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Simon had been gone for over two weeks. That in itself was nothing new, they’d been away from each other for much longer periods of time for much more dangerous missions. Simon was just gathering intel, accompanied by Gaz who was familiar with the area. They were due back any day now, which Johnny was grateful for.
What Johnny hadn’t been prepared for was to not be assigned a job of his own, stuck on base waiting for Simon and Gaz to come back. Price was on base, too, but he always had paperwork to do or meetings to attend.
That put Johnny alone and only his chores and training for activity, feeling the boredom that had been creeping up on him quickly turning into overload as his thoughts got fuzzy. He knew what was going to happen. It'd been a couple of months since the first time he’d regressed and it had happened a couple times since then, though always with Simon there to keep him safe. When Simon was there, he helped keep Johnny out of the full-on breakdown that would usually happen and eased him into a much safer, calmer headspace. He’d yet to get fully into the headspace, though he was getting closer the safer and more comfortable he felt with it.
But Johnny hadn’t done this on his own. And as much as he and Simon had talked about why Johnny might get so frustrated and irritable at the start of downtime, about why regression was what his brain resorted to, that didn’t make the transition (crash) into the headspace any easier.
So Johnny was sitting on the couch, one leg bouncing and his arms folded across his chest as he tried valiantly to get the ever growing panic to go away through sheer will power alone. He’d been sitting there for what felt like hours, the room silent, ever since he’d finished chores for the day. He was so bored that picking something to do felt impossible, but he was too overwhelmed to actually do anything he might decide on. The more he focused on it the worse the feeling got, but he just couldn't get himself to get up off the couch and go to his own room where maybe the familiar comfort of his blankets and the small things Simon had gotten him could calm him down.
And so he sat. Trapped. Heat burned behind his eyes as he fought off the tears that kept threatening to fall. Johnny knew he needed to get to his room either way, it wasn’t safe for him to slip into headspace outside of the safety of his or Simon’s rooms when Simon wasn’t there to cover for him when needed, and he didn't have any interest in some soldier sticking their nose where it didn't belong. His ability to get to his room without guidance was quickly fading though, what with the way his thoughts were both racing and far away.
The moment a tear forced its way down his cheek, Johnny heard incoming footsteps from the hallway. He couldn’t be sure whether or not he hated that he could tell it was Price by the familiar jingle of keys attached to his belt loop. With Price coming, it meant that at the very least a random soldier wouldn't find Sergeant MacTavish alone in the rec room crying his eyes out, but it also meant that he was definitely going to have to explain to Price why he was crying. He wasn’t honestly sure the captain had ever seen him cry.
Johnny could only curl in on himself as the footsteps got closer and panic overtook him.
“Evening, Soap.” There was no way Johnny could bring himself to respond. He was battling the sob trying to force its way out of his chest and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable headspace was terrifying. As his thoughts raced further into panic (what was the captain going to say, would he criticize Johnny? Punish him? Send him to psych? Would he get kicked off the 141 for being unstable?) Johnny didn’t notice Price’s steps coming closer.
With his paperwork complete, Price had been about ready to just call it a day but had decided on taking a detour to the rec room. He wasn’t hungry enough for dinner but despite sitting at his desk for fucking hours, he knew for a fact he wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon.
He’d decided to stop by the rec room and see if there was anything good enough that qualified as healthy, or at least food, in their fridge. He could hear Gaz's voice in the back of his head telling him he needed to eat something, anything, before going to bed.
The moment Price walked into the rec room he had spotted Soap curled up on the couch, blanket over his legs. The man looked asleep but it wasn't like him to fall asleep in the rec room. He had tossed out a casual greeting, trying to figure out if he was awake or not. If he wasn't awake, Price wasn’t about to wake him up. He’d seen Soap wandering around the base from before dawn til after dusk for the past week, who knew how much sleep the Scot was actually getting.
As he made his way towards the fridge, he heard something odd. A quiet snuffling noise. For a good few moments he couldn't figure out what the hell could possibly be making that noise until he realized it was coming from Soap, and suddenly he had no doubt about what the noise was.
In all the years Price had known the man, he’d never seen Soap cry. He was the most expressive man Price had ever met, certainly had no problem expressing his emotions, but tears just weren't his thing. Red flags immediately rose in his mind and he beelined straight to where Soap was curled up.
Rounding the couch and getting a closer look at his Sergeant revealed a clearer picture. His hair was a mess and what he had thought was just the man sitting comfortably on the couch more clearly appeared to be Soap in fetal position. Soap’s hands were white knuckle tight in the front of his own sweatshirt, eyes screwed shut as he fought with his own breathing.
