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Ghost is, by definition, not a cat person.
When Soap had come back from leave, spouting off about his family cat, showing him pictures on his phone, and talking about how perfect cats were as pets, Ghost had argued against it. Unfortunately for him, this had led to one of worst arguments the 141 had seen in a while, with Soap’s accent becoming basically indistinguishable to Ghost, who was really fed up with pets in general by that point.
Cats, in Ghost’s opinion, were too unpredictable. They also always carried judgemental looks but Ghost wasn’t about to argue that he didn’t like cats because he felt they were judging him . He had always preferred dogs and their loyalty.
Soap had instead argued that’s why cats were so lovable - they’re independent and easy to take care of because they just do their own thing in the house, like just another member of the family. Maybe it was just Ghost, but he wasn’t exactly looking for another family member, considering what happened to the others. He especially wasn't vying for a family member he felt would judge him for everything he did, not again .
However, John McTavish is Not a man to be challenged and not win the argument, and as such Soap began to plot just how he would turn Ghost’s opinion of cats over to the correct side. And he knew the perfect volunteer to help him.
And so the plan of how Soap could manage to get Ghost - his superior officer, somewhat friend, phantom of the base (and maybe slight crush) - to meet The Beast - giant maine coon, his favourite family member (don't let his sister know he said that), and cure all to any possible negative opinion surrounding cats.
The easiest method Soap could think of, his Plan A if you will, was his upcoming birthday celebrations back home. Late March is a nice time in the UK usually, not too far into spring that pollen and allergies kick in to ruin lives, and not too cold that you’re all freezing your tits off.
Soap’s parents had already warned him of the upcoming celebrations, the party that would be going ahead whether he was present or not (“well that’s a bit rude I’m the guest of honour Ma.” “Ye won’t be if ye don’t take some damn time off to come home”). As such it would likely be an event full of drinking and loud celebrations, not that he’d be telling Ghost about that mind he did want him to agree to come with him.
Hunting Ghost down in the base was the easy part, his office not too far away from Price’s. The hard part would be convincing Ghost to come on leave with him as the man was notorious for rarely ever taking leave. He would take leave for medical reasons and Christmas only, never for personal time away.
Knocking on the door to Ghost’s office, Soap waited for a response. An affirmation came from inside the room and Soap pushed open the door to see Ghost sitting at his desk, stack of folders to his left.
“There a problem Sergeant?”
“Ah Lt, no. No problem, just had a few questions on a more…” Soap trailed off briefly, suddenly nervous to pose any questions, let alone the important one of the hour. “Personal matter?”
Ghost stared at him where he stood, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. “Get on with it then.”
Permission granted, Soap steeled his nerves. “My birthday is coming up, my family are planning a celebration of sorts, and I was wonderin’...” The big moment c’mon Soap “if you’d wanna come with me?”
He could’ve definitely phrased that better but it works.
Ghost made no indication of a reply for a few seconds, the silence steadily becoming more oppressive the longer Soap stood there. Ghost seemed to take a deep breath before averting his eyes from where they had been trained on Soap.
“I don’t-I don’t take leave for personal reasons Sergeant.”
Fuck.
Soap’s birthday celebrations came and went, without his lieutenant haunting the edges of the room and enjoying precious kitty cuddles as he had imagined. Granted, it did open up the opportunity for Soap to take advantage of The Beast being unoccupied and he spent his birthday hangover with a fluffy cat on his lap, soothing his headache with gentle purrs.
His next plan in order to make sure Ghost met The Beast was admittedly, not the best he could’ve come up with.
Soap’s plan was to get hurt on a mission, forcing a medical leave, and get Ghost to visit him.
Horrible fucking plan really.
But nonetheless, Soap began to take on more dangerous missions the week after his birthday. Missions that should’ve been easy in ‘n’ outs, were suddenly ‘Sergeant McTavish is in the med bay again’. The nurses were getting really sick of seeing his face.
He should’ve been more careful.
