Chapter Text
“Hey, Lt?”
Soap craned his neck back as he stretched, one eye open as he glanced over at the man beside him. He and Ghost sat side by side, only a few inches of space between them. They were both in their civvies, resting on a bench outside of the barracks building.
The Lieutenant took a drag of the cigarette between his lips, his mask rolled up to rest on the bridge of his nose. He exhaled, letting the smoke billow up in the air and be whisked away by the wind before he spoke.
“Johnny.”
The sergeant grinned at the sound of Ghost’s voice, thinking that broken glass had never sounded so whole. He got lost in the sound, mulling over the way Ghost’s accent curled sweetly around his name, to the point where it took a nudge from the man beside him to realize that Ghost was still waiting for him to speak.
He tried not to get lost in the feel of Ghost’s shoulder bumping into his, tried to ignore the searing heat the contact had erupting against Soap’s skin. Soap bumped the man back, as if he wasn’t itching to unzip Ghost’s chest and crawl right in.
“Just curious what you’ve got planned for leave, is all, sir.”
Ghost hummed around another lungful of smoke. That time he exhaled it through his nose. Soap likened the sight to that of a dragon. “Not a whole lot. Might head up north, I’ve got a cabin up by the border. Do some hunting if I feel like it.”
That little tidbit of information had Soap raising an eyebrow as he settled back against the bench. Both eyes opened to take in the Lieutenant.
“I didn’t know you liked to hunt. I learn something new about you everyday, it seems.” He huffed out a breath of a laugh as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
Ghost shrugged and finished off his smoke, crushing the smoldering butt against the metal of the bench. He flicked the butt into the grass, much to Soap’s chagrin. One of these days he’d get Ghost to stop littering his cigarette butts all over the place.
“It’s not that I enjoy it. It’s just the only option that far north.”
Soap furrowed his brow. “What, you don’t have any grocers up in the area?”
The other man shook his head as he rolled his mask back down. Soap mourned the loss. “Not a one. Closest shop is about an hour out.”
“Why stay there then?”
Ghost turned his head to look at Soap, brown eyes studying the sergeant. “It’s quiet. Nobody to bother me.”
If Soap didn’t know any better, he would assume Ghost’s statement was passive aggressive. Soap knew he talked an awful lot, and he knew that Ghost was less than extroverted. But he knew the Lieutenant. He knew that if Ghost truly wanted peace and quiet from Soap, he would say it to his face. Ghost didn’t waste time with hints and beating around the bush. The man was far too busy for that.
Besides, long gone were the days where Soap took offense to every little jab against him. He was a soldier, for Christ’s sake, he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did if he hadn’t developed thick skin.
“Why do you ask?”
“Huh?” Soap blinked.
Ghost huffed, as if annoyed with Soap’s lack of focus. Soap knew it was amusement instead of annoyance. The fact that he could read Ghost so easily had his ego swelling in his chest. “Why are you so curious about my plans?”
The sergeant shrugged at that. “Ach, just curious, is all.”
Silence descended upon their little bubble. It took Soap a moment to realize Ghost was just staring at him. He straightened up, unsure why. Luckily, Ghost didn’t make him wait long.
“Nah, that’s not it. You want to ask me something,” he hummed as he pulled out another cigarette.
It took Soap by surprise. He’d gotten so good at reading Ghost, yet it always came as such a surprise when Ghost could so easily read him. Because yes, Soap had been angling the conversation towards a question.
He felt his cheeks heat up, a little flustered at having been caught out so easily. He puffed out a breath and ran his hands over his hair, his fingers, combing through the longer strands of his mohawk.
“Y’ken, it’s right creepy when you do that, Ghost,” he chuckled.
Ghost continued staring him down, blinking slowly the way he did when he knew he was being bullshitted. Apparently Soap’s deflection was not appreciated.
“Out with it, Sergeant, we don’t have all night. I’m headin’ back in after this smoke. You’ve got until then to convince me to do whatever you’re about to ask me to do.”
Soap froze, eyes wide. He… that certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting. Still, at least it gave him an opening.
