like vulnerability. In combat, vulnerability got you killed. He vowed years ago to never let himself be with someone, in an emotional or literal sense. Having feelings ruined your life, or ended it. Which is exactly why his next words startled even him.
“I’m sorry.”
Alejandro’s eyebrows practically flew off his face in shock. Price slowed his strides into the building. Soap froze in place. Ghost gritted his teeth tightly and sighed through them.
The world paused for just a moment. Only for a moment.
Price and Alejandro left them, the shock not quite fading from Alejandro’s eyebrows. Soap stayed turned away, but his muscles loosened, and when he spoke it was no longer out of anger. In fact, he just sounded tired.
“Just… Don’t do that again,” he grumbled, quickly tacking on a “Ghost” to attempt to undo his previous cruel statement.
“I won’t,” Ghost promised.
Soap nodded jerkily, striding away once more, but this time not as if he was running away but rather as if he had things to do.
Speaking of which, Ghost’s wrapped presents were now able to be lugged to his room safely.
It took several minutes just to get them into a comfortable position that also safely hid all the identifying portions, and then another ten minutes to avoid every soldier possible and deposit them in his room. When he finally breached the doorway, he sighed in relief and leaned against the now-closed door as he gently set the bags down.
With one hand, he reached to lock the door, before pulling off his coat and throwing it onto the bed, but not before removing his phone and placing it on the ground. He scavenged for a pen, and quickly sat down beside the bags.
He pulled out each box carefully, wary that he might somehow break them, and pulled out the stickers and receipt.
With careful penmanship, hopefully erasing all common features of his writing style, Ghost penned “Santa” underneath the “from” line, and then “Soap” underneath the “to” line. He hoped that Soap would appreciate it.
When he was finished, he smiled very small at the good job he had done, and then placed each gift back in the bag.
Ghost proceeded to crack his knuckles- loudly- before continuing on his adventure for Santa. Next was the cookies and milk, which they always had supplied.
⭑✶⭑
Ghost could barely sleep that night, his mind too focused on the gifts and Santa Claus. He still doubted the girl from the shop, but a small sliver of his heart wanted to believe it so badly that he figured no harm would come from it.
The sun had set hours ago, and now he just lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He tried to close his eyes, but he got absolutely nowhere with it. At least this way he would be ready if anything changed.
He was finally half-asleep when he heard it; bells were jingling down the hall.
Ghost sat straight up in bed, his heart racing at the thought of Santa seeing him. For some reason, he was terrified the man would take one look at him and turn away, refusing to give him anything for Christmas.
His eyes darted around the room as he heard the bells jingle further away from him, supposedly going towards the tree that Price had insisted on setting up in the lounge room, until he could hear nothing at all. He lay back down, his hands holding the blanket in a deathgrip, turning his head to check the time on his alarm clock.
Neon red stared back, proclaiming “01:01”.
Price had said there would be an optional meeting in the lounge room at 07:00 to open gifts.
Ghost knew that he needed to be asleep soon if he wanted to be well rested. Part of the job was having irregular sleep patterns, so he knew that he would survive on only a couple hours if need be, but he really wanted to be fully coherent tomorrow, and he already had to get up at 06:00 if he wanted to plant the gifts before anyone else got there.
He closed his eyes, and only saw broad shoulders tense with anger.
⭑✶⭑
Ghost groaned and grumbled as his alarm went off, but rolled out of bed immediately. Five hours of sleep was not enough to deal with Soap’s bullshit.
He quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt, opting to keep the mask from yesterday on as it wasn’t that dirty, and laced up his boots. He grabbed the bags and opened his door as quietly as possible, doing his best to stay silent.
It took him several minutes to walk across the compound in near silence, pausing only to check the plate and glass he had left in the kitchen.
The only thing left on the plate was crumbs, and the glass emptied, both gently placed in the sink.
Of course Santa would be a gentleman.
