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“Cheer up mate, tall, dark, and seriously scary will be back before you know it.”
Soap startled, picking his head up from where he’d laid it on the table - he hadn’t been sulking. He was a big boy who could handle Ghost being sent on a solo mission without him - and turned to find Gaz standing just behind him, an amused smile on his face, eyes bright.
“Och pick a windae, yer leavin’” Soap cursed, embarrassed blush reddening his cheeks. Gaz had caught him. Truly, he had been sulking. He kept his gaze on the table, well aware of Gaz settling just across from him. He fully intended to just ignore the other man because he knew Gaz was about to make fun of him.
“That supposed to be a threat, MacTavish?” Gaz questioned.
Soap didn’t bother to translate and kept stubbornly silent and would’ve continued to do so had Gaz not scoffed and kicked him under the table. Soap cursed, more from the shock of the action than any pain, and glared up at his fellow sergeant.
“English MacTavish.” Gaz said with a smile, his voice dropped down in what was his best attempt at Ghost’s gravelly timber. It was a terrible attempt but it was enough to pull a laugh from Soap as he shook his head.
“Sorry Gaz, let me translate, ‘Fuck off’.” Soap grinned, wagging his eyebrows as Gaz laughed.
Silence stretched comfortable between them before Gaz was reaching across the table, patting Soap’s arm gently. Soap raised an eyebrow, silently questioning the action.
“Won’t take Ghost long to complete this mission” Gaz said softly, “Price expects him back with another day you know.”
“Aye,” Soap sighed. His gaze drops to the table, where his fingers were drumming against the wood. It wasn’t like he felt any type of way about Ghost being sent on a solo mission. That didn’t bother him because he knew how much Ghost enjoyed it. Being on his own, alone, relying on only himself and surrounded by silence. Lone wolf. Ghost liked that. Ghost thrived in that. It was just, it had been a while since Ghost had gone on a solo mission. Lately it had alway been squad missions or duos, where Soap would tag along.
Soap wondered if it was this new dynamic that was forming between him and his lieutenant that made the time apart be filled with restlessness and worry. Because there was no denying that something had formed between them and was still growing. Neither had spoken about it or brought it to light yet. Soap certainly felt it. Ghost was too observant to have not noticed as well. Hell even Gaz had picked up on something and no doubt Price knew as well, probably more than all of them.
“It’s just been awhile,” Soap muttered.
“I get it mate,” Gaz said, Soap could hear the sincerity in his voice and knew he meant it too. Gaz’s hand on his arm squeezed just slightly, comforting. “Don’t mean I’m going to let you sit there and sulk though. Why don’t we go down to the range and you can show me all those sniper pointers that I know Ghost has been teaching ya?”
A distraction. Soap could use it, so he smiled and pushed himself up. “Yer on.”
Ghost was thankful that this mission had been a solo one and the only other person in the helo with him was the pilot. He was also grateful for the dim lighting that would keep him shrouded in enough shadow that had the pilot glanced a look back at him - unlikely, but could happen - then he wouldn’t be able to see how Ghost was slumping in his seat.
Wouldn’t be able to tell that Ghost had not come out of the mission unscathed.
Injuries for Ghost were a rarity but they happened from time to time when Ghost miscalculated or there were unaccounted for enemies that suddenly crawled up out the woodwork. This time it had been a gunshot from a hiding coward that Ghost had not spotted while he was clearing through the building. The bullet had torn through his side and Ghost had verbally grunted with the impact of it, flinching just the tiniest bit before he swung on instinct and fired a bullet of his own, right through the rat’s eyes.
He had then pushed on, made sure the building was clear before he took the time to look at and haphazardly make a makeshift bandage for the wound. Keeping the blood in.
During the mission, it was easy to dismiss the pain. To put it on the backburner and ignore it.
Now though. Ghost could feel how wet his side was. He knew the makeshift bandage had been bled through and while he was positive that his tactical vest hid all of the blood he knew had soaked his clothing, there was still the slightest of paranoia that if anyone looked at him too closely, they might just be able to make out the crimson color of his blood. He would need to get that secured and get himself taken care of before he gave his report to Price.
He didn’t want to have an argument with his Captain and that is exactly what it would delve into if Price were to notice. Price would want him to go to medical to have it seen about and Ghost would protest, insisting that he could take care of it on his own. It would be a headache so Ghost decided to just avoid it all together and see to himself first before he reported to the captain about the mission.
