Archive of Our Own ^beta

Everyone knew Soap Mactavish was a nose burying bitch.

Always sticking his nose into the air trying to figure out what's going on, or who did what. His explanation of course was to stay sharp and keep his information vital. As vital as knowing Alejandro’s preferred yogurt flavor to knowing Gaz’s favorite coworker.

It was usually pretty easy to give Soap something to work with and watch him run off with the information and leave the person he had been pestering alone for the next few hours.

But Ghost didn’t have luck.

He was convinced his luck ran out the last time he was buried alive and let the maggots crawl over his face, trying to dig into the skin of his cheeks and break through the fabric of his pants to try to get something sweet to eat while he dug himself out with the dead mans jaw. It was high time the lieutenant ran out of the sweet sweet sound of silence from the high cocky Sarge.

Las Almas. TF-141.

--“The mask,” Soap whined whilst Ghost positioned himself on a sniper on-top of the building, trying to stay focused and to get te other solider to his location to get the fuck out of dodge.
“Take it off.”
“Show my face?”

“Yes, Sir!”
Ghost felt his eyes roll in a high circle before he could control it, the rain soaking into his armor and wetting him like a rag under a sink. He was sure to get hypothermia, and would be surprised if his knives shown in the mercy of rain were to not get rusted by how long it was indulging in the humidity and tears of the clouds after they had watched the mass destruction of betrayal Shepard had inflicted.
“Negative.

“Are you ugly?”

Ghost felt a small smirk tug at the ends of his lips, pulling it into an uncomfortable wolfish grin. He felt his throat rumble, gruffing out his next words.
“Quite the opposite.”

From Las Almas on, the same question pestered the man, digging at his every thought whenever the man with the name of a hygiene bar was around.

“Take it off!”
“C’mon, You're insufferable.”
“If you're ugly, say so!” --

The questions burrowed a spot in the back of his brain more than he would like to admit.
He’s found himself snapping a few times.
As an example,
Ghost had walked into the canteen, grabbing his morning slop with an apple juice- He was lactose intolerant though some mornings he truly debated sending himself off to the restrooms for hours at a time and using it as a distraction, just to get away from the unendurable John “Soap” Mactavish’s hard questions taking up his precious time.

“‘Mornin Simon.”
Soap’s voice bloomed from behind him while he put his tray right next to Ghost’s. He felt his eyes stiffen to not roll and show his annoyance. Maybe he should’ve.

“Sergeant, Morning.”
Ghost grumbled out, pulling his balaclava up to rest on the tip of his nose to pop the straw of juice into his mouth, looking over as Soap made himself comfortable next to himself.

“So, About the mas-”

“Quiet before I make you, Mactavish. Eat.”

_______________________________________________
Ghost, Price, And Soap were at the training ground watching the new recruits train. A clipboard was stationed in Ghost’s gloved hands, writing down the names of Recruits he saw small potential in. Only a name or two names written onto the file.

Whilst he wrote the sounds of sudden yelling boomed in the air, snapping his head up to see Soap and a recruit, ‘ Eagle’, laying on the floor under their ‘Jungle gym’ Mechanic. Used to test if they could make it across without billowing to the floor.

It was made apparent that the recruit, was scared of heights.

And the 4 meters off the floor was not his favorite sight upon looking down.
Ghost dropped his board and Pen, jogging his way over though with his long ass legs it was made broken into more of a sprint.

“Move. MOVE!”
Ghost growled out to the small circle billowing around the two, crouching over the two men on the ground.

“Johnny, What happened? Get up- Both of you.”
He hissed, grabbing his teammates arm with a grip Hulk would be jealous of, instantly letting go of the hold whenever he saw the pained look morph on his face, getting down to pick him up by the waist.

“Maybe being 13 feet in the air while being scared isn't the best option’ laddy.”
Soap chuckled underneath his breath.

“Never does havin’ 165 pounds fall on yew’. Feels pretty bad actually.”

“Shut up.”
__________________________________________
Once to the infirmary Ghost could already tell something was wrong after the Sargent kept making low groaning and moaning sounds.

He keeps his hand on top of the other man's arm, watching over him.