Ghost tried to ignore the sliver of joy coursing through him, and the bounce in his step as he made his way towards the tree. He almost made it without a hitch, when the last person he wanted to see showed up.
“Hey, Ghost,” Soap yawned, stepping into the lounge from the other doorway. “Why are you up so early?”
“Why are you?” Ghost shot back, subtly moving the bag behind his legs. For once, he was grateful the lounge didn’t have overhead lights.
“I ‘eard you stompin’ around the kitchen,” Soap smirked. “Thought ghost’s were supposed to be quiet.”
“I am,” Ghost remarked, authority present in his voice. He did not elaborate.
It was then that Soap happened to glance down and take in his Lieutenant’s attire… and the bag hidden behind him.
“Oi, what’ve you got there?” Soap perked up, leaning forward to try to get a better view.
Ghost shifted it further away, cursing every single god he could think of.
“Gift for Price.”
“Didn’t know you were so generous.” Soap wasn’t speaking playfully anymore, though he tried; it now was lined with something Ghost couldn’t quite identify. His posture loosened minutely, before he immediately rectified it and straightened back up. “What’d’ya get ‘im?”
Ghost’s eyes flitted from Soap’s face, to the kitchen, to the tree, frantically trying to come up with something.
“A cooking set.”
“What?” Soap burst, laughter coming out in waves. “Why?”
“He said once that he wished he learnt how to cook,” Ghost shrugged, pulling every lie he could out of his ass. “Figured I owe him for saving us.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
Soap seemed to take that much harder than Ghost had anticipated, his face dropping the minute the half-joke was aired. Ghost tried to backpedal the second he noticed.
“Sorry. Bad joke. I got you something too, don’t worry.”
Soap smiled, though small, and simply shook his head.
“Ah, Simon, ever the comedian.”
Normally, Ghost wouldn’t allow someone to call him by his birth name. He had left that behind him when he started wearing the mask. All the same, Ghost didn’t correct Soap.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Soap stretched, sighing as his bones popped.
Ghost definitely did not watch him.
Soap waved, taking Ghost’s silence as a good-bye, and left the lounge area, presumably to try and get some more sleep.
Ghost checked his watch and hissed angrily at the time. 06:30. Soap had distracted him too long, and he had no time to wrap the other presents hidden in his closet.
He quickly unloaded the bag, feeling a bit like Santa himself in the moment, before rushing back to grab the unwrapped gifts. He threw them into the bag, and rushed to the kitchen. There, he threw each gift into a garbage bag, tied them off, and quickly scribbled names on them- only who they were to, not who they were from.
He checked his watch as he placed them beneath the tree, ignoring the way the tree was practically suffocating inside the wall of gifts. 06:50.
Fuck, he needed a coffee to survive this.
The second he breached the kitchen, soldiers started pouring into the main hall, blearily rubbing sleep out of their eyes. Ghost rushed to make his coffee- black, just the way he liked it- and hesitated for only a moment before grabbing a second mug and heaping it with sugar and creamer. He carried both out to the lounge, noticing Soap’s tired form hunched over and half-asleep in one of the chairs surrounding the tree.
“Mornin’,” Ghost greeted, ignoring the fact they had already spoken that morning. “Got you coffee.”
“Oh, thank God,” Soap groaned, grabbing the coffee away. “Am pure done in.”
“I take it you didn’t sleep well?” Ghost wasn’t sure why he asked.
“Never do. It’s exciting,” Soap smiled softly, his gaze far away. “I’m still a wee bairn at heart,”
“Do you want to know something more exciting?” Ghost whispered as if he was sharing a secret.
“Aye.”
“Santa came last night.”
Soap’s shoulder’s jerked, and the corner of his mouth pulled up slightly, as if he was holding back a laugh.
“Really? How’d ya know?”
“He ate the milk and cookies I left out. And I heard his bells last night,” Ghost smiled behind the mask, and Soap could hear it in his voice.