Ghost had just been getting back from a mission when Price had met him outside the hangars, acknowledging him with a “Captain.” thrown out while taking stock of Price’s grave expression. His expression didn’t lessen when addressed.
“Ghost. Glad to see you’re all in one piece.”
“Yes sir. Mission went off without a hitch. Target was taken out and the intel was secured.”
Ghost watched carefully to see if Price would relax as he gave his debrief, but the furrow between Price’s eyebrows never shifted. If anything he looked more uncomfortable as time went on, leaving Ghost unsettled.
Finally, Price spoke, “Simon…Soap was stabbed on his last mission.”
He would deny it until he was in a grave, but Ghost felt his heart drop upon hearing those words and had to fight to maintain his composure in front of his captain.
“He’s stable now, but it was bad.” Price shifted almost nervously. “It was bad, and it shouldn’t have been. It was supposed to be an easy job. In ‘n’ out.”
“Bad intel?” Ghost questioned, wondering just where Price was going with this and itching to head to the med bay.
“No. Soap was just…” His brow somehow furrowed even further. “Slow.”
Spending time in the med bay was never a pleasant experience. Waking up in the med bay was even worse. If you had to wake up in the med bay, it meant shit had gone bad . Soap certainly felt like something had gone bad that’s for sure.
His side ached something mad, and his eyes stung from the fluorescent lights beaming down on where he lay. Letting his eyes adjust to the light, he turned towards the door of the room he had been put in upon hearing a noise and spotted Price. His Captain Price, who upon seeing that Soap was finally awake, turned to him with a steely Look, and handed him a cup of water.
Ah shit.
“Wanna tell me what the fuck happened out there Sergeant?” Price didn’t let Soap answer and just continued on. “Because from what I could gather, you let yourself get hurt. He got you with a cheap shot, you’ve dodged shit like that a million times, so really what the fuck happened out there Soap?”
Soap fucked up bad that’s what happened. In his defence, Soap was expecting the arm swinging towards his midsection to have a lot less force behind it when the blade hit him. Unfortunately, that was not the case, but explaining that to Price wasn’t something he ever wanted to have to do. Yes, sir, I did let myself get hit. But you see, I have a master plan in the works to make sure our gruff and emotionally constipated lieutenant can meet and be cured through the power of cuddles with my family cat.
He’d rather get stabbed again.
Price proceeded to berate Soap into abandoning his Plan B, as well as forcing him into extra training as soon as his wound healed up. The whole time as Price stood in his med bay room accosting him over taking better care in his work, Soap managed to miss the chair pulled up to his bedside where a single black balaclava lay abandoned on the arm and how evidence of another presence, now missing, had been scattered around his bedside and room. Price’s disappointment was incredibly distracting, in his defence.
When the time actually came, Soap didn’t plan for it, nor want it to happen.
He’d been relaxing in the downtime between missions when his phone had rung out, his mother’s caller ID on the screen. Soap abandoned their conversation in order to take the call, and Gaz watched as Soap left the room for a brief moment, exiting with a cheery “Hey Ma!”, and returning with a grave look in his eyes.
“My nan’s in the hospital.”
According to his mum, they’d gone up to visit the Cairngorms and his nan had fallen down the stairs of the cabin they’d booked to stay in. She’d hit her head on the way down and been rushed to hospital where they’d found an aneurysm burst by the fall. It wasn’t looking good.
Soap was fucking heartbroken and had essentially run to Price’s office, filling out the leave form as quickly as possible in order to go pack. He didn’t stick around long enough to say goodbye to Ghost or Gaz, throwing as much as he could into a bag and grabbing his essentials, only to hop on the first plane back to Scotland.
The taxi from the airport to the hospital was spent in a near-constant anxiety attack. The panic from having to leave the base so quickly mixed with the fear of possibly losing his nan had Soap on edge the whole journey.
He rocked up at the hospital, still half-dressed in his military uniform, scaring every nurse and doctor he passed with his frantic nature. Practically jogging up to the front desk, Soap interrogated the nurse so much that the old head nurse popped her head out of the office behind her to glare at him until he calmed down.