“Should’ve let him fall, Mactavish. It's your own fault you’ve ended up in this spot.”

Ghost replied after the other man was done complaining and left at least 30 seconds of silence in between.

“I’m not like you, Simon.”
Soap grinned, looking over at him.

“Good.”

“Simon, grant me a last wish, “

Soap whispered, turning his head to look at Ghost with a half lidded look that should've been illegal, reaching out for him.
“Let me see-”

“Shut your mouth before my fist fills it.”
_________________________________________________________________
Tonight, people took leave to go home for thanksgiving. Not including Force 141.

Of course they groaned, But Ghost didn’t care, he didn’t have a home to go back to and he was perfectly content with that.
Soap, Was not.

Apparently neither was anyone else other than Price, who had just dropped the news like an atomic bomb to the buzzing crew….plus anti-social Ghost.
“Bullshit! Complete bullshit!”
Soap complained, pacing the barracks holding the rest of the force who though muttered, agreed with the outraged scot.

“Knobheads! Mate i’m fuckin’- God.”
Soap grumbled, sitting on the chest box holding Ghost's items, leaning back onto the bar while Ghost sat laid on his bed, trying to read to ignore the man having a panic attack over not being able to find a chick to bang.

“Cope.”

Ghost muttered, looking up at Soap through his blonde-painted-black eyelashes in amusement of the other man's face turning a hard red.
“Shut up before this book lands its way to gag yew’ silly.”
____________________________________________________
Soap was being difficult.

Using the time off of breaks just to press his buttons, finding out his threats were empty he indulged in it.

Finding ways to poke and taunt him, his small touch making Ghost’s skin flare in his face, his ears always burning the most.
He didn't like this feeling.

Ghost was sitting in the break room, watching Alejandro and Price play pool, Gaz and Rodolfo playing some poker game and trying to convince Ghost to join.

“Not my choice of entertainment lads,”
He used it as his getaway, letting himself exit outside to get a brief bit of fresh air.

“Simon! A pleasure.”

A voice rang out as he rounded the corner, his eyes meeting up to greet Mactavish.

God bless him a kentucky.
Or six.

“Johnny. Why’rent you inside?”
Ghost quizzed, walking over to lean on the wall beside the man, watching him.

“Nuffin’ to do is there other than listen to cards shufflin and balls smacking against carpet.”
Soap grinned, smacking the other man's shoulder. His hand resting on his arm maybe a minute too long.

Ghost didn’t mind.

He never would mind if it was his Johnny.

“Tell me more,”
Ghost grinned under the balaclava, taking the offered bourbon handed out of Soap’s hand. Maybe God was real.

He pulled his balaclava up, feeling watching eyes trace over his exposed skin, purposely taking a longer time to ingest the alcohol, letting some of the whiskey dribble onto his lips and looked back at the man, His face seemed a bit too red to just be alcohol. Maybe the weather.

“ You should keep your mask off more, Riley.”
Soap jokes, taking the bottle back as Ghost licked off the liquid, pulling the mask over his face again.

“Shut up Macta-”
“No.”

Ghost would be a liar to say he wasn’t surprised to hear the confidence the other man shared out loud, looking over at the man who obviously was talking out of his ass.

“You always talk such a big game, don’t you, Simon?”

The use of his way in such a sentence made his heart tremble.
“You never actually-”

Before he realized it himself, Ghost wrapped his hand on Mactavish’s jaw, feeling the man shiver under his touch while he looked up at him with such wide eyes.
Ghost grasped his shirt, spinning the two to where Johnny’s back hit the concrete wall, pushing his head forward to expose his neck, but still enough room for the two to make ‘comfortable eye contact.

“You're dense, John.”

Ghost muttered under his breath, watching in such an unholy manner as the man's lips slowly parted in front of him. He let go the grip on his shirt and pulled the balaclava up to his nose before smashing their lips together, the little whimper John let out sent heartbeats to Ghosts’ abdomen.

“Mm, shuctup.”
Soap murmured, throwing his arms around his shoulders, Ghost pulled away, shoving his thumb onto the mans tainted tongue, painted brown from the beverages he consumed moments before Ghost decided to fuck up his career.

“Isn’t that what I keep telln’ you?”