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Soap hummed as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, eyes scanning his exposed skin with a critical gaze. His fingers ran lightly over the golden freckles of his soulmate with familiarity, the jagged Y down his chest, over the recognisable bullet wounds and knife slashes, some of the gold flecks darker than the others. His arm was an interesting take of a Pollock painting in various shades of gold.
There were faint pinpricks near his lips that he was born with, his ma always stated they shimmered with the sun and lightened his smile, only now it was joined by a deep gold smattering that started from his own chin scar, over his lips and up to just under his left eye.
But by far the favourite soul mark was the one that wrapped around his throat and merged with his collarbone. When it first appeared his CO had cast him a gaze that Soap was all too familiar with, one that he didn’t understand till he was near his double digits.
A look of sympathy.
One he wasn’t all too fond of.
He heard it all growing up. ‘ Oh, the poor wee lamb has a reckless Soulmate.’, ‘Oh Johnny, I’m so sorry that your Soulmate is suffering so.’, ‘Aren’t you bothered by what your soulmate must obviously look like MacTavish? All those scars.’
It bothered Soap how much people looked at his soul marks with sympathy, with disgust, like they were something to be ashamed of. But Soap had loved his soulmate the moment he was old enough to understand the golden freckles that shone like tiny gems in the sun… he loved his marks with everything in him because they were proof his Soulmate was strong, that he was a fighter.
Because, yes, Soap was terrified sometimes after a major cluster of golden freckles popped up, especially in life-threatening locations but there was always a follow-up of the familiar darkening of a freckles cluster of stitches afterwards that eased him.
But, still, he loved each and every golden cluster from the pale shimmer of the old and faded scars to the deep ones that he knew would have hurt his soulmate deeply and he wore them with pride when he wasn’t confined to base.
How could Soap not love the marks imprinted on his skin like a tapestry of his soulmate's strength?
His fingers ran over the starburst bullet wounds across his torso, over his thigh, the slash marks. When he was growing up he knew his soulmate had a hard life, it was a niggle in the back of his brain, the very same wiggle that caused him to want to join the army. That wiggle became a desperate desire once he was in his teens and the first bullet wound starburst on his thigh came in.
He nearly gave several people heart attacks in the showers one night when they watched his skin slowly start to crawl up with gold. Soap nearly wept then and there at the agony his soulmate must have gone through, sometimes he still does when he admires the unknown stories written across his skin.
His fingers fluttered over the pale gold that covered his entire forearm with a grin, some nights if he squinted he could make out shapes in the pale colours that outlined a whisp of smoke, half a skull, tags… his soulmate had a tattoo and it drove Soap mad with curiosity.
So, Soap worked hard in training, becoming faster and stronger, to be the best in his field of choice. He wanted to show his soulmate that he could be just as strong, that he could have Soap by his side and not have to worry about his back being unguarded. Little anxious thoughts that had Soap pushing himself further and further.
The only thing about becoming a specialist, becoming the youngest to join the SAS was that he had to cover his marks. They were too noticeable on the field and during missions where the people they faced could use them against him. It felt wrong to Soap who was proud of his marks, and was strong enough to face everything that was thrown at him… but he understood, that the rules were the rules, and this was one he had to abide by.
Years he spent like this, going from mission to mission, gaining his own scars, and acquiring more gold.
The older he got the more worried he got that he would never meet his soulmate, it wasn’t that uncommon, actually it happened more often than not… but Soap never stopped hoping, never stopped believing that he wouldn’t meet his other half.
Then his life changed the moment Captain John Price stepped up to him and asked if he wanted to join the 141.
He enjoyed it, working with Gaz, and being sent on longer and tougher missions that put his skills to the test. He had heard whispers of the 141 before he joined, that they were the best of the best and the best of them was the Lieutenant Ghost. The mysterious giant of a man who wore a skull plate as a mask.
It wasn’t till the mission in Mexico that Soap was able to meet the elusive man and something in his brain went ‘ Oh .’
There had been several instances in his life where Soap had that connection with someone but it was more out of attraction than the linking of a soulmate. For that to happen they needed to have skin-to-skin contact and in his time working with the 141 and even before that, Soap knew that Ghost was always dressed head to toe, the only parts of him that were revealed to the world were his fingers sometimes and the grease painted eyes.
