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Summary
Ghost cuts Soap a stare, one that would have a normal person running for the hills. But then again, John MacTavish has never been a normal person. Ghost fidgets on his feet, arms crossed as he turns his gaze back toward the batch of recruits they’re both running into the ground together. They’re a sloppy bunch, and while Ghost usually doesn’t get irritated with idiot privates, he finds he has no patience for them today.
"Keep it tactical,” Ghost growls.
“Nae, I mean it,” Johnny prods, stepping closer and peering at Simon like he can see his very red and irritated nose behind the fabric of his balaclava. “Did you not sleep well?”
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Or, Ghost gets sick and Soap takes care of him. Cue cuddling.