Price would understand.
Or Price would be standing on the runway waiting for him with a cigar lit hanging from his mouth.
Bloody fucking hell
He silently thanked all his training that allowed him to get it together enough not to limp out of the heli. His side was agony and his breathing was just a tad bit forced but his features were schooled and his demeanor the same as it normally was. He could blame exhaustion on how his voice sounded, impatient with just the hint of a growl, when he approached the waiting man, “Price.”
“How was the mission?” the Captain asked. Ghost didn’t miss the way those sharp, assessing eyes briefly gave him a once over. It made irritation prickle just under his skin and Ghost barely suppressed the urge to shift under his Captain’s gaze. He would need to keep this as brief as he could without seeming suspicious. The longer he stood here, the more likely Price was going to notice something.
So Ghost reached for one of the pockets of his tact vest, pulling out the usb drive he had been sent to receive. “Solid.” He answered, holding the device out without another word.
“Good,” Price pulled the cigar from his mouth, blowing smoke in the space between them. Reaching out, he took the usb between his fingers. His eyes narrowed as he observed it. He was still scrutinizing the usb when he muttered out, “Debrief now or in the morning?”
Ghost gritted his teeth. Normally the answer to that question would be obvious. Ghost liked immediate debrief, while the mission was still fresh on his mind - not that he’d forget, no. Just he wanted to get everything squared away, mission fully complete, and that included debrief. Right now, Ghost didn’t think he would be able to sit through a debriefing, not with how much his side was starting to throb. His instincts were screaming at him to go lock himself down somewhere safe so he would properly assess and take care of the wound.
But Price knew how he clicked and Ghost knew what was about to happen, so he squared his shoulders and stared straight ahead.
“In the morning will do sir.”
Just as he knew, that got Price’s attention. The old man’s attention snapped back to him, pale blue eyes now focused on him. Ghost knew the old man always knew more than he let on. He just hoped that Price wouldn’t call him out.
“Are you alright, Simon?” Price’s voice was soft, with just the faintest detection of concern.
“Will be.” Ghost grunted out.
“It serious?” Another inquiry, this time with the beginnings of an edge seeping in. Ghost knew Price was debating ordering him to medical. Price also knew Ghost would fight him every step of the way if he did.
“Negative sir, just a scratch.” Ghost lied. He stared at the Captain, giving nothing away but somehow still knowing Price could read him despite that.
Silence stretched between them, tense, as Price seemed to glance him over once more. Probably looking for the injury that Ghost knew he would not find. Ghost did well to hide his injuries from foe and ally alike. Eventually after another beat that felt like hours, Price was placing the cigar back between his lips and reaching out to gently pat Ghost’s shoulder. “Get yourself sorted Ghost,” were Price’s departing words as he turned and started to move away.
Ghost nodded once before he started for his own quarters, only just barely keeping his shoulders from sagging.
Had he been more observant, he would have noticed that Price had not headed in the direction of his makeshift office nor his own quarters.
Three solid knocks against his door is what pulled Soap from sleep. His eyes snapped open and he threw the covers aside, rolling out of bed with a grumble. He stumbled across the short distance and didn’t hesitate to unlock the door and pull it open, immediately straightening when he found Price on the other side.
“Cap’n” He greeted the sleepy fog leaving him in seconds and being replaced with full alertness. Price didn’t go knocking on doors at ungodly hours for no reason.
“Soap.” Price nodded back, calmly. There was no air of urgency.
His demeanor had Soap blinking in confusion. “Somethin’ wrong?” He questioned, prompting almost as he was starting to wonder what the blazes Price was doing outside his door.
“That remains to be seen.” Price hummed, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
“Sir?” Completely at a loss, Soap blinked blankly at the captain. He wasn’t quite following.
“Ghost has just gotten back from his mission,” Price explained, reaching up to run a hand over his mustache as he stared at the sergeant in front of him, “I suspect he is injured.”
That got Soap’s attention. Worry started to twist through him. “Is he in medical right now sir?” Soap asked, hand tightening on where he was still holding the door open.
“No, he refused to go to medical. I believe he was going to retreat to his quarters to deal with it himself.” Price answered, head tilting just slightly in the way it did when he found something interesting.
Soap muttered a string of Scottish curses under his breath before he looked up at Price. “Can’t ye make him go get checked?”