Yet, somehow over the brief time they spent together both of them seemed to click together like a well-oiled machine. Both easily guiding each other through the streets of Mexico, through fortified bases and everything after that. Soap never thought he would gain the trust of the most elusive soldier in the SAS but somehow, he did and the Scot would never take that for granted.
“Soap come on, you and I promised to train the baby soldiers with their sparring techniques today!” Gaz’s voice cuts through Soap’s thought process abruptly, startling him enough that he knocked the last of his cover cream into the slightly filled sink.
“Ah fuck.” He curses and quickly pulls it out, fingers dipping into the substance only to grimace as he realises that it would be too thin to spread properly. “Well looks like I will have to go as is.”
“ Soap!” Gaz called again exasperated and Soap quickly pulled his workout gear over his head and left.
Gaz looked up and did a double take as Soap finally stepped out of his room, mouth dropping open in surprise. “Holy fuck.”
“Remind me tae pick up some more cover cream before th’ next mission, it fell intae th’ sink, and it’s wrecked. Only was able tae cover the marks on my face properly.” Soap replied though there was a little smirk on his lips as he watched Gaz gaze at him. “Thank fuck Price doesn’t give a fuck about our marks being uncovered outside of a mission.”
Gaz remained quiet as he watched Soap walk, his eyes flickering over every inch of the man's skin and the gold that covered it. Mainly his eyes strayed to the large pale patch that covered his forearm and he couldn’t help but flick his eyes down the hall towards where he knew Ghost would be.
Price, Nik and he had guessed a while ago that there was something between Soap and Ghost, but they never would have guessed it would be this. Gaz knew Ghost had marks, had seen the flecks of gold that scattered across the man’s hands that were split by his own scars and making them look like glitter flecks, he had seen the one on Ghost’s chin when he had finally grown comfortable in joining them for tTea or meals.
And now Gaz would bet his next paycheck that he would now have a matching starburst on his shoulder that would match the bullet wound on Soap’s shoulder. Though… Gaz flicked his gaze back to Soap who was dipped in gold, he didn’t know how Ghost would feel seeing this.
“You still may want to wear a long shirt, just in case mate, the newbies are gossip mongers who have no boundaries,” Gaz stated with a hidden wince, hating himself for what he was about to say. “You may distract them.”
Soap paused, shoulders going rigged as he glanced back over at Gaz with a frown, hands coming up to brush over the dark gold of his marks at his throat. He hated covering his marks, hated the tone in Gaz’s suggestion but couldn’t place it. His shoulders slumped and he couldn’t help but sigh. “Aye, ye right.”
He quickly grabbed the long-sleeved shirt out of his bag and threw it on over his workout vest. It wouldn’t cover his hands or anything on his forearms when he finally rolls them up but it would hide the gold around his throat and chest that was exposed, the rest of the marks on his arms that depict the marks of what others would call violence but Soap would call life.
“Sorry mate, I know how you feel about them.” Gaz apologised.
Soap waved him off. “Nae, yer right. They could be a distraction an’ I ken that some people find em a bit…”
The Scot trailed off and both he and Gaz shared a scowl. Gaz knew what Soap was trying to say, he had seen what some people said to those who were covered in gold, not as much as Soap but enough for it to make a difference. His mom had a half mask of gold from an accident his dad had when he was younger, the sympathy and disgust were evident. It aggravated him to no end and he knew it would be a bloodbath if someone said something to Soap about his own.
“You boys took your time.” Price’s voice echoed across the room as they entered, jolting both sergeants.
Soap lit up as he saw Ghost sitting off to the side wrapping his hands. “Oh, are ye joinin’ us Cap’n? L.T.?”
“Yes, seemed like a good way to pass the time while we wait for Laswell to decode the latest intel. Plus, we need to show these rookies what the standards are for the 141.” Price chuckled good-humouredly while said rookies huddled off to the side getting ready.
“Don’t lie Price.” Ghost piped up, eyes squinting indicating a smirk. “Nik is off base on a mission and you’re bored.”