The jog to the waiting area he’d been directed to made him feel like he’d run 20 laps around the base with Ghost hunting him down, all pent-up nerves and shaky-legged by the end of it.
His mum had stood up from where she’d sat in the stiff plastic chairs, tear stains marking her cheeks and still with puffy eyes. Her husband and Soap’s dad stood loyally by her side supporting her. Soap nearly burst into tears like a child at just the sight of them together, his emotions running wild.
Soap’s mum informed him what the doctors had said. The fall had burst an aneurysm in her brain, causing a bleed. At this point, Soap was completely unable to control his emotions and keep it together anymore, tears fell as his mum explained that she was in surgery right now and they would be keeping her in hospital after it in case of complications.
Soap’s heart damn nearly fell out of his chest at that. There could be complications that could prove fatal, and his nan was at high risk due to her age. Las Almas was bad but this was a new type of personal hell for Soap. His mum comforted him as they sat together, anxiously waiting for a doctor to deliver the news.
Hours passed with barely any updates, Soap had taken to pacing the hallway to expel the excess nervous energy he had pent up. When the doctor finally called out to them, all three of them were run ragged.
Soap’s nan was being moved to a room, the surgery had gone well, but there was still a high risk of complications. Just the news that the surgery had been a success had Soap’s heart soaring with hope and his legs turning to jelly in relief. His mum was a mess of happy tears and Soap’s dad had to be the spokesperson for the group to relay thanks to the doctors.
Getting to finally see his nan again, after all the heartbreak and fear, gave Soap the greatest rush he’d ever felt, even if she was pale and looked so much weaker than she had been just months before at his birthday party. He was scared to touch her, feeling as if a single touch would break her into pieces, but he needed to hold her hand, just to make sure it was all real.
A deep sigh from his mum broke the peace that had settled over the hospital room. Her face was concerned, he could tell it wasn’t just her mother’s injury worrying her.
“Ma, what’s wrong?”
“Ah, we left the house thinking it would be a night away. Your da grabbed us some stuff before you got here, but we need to get back ‘n look after the house. There’s work too…” The responsibility was clearly stressing her out and Soap’s dad reached over to stroke her arm offering silent comfort.
“I’ll go back. Look after the house ‘n all, make sure everything’s okay. Stay up ‘ere with nan,” Soap said, looking up at his mum in order to reassure her that he could handle the responsibility. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he added, “Someone should keep her company anyway.”
Soap’s mum offered Soap a sad smile and took her son’s face in her hands, bringing it down to her level, and placing a kiss on his forehead in thanks. Soap smiled back before turning to his nan and placing a gentle kiss on the back of her limp hand. His father wished him a safe journey home and off he went, feeling vaguely like every step was another sword hanging over his head. Or that of his nan, but Soap was adamantly not thinking about the concept of death in regards to his nan right now.
Pulling up in the taxi to his parents’ house with the windows dark and abandoned didn’t make him feel any better.
Opening the door, however, and being faced with the big round eyes of a familiar face peering at him from the darkness of the hallway, had Soap choking out a sad laugh, earning him a loud meow in return.
Not really feeling the energy for much else, Soap turned and walked into the familiar scene of his family home’s living room. The comfortable couch from his childhood still stood in the centre of the room, the ideal resting place for a man pushed to a limit he wasn’t even aware he’d had previously. And to top it all off, the cherry on top if you will, a giant brown maine coon jumped up on the couch where Soap had flopped himself down and curled up by his side. Purring gently, as always, the perfect soundtrack for Soap’s dreams as he drifted off into well-needed sleep.
Back on base, Ghost had come back from another solo mission. The mission had been successful as always, but he had returned to an unsettling quietness in the areas where members of the 141 typically haunted. Grabbing a hold of Gaz, he’d finally managed to find the answers to his questions.
Soap was on leave. Again. For a family emergency.
Ghost had practically run down the hall to Price’s office, only barely managing to pull himself together to knock instead of just bursting in and demanding answers. Upon Price’s answering call, however, Ghost is man enough to admit how he nearly tripped up on his combat boots trying to get into his office as fast as possible.
