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The idea wasn’t even his, in fact, no one seems to know where the sprig of leaves and berries came from. One morning it was just there, pinned to the doorway of the rec room, hard to miss as it dangled off the frame. No one took it down either, just chuckled at the sight and even honored the tradition when caught beneath with a fellow soldier. It was all a joke. To most anyway.
Not Soap.
To him, it became a mission. An obsession really. A chance to finally make a move on the man he’s been head over heels for since the day he met him.
The man that somehow keeps getting caught in that bloody doorway with everyone but Soap.
The first lucky bastard was Roach, the other sergeant walking in with Ghost the morning the mistletoe was discovered. Soap was already in there, chatting with a couple other soldiers about the new decoration when one of them barked out a laugh, pointing above the two newcomers. He turned to find them looking curiously at it, then each other.
“Go on, Sanderson” someone called amusedly. “Give our spooky lieutenant a kiss”.
Roach’s eyes sparkled with mirth above his mask as he leaned up on tip toe and pressed a kiss to Ghost’s equally covered lips. Ghost rolled his eyes fondly at the whoops they received as he and Roach headed to the kitchenette to make tea. The fuss died down quickly, everyone moving on except Soap.
He knew it was all fun and games and meant nothing to either of them, but it didn’t stop the white hot jealousy from boiling in his gut.
The next traitor was Gaz.
This one stung just as much, the sergeant always needling him for being too chicken to do anything about his feelings. It was the day after the first one and Gaz entered the room just as Ghost was leaving. Again, their fellow soldiers egged them on and Gaz smugly pulled Ghost down for a quick kiss. He patted the lieutenant’s shoulder before moving around him to plop down next to Soap on the sofa.
The Scot refused to look at him, pouting as Gaz chuckled at his dismay.
“Better get a move on,” he teased. “With the way it’s goin’, Ghost’ll have kissed half the base by Christmas”.
That doesn’t seem improbable either. Not 12 hours later, Price was caught with him, shaking his head as the soldiers around them cheered them on before pressing a firm kiss on his masked lips.
And it Just. Kept. Happening.
Various sergeants and privates would be entering or leaving the room and run into Ghost who would sigh and quickly mash his masked face to theirs.
It was great for morale, Soap will give him that. Everyone seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, but it ate away at him day and night.
What made it worse was that no matter what he did, Soap could never seem to catch Ghost there.
He didn’t let himself stand in the doorway. No matter how desperate he felt, there was no way he was going to be caught actively trying to catch Ghost. He’d never hear the end of it, but he did go to the rec room more often.
It never worked though. He did, however, seem to catch every single time Ghost was caught. It was like the damn plant had it out for him.
Which leads to tonight. Soap is sitting in the rec room, seething at the sprig mocking him. He wasn’t able to settle for bed, mind swirling with the images of Ghost snogging everyone but him. He’s just made his mind up to tear the damn thing down and maybe tie it to a grenade when a large shadow fills the doorway beneath it.
“Look like you’re about to kill someone,” Ghost muses.
Soap grumbles noncommittally, arms tensing where they’re crossed over his chest, as he looks away from the mistletoe down to where Ghost is leaned against the doorway beneath it.
He's wearing just a plain balaclava, a tee, and a pair of joggers. Much more casual than usual this late at night. Soap’s heart squeezes at how soft he looks.
“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” Ghost asks and Soap does his damndest not to blush at the question.
“Nothin’,” he grunts, tearing his gaze away from Ghost’s glinting eyes and down to the table in front of him.
“Nothin’, hm?” he replies, still standing in the doorway. “Seem pretty upset about ‘nothin’’. Sure it doesn’t have to do with the leaves you’ve been givin’ a death glare to the past week?”.
Soap’s blood runs cold at the accusation, but he keeps his composure, continuing to stare at the suddenly very interesting tabletop.
“Dunno what ye mean,” he replies stubbornly, fighting the urge to give the plant the exact look he mentioned.
“You sure?” Ghost presses, and Soap can see him look up at the mistletoe in his periphery. “You seem to really hate it”.
“Maybe I just think it’s all stupid,” Soap bites back, giving in and glaring at the leaves. “The whole bloody tradition”.
“That why you’ve been camped out here since it went up?”.
Soap swallows, anger giving way to fear. He looks back down at the table, hoping Ghost will grow tired of his game and leave him be.
The bastard doesn’t seem intent on that though.
Instead he reaches up and pulls the mistletoe off the doorway, twirling it between his fingers. Soap can feel his gaze heavily on him.
“There,” Ghost says simply. “Problem solved”.
Soap can’t fight off the frown that pulls at his mouth as his last chance to finally give in to his feelings is carried toward the bin.
“Wait!” he calls, standing quickly. Ghost stops, hand and mistletoe hovering over the trash.
He slowly trails his gaze up to Ghost’s face and finds his eyes smirking at him. Soap feels his face finally heat up, more embarrassment than desire.
“I don’t hate it,” he mumbles, wishing the floor would open and swallow him whole.
Ghost straightens up, looking at him curiously for a moment before slowly striding forward. Soap feels his heart rate quicken and swallows around the lump in his throat.
“No?” Ghost asks, stopping in front of him.
Soap looks up at him, chest tightening and a shiver of excitement running through him. He shakes his head.
“So if I were to-,” Ghost starts, raising the mistletoe into the air above them.
Soap bites his lip, glancing quickly down at Ghost’s covered lips and back to his knowing eyes. The Brit chuckles softly.
“Fuckin’ knew it,” he grins before lifting the mask and pulling Soap in.
His lips are soft. Soft and perfect as they move along his. Soap sighs into his mouth, tongue meeting his as Ghost deepens the kiss. It lasts what feels like forever and yet no time at all, but undeniably longer than any of the ones he had to watch.
Ghost pulls back with a grin, running his thumb across Soap’s lower lip.
“You know you could’ve just kissed me,” he snickers. “Didn’t have to torture yourself over it”.
“Ye could’ve said somethin’,” Soap pouts, hands curling tightly into his hips. “Then I wouldn’t have ta watch ye neck half the base”.
“Thought it’d get you to make a move,” Ghost shrugs. Soap’s eyes widen.
“Ye put it up?” he hisses. Ghost shrugs again.
“Like I said, thought you needed some encouragement. Didn’t think you’d somehow miss your chance every fuckin’ time”.
Soap shakes his head in disbelief. Luckily Ghost captures his lips again, hands running apologetically along his sides.
“It stays down,” Soap grumps when they part, glowering at the plant still in Ghost's hand. The older man laughs.
“It stays down,” he agrees.