He took a deep breath to steel himself. “I was wondering if you’d like to come back home with me. For leave. Just for a bit.”
Honestly, it shouldn’t have disappointed Soap as much as it did, seeing Ghost so wholly unaffected by his request. Of course, he should have expected it, considering he asked Ghost to go home with him every leave. Ghost had yet to say yes.
“I just told you I have a secluded cabin in the middle of Bumfuck, England because I enjoy the peace and quiet. What makes you think I’d want to stay in a house full of MacTavishes?”
The question wasn’t cruel by any means. Soap picked up immediately on the teasing lilt of the Lieutenant’s voice.
In fact, Soap cracked a grin. He recognized the question for what it truly was; Ghost was giving him the chance to explain, in detail, why he should go to Scotland with Soap. And talking was Soap’s specialty, so there was no way he could fail this challenge.
“I’m glad you asked, sir. First and foremost, quite possibly the most important reason, in my opinion, is that I will be there.” Soap smirked and threw a wink in Ghost’s direction.
Ghost scoffed and shook his head. “Makin’ me think you’re just trying to reverse psychology me to keep me out of your precious homeland.”
“No, really! Alright then, well how about… fishing? I ken you go with Price every once in a while, and I’m sure my da would appreciate a fishin’ buddy.”
“What, you don’t go out with your old man?” Ghost draped an arm over the back of the bench, directly behind Soap’s shoulders. The warm line of the Lieutenant’s arm soaked into his back, spreading out over his shoulders and down his spine. He was powerless to stop the shudder that ran through his body.
He shook his head in response to Ghost’s question. “Nah, not really my thing. I’ve tried it plenty, but I’m just not built to sit still for that long, I guess.”
“Says the world-class sniper,” Ghost snorted, halfway through his cig.
Soap huffed and reached over, smacking his shoulder. “Away with ye! I can sit still when it’s actually important. It’s just difficult for me to stay in one position if it’s not a life or death situation, you ken?”
“I know, Johnny, I’m just messin’ with you,” Ghost rumbled out. His arm shifted and Soap had to refrain from sucking in a breath when the Lieutenant began stroking his gloved thumb over Soap’s shoulder.
Sinking into the feeling, Soap closed his eyes. It wasn’t very often Ghost offered his touch so casually. Honestly, it was rare that anybody in the military did. Most of the guys Soap worked with were obsessed with maintaining their “macho man energy” or whatever the fuck it was.
That didn’t matter much to Soap, at least not until he got to the Task Force. He joined up and Gaz was the first to start offering up friendly touches. Price joined in soon after and Soap became painfully aware of exactly what he had been missing out on.
Now, with Ghost’s hand on him, it was almost agonizing. Still, he’d rather deal with the unfamiliar tingles that felt like needles stabbing into his skin than the cold aches he’d dealt with all his life.
“Johnny?”
Soap blinked his eyes opened and just barely twisted his head in Ghost’s direction. “Hmm?”
“Y’alright?”
Ah, bless that man. Soap couldn’t remember when a person had been so observant of him. That was another thing he loved so much about Ghost. Despite Soap’s penchant for rattling on and on, he’d go quiet occasionally. Sometimes talking was just too much, or other times he’d realize nobody was paying attention to his stories and he’d just trail off.
Ghost always noticed. He always noticed and he always checked in or encouraged Soap to keep going. He can’t count how many times he’s trailed off only for Ghost to grab his attention and demand he continue the story. It made him feel important. Seen.
So of course he’d notice when Soap went quiet that time. For once, it wasn’t because of any negative reason. No, he was just greatly enjoying the feeling of Ghost’s warm hand on his shoulder. Gods above, he wished Ghost would keep his hand there forever.
“Aye,” Soap reassured.
Ghost hummed. “You gonna keep trying to convince me then?”
To both of their surprise, Soap shook his head and leaned back, pressing into Ghost’s arm on the back of the bench.