“Ghost. How’d the mission go?”
“Good. Where’s Soap?” There was no time for formalities Ghost needed answers .
Price just sighed. “ Hi Captain. Mission went smoothly. Thanks for asking . He’s on leave Ghost, requested it early this morning. Family emergency.” Which was just about the same information he got out of Gaz, but Ghost was sure Price knew more than he was letting on.
“Family emergency?”
Price sighed deeper. Ghost stared at him intently.
“ Fuckin’ . You didn’t hear this from me alright?” At Ghost’s nod, Price continued. “His nan had a bad fall, ended up hospitalised and his parents called him back. Haven’t had any word from him on how things are going so that’s all I know Simon I swear.”
Soap’s nan was in hospital? Jesus . Ghost couldn’t even begin to imagine how Soap was doing right now. If there’s one thing Soap without fail mentions whenever he comes off leave, it’s his nan.
Ghost had a very sudden and potentially terrible idea.
And for the first time outside of December in many many years, Simon Riley filed a leave request.
Soap was going through the motions after his nan was hospitalised. He had taken The Beast back to his flat after collecting the keys from his parents’ place and had settled into a comfortable routine of waking up, submitting to the loud demands of The Beast, and waiting on news from his parents.
It’s one morning, a couple of days into his new normal, that the peace is broken with a knock on the door. A hesitant rap on the wood, followed up by a stronger, more confident knock a few seconds after.
Soap was almost tempted not to answer, content to remain in his own bubble taking care of his nan’s cat and feeling his emotions. The decision was made for him however as The Beast let out a mighty yell at the front door and Soap sighed before pushing the brown fluff ball into the living room.
Upon opening the door though, Soap for a brief moment had to pause to consider if his sulking had resulted in hallucinations. There on his doorstep, in civilian clothes and a black face mask, was Ghost.
They stand there for a few seconds, saying nothing, staring at each other, Soap in pure shock, and Ghost in awkwardness.
It was Ghost who broke the silence between them. “Johnny.”
Soap visibly startled slightly, seemingly regaining his ability to move. “...Lt?”
“Scotland’s a bit cold this morning.”
“RIGHT.”
Moving out of the way to let Ghost , Simon Riley , into his flat at 8am, Soap considered if he was also having an aneurysm as he watched Ghost’s eye flit around the walls of the hallway where the framed family photos hung. He was standing there in the ratty old sweatpants he doesn’t take back to base with him, and a t-shirt that has also seen better days, letting his superior officer into the flat he’s been moping in for days . God help him.
The mystique wears off eventually and Soap starts his usual ramble as they make their way through into his living room. “It’s not much but it's home y’know? Got my own place a few years back when coming home to my parents’ house ended up tiring as all hell. Ah love ‘em, really do, dealing with them after being stabbed though, not something I recommend.”
“Johnny.”
“Yea Lt-”
“What the fuck is that?”
He’s making dead eye contact with The Beast. And thus begins the best moment of Soap’s life.
He sweeps into the room, dodging around Ghost who stands statue still, staring forward. “Ghost, meet The Beast, '' he says, grinning like it's the best thing that's ever happened to him, because it is. It definitely is. “His actual name is Princess but I renamed him when we got him from the shelter. Big fuckin’ cat like that needed a better name.”
Ghost is still staring at The Beast, who just licks his paws, unconcerned of the behemoth of a man glaring down at him like his very presence is an offence.
The silence is broken by Ghost’s, “That can’t be a fuckin’ cat, too damn big to be a fuckin’ cat.” By this point, Soap has been grinning like a madman nonstop since he entered the room, and Ghost is getting a bit worried for him really.
Soap is just relishing in the sight before him. A 6’4 man, built like a TANK, and the guy looks so wary of the kitty across the room. Soap would be tempted to take a photo of Ghost’s face right now, half visible that is it, if he wasn't sure he'd end up with no phone right after it.