“Why do you need to call me out on that Ghost, that’s insubordination, I could write you up for that.” Price replied scandalised, though the smirk twitching at his lips destroyed all notions of it.
Ghost rolled his eyes and stood, tapping Price on the back quickly. “You could, but you won't, because then you’d have to do all of my paperwork on top of yours, plus the paperwork for the disciplinary hearing and the paperwork for the mandatory therapy sessions for the people who have to deal with me after that.”
Soap and Gaz chuckled as they left their captain spluttering while they put their things aside.
“Alright, you muppets! Today you get to train with the 141!” Price called out, watching in amusement as all the new recruits scurried over to the ring. “I know this ain’t an official training day for you all but we’re going to treat it as such. I’ll pair you up with one of us and we will walk you through the steps. Lucky one of you standing at the end of the day gets to go one-on-one with Ghost here.”
Soap cackled loudly as he began to stretch, Gaz snickering from the other side as he too began his warmups causing Price to sigh. Soap and Gaz together when it came to alarming the rookies always gave him a headache, though, as he eyed the rookies, he could see some of them taking offence and straightening their spines. Good.
It wasn’t that much longer that Soap was facing two of the rookies and sweating. The vest he originally wore under his shirt was soaked, pulling uncomfortably at his skin and the long sleeved one was just as bad. With a grimace and a silent fuck it, he pushed up his sleeves, smirking at the double take his opponents took and used it to his advantage.
He dashed forward, leg hooking around one and swinging, shoving him off guard into the other one, toppling both with ease. He was up and on his feet in an instant, delivering a blow to the thigh in the exact spot he knew would cause the muscle to seize.
A muttered curse escaped the recruits lips as he went down with a pained grunt, hands flashing to his thigh as his partner tried to twist out and away from being the padding that protected the charlie horsed recruit. Soap couldn’t help but laugh as he stood back up, hand going to pull up the other recruit who was cursing at his partner under his breath.
“I’d say sorry ‘bout that, but I’m not. Ye both need to pay attention.” Soap started, ignoring the heavy gaze at his back. “Ye both got distracted by my marks, ye cannae allow that in real combat, not everyone covers them like we do and if they see ye distracted they’ll use that and ye will be another letter written home.”
Silence reigned around them at Soap’s words, not realising that the two before him weren’t the only ones listening, in fact, every recruit and his own team were too. Price was looking on with a quiet sort of pride, he knew his Sergeant was capable, smart and a very good teacher. it’s just he rarely got to see it, busy with his own duties and drills.
Price had also seen the slip in attention by a few people, their eyes even now flickering to the golden hue of Soap’s bared arms. One was completely tinted in a pale gold that shimmered softly in the light, the other had the familiar knicks and slices of blades and stitches.
Ghost clenched crossed his arms and leant back against the wall in forced relaxation as his eyes fixed on Johnny’s marks, his eyes tracing a familiar pattern that caused his throat to close and a knot to form in his chest. He clenched his hands tightly, frowning and shook his head, no, someone like Johnny couldn’t be his. Simon didn’t deserve someone as bright as Johnny and Johnny sure as fuck didn’t deserve someone like him.
No one deserved someone as broken and scarred at Simon.
He counted down the time till he could escape, till he could flee back to the room and let off some of this anxiety that was making his skin crawl as he held back the demons in his head by the skin of his teeth. Ghost trained the recruits and wiped the floor with them, he ran a critical eye over them; some would last, and some would not, but always his gaze returned to Johnny who was laughing.
In the end by the time training was over none of the recruits were able to stand or even continue. None of the 141 pushed them because this wasn’t a mandatory training session but one that was asked if they could have out of the 141’s spare time. Odd request that Johnny and Gaz couldn’t refuse and dragged Price into it the night before and Ghost couldn’t refuse.
“Alright you muppets did good, some of you better than others.” Price chuckled as he clapped a few still semi-standing on their feet.
Gaz smirked. “I reckon they deserve to see our Lieutenant here wipe the floor with our Soap here for all the bruises he caused.”
“Wait what!?” Soap spluttered, laughter cutting off in an instant. “Awe nae, L.T don’t wanna spar with me.”
