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Ghost heard a sharp intake of breath to his left. He looked over to see Soap looking at a group of guys huddled up. Some new transfers to help with an infiltration mission coming up soon. They seemed to be pretty experienced when he looked through their files.
Soap was looking at one in particular, a large grin splitting his face. The guy was staring right back with a disbelieving smile. He said something and patted the shoulder of the guy he was talking with, walking towards their table. Ghost squeezed the hand he had on Soap’s knee under the table, and his partner turned back to him with a look of pure glee. He patted the hand before standing up to meet the guy halfway. They grabbed hands and pulled each other into a brief hug.
The guy was taller than Soap, if only slightly. He had cropped brown hair, like every other guy in the military, and an average face. Very average.
“If it isn’t weather boy,” Soap said, laughing.
“Fucking shampoo!” The guy said, stepping back to punch Soap lightly in the chest. He was American, not southern or northern. Just. Fucking. Average. “Thought you were lying when you said you got into the SAS.”
“Thought you were lyin’ as well,” Soap said, turning back to look at Ghost, who had been silently watching the entire exchange. “This is Ghost, my Lieutenant. And yours now, for a bit.”
Not his Lieutenant. His fucking partner, boyfriend, husband, whatever Soap liked to call him.
Not in public, though.
And he definitely wasn't this guy's lieutenant.
“Lt., this is Brian Weathers. We met in secondary school.”
“Nice to meet you, Sir. Have heard a lot about you.”
The guy held out his hand. Ghost reluctantly shook it. Soap squinted at him, and he felt caught. Had he even been doing anything wrong? He didn't know.
“Ghost doesn’t talk much, don’t let that disturb ya,” Soap said, sitting back down next to him. Weathers sat across from them.
“Surprised he lets ya hang around, then.”
“Someone’s gotta fill the silence.”
His stomach seemed to curl in on itself as they talked. He barely participated, responding to a question here or there, but they seemed fine to go on without him. He would notice the guy looking over at him every so often, not sizing him up or judging, just looking. And he didn’t know why it bothered him so much.
They talked about football, (or soccer, as he called it), and their missed years of friendship. Ghost could see how they got along so well. Weathers was basically Soap if he was American. And boring. And average.
When they started talking about partners with Soap shooting a glance back at him was when he was done. He stood up, drawing both of their attention.
“We have a briefing in an hour. Don’t be late.” And then he left.
He couldn’t tell if they were looking at him or not, and for once, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.
~
It was gonna be easy. Both teams get dropped at the north corner of the building, and Alpha team stays there while Bravo team moves to the South corner and both teams disarm the explosives at the same time. Alpha team consisted of Weathers and a Sergeant Ghost didn’t recognize. Bravo team was him and Soap, which he was extremely glad for. If he had been paired up with Weathers, he thinks he might have gone crazy.
Soap and him were walking toward the South corner now, and Johnny turned over to look at him.
“Ye good, Ghost?”
Ghost turned back to him, confused.
“Why wouldn’t I be? Haven’t even seen anyone yet.” He said.
Soap rolled his eyes.
“Ah mean, are you good, Simon? You’ve been tense all day. Don’ think I haven’t noticed.”
Ghost let out a breath. He had been up the fucking wall all day, but he hadn’t thought it was noticeable. He woke up already pissed off, and then that guy made it ten times worse. The American hadn’t even done anything, but he was still annoying the shit out of him. Maybe they should talk about taking a leave soon so he can cool off.
“I’m good, Johnny. Just a bit on edge today.” A half-truth might work. He was shit at lying to Soap.
“Why’s th-”
“Alpha-1 to Bravo team, we are in position.” Their comms cut in.
“Copy that, Alpha-1. Almost there.” Soap answered, giving him a look that meant they were gonna talk about it later.
They could talk about it later, as long as fucking Brian wasn’t there.
The rest of the walk was silent, not uncomfortable, but neither really felt like starting up any conversations. Granted, Soap had been talking nearly non-stop since yesterday, just not to Ghost.
Something in his gut rolled again, a feeling that he couldn’t quite place.
“Alpha team, we are in position. You ready?”
“A-firm. On your mark, Soap.”
They made it to the far corner, and Soap knelt down in front of the pillar. There was a small box there, some wires and things he couldn’t quite make out. A whispered what the fuck? from Soap had him concerned.
“All good, Soap?” Ghost asked. He glanced at him to see him still hunched over, looking very confused.
“Not sure.” He clicked his radio on. “Weathers, you seein’ this shite?”
“I sure am. Think they picked the first guy on the street who knew what a bomb was.”
Unease set in around him. Shitty explosives were one thing, but they were also expected to face resistance around the building. He hadn’t seen or heard anyone since they landed. Soap inhaled sharply.