“Nah. Come if you want or don’t.” He shrugged and closed his eyes again. As much as he would love for Ghost to come up to Scotland with him, he wouldn’t be annoying about it. Besides, he decided he’d rather just sit in silence and enjoy the feel of Ghost touching him.
~~~
Soap did not end up convincing Ghost to accompany him. The next day, after Ghost had given him the coordinates of his cabin “in case of an emergency”, the two parted after breakfast. Ghost clambered into his rusted, beat-up old pickup while Soap had Price cart him to the nearest train station.
He boarded the train and settled into his seat, trying not to think about Ghost being so close yet so far. He said his cabin was up by the border. He’d be only a few hours away from Soap. It would be so easy for Soap to get off the train early and find his way to Ghost’s cabin…
No. No, he couldn’t do that. Not only was his family expecting him and he really did not want to let them down, but he wasn’t about to ruin Ghost’s trust. The man had trusted him with the location of a cabin only Ghost and Price knew about. He wasn’t about to show up at his doorstep because he was feeling a little lonely.
Soap had enough self-restraint for that. He’d stay on his train until the right stop, then he’d get off and pick up the vehicle he’d rented. After that, it was up to his parents’ house, where his mam and da and his sisters and their husbands and their children were all waiting for him.
~~~
“John boy! There ye are, was wonderin’ when ye’d be showin’ up!”
Soap’s father let him into the house, immediately snatching the bags out of his son’s hands. He tried to protest, tried to make a grab for his luggage, but his father waved him off and shuffled off before the man could get another word out.
He just huffed and shook his head. MacTavish Senior had always been a kind man, always wanting to help out everybody that walked through his doors. Apparently, that kindness extended to his only son, who was more than capable of carrying his own bags up a single flight of stairs.
Still, he supposed he’d let the old man have that one, nevermind the fact that Soap physically couldn’t stop his father.
Soap moved further into the house, loudly announcing his arrival. It only took a moment before the house exploded into madness.
His mother was the next person to greet him, immediately grabbing his face and yanking him down to kiss him on the cheeks. The motherly affection had his face burning as his sisters came stampeding in after her.
“Oh my lovely boy! He’s finally back home! Oh, we’ve just been worried sick for ye, love, we’re all glad to see you safely home.” Mama MacTavish cooed and preened over her son, checking him over for any injuries he might have hidden from her. She always was such a worrywart.
Soap grumbled and pulled away from his mother, brushing himself off. His entire body burned with mortification. He was a grown man! He didn’t need his mother fussing over him. “Away, ye weapon! I’m fine and healthy, there’s no need for you to go coddlin’ me, aye?”
“Christ, John,” Blaire, the heavily pregnant middle child of the family, cut in. “Just let the woman fuss, she hasnae seen ye in forever.”
The eldest child, Fiona, nodded as she leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. “Aye, especially after the last thing we heard about you was you landing in the hospital yet again.”
The sergeant huffed and ducked his head, conceding. His sisters had a point; he had ended up in the hospital about a month ago. It wasn’t anything serious, just a bullet wound, but Price had informed his parents about the injury. Soap might have forgotten to let them know when he was released, all the way until he called them up asking if he could come up for his leave.
They’d agreed immediately, although they were all none too pleased to have been left in the dark about his health for so long.
“Och, you’re right. Sorry, mam. I missed you.” He reached out and pulled his mother in, tucking her against his chest. Even after all these years, it still felt strange to be taller than his mother.
But that didn’t matter. Mama MacTavish hugged her son tight, no doubt trying to make up for the lack of affection since he’d last been home.
After their greetings, Soap was ushered upstairs to get settled in and rest. Normally, Soap would jump at the chance to nap after being stuck on the train and in a car for several hours, but for some reason he was just feeling particularly antsy.
He laid in his childhood bed, still adorned with his black-and-white football sheets, and stared up at the ceiling. After several moments of that, he turned onto his side with a sigh and tucked an arm under his pillow. He closed his eyes and attempted to nap.
The attempt did not work.
