Chapter Text
When Ghost opened the file, a contract looked back at him. He frowned, picking it up, then turned it around for Price to see. “You assigned a sub under me?”
Price nodded. “Demolition’s expert, sniper, the works. Reliable, self-sufficient. The contract is a formality, the man’s solid.”
Ghost hummed. He slid the contract back into place, flipping through the other pages. Clean bill of health, passed psych, not a single note of concern listed. Closing the file, he checked the photo. “John ‘Soap’ McTavish” was scrawled neatly over the back.
“Concerned?” Price asked, looking up at him properly now.
Ghost shrugged. “Out of practice I think. Haven’t had a sub on my team in years.”
Price laughed. “That’s because you scare them off.”
Ghost wanted to protest, but he wasn’t wrong.
Price stood, clapping him once on the back. “Not to worry. Soap’s made of stronger stuff. It’s a good fit.”
Ghost let out a long exhale, but he had no real reason to complain. He needed a demolitions expert and this one came highly recommended.
___________________________
The man did not disappoint. A living bundle of energy with an easy smile. When Ghost had pulled him aside, had introduced himself, Soap didn’t even flinch, shook his hand just as firmly.
“Questions or concerns?” Ghost asked him.
Soap shook his head.
Men were filing onto the helicopter, gear on and mission ready. He and Soap would be the last to load up.
“Good. Are you collared?” Ghost asked. He knew the answer already, his interest more in wanting to initiate a larger conversation.
Ghost did not miss the way Soap’s smile froze, turning only the tiniest bit stale. He was good, Ghost thought. Only someone trained would have noticed the change.
“No, sir,” Soap said. He must have known where this was going, holding his body just the tiniest bit stiffer, pulling himself up just a bit straighter.
Ghost marked all of these changes. Instead of stepping up to the posturing, Ghost let himself relax some, softening his stance. “Then I’m your assist out in the field as needed. I’ll follow your lead.”
A look of relief flashed across Soap’s face, so quick Ghost could have convinced himself it was imagined. But he hadn’t missed it, wondered how hard Soap fought to prove himself on a daily basis in this line of work. Even if none of the other men were allowed to know the statuses of their squad mates, sometimes all it took was a nasty commander to make you need to prove yourself over and over again.
Satisfied, Ghost nodded him towards the helicopter, watching Soap load up with the rest of them.
“So?” a voice called. Price, settling next to him.
“About ready,” Ghost said. Now that his whole team was aboard, they would just be waiting on him.
“And the boy?” Price asked.
Ghost paused, not quite sure how to answer that. He had a feeling, but he hadn’t sorted it out yet, hadn’t put it into context.
Price gave him a knowing look. “Tell me,” he said.
Ghost hummed. “Not sure yet, but I’ll keep you updated.”
_____________________________
Uncollared, but maybe the man had partners, Ghost thought.
Soap was charismatic, well liked. Ghost saw the way people were drawn to him. He had friends, was never alone. Certainly didn’t ask Ghost for help, meaning there had to be at least someone helping him to regulate.
At the base, he was easy to coach, ready to assist. In the field, that kindness lingered. That wasn’t necessarily something to attribute to his dynamic, but Ghost could see the way it weighed on him.
“Wonder what had happened to them.”
Ghost was fairly certain Soap hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but now the statement hung in the silence of the destroyed room.
A hum. “Best not to ask questions like that, Soap,” he said, voice equally quiet. Ghost reached around him, pulling the small family photo from his fingers, setting it picture-side down on the table.
Soap wasn’t alone though. When Ghost looked around this room, he could see it too. Could picture a family living here, the child from the photo, giggling as she ran to her mother. He just chose not to think about what had happened next.
He could see the line in Soap’s shoulders, the tensing of muscles as he looked around the room. This had been a tough deployment, and extraction was a while out still. “A gentle heart will get you killed out here. Best keep it for your men only. The rest will just have you distracted.”
“Good advice,” Soap murmured.
They left the room, the both of them quiet, minds still stuck on the photograph, on the family that had been displaced due to all this violence.
That was the first time Ghost had noticed the tiny waver in Soap’s careful composure.
_______________________________________
It started slowly at first, so slowly that Ghost could have convinced himself it wasn’t happening at all.
It began with flagging smiles when no one was looking. Turned into slipping out earlier and earlier at group events. On a night that Soap didn’t show at all, a rare night off that everyone was taking advantage of, Ghost marked that it had been a particularly hard time in the field for all of them.
Ghost stuck around for a while. Liked being amongst his men, even if he didn’t actively join. Hearing their stories, their complaints, helped him understand their needs, anticipate how to help them.
Price caught him as he was getting ready to go. “Everything good?”