Soap did not mention how he had seen the milk and cookies left out and assumed they were free game. He did not mention how he had eaten them and then discarded the evidence. He conveniently avoided mentioning how he wished Ghost would have baked them himself so he could see the Lieutenant in an apron.
“That’s so awesome,” Soap hushed back, humouring the man as he attempted to keep the laugh out of his voice. “Did you hear his reindeer, too?”
“No, unfortunately,” Ghost replied, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. “But I think I have solid enough proof as is.”
“Aye, are ye sure ya weren’t just mad wae it?” Soap teased, bumping their shoulders together softly. While he was making fun of him, Soap did just enjoy the glimmer of happiness lining Ghost’s tone for the first time in a while.
“You know I hate it when I can’t understand you,” Ghost bit back.
“I know,” Soap grinned, sipping at his coffee to avoid another response.
Ghost opened his mouth to respond, quickly shutting it as the Captain walked in.
“Soldiers! Merry Christmas!” Price loudly proclaimed, throwing his hands up. “And happy seventh day of Chanukah!”
The room was filled with cheers, applause, and mimicked phrases, as Price strode to the front of the room. He was possibly the only man who didn’t need coffee at such an hour.
“I will be the elf today, dispersing gifts as I grab them, so just find a seat and stay there! Don’t open any gifts yet!”
Most of the men nodded, or tossed out an “affirmative” into the crowd, but Ghost and Soap stayed silent.
Ghost was dreading drinking his coffee in front of anyone, but he knew he needed it, or else he’d start snapping at someone. As if he hadn’t already.
He ducked his head slightly, shoving up the bottom of his balaclava until just his mouth showed, and downed the entire cup. He winced at how warm it still was, and quickly rolled down the mask, just barely catching Soap’s slack jawed face in his peripheral.
“Pick your chin up off the floor, Sergeant,” Ghost grumbled, staring down at the mug. He felt self-conscious enough without Soap’s searching eyes.
“Sorry,” Soap quickly uttered, shock still colouring his tone. “You… I thought you don’t eat in front of people?”
“I don’t,” Ghost deadpanned. “But I need coffee to put up with your shit, and since I was running late because of a certain conversation, now was my only chance.”
“Yer bum’s oot the windae,” Soap laughed, continuing to drink his own coffee like a normal person.
“I fucking hate Scots.”
Soap was cut off from making another remark by Captain Price, who was loaded up with as many gifts as he could carry.
“Got four for Soap, two for Ghost,” he grinned, setting all six gifts in front of them before rushing off once more.
“Ha! I got more than you,” Soap grinned, already bending down to separate the pile.
“It’s not about quantity, it’s about quality,” Ghost sighed, pushing his gifts closer to himself.
“Said by someone who’s upset they don’t have four gifts.”
Ghost chose not to mention who got three of the gifts.
Several minutes of banter later, Price stood up on a chair in front of the tree and crowd. His hands clasped in front of him, and he grinned at the crowd.
“It has been a pleasure to have you all on my team the past year, or years for some. I know it’s hard not being able to go home to your family during the holidays-”
At this, a muscle in Ghost’s jaw twitched. Soap only noticed because he had been watching him the whole time. He leaned closer, resting their shoulders together, and ignoring the way Ghost tensed up before his muscles relaxed. Neither moved.
“-but I hope this at least makes it bearable. Now, if one of your mates didn’t get you something, don’t worry, I made sure to find something for everyone. Each of your gifts from me are personalised to what you need, or what others have heard you mention wanting, so if there is something wrong or if you’d like something else, please see me directly. Now, go on and open your gifts!”
The sound of tearing paper immediately filled the room. Price smiled softly, turning to his own small pile of gifts.
Ghost grabbed one gift with his name on it in a handwriting style he recognized as Price’s. He watched Soap do the same, and quickly opened it.
“What’d’ya get?” Soap asked, leaning further into Ghost’s personal space.