After fifteen minutes of absolutely nothing in terms of sleep, Soap grunted in irritation and opted to just occupy himself with his phone. He was going to pass the time one way or another, especially after his mother had threatened him with physical violence if he did not rest.
Unable to sleep, that left scrolling through his phone. He checked his messages first, reacting to something stupid Gaz had sent and replying to Price’s message. He let the Captain know he made it home alright.
The lack of a message from Ghost had his chest tightening in an odd way. He frowned as he tapped on their chat. The last thing that had been sent was an image of a 101 Horrible Dad Jokes to Tell at Christmas Dinner book with the caption “I swear to god I’ve seen this in your room before”.
It hadn’t been answered, but Soap did send it while Ghost was on his latest solo op, so he figured he’d give the guy a pass. Considering that was over a week ago at that point, Soap had feelings about being left on delivered.
Of course, there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. Ghost wasn’t talkative on his better days. Soap really shouldn’t be taking it to heart that the man didn’t respond to his text. It also had Soap wondering if he should reach out first.
Maybe Ghost had made it to his cabin and was simply too tired to check in. Yeah. He was probably just tired. Soap would send him a text and he could respond when he woke up. Or… whenever. Soap told himself he wouldn’t take it personal if that text went unanswered as well. Ghost did say his cabin was pretty far out there. There was a good chance he might not even have service.
Oh god .
Soap scoffed and sat up, roughly scrubbing at his face. He had it bad, didn’t he? Even the notion of Ghost ignoring his texts had his stomach in knots. He needed to find something to occupy his mind that wasn’t the Lieutenant.
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.
Once Soap deemed it an appropriate time for him to go downstairs, he emerged from his room. He made his way down the stairs and entered the living room, giving his sister Blaire a loving pat on the shoulder. Blaire didn’t seem to appreciate it as she huffed and harshly swatted at her brother’s hand.
Soap hissed and jerked his hand away, scowling. “Oi! The hell was that for?”
“Keep yer hands to yerself and ye wouldnae get smacked.” Blaire shrugged and returned to the crochet project he was working on. It looked like a blanket to Soap, but he wasn’t about to risk a pregnant woman’s ire by asking and potentially getting it wrong.
He just huffed and moved further into the living room, searching for a spot to sit. “Fine, Chrissake.”
Soap scanned the room. Blaire was settled on the couch with their mam while Fiona and their da had taken the recliners in the room. There was a bit of space on the couch, but after the way Blaire had reacted to a pat on the shoulder, Soap wasn’t too keen on shoving himself up against her entire side.
He opted to settle on the floor. He didn’t mind. The floor tended to be far more comfortable than some chairs and couches anyway.
“Where are the weans, then?” Soap asked as he leaned his back against the couch, his head tilted back to rest next to his mother’s leg.
His mother responded as she reached down to card her fingers through his hair. “Ian’s taken them down to the park for a mo’. Figured ye’d be tired, didnae want them jumpin’ all over ye, love.”
A dopey grin spread on Soap’s face. His mother really was the only person in their family that gave touch like that, so casually. Blaire was at that stage in her pregnancy where everything ticked her off and Fiona had just never enjoyed being touched by anybody. Their father, while he did love his family, had just never been very tactile.
So he soaked up his mother’s attention, sighing happily at the feeling of her fingers scrubbing at his scalp. It sent pleasant tingles through his scalp and down his spine, spreading out into his toes and fingers.
“John!”
Soap jolted and his eyes flew open, searching for the source of the shout. His gaze landed on Fiona, who was staring at him expectantly.
The man opened his mouth for the oh-so-elegant response of “Wuh?”
Fiona snorted and rolled her eyes. “Christ alive, John, we’ve said yer name like three times. What’s got ye thinkin’ so hard over there?”
“Not thinkin’,” Soap muttered, cheeks going red. So damn starved for affection he let his mother running her fingers through his hair affect him so bad. Some elite soldier he was, with his years of spatial awareness training, if he got startled by his sister calling his name.
Something negative must have shown in his expression, because the teasing look in Fiona’s eyes disappeared. Her lips turned down into the faintest hint of a frown. “Y’alright, John? You seem a touch out of it.”