An eyebrow rose momentarily before a sigh followed. “Could. He’d fight me every step of the way, order or not. You know he doesn’t like showing his weaknesses.”
Soap did know. He knew probably better than anyone, save Price, how secretive Ghost was about everything. How he didn’t readily accept or ask for help.
That still doesn’t mean Ghost shouldn’t get checked out or at the very least not have to deal with it alone.
“However, he would probably show you.” Price’s voice interrupted Soap’s thoughts and he blinked up at his captain, who was now staring at him with a knowing look. “It hasn’t escaped me that when it comes to you, Ghost isn’t quite the hardass that he normally is. Let’s you get off with a lot that he would normally never tolerate with anyone else.”
Creepin Jesus. There was nothing Soap could say to that. Nothing that wouldn’t put truth to Price’s already sound statement. The ol man always knew more than he let on. At least he didn’t seem mad about it.
“What are ye sayin’ Price?” Soap asked because really wanted to be sure he understood what Price was hinting at.
Under that mustache, there might have been a hint of a smile. “‘M saying that it wouldn’t hurt if you went to check on him muppet.”
It sounded sort of like permission but Soap wasn’t going to wait around to pick it apart. Not when Ghost was injured, unknown how badly. Not after all the times that Ghost patched him up when he’d gotten injured and checked up on him.
Soap nodded at Price as the captain stepped back. He closed the door to his quarters and headed off in the direction of his lieutenant's room, well aware of Price’s gaze on his back as he went.
The halls were empty. Base quiet as everyone not on duty was lights out for the night and those unfortunate souls that were pulling guard didn’t even bat an eye as Soap made his way across the base to the wing where Ghost’s room was.
When Soap came to a stop at the familiar door, he raised his hand to knock but paused when his eye caught sight of something on the floor. Curious, Soap crouched down and his eyes widened at the single droplet of crimson.
Blood.
Ghost’s blood.
Standing, Soap knocked almost urgently on the door.
He heard the muffled curse followed by the sound of things being hastily put away. It didn’t nothing for the growing concern. He knocked again, just as urgent.
“Just a bloody damn minute!” Came the snapped order from the other side, gravelly and deep. Frustrated. Definitely said through gritted teeth.
Soap waited, hand reaching out to rest on the door knob.
A few seconds ticked by before Ghost’s voice is sounding again, closer. A raspy, clipped, “What?” coming through the door.
“It’s me, LT” Soap announced, keeping his voice just loud enough to be heard. He wanted Ghost to open the door. He wanted to check on his lieutenant.
“What do you want, MacTavish?” Ghost questioned. The exhaustion sounded bone deep in his voice.
“Came to check on ye sir,” Soap didn’t lie, would never lie to Ghost. “The Capt’n thought it was a good idea.”
He barely heard the huff of a laugh through the door but he didn’t miss the click of the lock and the sound of Ghost moving away. Tentatively, Soap twisted the handle. The door opened and he pushed his way inside. Ghost was settling himself on the edge of the bed as Soap closed and relocked the door behind him before he turned to his lieutenant, letting his eyes take in the sight.
Ghost was disheveled, clothes haphazardly thrown on and mask sitting lopsided on his face. All tales of him getting hastily dressed and a look Soap had never seen on his lieutenant. A hand was curled, protectively, across his midsection with pressure being applied to his side. There was tension in his shoulders and a defensive look in his eyes when Soap finally met his gaze.
It reminded Soap of a wounded predator, cornered and hurt, not yet baring his teeth but close to it. Soap had mentioned Price, Ghost must figure he was sent to get him to go to medical.
Soap tips his head, giving Ghost a small smile. “Help you patch that wound, sir?” He asked casually.
“You’re not a medic, Johnny,” Ghost snorted, dry humor clear in his words. He relaxed some, moved his hand.
Soap didn’t miss the slight wince.
“I’m not,” He agreed, daring to approach until he was kneeling down. He reached for the bottom of the hoodie, pausing to meet Ghost’s eyes again in silent question.
Ghost nodded his consent and Soap gently worked the hoodie up and off, exposing Ghost’s bare flesh and the wound. It was a flesh wound, a graze that cut just a little too deep.
“Just needs stitching,” Ghost rumbled, reaching up to pull his mask off and drop it on the bed. “Told Price I would be fine. He didn’t need to send you.”