“Soap, son, what’s going on?” As much as Price prided himself on knowing his boys well he felt like a fish out of water at that moment. Soap was a little spitfire, tamed only by the calm of one Simon Ghost Riley. Ghost had soothed some of the spiky edge of anger and energy Soap had, becoming the man's voice of reason. Price knew Soap trusted him, but he’d never be able to wield Soap’s energy the way Ghost could.
At Price’s words, Soap visibly flinched, his hands flashing out to pull the blanket over himself as if in an attempt to hide. As much of a brat as he could be, Soap almost always listened, especially when he needed to, and right now it seemed like he didn’t even recognize Price’s voice.
In a blessed moment of memory Price remembered the email Ghost had sent him a while back, vague mentions of the two of them needing to decompress and rest for a bit. Gaz had mentioned a lovely dinner with Soap and Ghost a couple days later, and Price had never thought much of it. He knew Soap had it rough when it came to downtime and leave. He needed to be on the move at all times, and when he couldn’t get his energy out he’d get snappy and stressed. Gaz had mentioned to him a couple times that Soap had a habit of disappearing shortly after he would get significantly snippy, gone without a trace for a day or two then coming back like nothing ever happened. Dots were connecting in Price’s head.
“Soap, I need you to look at me.” A rapid head shake under the blanket told Price this was going to be a little bit of a struggle. He’d dealt with soldiers that experienced overload or understimulation all the time, but everyone handled it differently and he’d never seen Soap in quite a state like this.
“No choice, son. I need a sitrep, now.” His tone was gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument but making sure Soap knew he wasn’t angry. This was a check in, and check ins weren’t optional. Luckily, an order seemed to stir Soap back to his mind a little. He peeked out from under the blanket and Price was greeted with the most exaggerated pout he had ever seen. If he wasn't so concerned about the man sobbing just moments before he’d almost call it… cute? Soap was always the most animated one in their team.
“That’s it. Check in with me, Soap.” A long few moments passed and Soap just stared, brow furrowed. Price was about to repeat himself when the man’s expression shifted, gaze now turned to the ground.
“Rec room, couldn't get to Si’s room and slipped.” Price had never heard Soap’s voice so quiet and small, hesitant. It was clear he thought he was in trouble, maybe not literally but something was happening. He thought about what could comfort Soap, reassure him, and he immediately thought of all the casual physical contact Soap maintained with Ghost and Gaz. He was a little less casual with Price, but still didn’t hesitate to bump his shoulder or pat his back when the moment called for it.
“May I put my hand on your shoulder, son?” It took another couple moments for Soap to think, eyes turning up again to stare at Price with those bright blue eyes before nodding slowly. As soon as Price rested his hand on Soap’s shoulder the man melted into the contact, body slumping to the side. Tears slipped down his cheeks and while he wasn’t sobbing anymore he still seemed fairly distressed. He decided to wrap his arm across his shoulders instead, watching carefully for any signs that Soap was trying to get away or getting more upset.
That didn’t happen, though, instead Soap just sighed and leaned into Price’s side. It was odd, if Price was honest, to be so close to Soap for more than a couple seconds. The man was always moving and talking, so the stilted sentences and tired posture were a little off putting.
It was a relief, however, to find that although Soap was distressed, being close seemed to calm him down significantly. Soap was focusing on his breathing, no longer so rapid as to be a concern, and his expression had relaxed a little, though he still looked sad.
“Tell me what I can do for you, John.” Soap seemed to freeze at that, tucking the blanket in closer to himself. Now that there was a little light back in his eyes, Price could practically see the thoughts flying around in his head. The frown on his lips deepened, tears welling up in his eyes again.
“It doesn't have to be something big, if you just want me to get you water or even leave that's fine, but I need to know you’re ok before I can do that.” The reassurance seemed to settle Soap’s anxiety some as he turned to look- or stare, more appropriately- at Price. It was clear he was thinking, fingers working the edge of the blanket roughly. A minute or so later he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and let it out slowly. He opened them before speaking, but kept his gaze on the ground again. As long as Soap would tell him what he needed, even if it was time alone, that was ok.
“Want Si’s room but… don’t want alone.” Price hummed softly. He respected Ghost’s privacy, never entered his room without explicit permission. An idea popped into his head.
“Is there something you need from Simon's room?” Soap nodded hesitantly, shrinking away from Price a little.