“Set of knives,” Ghost hummed, one hand brushing across the picture as if he could feel them. He glanced up to meet eyes with Price, and nodded once, watching Price’s smile grow. “You?”
“Shirts,” Soap replied, holding them up. “After I got shot, I kinda ruined a few of them, and I’m too lazy to buy new ones.”
“You could have just asked me,” Ghost frowned.
“Oh, you’d let me borrow yours?”
“No, dumbass, I’d have bought you some.”
Soap laughed, before quickly diving down to grab the next package. It was the smallest of the bunch, and Ghost immediately knew what was inside of it.
Soap glanced at the tag, smiling softly when he saw the name Santa scrawled across it. He already knew who it was from.
Ghost tried to seem busy with his next gift, but he was clearly just watching Soap open his own.
Soap had peeled back the paper, and was gently tearing off the tape on the box, pulling out a roll of bubble wrap. He quickly started unravelling it, getting more eager by the second, until he pulled the small globe out.
It had a white base, sparkling like freshly fallen snow, and glittered in Soap’s hands, though the sun was just barely rising. Soap stared down with wide eyes as he shook it. Snow rained down inside the tiny world, falling onto the miniature scene. It appeared to be just another snow covered hill at first glance, but when looking closer one could see the two snow angels in the ground, one just slightly larger than the other.
Ghost shifted uncomfortably at the silence between them, picking at the paper on his own present as his eyes fell.
He hated it. Fuck. He knew he should have gotten something else.
“Ghost?”
Soap was staring down at the globe, watching the snow falling gently inside the tiny world, as he spoke. It was soft, as if it were meant for Ghost’s ears only, and kinder than he had ever heard the man speak.
“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”
Ghost didn’t notice how tense he was until it flooded out of him, his shoulders falling almost immediately.
“It’s a bit useless,” Ghost huffed, trying to keep the pride out of his voice. “It’s just for looking pretty.”
Soap cut a glance sideways, smiling at the way Ghost avoided his eyes. He really was doing his damndest to make Soap think Santa gave it to him.
“Santa knows what I want.”
Soap didn’t bother to wait for a response as he set the snowglobe carefully under his chair and lifted up the next box. He started tearing into it as well, barely glancing at the Santa tag. He knew who it was from by the time he saw the picture on the box.
The silence stretched on this time, and Ghost was getting worried. He couldn’t see a single thing in Soap’s eyes, as wide as they were. His fingers peeled more paper off the edge of his own gift, almost subconsciously.
“Do you like it?” Ghost asked softly, worry just barely buried in his voice.
Soap’s eyes glanced around the box which held the toy train set, before he turned to Ghost. Still, nothing showed in his eyes, and his lips were still slightly parted. It took everything Ghost had to keep his eyes above his teammates' nose.
“You bought this.”
“No, Santa did,” Ghost shook his head, determined to uphold the spirit of Christmas.
“Simon,” Soap laughed, “Cut the bullshit. You got me this.”
Ghost tilted his head just slightly, glancing down at the present in his hands. “And the other two.”
Soap’s eyes quickly cut back down to the present on the ground, and he wasted no time replacing the gifts and tearing into the last one.
“You got me the town, too?”
“You looked like you wanted it.”
“Simon Riley, I love you,” Soap grinned, setting the boxes down and throwing his arms around the other man as he gently kissed his cheek over the mask.
Ghost froze, absolutely unable to fathom everything that happened in the past few minutes.
Soap called him Simon. Nobody called him Simon, and normally he hated it- but Soap made it sound right. He made it sound like Ghost could still be Simon if he wanted to- could still be a person outside of his wartorn self. He loved how Soap said his name, drawing out the i like honey. Soap made it feel like home, and he craved home.
Soap just said he loved him. Ghost was known for working alone and never getting attached. Showing any kind of weakness, especially caring for anyone, was like having a target trained on your back at all times. It was dangerous, and would surely end badly sooner if not later. But Simon Riley wished he could have that life of domesticity and happiness.
