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They had just stepped on base after a mission and Soap was quick to rave about their success to anyone who would listen. Soap recounted the events of the mission like a spooky story told at a campfire. The new recruits would gather around him like kids as they hung on his every word.
Ghost wanted to say it was infuriating watching him grab all that attention like it was second nature, but the excitement in his voice and the glint in his eyes won Ghost over. He listened just as intently as if he wasn’t there to witness it himself.
When he was done, a grin still plastered on his face, Soap's eyes landed on him, lingering for a moment too long. And there it was. Ghost's heart seized and relaxed so quick he thought it was the beginning of a heart attack.
When Soap looked away, relief and disappointment mixed perfectly together just enough to leave Ghost with a headache.
He tried to shake the feeling. Let it die before he spiraled, knowing that if he dwelled on it too long, it'd only get more confusing.
So he ignored it. Just like he’d done countless other times.
It was early in the morning only a week later when Ghost innocently decided to make himself tea. It was just his luck that Soap was there in the kitchen, softly humming to himself as he carelessly spread butter on toast. He found the sight strangely endearing.
Soap didn’t notice Ghost stride up beside him and he nearly pressed a knife to Ghost's throat.
“Don’t scare me like that, Lt.” Soap put the knife down with a sigh.
“Sorry, just wanted some tea.” Ghost picked up the kettle and filled it with water.
“Of course ya do.” Soap huffed.
Ghost ignored his comment and turned the stove on. He leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms, waiting for it to boil.
Ghost didn’t know someone could get more irritating as Soap loudly crunched on his toast. Crumbs going everywhere. Soap didn't seem to care.
As Ghost stared at him, morning light peeking over the horizon, hitting the planes of Soap's face just right, he felt it again. That squeeze in his heart. He could feel his cheeks heating and he couldn't force his eyes away.
He carefully studied Soap's features, picking out anything he never noticed before, like he hasn't seen it a thousand times already. In this light, it might as well have been a brand-new face.
The amount of relationships he ruined because he couldn't distinguish between platonic or romantic feelings was enough to discourage him from indulging in thoughts about Soap. He never trusted these feelings and he wasn't going to start now.
He was so lost in the desperation of trying to put his mind back together that the squeal of the kettle made him jump.
Quickly, Ghost moved it aside and shut off the stove. Soap quirked an eyebrow at him.
“You alright? Dinnae ken yer was afraid of kettles.” Soap teased. If it weren’t for Ghost's heart banging in his head he’d want to hit the man. Methodically, he finished making his tea to distract himself, letting his hands go on autopilot.
He was thankful when Soap finally left, but the emptiness of the lonely room that followed consumed him. Dragging his psyche through relentless hypotheticals of, "What if?"
What if this was romantic? What if I'm wrong? Would Soap fall in love, only for me to realize I never cared for him that way?
Regardless, he forced himself to ignore it. He just needed time.
He was given two days' grace.
He had found out from Gaz that Soap’s been talking about him. It was a vague statement and a simple passing comment, but the sudden sorrow Ghost felt was alarming. Since when did he care what others said about him? Gaz seemed to take his time clarifying that it wasn’t anything negative.
Ghost thought he would faint on the spot when he caught Gaz's smirk like there was an inside joke hidden among his words. It could mean anything but it ate at him in an unexpected way. Soap wasn’t even in the room, yet he still managed to tear him apart.
Ghost kept his composer, nodded, and let the conversation end there.
Frustrations tossed around his head as he walked to his room. He barely acknowledged anyone that attempted to talk to him. They figured he was in one of his moods and thought better of trying any further.
The second he was in the safety of his room, he ripped his mask off and tossed it on the bedside table. His lungs seemed to need more air than he could get. He figured his body must be finally shutting down.
Ghost sat on the edge of his bed and stared at a spot on the wall. He forced a mental reset, avoiding any thoughts of the face that's been haunting him.
No matter where he let his mind wander, food, cats, or missions, it all came back to Soap. His cheeky smiles, that mischievous glint in his eyes, and the heavy use of Scottish slang that made his head spin.
Ghost tried to shake it away, but Soap's face stayed there, consuming everything he saw. He would have let his mind run wild if it weren't for his heart thumping against his chest.
He was at war with himself. Fighting against his natural instincts. Pushing it away and covering it with something artificial until there was nothing left but a simplicity he could manage.
It must be purely platonic. Soap was so charismatic and lovely, he could trick anyone into feeling like this, whether it was real or not. He's decided this feeling could go away now that he's pinpointed it. Ghost was sure it was over.
Later that night was the final straw.
They were gathered in the common area, new and old recruits once again listening to Soap tell one of his stories. It wasn’t about a mission, but Ghost barely let himself pay attention long enough to know the topic.
The only thing he focused on was his voice. His accent, the cadence in certain words that stuck out like "huge" or "unbelievable". Ghost was starting to wish he could remember the context of the story.
It didn't matter, Ghost couldn't rip his attention away from Soap's smirk, the gentle crease in his eyebrows, and the myriad expressions he made in the span of just a few seconds.
How could one person be so expressive? Ghost will never understand him, but he liked to soak in all the details that make Soap him . He held onto the image of his little pouts and wicked grins like a lifeline.
Ghost let his mind drift aimlessly until Soap paused. He glanced at Ghost for a moment before he told the most ridiculous joke he'd ever heard.
As if that wasn't bad enough, Soap was hunched over, laughing at his own joke like he wasn't the one who told it.
Despite the overwhelming noise of the room, Ghost zeroed in on Soap's intoxicating laughter. The sound of it filled his ears and his heart. Squeezing it over and over. Soap was going to be the death of him at this rate. Somehow, Ghost didn't think he'd mind.
While he was still laughing, Soap leaned close and his hand found its way to Ghost's arm, resting there for balance.
There was static in the touch that shocked Ghost's senses. It was pure heat that burned through him. Lighting his veins on fire and unforgivingly consuming his heart.
Ghost wanted nothing but to chase after his leaving hand. Instead, he went still, staring down at the man as his laughter slowed. Wiping actual tears from his eyes.
Selfishly, he wanted to have Soap all to himself and make him happy like no one else could.
When Soap looked up at him with that unashamed grin and impossibly blue eyes piercing straight through his heart, Ghost's mind finally fell into place, and he couldn't ignore it any longer.
He was sent back to all those little moments he thought nothing of. The heat he felt when he looked at Soap, the usual beating of his heart that wasn't there before, and the constant wanting of being close.
The buried thoughts he had tucked away rushed to the surface, drowning himself in the raw and selfish desires previously unbeknownst to him.
Soaps lingering gaze fixated on him, never looking away. Ghosts bare fingers against Soap's cheek, gently brushing down his face. Holding onto each other with no intention of letting go.
It was too much yet not enough.
For now, Ghost settled for sitting there, listening to Soap tell another story. Shouting and laughing. Waving his hands and scrunching his face.
And he'd take every glance Soap shot his way, holding the sight safe in his heart to look back on later.