“What, you afraid Johnny?” Ghost replied with a slow amused drawl.
Soap snapped his head around to Ghost and glared. He could see how tense Ghost was, could see how his eyes flickered to ever exit and the fact that his hands were clenched tight, Soap knew that Ghost was aching to leave, his peopling already at it’s max limit today after the last few brutal days post mission.
“Nae, I juist… ahh fuck it, don’t expect me to hold back.” Soap chuckled as both he and Ghost moved to the ring with all the mats, they had been using the standard floor ones for the recruits, but both always hit hard and fast, these at least would soften it to a ‘slam in the dirt’ compared to ‘slam in the concrete’ feel.
A feral smile pulled at Ghost’s lips, one that Soap could see with the harsh crinkle of his eye. “I would be disappointed in you Johnny if you did.”
Ghost and Soap grinned at one another, each circling around the small ring, both analysing each other’s movement. They both were too attuned to one another, both spending far too much time in the gym on late nights when neither one of them could sleep. Though Soap knew that he would never beat Ghost in a fair fight, fuck, he probably couldn’t beat the man in an unfair fight.
But something about this time seemed different and when he saw Ghost’s eyes flicker down as he moved his mostly marked arm up, as he watched those sharp dark coloured eyes follow it before locking on his face just as quick.
Realisation settled in. Oh, he’d never seen his marks before… How odd is it that Soap has never shared his marks with Simon besides the ones on his hands, and the same was said for Ghost, besides the one on his chin that niggled something in Soap’s mind.
His eyes widened as he jerked his head to the left, barely dodging Ghost’s strike in time before using that momentum to twist and send a debilitating elbow back towards his LT, one that was countered, and Soap hissed as he felt the knee ram into his side, followed by a punch to the face that sent him careening. Copper bloomed across his tongue.
A snarl tore from his lips as he shook away his thoughts and distractions, ignoring the pointed look Ghost sent him that Soap could easily read as a reprimand for being distracted after chastising the recruits for doing the same.
Pay attention, Johnny. Ghost’s eyes say.
The bared teeth in reply said: Away an bile yer heid, sir.
The recruits watched with wide eyes as the Sergeant known for his happy-go-lucky attitude turned into something different, something feral and as they watched The Ghost and Soap strike harder and faster, watched how brutal their actual training was – because all could see this was a regular occurrence from the bland faces of Sergeant Garrick and Captain Price – they were all thankful the 141 went easy on them.
A bark of laughter escaped Ghost as he dodged a swing only to grunt as Soap ducked the wide haymaker and grabbed Ghost around the midsection, lifting him in a suplex to throw, only Ghost twisted in the air, hands grasping shirt as he used the swing’s momentum to regain control and toss Soap instead.
“Fuck!” Soap wheezed as he collided with the floor, breath knocked out of him.
His blood was pumping, adrenalin sparking deep within at the rush. He ignored the sharp inhales as he got to his feet, hands coming up to rip the rest of his shirt away, there was no point in keeping it on when it was already ripped.
Ghost staggered as he took in the sheer amount of gold that littered Johnny’s exposed skin. Pale shimmering gold that speckled like stardust to the deep colour of melted gold. The vest barely hidt anything, but Ghost just knew that there were more hidden under it, dark ragged marks that he knew the shape by heart.
He didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to accept the fact that this man before him, Johnny… was his.
“Alright, that’s enough for today I think,” Price exclaimed loudly with a clap.
The recruits scattered easily, Price and Gaz approaching Soap with teases on their lips and giving Ghost the time to strategically flee, but even then, he could feel the heavy weighted gaze of Johnny on his back.
The panic clawed aggressively at his throat, choking him. He felt constricted, mask suffocating him for the first time in a very long time. If anyone asked Ghost later, he wouldn’t be able to tell anything about his trek from the moment he left the gym till he got back to his room, mask gone and dark eyes boring down at him in the mirror.
He trailed his eyes over the jagged scars that cut through his face, bisecting his lip and cutting through the light golden mark on his chin. It had been a very long time since he had stared at his marks besides the ones on his hands, been a long while he was able to face the ragged scars of his past.