Soap just hugged him. And kissed him. Partially. Ghost/Simon had no idea what that meant.
Soap had just started to pull away, abashedness painting his face, when Ghost got his bearings together and pulled the man in for a bone-crushing hug. He buried his covered face in the other man’s shoulder, trying not to linger on the smell of pine that always seemed to follow the man.
Ghost didn’t say anything. Soap didn’t say anything. They sat there for a minute, or two, until someone coughed above them.
They quickly separated, Soap’s face burning red with a stupid smile on his face, and Ghost’s face hidden (but also burning red with a small smile).
“Lieutenant, Sergeant,” Price greeted them. “I appreciate your gifts. Soap, next time please be a bit more original.” He nodded once, and was off, not there to listen to meaningless small talk.
“What did you get him?” Ghost choked out, trying to avoid his own embarrassment.
“A bar of soap.”
Ghost pressed his lips together tightly, trying to ward off a chuckle.
“Should we talk-”
“Let me just open my present first,” Ghost sighed, already feeling his mood fall. There was no way that conversation would be fun.
“Okay, but- I bought it a while ago and- I don’t think you’ll like it but it’s all I could come up with-”
“Soap?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
Ghost smiled at the silence, pushing their shoulders back together as he lifted the present off his lap from where it had fallen. He slowly peeled back the paper, enjoying the short and annoyed huffs that came from Soap, and actually slowed his actions just to tick the man off.
Finally, the paper was gone, and revealed only a small box. Ghost shot an inquisitive glance towards Soap before opening it, and suddenly he understood why Soap had stared at the train for so long.
In the box lay a small black braided bracelet with a metal plating. It had an adjustable cord, and was clearly built out of material that should last through a war and not get in the way of reloading a gun, but that was not what had Ghost’s attention.
Engraved on the metal plating were the words “I’ll be fighting for you”.
Ghost was absolutely speechless, and it didn’t help that he had no idea how to respond to this even as Simon Riley, the man that was able to feel without feeling guilty.
“I told you it sucked. It’s okay, I can return it- maybe get you another knife set-”
“Johnny?”
Soap inhaled through his teeth sharply. “Yeah?”
“Can you shut up for five bloody seconds?”
Soap nodded, watching as the hulking mass of muscle that was Ghost carefully lifted the bracelet out of the box, and handed it to Soap. He then held one hand out, wrist up.
“Put it on me. Please.”
Soap quickly did as asked, securing the loose strings tightly against the rest of the bracelet. His hands trembled as they pulled back towards himself, only pausing when Ghost caught them.
There they sat, time standing still as the two men held hands and stared at each other, in a room of other soldiers, the air tainted with Christmas joy.
“I’m never taking this off,” Ghost whispered.
“Thank fuck,” Soap laughed in relief, though the stress was still audible in his voice. “I was scared I was gonna have to jump ship.”
“Never,” Ghost promised. “You’ll always have a home wherever I am.”
Soap didn’t express how much that meant to him.
Ghost saw movement behind the other man, and watched Price creep up on the two and hold a piece of mistletoe above Soap’s head, before rolling his eyes.
He took his hands back from Soap, ignoring the hurt look as he pushed the mask up over his nose, exposing his lips and jaw once more, this time with slightly less anxiety. Soap’s eyes dropped down to his lips immediately, before jumping between them and his eyes.
Ghost smiled softly, flipping off Price as he put one hand on Soap’s neck gently.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Aye,” Soap breathed, his entire body leaning forward.
It was not fireworks when their lips finally touched, weeks of tension finally released at that moment. Instead, it was snow. Cold, wet, but more beautiful than anything else they could have dreamt.
Ghost’s hand travelled to tangle in Soap’s mohawk- which he first deemed ridiculous, and now deemed adorable- and pulled away, chuckling softly at the way Soap looked startled.
“Merry Christmas, Johnny.”
“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, Simon.”