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The Sergeant found a lot of things he was amused by, like, for example, how fast Price could inhale a whole ass cigar, barely even blinking. How his Fishman hat looked to be glued to his fucking head, did he even have hair underneath it? Or was it just a bald spot he covered up?
Or how Gaz found a way to hide snacks every-fucking-where on the base. Even in Captain's office, he somehow fucking pulled out a Snickers from underneath a book in the middle of a debrief. And didn't even look fazed when everyone looked at him completely, utterly confused.
How the recruits find the nerve to be acting like brats, picking on Soap when they didn't know of his rank, assuming he, too, was a rookie just because of his weird ass toblerone bar looking mohawk. Or how fast they straightened and stumbled on their way in getting the fuck out of where they were once someone called him 'Sergeant McTavish'.
But the most amusing creature in the whole base was none other than his Lieutenant. Soap found himself to be entertained by some unusual things and actions Ghost did.
Soap watched and observed him, quite a lot, actually. He noted a few things because of this.
When he thought no one was looking, Ghost liked to play with his hands when bored. Either it was just the hand or the material of his gloves. Another thing he did for a resemblance of entertainment was toying with a butterfly knife he got from Price not long after the events of Las Almas and the whole betrayal situation.
Ghost liked to be as invisible as he could get. Sitting or standing in a far corner of the room if there was a gathering, being at the furthest table away from everyone when in the mess hall, or just being as quiet as he could be. It's surprisingly worked. His steps were silent. You just couldn't hear him creeping up on you, even with his height of a skyscraper and build like a fucking house. That often caused a lot of complaints going to Captain Price of a "scary fucking dude with a skull mask materializing from the shadows".
Soap also noticed that he easily zoned out while on the base. He could stare at one spot without even blinking for solid ten minutes straight. Unfortunately, a lot of the time he was zoning out with his eyes directed to unfortunate souls called rookies, who thought he was just staring at them. Menacingly. And the blinking part, well, let's just say the rumors about him being an actual Ghost were going wild every time that happend. The funniest part was when he finally snapped out of it, he would not move his eyes for a bit more, blinking painfully slow and then turning his head away even slower, and when he was sitting, he would get to his feet and simply walk away with his hands behind his back to do... Whatever that was that Ghosts do.
He easily became hyperfocused on random shit too.
Soap's favorite example of it is when they were on training duty.
Both of them send the recruits to run laps around the training field and in the meantime Soap was just looking around, when he finally noticed that Ghost was staring right trough him.
"L.T.? S'somethin' wrong?" Soap asked, waving his hand in front of Ghost's face.
After a few seconds Ghost slowly raised his hand, pointing at something behind Soap, who turned around in panic, and when he saw nothing there, he just looked back at Ghost, a literal question mark presented on his face.
"Bird." Ghost said in the most monotone voice ever, still pointing behind Soap, who, once again turned around, and, in fact, there was a bird. A pigeon, to be specific. Hopping around on the grass.
Soap just turned his head to the Lieutenant, disbelief painted on his face.
After some time, Soap noticed that it wasn't just his hands or the knife that Ghost was playing with when bored. It was anything he got his hand on. Sometimes, it was a random ass pen he found who knows where. Turning it, spinning in his fingers, clicking it on and off or just straight up taking it apart and putting it back together.
Other times it was a loose piece of clothing, like the hem of a shirt or a hoodie pocket. Ghost would just analyze every detail of it. Soap sometimes thinks that Ghost is counting the fucking threads, even.
Once, when they finally had the whole day off, Soap. thought it would be cool to strap a chain on the belt loops of his cargos. And apparently, he wasn't the only one that thought it, sitting in the common room with Ghost next to him, the man apparently heard the sound of the metal when Soap moved a little in his seat and looked down. He was starting at the chain for a couple of seconds, before reaching down and unhooking one end. He wrapped the chain around his finger, did what looked like counting the loops or hooked it on the material of his gloves, just because why the hell not.
He did that for a solid fifteen minutes. Not that Soap counted, absolutely not. (He did.)
And when he grew bored of it too, he just hooked it back on the belt loop of Soap's pants and wandered off to do whatever, leaving dumbfounded Soap behind.
Soap soon realized that he started to grow fond of Ghost's habits. Feeling a warmth spread in his chest anytime he saw Ghost toying with something like a kid in a boring class.
He felt heat rising to his cheeks when he saw the crinkle at the edges of Ghost's eyes, indicating a smile behind the mask. Felt how his hearts rate pick up when Ghost randomly leaned on him or a soft smile tugging at his lips whenever Ghost pointed randomly at something like with the bird.
Soap felt butterflies coming to life in his stomach when the first thing Ghost did after coming back from missions was searching him out then going to the medical together to somewhat keep Ghost company.
And he felt his heart absolutely hammering in his chest when one time, at a meeting, that was called to discuss a mission they both already knew about, Ghost found the courage to just take Soap's hand without a warning, put it on his lap and started doodling random shapes on it with a pen, that he probably found somewhere under the table.
It wasn't long until Soap realized that it isn't only sympathy he's feeling, but a whole attraction to the mystery of a man that his Lieutenant is and since then, it became harder and harder to manage his little crush, which turned out to be big as fuck not even two months later.
Ghost was getting more and more comfortable around Soap, small touches like pat on the back or hand on his shoulder became more and more often as the time went on. But the moment Soap felt like he'll overflow was when Ghost rested his head on Soap's shoulder, while in a heli on the way back to the base.
Soap thought nothing of it, of course, blaming it on the fact that Ghost was injured and exhausted. Right after they landed, Soap helped him get to the medical and then next to his room after all of his wounds were treated.