Ghost wasn’t sure how to answer that. He couldn’t get rid of a nagging feeling that something was wrong, that he was missing something important. Soap looked so visibly uncomfortable whenever the topic of his dynamic came up, Ghost didn’t want to push him away further by broaching the topic.
Price knew Ghost too well, though. “Soap?” he asked.
Ghost only hesitated for a second, then nodded.
“Didn’t scare him off yet,” Price mused.
“Maybe it’s just not a good fit. Happens some times.” Happened often, Ghost knew he was a hard person to fall in line under on the best of days. But his men listened, and when they did, they came back alive.
“Want me to talk to him?” Price asked.
“Best if you did,” Ghost allowed, trying to ignore how the admission stung at his ego. “Doesn’t want to talk to me about it.”
Price looked mildly surprised. At least it hadn’t just been Ghost who was taken off guard by the situation.
“I’ll catch him tomorrow,” Price promised.
_______________________________________
Price pulled Soap aside at breakfast. It looked friendly enough, both of them smiling.
The next day told a different story. A knock sounded at Ghost’s office door, curt and sharp. When Ghost opened it, Soap stood there, practically vibrating in his anger. Ghost nodded him inside. The room was private enough, a space just for Ghost. A privilege of being a Dom, being provided with an area to take subs if needed.
When the door clicked shut, Soap slapped a paper down onto Ghost’s desk, his look venomous.
Ghost sighed, rounded the desk to sit, picking it up. He looked up at Soap, surprised. “They sent you to Psych?”
“As if you didn’t know,” Soap practically spat out.
Ghost’s surprise left him. A low, careful anger settling into his gut. He leaned back in his chair, resting an elbow on the arm.
“Go on then,” Ghost said, his voice low. Controlled. “Get it out.”
Soap’s anger did not leave him, but he swallowed. Forced his back straight. “Had it out for me because I never came to you. You can’t treat me like right shit because I won’t kneel.”
Ghost said nothing, didn’t stop him. This was the closest they had ever come to having a real conversation about their dynamics since having met.
“I’ve had to work hard to be where I am,” Soap pushed. His voice was rising, but he caught himself, sucking in a deep breath before clenching his teeth, pausing a moment. When he looked back up at Ghost, there was so much frustration there. “And I have faced harder, and worse than you. And when I survive you, I won’t look back for a single second.”
A tense silence filled the room, but Ghost wasn’t angry. Sure, every part of him screamed to cuff Soap, to lace into him. He was Soap’s superior, not someone to be spoken to like that.
But Soap wasn’t angry with Ghost. That much was very apparent.
“Have I ever pushed you to kneel?” Ghost asked finally.
Soap flushed, shifted. “No, but that isn’t the point.”
“Isn’t it?”
Soap began pacing some, eyes fixed to Ghost. “I know it’s because I won’t kneel that I got strapped with this bullshit.”
“Who signed off on the request?” Ghost asked. He already knew the answer, wanted Soap to say it.
Soap bristled. “Means nothing. You could have asked him to.”
“Ask me if that’s what I did,” Ghost said. There was a hard edge to his voice, a challenge.
Soap paused in his pacing. He stopped, turned to look at Ghost. Soap no longer stood up straight, had finally burned through all of that energy, that anger. He didn’t ask, but Ghost couldn’t even count that as a tiny victory, not when what Soap was left with was this immense exhaustion.
“What did Psych say?” Ghost asked, gesturing to the paper.
“Mandatory thirty minutes with a Dom daily,” Soap said, his voice low now, flat.
“A Dom,” Ghost repeated. “Who will you be reporting to?”
Soap shot him a dirty look, like the answer was obvious. It wasn’t though. Ghost was his emergency Dom, assigned to him if he had no one left. Soap didn’t have to see him at all.
When Ghost reminded him of that, Soap snorted. “I don’t want anyone here to know of my dynamic.”
“Price knows. He could take you in.”
A silence. A long one. “Don’t know him,” Soap said finally, his eyes cutting to the side. He folded his arms across his chest, refusing to look at Ghost.
Ghost sighed, reached into one of his drawers and pulled out Soap’s file. From it, he took out Soap’s contract. He set it down, along with a pen. “This is a professional relationship assigned to you under circumstances you can’t control and don’t want,” Ghost said, pushing the paper across the desk for Soap. “Have a seat. Review this with me. Please,” he said, adding the last bit after he saw the way Soap had tensed.
There was another long silence. For a second, Ghost was afraid that Soap was going to walk out, that he was going to leave like this. But slowly, he took a step forwards. Then another. When he sat, it was on the edge of his chair, as if that was the only way he could force himself to stay.
Soap paused, picking up the pen. He looked over his list. Three columns, “yes”, “no”, and “maybe”. He pulled the paper close. Hesitating, he underlined a single item, then crossed out the rest of them one by one. When he finished, he looked back at Ghost, as if daring him to say something about it. When Ghost didn’t, Soap pushed the paper towards him, crossing his arms over his chest.