“Bria-”
“Yep, I got it. Get the fuck outta there.”
Soap stood suddenly, grabbing Ghost’s arm to take off away from the building. A rumble started behind them, slowly getting louder.
“The fuck is goin’ on, Johnny?” He nearly yelled.
“They were rigged! Prolly to something in the basement!” He yelled back.
An ear-piercing ring started out behind them, followed by one of the louder explosions Ghost had heard. He glanced back and-
Fuckin’ hell.
A massive eruption of orange painted the scene behind them, streaks of building pieces and shrapnel pushing off into the air. He didn’t realize he had stopped running until Soap appeared next to him, also taking in the sight. He pushed out an impressed breath, and Ghost turned to look over at him. The oranges and yellows flickered in his eyes, which were opened wider than usual, and he had a hint of a smile pulling at his lips.
“Wonder how much fucking shit they had in the basement.” Soap laughed out.
“Ya’ll safe?”
“All good here,” Soap answered. “You and Smith good?”
Smith. That was the other Sergeant’s name.
“Smith’s good. I’m limping. Got knocked over by the blast, think I rolled my ankle.” He laughed, sounding slightly embarrassed. Maybe self-deprecating? “What’s the ETA on that exfil, Lieutenant?”
Ghost checked his watch.
“15 minutes.” He replied. “We’ll meet you there.”
“Copy that, Sir.”
Their comms clicked off, leaving them in silence once again.
Soap looked over at him for a second, and his eyes widened.
“Shit, Ghost! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ghost looked down at himself, confused. His left sleeve was slowly turning darker. He rolled it up to reveal a shallow slash wound that was barely bleeding.
When had that even happened?
“I didn’t realize.” He answered honestly.
Soap grabbed his med pack off his back and started cleaning his arm to apply a bandage. He looked up at him, concern clear in his eyes. Ghost felt bad for making him worry.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Si?”
Ghost nodded.
Soap finished putting on the bandage and they started the walk to the exfil site. It was silent.
They arrived to Weathers sitting on the ground with the Sergeant standing over him on guard. No one made any conversation.
When they arrived back at base, Soap both of them to medical. Ghost argued, but Soap sent him a pleading look and he gave in. Said he and Smith would deal with the debriefing.
To his annoyance, they put them in the same room. They gave the other man an ice pack and a crutch while the nurse re-bandaged his arm. He would’ve preferred to keep Johnny’s handiwork, but it was fine.
He stepped up to leave, and the spot beside him was filled. They started walking down the hallway of the base.
“So, you and John, eh?” He started. Ghost looked over at him. “You guys seem good for each other. He told me years ago that his type was, and I quote, “big enough to crush him so he could thank them”. You seem like you could fit the bill.”
He smiled easily at Ghost, like he wasn’t his superior.
When Ghost didn’t answer, he got nervous.
“Am I wrong? I mean- Sorry, you just seemed like-”
“You’re not wrong.” He didn’t know why he answered. “Don’t go telling everyone.”
“Course not. I’m no tattletale.”
They continued walking in silence. Weathers seemed comfortable enough. If he can’t get rid of him, he might as well make this talk useful.
“How’d you and Johnny know each other?”
His eyebrows practically lifted to his hairline, and he whistled. Ghost ignored the urge to roll his eyes.
“Johnny, huh? You’re deep in it, man. I moved to Scotland for my last few years of high school. We enlisted together. Anyway,” he stopped. “I know you hate me, so I’ll get out of your hair. Just wanted to say thanks for taking care of the bastard for me. Got nervous when we got separated in selection. Don’t tell him I said that either. He’ll bully me.”
And then he turned around and left.
Ghost stood there, feeling frozen.
What the fuck is up with Johnny and all his associates? Is Ghost actually the most open book on the planet and only a few people are brave enough to tell him? Or does that kid think he’s entitled to talk to Ghost the same way Soap would? Just cause they’re friends?
Fuck.
He was at Soap’s door now. He didn’t even realize he’d started walking again. Maybe Johnny would forget about talking and they could just go to sleep. Or relax. Or talk. Or do anything without That Guy there.
Fuck.
He was jealous.
Why was he jealous?
Soap was, irrevocably, his.
He didn’t get partnered with anyone else, didn’t fuck anyone else, and surely didn’t share ‘I love yous’ with anyone else.
Even he knew that Soap was Ghost’s, and they hadn’t even talked much in front of him. A part of him preened at that, that people would look at Soap and know who he belonged to without them even having to do anything.
So why-
“What’re ya doin’, Lt?”
He whipped around to see Soap standing there, an eyebrow raised with an almost amused expression.