“How about I walk you over there so you can get what you need, and then we can go to my office, my room, or come back to the rec room. Your choice.” There'd been a few occasions after long, hard missions where Price had invited Ghost, Gaz and Soap to his room for a drink. No one would interrupt them there, and they could sit in peace to process and talk.
He gave Soap some time to think again, noticing he had been very thorough with his consideration so far. Eventually, Soap nodded and wrapped the blanket around himself.
“Office?” He asked, small voice so unsure and scared.
“Of course. Simon’s room, then my office. Ready to walk?” Another deep breath from Soap and they stood up. As they began walking, Price could feel Soap hovering inches behind him and never straying far. He’d wrapped the blanket around his shoulders once they stood, still apparently determined to hide, but he kept glancing around like he was looking for someone.
“Almost everyone’s off base, either on a mission or on leave. It'll be quiet in the barracks.” Soap huffed out a sigh, not looking totally convinced. For someone so adept at social situations, Soap seemed absolutely intent on avoiding human interaction. Price found this curious, he knew Soap wasn’t as outwardly social as most people thought he was, but this was something totally new.
They reached Simon’s room without incident or human encounter, which seemed to ease a lot of the tension from Soap. He slipped a key out from his pocket and snuck into the room, emerging moments later in new clothes (definitely Ghost’s, they were practically hanging off Soap making him look way smaller than he actually was), a new, much fluffier and bigger blanket, and a backpack. There didn’t seem to be too much in it, but Price didn’t question it.
“Office.” Soap murmured, and Price repeated it back to confirm. He started off towards his office but quickly realized there wasn’t a second set of footsteps following him. Soap stood in front of Ghost’s door, eyes wide staring at the floor, hand opening and closing in a fist in front of himself. He seemed to notice, belatedly, that Price had stopped, and looked over. Price could tell he was trying to say something but probably couldn't find the words. He checked his posture, making sure Soap didn’t get the impression he was being rushed. They could talk about whatever the hell was going on later, for now Price just wanted to get Soap safely to his office.
Just as he made to walk back to Soap, the man took a few shuffled steps forward and grabbed onto the hem of Price’s shirt. Price was, admittedly, startled by the action. Confusion swirled around his mind, a little concern, but then he saw the way Soap’s eyes were trained on where he held Price’s shirt. He looked terrified, and this close Price could feel him trembling. If closeness was what Soap needed, he could do that. Definitely wouldn't be the worst thing anyone's ever asked of him before.
A little hesitant, Price reached his hand out for Soap to take. The Scot looked up, confused, so Price gently pried Soap’s (very tight) grip from his shirt and joined their hands. Soap flinched, but Price squeezed his hand.
“It’s ok.” Soap still had his shoulders drawn up but seemed to concede, and didn’t let go of Price’s hand until they got to his office. As soon as the door was shut Soap had collapsed onto the coach against the window and hid himself under the blanket, backpack abandoned on the ground. Price followed after him slowly, sitting down not far from Soap but with enough space to not crowd him. Contact would be on his terms.
“You’re safe here, John. Do you want me to go sit at the desk?” Soap shot up at that, aggressively shaking his head underneath the blanket. He wormed his way out from underneath the fabric, Price spotting tears on his cheeks again.
“Stay, please. Scared.” Price sighed and leaned back into the couch, angling himself towards Soap. He was trying so hard to piece together what was happening. Gaz and Ghost obviously knew what was happening. He didn’t like the thought that Soap didn’t trust him enough to tell him. If he was being honest, there was very little any of the three of his boys could do that would truly get them in trouble. Ghost was legally dead, for fucks sake, and he really could not care for most of the rules the higher ups had for them.
“John, do you think you could tell me what’s wrong?” He hoped Soap would tell him, and he was glad to see that at the very least Soap was considering. His brows drew up into that crease he got when thinking deeply, an expression that was one step away from the pout he had seen earlier.
“Safe?” Soap asked, and again Price nodded.
“You’re safe, John.” The reassurance seemed to help, and Soap went back to thinking. Price watched him get comfortable as he thought when the man finally looked over at him.
“Slipped into headspace. Happens when I get really upset or really bored, Si calls it ‘regression.’ Usually with Si when ‘m little but… Si’s not here.” Soap seemed truly distraught that Simon wasn’t there, and that was honestly the most worrisome part. He was worried that he wouldn't be able to provide the support Soap needed.
“Does the backpack you have with you have your stuff in it?” There was a sudden pause, like someone had pressed the pause button on a remote and stopped Soap in place, as he stared at Price. He blinked a couple times before nodding.
“Safe?” Price nodded.