Unfortunately, he does still need to keep in contact with his parents though.
And then life catches back up with him.
Ghost notices Soap’s grin sliding off his face and breaks his staring contest with the massive cat in front of him to look at Soap’s sudden change in demeanour.
“Ah…yea so this is The Beast. He’s been my company for the past couple days. If you’re here I’m betting Price let it slip what happened.”
Price definitely let it slip, but Ghost was also bound by Price’s disappointed glare to not give too much away.
“He said it was a family emergency?”
Far too many people have told Ghost far too many times that talking about the things that make you sad help you process it or whatever, he supposes the advice is valid now if ever as he attempts to draw more information out of Soap.
Soap's downcast face twitches into a barely there smile. It doesn't reach his eyes and is gone just as quick. “My nan. She, ah, had a fall. Up in the Cairngorms. They’ve said it burst a blood vessel, caused some bleeding.” He looks away, unable to keep making eye contact with Ghost and how his brow is furrowed into what soap can only call concern. “They’re keeping her in a hospital further up north for the surgery and observation after that. But it really wasn’t good Ghost.”
Soap’s eye mist over with the sheen from tears unshed, and Simon is panicking .
Soap tries desperately to pull himself together before he starts another round of tears, this time in front of Ghost, but instead feels a tug on his hand pulling him over to where the couch is. He looks up a little shocked, only for his knees to hit the cushion. Too out of it to catch his balance, he falls and lands seated on the couch.
The Beast, spotting a comfy and warm lap, jumps up on the couch and pushes his way onto Soap’s lap to curl up tight. A relieved sigh leaves Soap upon running his hands through the soft fur and the tension leaves his body gradually.
Ghost had slinked out of the room and made his way over to where the kitchen was, filling a glass with water and quickly running through all the methods the therapist Price had forced him to see for a brief time had told him about for calming down when you’re in distress. He didn’t remember that many of them and that probably gave a good indicator of how well therapy had gone for him.
Returning to the living room, Ghost made eye contact with the cat where it lay on Soap’s lap. From the way the tension that had crept across Soap’s shoulders had now left him, he supposes the cat can be useful after all.
Ghost hands off the glass of water to Soap, and sits down by his side on the couch without a word, leaving room for The Beast’s tail where it flicks about between them. Unfortunately for Ghost though, upon his ass hitting the seat, The Beast promptly decided that his thighs would be a much better nap spot than Soap’s.
The light pressure of cat paws on his thigh sent tension through the whole of Ghost’s body, unused to the attention and suddenly fearful.
Soap, on the other hand, watched with increasing amusement at how The Beast explored Ghost’s lap while the man himself sat as still as possible, tensed, hands hovering in the air and eyes fraught and panicked. Maybe it was wrong to take such pleasure from watching Ghost worry himself over a cat, but Soap wasn’t going to be winning any ‘Man of The Year’ awards anyway.
“Johnny.”
“Yea Simon?” said through a smirk that had painted his face at this display.
A Look was shot at soap from the corner of Ghost's eye, barely moving his head. Soap's smirk slowly becomes a grin once again, pushing to see just how far he can force Ghost to go in this situation.
“.....get it off.” Clearly, Ghost was not against begging but also had no idea how to handle a cat, a fact Soap would be sharing with the rest of the team once back off leave.
“I don't know sir. I think he’s getting comfy there. And y’know what they say about cats when they’ve found somewhere to sit. Hard to move 'em off.”
The borderline fearful look Ghost shoots at him that is so badly masked with rage breaks Soap’s composure and sends him into peels of laughter. The image of his superior officer, sitting with the largest maine coon he’s ever seen, curled up on his lap, while he sits, scared out of his mind is just too much for him.
Ghost allows him a few moments to laugh and enjoy his pain, secretly very happy and revelling in getting Soap to laugh so much after he had seemed so distraught before. And then starts moving slightly, trying to escape from under the cat without picking him up directly.
