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    Summary

    “So this was where you boys rushed off to,” Price said, voice low as he leaned back on the door behind him.
    “Well, I’ll be damned.”
    Ghost looked up at him, and Price could feel him smirking through the balaclava. On his lap, Soap turned his gaze down like a toddler caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Ghost’s arm wound around his back, keeping him in place, and Soap didn’t fight it. Interesting.
    “Enjoying the view?” Ghost asked, shameless.
    Hell’s fucking bells, this kid.

    Or

    Ghost shows Price how to tame one Soap MacTavish.

    Language:
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