Scarred bare fingers trailed over the scars on his torso, the vivid Y of his autopsy scar, the braided burn of rope around his neck, the deep V that tore through his ribs and every single bullet, burn and knife wound.
How could anyone bear the golden hues of these, of the sins of his mistakes?
He eyed the angry deep reds with unease until the fleck of gold starburst on his shoulder caught his eye.
There was no denying it, because he knew that scar, had personally tended to the wound that created the mark. Ghost staggered back till he was in his room once more, legs giving out on him the moment the edge of the bed hit his knees.
Hands curled up into tangled gold locks, pulling roughly at the strands.
Ghost, for once, didn’t know what to do.
When he was younger, before everything, Simon could remember being excited for a soulmate, for his first Mark to come in soft as pale as children aches and pains could cause. Till he saw the destruction they could make, till he grew and gained his own scars… till he was tortured with the fact that no soulmate of his would want him as scarred as he was… that they too would be disgusted covered in gold like he was red.
It ached in ways that Simon tried not to think on.
It ached till he met Johnny, and honestly that should have been the first clue, it should have alerted Simon that the Scot was different because no one else had bypassed the walls Ghost had built to protect himself long ago before.
“God fuckin’ damn it.” The words escaped in a choked gasp, tangled fingers gripping tighter and tighter as he fought off the panic.
Does Johnny know?
Would he care? Would he be disgusted?
Ghost couldn’t recall a time when Soap’s Soulmarks had been on display. Funnily enough, the Scot was always dressed fully, gloves on, face – now that he thinks about it – covered in the coverup the military supplies them very much like him besides the mask. There weren’t even details or images in the Scot’s files and if there were they were long removed by Laswell or Price before Ghost could see.
Around and around his head spiralled, dragging him deep into the depths of his mind.
He didn’t deserve Johnny, didn’t deserve that kind-hearted man who always seemed to read Ghost on his bad days, on his silent days and never pushed him. But… Ghost was also a selfish man and by god did he want.
“Ghost?” Johnny’s soft voice startled him from the other side of his door, hushed and concerned… it just made the pit in his stomach heavier. “Can I come in?”
There was no way in any universe that Ghost would say no. “Give me a moment.”
Ghost quickly pulled his shirt and his old worn balaclava back on before opening the door, stepping aside, and making sure that his exposed skin didn’t brush up against Johnny who had cleaned up but was wearing a well-loved tank top, Soulmarks on full display. When his eyes trailed up, he couldn’t help but inhale sharply as he took in all the gold across Johnny’s face.
Beautiful… Ghost’s mind whispered as he stared, the gold highlighted Johnny’s features, made his eyes sparkle like the finest sapphires inlaid in the purest metals. It stole his breath away, more so than what Johnny’s beauty always did.
“I think we need tae talk,” Soap started as he waited for Ghost to take him in. His hand came up to brush the tattooed forearm that was clearly on display for the first time since Soap had met Ghost, only to let it drop when the man before him pulled it close to his body in a defensive position.
Something curdled in Soap’s stomach, his eyes flicking up to see that there was something dark in Simon’s eyes, something fragile and it ached, oh how did it ache.
“Please don’t.” Ghost rumbled out, voice soft and weary, almost a plea.
Swallowing Soap nodded and moved further into the room and away from Simon, he took a seat in the small desk chair and waited for Ghost to move and make himself more comfortable, yet, as Soap continued to watch, to take in the usually confident man he noticed that Simon refused to meet his eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Ghost whispered, curling slightly as he took his previous spot on the bed. “I know… I know I’m probably not what you were expecting or…or wanting…”
“What?” The word was sharp and Simon flinched slightly, or more like he felt his eye twitch. “Yer bums oot the windae if ye think that.”
Ghost couldn’t help the instinctive reply. “English MacTavish.”
“Frankly Si, ye a fuckin’ eejit if you think that,” Soap replied dryly, eyes dark like a raging storm out at sea. “Why wouldn’t I want ye?”
The first signs of anger flared up in Ghost at those words, his eyes snapping to Soap’s who was glaring right back, face set in an incredulous stare.