Soap has his fun, committing the image to memory, and then reaches over to pluck The Beast off of Ghost’s lap. In the process of doing so, he feels his hand brush the coarse fabric of Ghost’s jeans and the warmth that Soap is not quite sure comes from The Beast or Ghost’s thigh. He finds himself avoiding that line of thought for his own mental stability, but does end up with a slight flush across his cheeks as he holds the cat in his arms like a baby and makes his way into the kitchen.
Ghost remains sitting on the couch for a few seconds, watching Soap walk away and just hoping he didn’t notice the way he flinched as Soap’s hand brushed against his thighs.
Finally deciding to get off the couch and follow soap into the kitchen, he spots the cat, now on the floor, and the bowl of half made cat food on the counter.
“Never asked Lt, how long are you staying for? Can’t imagine Price isn't waiting on you back at base?” Soap mused, smashing the little chucks of wet food with a fork while The Beast walked circles around his legs. It’s achingly domestic.
“He’s not waiting for me any time soon. I’m officially on leave.”
Soap hesitated briefly in his movements, eventually spurred on again by the demands of the cat at his feet. He glanced over to where Ghost stood leaning against the doorway watching him.
“Thought you didn't take leave? Price’s always cursing at how you lurk around base off mission,” Soap said with a smile, adamantly ignoring the way Ghost watches him.
Ghost hums and breaks eye contact. “I don't. Usually. But. hmm.” He trails off into silence, seemingly considering his words.
Soap confused, and now a little concerned, just hummed back at him, hoping to encourage an explanation. The cat food was done and he placed it over on the little mat by the cupboards before turning back to face Ghost, mourning the way messing with the cat food had given him something to do with his hands.
Ghost seemed to take a few seconds to gather himself. “Thought you might want..a friend around. Dealing with family stuff is hard alone.”
Soap tries to tell himself the sudden warmth he feels across his cheeks and neck is from standing in a kitchen preparing food. The oven and stove aren't on, nor has he eaten anything warm since he got off base.
“Ah. Erm. Yea, yea that would be nice.” Soap manages, focusing impossibly hard on not swallowing his own tongue while getting the words out.
Simon relaxes slightly at that, happy to have completed another mission, this one set by himself with the sole purpose of making sure Johnny was alright.
Soap lets Ghost get settled in his spare room, helping him bring up a rucksack from his car outside. The domesticity they find themselves falling into was completely unexpected, but welcomed. Ghost doesn’t quite find himself warming up to The Beast, but they can comfortably coexist with minimal glaring (exclusively from Ghost, The Beast is convinced he is the perfect nap spot), much to Soap’s amusement.
Soap receives daily updates from his parent’s on his nan’s condition. Luckily it looks like his nan is going to recover completely, and the complications the doctors were worried would appear haven't shown signs of doing so. There’s still time for it, but it's looking like she might be in the clear with every day that passes.
The lightness returning to Soap’s general demeanour tells Ghost more about the situation before Soap can manage to explain the most recent update to him.
They were over at Soap’s parents' house for the day, taking care of things there, when they got the call to say that his nan was able to be discharged within the next few days.
Ghost volunteered to come with when Soap said he had to visit the house to make sure things were running smoothly and Soap was too flustered at the idea to actually give a reason for him not to. They took The Beast along with them to make sure he didn’t shit in the flat while they were gone.
Soap got the call midway through making lunch for them both and the relief he had felt after that phone call almost brought him to his knees, gripping the kitchen counter in order to maintain his balance.
Ghost was out in the front garden, surprisingly, gardening. Apparently, he had a way with plants and found the monotony of weeding out a garden calming so upon pulling up to the house and spotting the overgrown front garden, he’d offered to do some work while Soap took care of the jobs he needed to.
Soap’s mum’s garden had needed taking care of for a LONG while so it was a job that needed doing and he was sure his mum would be thankful, coming home from such a stressful trip. It also gave Soap the opportunity to ogle Ghost’s arms as he worked, from the window, secretly, because the mortification (and potential consequence in their line of work, but mostly the mortification he’d feel) of letting Ghost know about his little crush would kill him faster than any bullet on the field would he was convinced.
