Chapter Text
Even after countless missions together, Soap still sometimes wondered if Ghost did see a friend in him. He hoped Ghost did, but there was no way of being sure. Even asking directly wouldn't get him the answer to that. Ghost was too evasive for that, too fucking private, and might even lie to his face.
But still, Soap wondered. Most often than not in the most inconvenient situations.
Like infiltrating an enemy base, with no more backup than Ghost on overwatch, because everything went to shit, but they still needed the intel.
»Stay sharp, Sergeant«, came Ghost's flat, deep voice over the crackling comms. »Got visual on you. Just ahead of you is a staircase that leads to the upper floor. There shouldn’t be many hostiles left after what happened, but you never can be too cautious.«
»'M always sharp, Lt.«
That earned him a huff. Soap didn’t lie though. Even when his mind was occupied by his lieutenant, he moved quick and quiet. His instincts took over whenever he was not actively paying attention to his surroundings, letting him hear distant footsteps before running into an enemy soldier, letting him smell fresh sweat that wasn't his before looking down a rifle.
So yes, maybe he wasn’t as cautious as he could be, but he trusted his instincts to not fail him even when his mind was full of Ghost. The man he longed for. Of course, Soap knew, that Ghost was unavailable. That man was too private to talk about what kind of toothpaste he used, let alone show his interest in a fellow soldier or talk about his preferences when it came to relationships.
Maybe, Ghost had a lass or lad at home somewhere. But Soap doubted that. Ghost never seemed too happy about leave, and one time, he had to be nearly thrown off base by Price. That didn’t paint the picture of a loving one waiting for Ghost to come back home.
Hell, Ghost could live as a celibate for all Soap knew. Maybe sex didn’t do it for him. And he didn’t let anyone close. Even Price, who he was closest with, did seem to be kept at a distance.
Soap had paid attention to that. Because he was fucking lost, head over heels for a man that was more ghost than human. And part of him hated that, because he was on the highway to heartbreak, he knew it, and still pressed down on the gas pedal instead of hitting the breaks.
He was a fucking wreck.
But still, the sound of Ghost's voice alone was enough to let goosebumps trail down his neck. »There are two in the hallway across from your position. Can show me now how sharp you truly are.«
»Gladly, if you watch«, Soap couldn't stop the banter.
»I like watching...« The pause had to be on purpose. »a good kill. Don't disappoint me.«
»You? Never.«
Soap crouched so that he could see the two hostiles and waited for the perfect moment to jump one of them, putting a knife right into his neck and taking him down without so much as a sound to alert his friend. And if said knife has once been Ghost's, before all that shit in Las Almas, Ghost didn’t need to know. Laying the body to the ground, Soap leapt over some office cabinet and threw a throwing knife at the other dude, killing him just as swiftly.
»What do ya say? That was some fucking fine work.«
»I've seen better«, Ghost answered without hesitation.
»Who?«
»Me.« Even if Ghost's voice was as flat as ever, Soap had trained himself to hear the quiet humor in it. Since Ghost did his best to cover up every part of him, Soap had to listen and look at the tiniest hints of emotion. With time, he became really good at it, seeing his smirk in the way his eyes glinted and hearing his amusement by the small uptake of his voice, that everyone else missed.
»Now get us that intel and let us go home.«
»Aye, Lt. Working on it.« The way, Ghost said home made Soaps heart swell. Even if it didn’t mean anything. The base was the closest thing they had to a home, the 141 the closest thing to a family. Soap got it, but still, his stupid heart wanted him to hope that it meant more.
He found the intel in the next room, grabbed the disc and made his way back. »Got it. You treading me to a nice meal for making this shitshow still a success?«
»I don't think that's part of the manual, Johnny.«
»Shame, could have done with a nice steak.«
»You like it bloody?«
Soap hummed. »Like a nice fist fight.«
»I prefer some fish and chips«, Ghost said as Soap was almost at his position. After almost a week of crawling through an urban labyrinth, Soap was ready to go home.
»Fuckin' Brits.«
This banter – the fact that they always did it, no matter if they were on a mission alone, with others or on base, it had to mean something, right? It made Soap special, that Ghost only ever did it with him. Soap remembered that moment in Las Almas, when Ghost said he liked him alive, but never really admitted to liking him in particular. He was so desperate for Ghost's affection and reassurance that it was laughable. Ghost would never tell him what he really wanted to know. Soap might fool himself in thinking it would be enough if Ghost liked him as a friend, but deep down Soap knew, that he wouldn’t truly be satisfied with anything other than that mans love. A thing he would never get.