“Always safe.”
“Can I show…?”
“If you want to, of course.” Price was curious about what kinds of things were in the backpack. He watched as Soap pulled it into his lap and unzipped it. He shuffled through some of the stuff before deciding on what he wanted.
The first things he pulled out were two stuffies, small little things. The first stuffie was a palm sized black cat in a doll pose, tiny sewn pink nose and glossy eyes. The second was a dog, light brown in color with a couple darker patches, a little bigger with a more scruffy texture than the smooth furred cat. It wasn’t hard to make the connections. Soap set them down in his lap, pausing to give them each a small pat before moving on.
The next thing he pulled out was a clearly hand sewn square of fabric that lightly crinkled as Soap grasped it in his hand. When Soap heard the noise he rocked back against the couch, crumpling up the square again with the barest hint of a smile. That was set next to him, in the space between him and Price. Upon closer inspection, Price could see the fabrics design had sleeping forest animals and leaves. There were little strips of ribbon tied into the seams, in various textures and shades of green, blue, and black and white patterns.
After the crinkly square was a decently sized pouch. It looked handmade as well, though more carefully put together than the square. The fabric was all black on the outside with some sort of subtle pattern on the inside. Something inside the pouch clinked as Soap opened it. First to emerge was a little octopus, its limbs made of several joints. It appeared to be 3d printed, made from a black metallic filament. Soap held it out and shook it, its limbs making the clicking noise Price had heard moments earlier. The octopus was set down and a new object withdrawn, this time a square with what appears to be keycaps. This was also colored black, and Price was starting to notice a theme. Sure enough, the toy made a very pleasant keyboard click-clack sound. Soap pressed the keys in rapid succession for a bit, content to just sit and make noise.
Price was relieved to see that having something to do was taking Soap’s mind off his anxiety, and seeing the soft things and toys along with his explanation was making this whole situation make sense.
A soft noise of distress brought Price’s attention away from his own thoughts to find Soap tugging at his sleeve, upset that Price wasn’t looking at the toys he was showing him. The hand on his sleeve had a twisting loop wrapped around it, colored in blocks of transparent blue, green, and solid white. In the other was a solid block, maybe made of acrylic or resin, with a stunning galaxy pattern suspended inside of it. It fit in Soap’s palm and his fingers curled around it protectively.
“That’s quite the collection you’ve got there, bud. Do your friends have names?” Price gestured to the plush toys that still sat in Soap’s lap. Price noticed that the other toys that had been brought out were lined up neatly in a row. Soap’s face had flushed at the question asked, and he picked the two animal plushies up before answering.
“Da’s Ghost,” Soap held out the little black cat to punctuate the statement. He put the cat down back where it was and held out the dog,“And Soap.”
“They look very soft.” Price commented, getting a happy nod from Soap in response.
“Si got ‘em fer me... d’re very special.” Soap cuddled the two stuffies close to himself, running his fingers over their fur.
“Do they get up to as many adventures as you and Simon do?” Eyes wide, Soap looked like he’d gotten caught red handed.
“Or maybe they’re trouble makers like you two, huh.” A soft giggle from Soap warmed his chest. Price felt extremely unsure of how to proceed here, more used to panic attacks or flashbacks as a trauma response than… this. But Soap seemed to be calming down now, no more tears and the redness around his eyes and on his cheeks was slowly bleeding away.
“Can you show me that block again?” Soap immediately knew which one Price was talking about. He picked up the square, holding it out to his captain for him to take. He watched as Price investigated it, taking in the pattern. Simon had custom ordered it for him. It was a solid square made of resin, an incredibly detailed galaxy-like pattern of ink swirls and glitters embedded inside of it. All of the inks in it were transparent, so it could be placed on a flashlight or lamp and the light would shine through, illuminating the glitter. There was also a little glow in the dark powder in it, a gentle swirl, that Soap loved to look at.
“‘S pretty.” He mumbled, taking it when Price held it back out for him. He looked over his trinkets before deciding which one he wanted, choosing his octopus and the crinkle square. He hoped it wouldn’t annoy Price, he usually tried to be at least a little quiet with it, but the sound was incredibly soothing and he loved the texture. Simon had made that one for Soap himself, disappeared for a day during leave one time and came back with a little bag of stim toys and trinkets for Soap, including the crinkle square and the keyboard toy. The rest of the toys were put neatly back into the pouch, tucked into the backpack, and placed back on the floor where the backpack had been set earlier.