A sudden yell from outside startled Soap out of his thoughts and sent him rushing to the kitchen doorway where he spotted a brown fluffy flash of a tail running out the open front door. The front door which should not be open, yet was.
Ghost had been the one to yell out upon spotting The Beast making his great escape out the front door.
Soap had made a valiant attempt at running to catch him but was too slow. By the time he had reached the front door, The Beast had gone.
But not forever, as in the front garden, stood Ghost with The Beast slung under his arm on his hip.
The image burned itself into Soap’s retinas immediately.
Ghost standing straight in the garden, gloves on and covered in soil, black face mask as always (not the balaclava though, far too warm in the middle of June for that), with a large brown maine coon lay across his hip, tucked under his arm like you’d hold a rugby ball.
The uproar of laughter that came from the doorway indicated that Soap had finally shown up to come get his cat. Ghost just stood, patiently waiting for Soap to calm down enough to come collect the damn thing from where he was sticking his back paws in his jean pocket.
“Ghost, hah, Jesus..That is Not how ye hold a cat.” Soap called out, breathing heavily from laughing.
Ghost sighed deeply, sensing Soap would in fact, not be coming to collect his cat from his arms, and made his way to the front door, cat dangling from his hip and bouncing with each step.
Entering the hallway again, Ghost made to put The Beast down on the floor before being stopped by a hand on his shoulder and giggles coming from behind him. He stood back up and turned to face Soap. Soap instead leaned down and plucked The Beast out of Ghost’s hands, holding him ‘the proper way’ cats should be held. Which was mostly the way you’d hold a human child so Ghost wasn’t particularly inclined to believe Soap on that.
Walking through into the living room, Ghost took off his dirty gloves and put them on a table in the living room, missing the look of consideration and mischief on Soap’s face.
Soap followed loyally after him, suspiciously silent.
Upon turning around, Ghost was instantly bombarded by a face full of cat fur. Flinching back and spluttering out a protest, he instinctively moved to catch the ball of fluff and held it to his chest.
Before he could move to remove the cat from his person, gentle fingers circled his wrist and moved his hand to support The Beast’s body comfortably.
“There ye go, that’s how ye hold a cat,” said softly from over where Soap stood in front of him, carefully guiding Ghost’s hands.
Ghost looked down at where The Beast’s eyes were boring into his head, still wary of him. But then glanced up to see Soap watching them, practically shooting beams of adoration and love out of his eyes. Ghost was suddenly thankful for the face mask hiding his flushed cheeks at being the recipient of such a loving gaze and tried to convince himself it was for the cat in his arms.
Dragging his eyes back down to where the bundle of fur lay, he then clocked the tiny pinpricks of pain in his collarbone.
“Johnny.”
“Yea?”
“Your cat is digging his claws into my collar.”
“Ah fuckin’ lil shit.”
Both of them mourned the death of the moment they’d shared as The Beast was promptly removed from where he had been using Ghost’s chest as a pincushion, but neither were denying there had been a moment there, briefly. Where it would have led, neither of them knew.
A few days later Soap got the call that they were moving his nan out of hospital and she was in the clear. Recovery had been going well, and minimal side effects from the aneurysm and subsequent were predicted. Thank God.
It had been later in the evening, back at his flat. Soap was washing up some pots from dinner after insisting that Ghost not do it as he was ‘the guest’, and thus banned from the kitchen.
After the call was over, Soap had cleared the bubbles from his hands with a spare dish towel and was walking back into the living room where he’d left Ghost only to turn the corner and see the unforgettable sight of Ghost lying down on the couch, feet hanging over the edge of the arm, with a familiar brown maine coon curled up on his chest, purring softly.
Unable to resist, and with nothing to stop him, Soap slipped his phone from his pocket, snapping a picture and sending it off to Price. He’d pay for it when they’d return to base and Price would ask about the cat he befriended, but for now, the sun was setting outside, The Beast was content, and everything was peaceful in the McTavish household once again.