Another three months later and the 141 squad were out in a bar drinking.
After one too many shots, Soap's mind decided that enough was enough and got tired of hiding his stupid ass feelings. Soap couldn't help but stare at Ghost nursing a glass of bourbon in his hand, fingers tapping against the glass, which was another habit of his.
Ghost was sitting in a black surgical mask instead of a balaclava, with a hood pulled up on his hand. Soap couldn't stop admiring his beautiful, long, blonde eyelashes and the light strands of hair that peeked out from underneath the hood.
And his eyes, oh his eyes. Mesmerizing browns that appeared almost black in the bad lighting of the bar. The visible edges of his face highlighted slightly by the pink neon in the background, the crooked bridge of his nose.
Soap was so lost in Ghost that he didn't even notice that the taller turned to him and looked at him, with visible confusion showing in his expression. Only snapping back to reality when the other waved his hand in front of Soap's eyes.
"Can I kiss you?" Soap blurted out. He clearly had one too many shots. As realization of his words hit him, he quickly turned away, hiding his face behind his hands. Ghost's eyes widened at that, surprised. "No-! Wait-Sorry! Forget it!"
Ghost slowly pulled Soap's hands away and looked him in the eyes as the Sergeant turned back to him. "No, I'm sorry." Seeing the hurt flash in Soap's eyes, Ghost quickly followed with a nervous "Not here, at least."
He got up from his stool, placed the money on the bar and pulled Soap up with him, taking him by the wrist and going to where Price was sitting. The Captain raised a brow at him, looking between the two. "What's wrong, son?"
"We're going back to the base." Ghost explained, mentioning to the swaying Soap behind him with his head. "Ah, understood. Try to keep him from falling asleep in some bushes." Price smiled then went back to the conversation with Gaz.
Ghost dragged Soap behind him to the exit, letting his hand fall from the shorter man's wrist to hold his hand instead and started the walk back.
John thought his heart was about to beat out straight trough his ribs when he intertwined his fingers with Ghost, shoving his other hand into his hoodie pocket. He felt how warm his cheeks were and how red he probably looked, but did he give a single fuck? Nah.
The whole twenty-minute walk back to the base was surrounded by a comfortable silence. Only when they stopped at Soap's door he snapped out of his drunken train of thoughts.
"Listen Johnny, we're both drunk, maybe let's sleep this off and then we're gonna talk in the morning, alright?" Ghost looked at him, familiar crinkle showing at the edges of his eyes, meaning that he's smiling.
Soap looked down, shame settling deep in his stomach." Yeah, alright, you're right, goodnight, Ghost. "He muttered and let go of Ghost's hand.
The taller looked at Soap for a minute, then ruffled his mohawk,"Goodnight, Johnny" letting out a deep sigh, he turned to walk back to his own room.
Soap slowly reached for his key, unlocked his door and went inside. Collapsing on the bed first thing, he didn't even took off his boots.
In the morning, he was woken up by loud ass knocking on his door. Soap groaned, covering his eyes with his forearm from the blinding light of the sun peeking through the window.
"The door's unlocked!" He said loud enough for the intruder to hear.
The door opened and then closed, familiar voice sounding trough the room after a second.
"It's me, brought you water and painkillers." Ghost.
Soap groaned once more and sat up, taking his arm from his eyes, which turned out to be a mistake because he immediately got blinded and had to squint to even make out the shape of Ghost's body. He heard Ghost sigh and saw his figure move closer to the bed. He then took John's hand and propped the pills into it, taking the other one and shoving an opened water bottle into it.
Soap quickly popped the pills into his mouth, swallowing it with the water and put the bottle on the nightstands.
"I feel like a tank ran over me. Five fucking times."
It earned a quiet chuckle from Ghost. Small victories.
"Do you remember anything from last night?" Ghost asked and Soap's head had to run at extra speed to make out anything that had happened. And unfortunately, he remembered. Shame once again settling into his whole body, making his shoulder tense.
"I- Sorry, I didn't know what was I thinking, apparently I wasn't doing it at all- forget that I ever asked that-" He started rambling turning his head away from the other.
"Johnny, calm down." Soap felt the bed dip next to him. "So you're telling me that you don't want that kiss anymore?"
Soap's head snapped back to look at Ghost at that, mouth slightly going open, eyebrows rising, almost crashing into his hairline.
"I do.." He said quietly, lowly, like he was telling a secret. And in a sense, he was.
"Then do it." Ghost said, hands rising, grabbing the edge of his balaclava and pulled it off, throwing it somewhere on the bed. Soap slowly cupped Ghost's face in his hands, lightly tracing the scars going from his lips up to his ears on both sides of his face and many others. Smiles crept up on both of their faces, and ever so slowly, they closed the gap between them.
Lips meeting lips in a sweet, gentle kiss. They moved in sync as Soap still held Ghost's face in his hands like a fragile porcelain, and Ghost's hands went to hold Soap's waist.
They pulled away, foreheads pressing against one another, eyes closed, smiles still painting their faces.
"So..." Soap started, voice impossibly soft and gentle. "You do like me." It was more of a statement than a question and Ghost only quietly laughed at that, air pressing against Soap's lips.
"Yeah, have for a while."
That day, in the common room, Ghost was once again mindlessly fidgeting, this time with Soap's hand, not his own or with the chain on Soap's cargos. He even pulled out a pen from who the fuck knows where he gets them what the fuck how is he doing this and again doodled on the others hand.
And maybe a few hearts found their way there.
Oh wait Price's sitting there without his hat. He does have hair under it.