With his anxiety slowly easing up, and the safety of Price’s familiar office, Soap could feel himself slipping further into his headspace in a much smoother, calm way. Sleepiness was starting to push its way to the front, and he yawned as tugged at the ribbons on the square. He was focused on their texture, watching how the visible pattern matched what it felt like against his fingers. Distantly, he heard Price’s phone and the man answered it, mumbling something to whoever was on the line. Their conversation was short, and Soap looked over when he hung up.
“Nothing for you to worry about, son. I’ve got some paperwork to do now, though, is it ok if I go sit at my desk?” Soap nodded his response, feeling much calmer than before. Price would be mere feet away from him, so if he needed anything all he had to do was call out. Price ruffled his hair as he got up, taking the extra blanket off the back of the couch and handing it to Soap. He made sure the man was comfortable before sitting down at his desk and pulling his laptop out. Laswell had just called, Gaz and Ghost were finally on their way back and would arrive within the next couple hours. He hoped that Soap would fall asleep and rest until Ghost got back while he finished some of the paperwork that would need to get done.
By the time someone knocked rather heavily on his door, Soap was curled up in his blankets fast asleep. Thankfully the knocking didn’t wake him, so Price got up to answer the door. He greeted the two quietly, pointing to the couch so they knew to keep their voices low.
“Told me he regressed before he could get to your room, so we got his things and came here. He was pretty freaked out when I found him, and he fell asleep pretty quickly.” As if he could tell he was the topic of conversation even in his sleep, a quick smile flashed on Soap’s face. Ghost felt a wave of relief wash over him. Soap had been absolutely terrified that the Captain would disapprove of his regression, the worry lingering despite both Gaz’s and his reassurances that it wouldn’t be the case. Now, he was curled up and asleep in the man’s office, even feeling safe enough to have some of his supplies out with him.
Ghost walked over to the couch, the exhaustion from the mission easing away as he reached to brush the hair away from Soap’s face. He murmured a little in his sleep, instinctively reaching out to whoever was near. Ghost knelt down and gathered his boy into his arms, blankets and all, and made his way to the big chair next to Price’s desk. Price was giving him an exasperated stare but Ghost just returned it with a withering glare. He’d just gotten back from a mission that ran longer than it should have, he would hold his Johnny if he wanted to.
Said Scot wriggled around in his grip, sleepy blue eyes blinking open. It took him a moment to figure out where he was, looking up with the most gentle, perfect smile as he wrapped his arms around Ghost’s middle.
“Si…” Simon could tell Johnny would be asleep again in a matter of minutes, eyes fluttering shut despite his best efforts to keep them open. He pressed a gentle kiss to Johnny’s forehead, hushing him.
“Sleep, lil pup. The captain, Gaz and I need to debrief and then I’ll take us to my room.” Johnny mumbled some form of agreement, words slurring together too much to be fully understood, before nuzzling back in close. It was only a matter of minutes before his breathing evened back out. Thankfully the initial debrief was quick. Simon relayed the events that went down, while Gaz gathered the intel they got to pass over to the Captain. The mission had run longer than they’d hoped it would when they realized there were a lot more enemy soldiers there than they’d been told. It didn’t change much, but they had to be much more careful and move a lot slower than they’d planned. Outside of that, nothing went wrong, and they even got all the intel they’d needed and more.
“Alright, boys. Good work.” Price stood, shuffling the papers together to file away. The two had handled the change of plans well, and since nothing truly exciting had happened the full team debrief could happen tomorrow. Gaz stood up as well and stretched out, yawning. He said his goodbyes, which included gently ruffling Johnny’s hair, before slipping out to go clean up.
Simon sat with his boy still tucked in his arms, eyes on Price. It seemed like everything was ok, and that Johnny had actually managed to take a nap. Getting Johnny to nap when he needed to, especially regressed, was nearly impossible. The fact that he felt safe enough to fall asleep in the Captain’s office was a good sign. But the final word was down to Price, who by now had noticed Simon’s neutral stare.
“You take good care of him.” Price almost sounded proud, to which Simon rolled his eyes. He’d long come to terms with the fact that Johnny had broken down his walls, his metaphorical mask, and brought back Simon Riley. He could care for someone, love someone, and he could be loved back. He’d even found that caring for someone so intensely, with such dedication, was an incredibly satisfying and rewarding thing. Johnny had his six, knew when Simon needed touch or needed space, oftentimes before Simon knew himself. It was nice.
“He takes care of me, it’s the least I can do.” Nothing was said after that, the smile Price gave him was enough. He opened the door for Simon on his way out, giving his back a solid pat, before closing the door again.