Soap was suddenly very aware of all the eyes in the room on him. He tried not to shrink into himself any more than he already had, not wanting to give them another reason to worry for him. They’ve already done plenty of that.
Besides, he was fine. He truly didn’t even need their concern. “Aye, just tired. Wasn’t able to nap as long as I’d’ve liked.”
The fingers were back in his hair and he had to force himself not to sink into the touch again. “Ye sure, child? We’d prefer if ye went up and rest if you could.”
“I’m sure, ma.” Soap tilted his head up to look at his mother. “I may be tired, but I’d much rather be down here, spendin’ time with you.”
The woman didn’t look convinced, a tight purse to her lips and a slight furrow to her brow. She looked like she wanted to insist, but instead she just hummed and nodded. “Alright, if yer sure, lovey.”
Soap’s less than present state was forgotten only a moment later, when the front door slammed open. A whirlwind of activity swept through the house and it wasn’t long before Soap was dogpiled by a small swarm of children.
The shrieks of joy damn near deafened him, but he laughed anyway, trying to scoop as many of his nieces into his arms as he could. They were all talking over each other, each of them trying their hardest to gain their uncle’s attention.
Eventually, the noise became too much and Soap started extracting himself from the pile. “Alright, ye rascals! Lemme up, lemme get a good look at yous.”
The children immediately fell into a neat line, all of them standing at attention. Or, at least it was their best attempt at standing at attention. Soap beamed at their attempt anyway, pleased they remembered something from his previous visits.
There were four children altogether, all four of them little girls. The first two were near-identical copies of Fiona and himself while the other two took after their father with sandy-brown hair and green eyes.
Soap stood back and rubbed his chin, as if he was thinking real hard about the acceptability of their formation. The girls giggled as they stood there. Eventually, Soap nodded and broke into a grin.
“At ease, little soldiers.” Soap eased himself back onto the floor, the girls much less eager to clamber all over him.
The youngest of the girls scurried forward, plopping herself down in her uncle’s lap. Soap grabbed onto her and tugged her close. “Ahh lookit ye! Why, Maisie, you’ve grown so much since I’ve last seen you!”
The girl, Maisie, shrieked with joy. She couldn’t have been any older than five or six.
“Uncle John, look at this! It’s all full now!” One of the girls that looked more like Fiona pushed her way to the front, shoving a sketchbook in Soap’s face.
Soap tutted at her and gently pushed the sketchbook down out of his face. “Oi, easy, Meredith. Don’t worry, lass, I’ll get to you, promise. Give me a mo’, yeah?” His reprimand was gentle, knowing how sensitive that particular niece could be. He understood on a deeper level as he was the same way.
Meredith pouted and looked smidge dejected, but she nodded and settled on the floor next to Soap, keeping a tight grip on her sketchbook. Only once he was finished greeting his youngest niece did he turn his attention to the other girl.
The other two, Elsie and Isla, sat off to his other side, perfectly content to sit there quietly. Elsie was clinging to his arm while Isla perched about a foot away. Soap recalled that Isla, the oldest of the girls, took after her mother in terms of more than looks and preferred not to be touched. That was alright, Soap was perfectly happy to interact with her in other ways.
As Meredith flipped through her sketchbook, showing her uncle all her child-like drawings, their father stepped into the house, cradling a baby to his chest. He nodded down at Soap and Soap returned the nod.
The rest of the evening passed like that, Soap sitting on the ground playing with his nieces. They had insisted on playing “Soldier” with him, which meant he had to find a way to severely water down his military training.
And that was how he found himself sneaking through the house with the girls, startling their various family members– Blaire being the exception– and being overall menaces.
His parents, bless their hearts, pretended to be caught off guard by a particularly noisy approach. As Elsie latched onto her grandad’s leg, Soap’s phone chimed in his back pocket.
It was quite pathetic, really, the way he immediately stopped to check it on the off chance that Ghost had responded to his message.