He just grunted and gestured for him to open the door. Soap obliged, and Ghost walked in and sat on his bed.
“So…” Soap started, looking at him expectantly.
Ghost laid back and put an arm over his eyes.
“C’mon, you said we would talk about it.”
“I didn’t say anything. You just assumed we would.”
Soap sighed.
“Ghost. You know I don’t wanna argue with you. If you want me to drop it, I can, but I just wanna know what’s bothering you. You’ve been like this since we got those transfers. Did one of them say something to you?”
Ghost winced. He didn’t wanna lie to Johnny, and he was close to the answer, but he would never get it. He would never guess that Ghost just hates his friend for no reason.
“It’s Weathers.” He grumbled.
“What? I didn’t hear ya, big guy.”
He ground his teeth. Soap wasn’t making fun of him. He genuinely didn't hear him. He dropped his arm and sat up, looking at Johnny.
“It’s Weathers.” He repeated.
Soap looked confused.
“Wha… Did he say something to you? Cause I can talk to him about boundar-”
“No. I just… Don’t like him.” He said. Soap just looked at him. “That sounds bad.” He groaned.
Soap laughed.
“Aye, It kinda does.” He watched Ghost for another second, thinking. “Alright, I’m gonna get changed, and I’m not gonna judge. I just want you to tell me what you don’t like about him.”
Soap started unclasping his gear, moving over to his dresser.
How embarrassing would it be to just tell him he’s jealous?
“He’s American.”
Soap chuckled.
“That he is.”
“What happened to no judging?” Ghost said gruffly.
“Sorry, sorry. Continue.”
“He’s boring, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t know why I dislike him.” Liar. It’s because you’re fucking jealous. Dumbass brain.
Soap pulled on a clean shirt before settling on the bed next to him.
“Can I take a guess?”
“Be my guest.”
“Does he… Remind you of Graves?”
Did he? Not really. Sure, he was an average American, but he didn’t look, act, and smell exactly like a weasel. Ghost sighed. He’s digging himself into a hole at this point. He should probably just tell the truth.
“No. It’s… Fuck. I’m jealous.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Yes.”
“Really? Jesus, Ghost, you coulda just told me and I woulda held your hand or somethin’. Do you need me to prove-”
“No!” Ghost interrupted, feeling like shit. “It’s not you, it’s me.” He winced, realizing what that sounded like. Soap also picked up on that and laughed.
“Are you breaking up with me, Lt.?”
Ghost groaned.
“I mean, definitely not what I was expecting. But I don’t mind. As long as you're not ripping his head off, you’re allowed to feel jealous.”
Ghost finally met his eyes.
“You don't care?” He asked incredulously. “You don’t think it’s weird?”
“Simon. You have literally killed people for me. If I thought you being jealous was weird, we never would have made it this far.”
Ghost huffed, pulling Soap to sit with him. His chest was flush with his back, and Soap laid his head back on his shoulder to look up at him.
“You just need to get through a few more days and he’ll be out of your hair.”
“He said the same thing.” Ghost said. Soap raised eyebrows, waiting for him to go on. “When we were leaving medical. Pinned our relationship, said you had a type. People who could massacre you or something.”
Soap flushed.
“Fuck. I was so drunk when I said that. Why does he still remember that?”
Ghost chuckled.
“Said he knew I hated him and that he’d be out of my hair.”
“He’s always been too observant for his own good. Little shite used to bother the teachers all the time.” Soap thought for a second. “You probably would’ve met him eventually. We meet up every year or so when we have the chance. We might not go this year, since we weren’t expecting to see each other so soon.”
“You don’t have to choose me over him.”
“I’m not. If I had to, I would, but I’m not.”
Ghost had to take a breath. He always does that, says such serious things so easily. It’s true, as much as he hates to admit it, he would choose Soap over Price or Gaz any day. But Johnny says it like it's the only option that’s ever existed.
They fall asleep talking like that.
The next day was easier. He felt less crazy now that he knew where his annoyance was coming from, and that Johnny was fine with it. Soap and the other two worked on reports and Ghost spent most of the day at the range.
The day after, he accompanied them to the airstrip where the plane was waiting for Smith, Weathers, and a few others.
He watched him and Soap hug and exchange new numbers, and went up behind them.
Brian looked up at him, a little warily. Not surprising, seeing as he never denied hating him.
Ghost put his hand out for him to shake. He looked down at his hand, then up at his face, and smiled. They shook hands.
“Good luck.” Ghost said.
Weathers did a little mock salute and walked into the plane.
And Soap looked over at him, and he looked so happy.
And Ghost might just hug the guy if Johnny kept looking at him like that.