He jogged the last part of the way and found Ghost already standing in a darkened entrance. He looked so intimidating, like a dark shadow with a pale skull face. If Soap wouldn’t know him, he would swear to having seen Death himself.
»Exfill is ready, come on, Sergeant. The others are waiting on us.«
They fell into a comfortable silence as they walked their way to the helo that would bring them home. Some recruits and a hurt Gaz waited there.
»Good job in there«, Ghost's voice was low as they stepped inside, the praise meant only for Soaps ears to hear.
Sometimes, Soap could convince himself, that he was special for Ghost.
They returned home, brought Gaz to med bay and had the debrief with Price before they were dismissed and free to shower and sleep off the exhaustion of a week-long mission. Soap hadn’t felt it until the moment they sat down in the helo and only now did he allow himself to give in to it. He was officially off duty and the human part of him that wasn’t a battle hardened soldier took over.
Ghost and him did share a big part of the way to their rooms and walked next to each other in companionable silence. But just as they reached Ghost's door, Soap felt the sudden urge to know resurface with a blinding force. He wouldn’t be able to sleep if he didn’t know.
»Ghost«, he said, breathless.
His lieutenant stopped with a hand on the door handle, cocking a brow. Soap just knew it, even if he didn’t really see it because of the mask.
»I …« He felt stupid, he couldn’t really ask his commanding officer if he liked him. Just be offhand about it and make a joke, he thought. But something in the way Ghost looked at him, made his normally charming tongue as heavy as lead. »You never answered my question back in Las Almas.«
That did throw Ghost off, if the way he backed off and let his hand sink down was anything to go by. He turned to really look at Soap and God Soap could have been stripped naked and wouldn’t have felt any more vulnerable. Whenever Ghost looked at him like this, with all his attention, he truly felt seen.
»Didn't know there was any. Care to remind me again?«
Soap's throat was as dry as the desert, his body hyperaware of Ghost standing just inches away, towering over him, so close he could almost smell him, feel the heat radiate from his body in the cold evening air. Just a little more and he could touch.
Back off while you still can! »I-I was wondering … Do you care? About me.«
The following silence was deafening. It seemed as if neither of them dared breathing. Eyes locked, they stood still and slowly Soap started wondering if time itself froze, but then Ghost shifted his gaze away from him and gripped the handle of his door again. »Go to rest, McTavish, the mission was exhausting.«
No lie. No joke. Just … nothing. Soap felt empty, like he laid himself bare at Ghost's feet and he just left.
»Lt …«, Soap said and tried to get a hold of Ghost's upper arm to keep him from leaving without an answer. He didn’t want to lay awake for hours because of that. »Even if the answer's no, just tell me.« Help me get over you. Break my stupid hoping heart, so that I can start healing.
»Sleep it off«, was all he got as an answer. Ghost evaded his hand easily. It was like a slap in the face. But what else did he expect?
»Simon, please.« He wasn’t above begging, it seemed, and it made Soap hate himself a little bit. He needed closure. A clear cut. At this point, he was begging Ghost to hurt him.
The words had just left his mouth as he found himself pressed hard against the wall next to Ghost's door. The hardcase skull mask was right in front of him, Ghost's strong hand at his collar, the muscular body of his lieutenant pressed against his. Soap's heart skipped a beat and then it ran a marathon.
»Never use that name again«, Ghost all but growled. »That man is dead. He burned a long time ago along with his family.«
Everyone else would have gotten weak knees out of a completely different reason right now, but Soap could only think about Ghost's hand on him, his body pressing him against the wall, and the pain and sadness that hid behind anger and cold hatred. Ghost had lost everything he once cared for. That's why he became a ghost in the first place.
The shadowed eyes burned through him, looking straight into Soap's soul. No one ever looked at him like this. Like he mattered. Like he could be lost.
In this moment Soap got it. He finally understood.
»You mean because a ghost can't mourn, can't feel and can't care for anyone? There is nothing to be scared for if you don't care, right?«
»Johnny.« The grip on his collar got stronger. A clear warning. Good thing, Soap always had a thing for danger.
»I got my answer, Simon.«
Ghost stepped back and gave Soap the chance to move again. Soap walked past him.
»It's Ghost, not Simon.«
Soap made his way down the corridor, grinning like an idiot as soon as he could be sure Ghost wouldn’t see. Tonight, he would sleep soundly.