He really shouldn’t have been surprised to see it was from Gaz. Still, despite the obvious outcome, he couldn’t help but slump in disappointment. He had to remind himself that Ghost probably didn’t have service. And honestly, even if he did, Ghost didn’t owe Soap anything.
But he missed him. Soap missed Simon .
“John? Alright there, son?”
Soap looked up at his father, who had scooped Maisie up into his arms. He nodded. “Aye.”
“Ye don’t look it.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Just hopin’ to hear from somebody, nothin’ to worry about, da. Really.”
Of course, that got his mother’s attention. “Oh? Who’s this somebody, then?”
“Really, ma?” Soap snorted and shook his head. “It’s just somebody I work with, don’t go gettin’ your hopes up.”
The woman pouted, clearly not satisfied with his response, but she had enough good sense not to push it. She knew full well how stubborn her son was. If he didn’t want to talk about something, he wouldn’t.
Shortly after, Fiona and her husband, a nice bloke named Darren, gathered their children. The girls had school in the morning, Fiona explained. Of course, that went over about well as you’d expect. The three younger girls all clung to Soap’s legs and arms, weighing the man down and crying about how they didn’t want to leave. Isla looked disappointed, but she didn’t join in her siblings’ clinging and crying.
“Och, hush now, bairns.” Soap’s mother shushed them and started ushering them away from Soap. “Ye’ve got to run along now. Ye’ll be able to see yer Gramma and Grandda and Uncle John another day, aye?”
Nobody dared argue with Mama MacTavish. All four girls whined and pouted, but they all nodded and sounded an affirmative. Goodbye hugs and kisses were given around to the girls before they were whisked away to head home, leaving Soap alone with his parents and Blaire, who had started dozing on the couch.
Soap was exhausted. An evening of entertaining his nieces paired with a completely restless afternoon did not bode well for his energy levels. He lifted a fist to his mouth to stifle a yawn.
“I think I’ll be heading up now.”
His mother turned to him and immediately swept him into a hug. “Alright, lovey. Get some rest, I’m sure ye’ve had a long day.”
Soap nodded and gently tapped his head against his mother’s before pulling away. He said his goodnights before heading up the stairs to his childhood bedroom. His old football sheets and trophies and posters kept him company as he failed to settle into sleep.
~~~
Soap very quickly remembered why he rarely stayed with his parents on leave.
The next few days were hectic, to say the least; sleep seemed to evade him at every turn and his entire family occupied the house more often than not. His nieces demanded his attention every moment they were there and Fiona did nothing to curb their behavior even when it was obvious Soap was tired .
As much as he hated to admit it, but Ghost was wise to not accept his invitation. He was fried after three days, he could only imagine how his introverted Lieutenant would handle his energetic family.
Speaking of Ghost, the man had yet to answer Soap’s texts. Soap refused to admit that that might also be a contributing factor to his souring mood. It took everything in him to not be upset with the man.
He was getting twitchy, too. Not hearing from Ghost, the lack of sleep, and the all day everyday sensory overload was getting to him.
Another sleepless night was passing like molasses. Soap laid in bed, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and resisting the urge to fucking scream. His chest and throat felt tight and he could hardly breathe. He forced steady breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth.
His entire body felt like a livewire, like he was primed for an explosion. He needed to go somewhere, needed to do something that wasn’t sitting in his parents’ house all day. The way he felt, it was laughable that he was actually excited for this leave. He should have known his restless nature wouldn’t have allowed him to relax, not in that environment.
Soap was moving before he could register it. He was disconnected, his body was moving without the input of his mind. It was strange, made him feel all disoriented.
His feet carried him down the hall and down the stairs. Years of stealth training and walking those very stairs ensured he skipped all the creaky steps. He made it to the bottom and grabbed his jacket off the coat hook.
He slipped the jacket on and tucked his phone in the pocket. His fingers closed around the keys of his rental and he was out the door before he could mentally catch up.
It was probably dangerous to drive when he was feeling so floaty, but he didn’t have the brainpower to consider that.
Soap got into the car and pulled out of his parents’ driveway.