“Why?” He spat out as he stood, yanking off his shirt with a swift move. “Look at me, just look at me, Johnny. I’ve been taken apart and reassembled so many times that I might as well be held together with silly string and hopes and dreams. Why would you of all people want someone so broken as me?”
Soap blinked and stared at Ghost who was heaving, hand clenching the shirt tight in his fist as he angrily gestured to the rest of him with the other. Soap glanced over the scars, scars he knew, scars he had loved since the very moment their golden counterpart popped up on his skin.
Standing abruptly Soap peeled off his top and let Ghost take in the soul marks fully, he stepped forward slightly into the man’s space, causing him to fall back onto the bed. “Ye think I would be horrified by this? That I would see these scars and what? Simon, I know every scar ye have, I don’t know the stories and I won't ask unless ye wanna tell me but Simon …”
Soap raised his hands and cupped Ghost’s cheeks, thumb brushing gently under one eye where he knew intimately a scar started. He waited and watched as a war flickered across Simon’s face.
Brown eyes met stormy-blue.
“I have loved you the moment the first golden flecks graced my skin, from the moment I knew I had a soulmate. I joined the military on a hunch, I pushed myself to become the best because you deserve the best.” Soap murmured, watching as disbelief and wonder fought in Simon’s eyes.
Ghost raised his shaking hands to his face and pulled off the mask, shaking off the anxiety it usually caused, inhaling sharply as Soap’s bare hand cupped his cheek. Sparks lit up across his skin, warming him to the very core, a soulbond confirmed.
“I don’t deserve this, Johnny. I don’t deserve you.” Ghost murmured as he grasped Johnny’s hips and pulled him forward till he was straddling him, unable to stop himself. “I’m not… I’ve never been good enough. I’m not strong…”
“If the next words out of your mouth are that yer not strong enough then I’m sorry Si but my marks say otherwise.” Soap growled out low, bringing Simon’s hand up his body slowly, over each-and - every mark while ignoring the trail of fire that was left in its wake.
Simon closed his eyes tight and pressed his forehead to the centre of Johnny’s chest. He could feel the steady beat of Johnny’s heart against his face, could feel the warmth of his skin radiate off him, he felt calm, he felt… safe… especially when Johnny wrapped his arms around him.
“Simon, you are the strongest man I know.” The words were whispered soft, honest.
Though Simon couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief, a sigh escaped Soap as he leant back to make Simon look at him again, staring deep into those eyes he loves so much. “My marks are the testament to that, you may look upon your scars as something to hate, as a reminded of your ‘weaknesses’ but to me… god Simon, look at me, I am dipped in gold, my body is a tapestry of your strength, and I cannot help but be in awe of you.”
“Johnny…” Ghost choked out, tears pooling and spilling over with each word, with each true word that was spoken.
Johnny truly believed what he was saying, he didn’t think that the scars he wore were signs of his failures, didn’t believe that they were a testament to how weak he was truly. No, this man before him nestled in his arms, holding him together and staring down at him with such emotion… truly believed that Ghost – no, Simon – was strong, was worth something more than a mere failure of a weapon.
He didn’t deserve a soulmate like Johnny, a man who was bathed in gold and haloed like a deity that he no longer believed in, but Simon would spend the rest of his wretched life on his knees worshipping and devoting every ounce of himself to prove that he can be… he will try.
He will try to prove that he was worthy to stand by Johnny’s side.
“I love you, Simon Riley.” Soap whispered thumb brushing over Simon’s lips before pulling him into a soft gentle kiss. “I have loved you since the gold flecks traced my lips like stardust, loved you from the moment I saw you on that tarmac not knowing you were my soulmate, and I will love you every day onwards.”
Ghost pulled him closer, tight enough that he was sure his arms would leave bruises but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let go of Johnny as he captured the man’s lips with his own, just as slow and just as gentle as the previous kiss and poured all his emotion into it.
They both pulled back with a gasp, Johnny leaning down to press his forehead to Simons.
“I love you too Johnny, from the moment you punched me in the shoulder, how could I not?” Simon confessed with a smile, widening it when Soap snorted. “I will love you till the end of my days and every day after, I’m yours.”
A wide sunshine smile, framed by gold. “And I’m yours.”
XX
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