“Didn’t send me,” Soap corrected, explaining further when Ghost shot him a look, “Price just told me you were hurt. I came on my own, to help. You’ve patch me up so many times.”
“That’s because it’s my job Johnny.” Ghost muttered, “I like you alive.”
“Like ye alive too sir.” Soap smiled, “So please let me help you.”
Ghost is silent, eyes averted. Soap just waits patiently, giving Ghost time to wrap his head around his words. Ghost was a complicated man, kept his emotions locked down and tucked away. How Soap managed to work his way under those walls to get to a soft side of this man, he doesn’t know but he’s thankful that Ghost let him in and gave him a chance.
“Alright Johnny,” Ghost sighs, voice low and soft. It’s the one he uses when it’s just them and he’s patching Soap up. He meets Soap’s eyes again before nodding towards a dresser drawer. “Needle and thread are in there. Grab them and the small flashlight.”
Soap moves, pulling open the crookedly shut drawer. Inside he found a threaded needle and spool of black stitching thread. He also found a small flashlight. Picking up both, he went back to the bed, brows furrowing when Ghost reached out and took the needle and thread and left him with the flashlight.
“Ghost?” Soap asked, a small laugh escaping him. “I can’t patch ye up without the needle mate.”
Ghost huffed, fixing him with a bemused look. “You’re not stitching me up Johnny.” he rumbled, continuing on when Soap opened his mouth to argue, “You hold the flashlight so I can see and then afterward I’ll let you bandage it. Deal?”
It was as much as Soap was going to get, he knew. “Deal.”
So Soap held the light to give Ghost more of a visual and he watched Ghost stitch himself up. Ghost was silent, other than an exhale of breath here and there, and his hands were steady as they worked. It was slow, the wound starting to bleed more as Ghost messed with it, but eventually he had it stitched shut and was tying off the thread.
“First aid kit in the bathroom.” Ghost said with gritted teeth. “Grab it.”
Soap stood, knees cracking as he went from being knelt for so long, before he headed to the small bathroom. He gathered up a roll of gauze, medical tape, some antibiotic cream, and even snagged a rag and wet it on his way out. When he returned, Ghost had put away the needle and thread and had shifted to make room for him on the bed. Soap sat down, careful not to jostle Ghost. He started with the rag, slowly and carefully cleaning around the wound, getting the blood off Ghost’s skin.
Ghost made a noise, half protest and surprise, but he didn’t stop Soap.
After the wound was clean, Soap gingerly applied some of the antibiotic cream to the wound. He muttered apologies when Ghost drew in a sharp breath when it burned. It would keep infection away while it healed.
Next was a sticky pad of gauge, he soothed it over the stitches, protecting them, then he wrapped the roll of gauze around Ghost’s torso, making sure it was snug before he taped it down.
Once he was done, Soap let his hand linger for just a moment, brushing his fingers over the bandage before he pulled away and stood to put the tape and cream back in the bathroom. Ghost was hunched over, arms resting on the top of his thighs, shoulders slumped forward, when Soap reemerged. Head down.
Soap stood in the middle of the room, hesitating. He wanted to stay but he knew how much Ghost valued his privacy. He didn’t want to overstay his no doubt brief welcome and Ghost probably wanted to get some rest. He started for the door but Ghost’s voice stopped him.
“Johnny.”
He looked over his shoulder to see Ghost now watching him, those dark eyes tired but still as intense as always.
“Where ya goin?”
“Was going tae let ye get some rest LT.” Soap answered, hand rising to the back of his neck.
“Can do that with you here.” Ghost stated and it was an invitation, as much of one as Ghost was going to give. Soap heard it all the same. Doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to be cheeky.
He grinned, turning away from the door. “Ye askin me to stay Simon?”
“Don’t push it.” Ghost huffed, even if he did leave enough room as he moved to lay down for Soap. When Soap didn’t move for a beat, Ghost huffed again, this time more impatient. “Get the fuck over here and lay down Johnny.”
“Aye sir” Soap beamed, immediately moving to do as he was told.
He ended up with his back toward Ghost, facing the door. Ghost’s arm was slung around his midsection, face buried in the back of his neck, breath tickling his skin. Their legs were tangled together, Ghost’s doing.
“Thank you for coming to check on me.” Ghost whispered eventually, his voice slurred with sleep. He’d gone completely lax and Soap knew the other man was almost asleep.
“Always will Simon,” Soap promised, closing his own eyes. “You can bet on that.”