Underlined was “kneeling” under “yes”, the only thing left on the page. It didn’t matter what the other “yes” items had been, they were very clearly in the “no” column now.
Ghost nodded. He looked up at Soap. “Safe words?”
Soap swallowed. “Light system.”
Ghost nodded, picked up the pen. He added that to the top of the page.
“Collar?”
“No,” Soap practically forced the word out between clenched teeth.
Ghost wrote it down.
“Subdrop Care?”
An odd look flashed over Soap’s face, uncertain. Like no one had ever asked him that before. “Blanket, water. Don’t touch me unless I ask,” he said.
Ghost didn’t like that answer, said nothing though. “Preferred food items?”
“Is this necessary?” Soap asked, falling heavily back into his seat.
Ghost tried not to be frustrated. Pushed it down. “Yes. These questions aren’t just for you, Soap. I don’t want to be in a position where I can’t support you if something happens.”
Another odd look, almost like confusion. “Um. The mess has these snack bars.” He described them to Ghost, something easy enough to find if you knew who to ask.
They went through another couple of questions. Ghost made note of each of them, wrote them in around the crossed off columns. Preferred names during play. Expectations for each check in. Soap made it very clear he wouldn’t kneel for Ghost, would kneel at the edge of the desk. Ghost wrote down each point.
When Ghost’s list of questions was exhausted, he paused, looking up at Soap, waiting. When nothing else came, Ghost set the pen down.
“I have some boundaries I want to set,” he said, keeping his tone and expression neutral. That didn’t stop Soap from tensing, from looking suspiciously at him. “We will meet here, thirty-five minutes before we’re set to be in our rooms. You will knock before you come in. Shoes off at the door. I want to be greeted when you come in and said goodbye to when you leave. We will set a timer for twenty-five minutes, during which time I expect you to be on your knees. We can talk, or I can work. That will be up to you. There will be a check in before you go for the night. Then you will have five minutes to get to your bunk.”
Ghost could see the hard set of Soap’s jaw as he listened, but he was attentive, focused. When Ghost had finished, he relaxed some. He looked tired, worn down, like this conversation had drained him of all of his energy. Ghost expected a fight, expected push back. Soap just nodded, looking away. “Yes, sir,” he murmured.
Satisfied, Ghost added these new points to the contract. Which left only one last thing to discuss. “Discipline?”
Soap blanched at that, mouth falling open in protest, but nothing came out. “Um,” he said, but didn’t seem to know where to begin.
Ghost hummed. “We can just add kneeling time if you don’t have a preference, but I’d rather kneeling not be a punishment. It should be a comfort to you. We can do corner time if you’d rather. Standing in the corner for two minutes for each time I have to correct you.”
Soap swallowed. “That’s it?” he asked, looking uncertain.
An odd feeling rolled down Ghost’s spine, the feeling of something deeply wrong that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. “We’re setting up boundaries, Soap. If we don’t respect each other’s boundaries, this doesn’t work. It doesn’t continue. That goes for both of us. Is that clear?”
There was no anger there, but his tone was low, serious.
Slowly, Soap nodded. He was uncomfortable, Ghost realized. As he wrote out the last of it, he idly wondered who Soap had reported to in the past, who had supported him before coming to this squad.
“Tell me about, uh,” Soap scratched the back of his head. “What I should do for topdrop.”
Ghost paused in his writing, looking up at Soap. Assessing. Then, he sat back, pulling open a drawer. “There’s a kit here. It has everything I need. It also has some emergency numbers attached for two individuals. Either one can come to assist.”
Soap blinked, looked up at him, a little uncertain. “That’s it?” he asked.
Ghost nodded.
Soap shifted, looking a little uncomfortable. “There’s nothing you need me to do?”
Ghost shook his head, closing the desk drawer. “I need a little bit more than what I think you are able to provide for me right now.”
Soap bristled at that, a flash of anger appearing there. “I’m supposed to trust you, but you can’t trust me?”
It took everything in Ghost not to sigh. He held up the contract to Soap, so he could see all of the scratched out columns. “Soap,” he said, voice even. “Most of my aftercare is here, crossed out.”
He put the paper down, took in the way Soap flushed, folded in on himself a little bit. Ghost swallowed, remembering all of Soap’s anger from earlier. Not angry at Ghost. Ghost wasn’t angry at Soap either, had to keep reminding himself. “That’s okay,” Ghost said, voice low, gentler. “But understand that the consequence is that there are limitations. I’m trying to respect your limits.”
The flush deepened. Slowly, Soap nodded.
Ghost wrote those instructions down as well. He drew two lines at the bottom, printed his name and the date under one, signing on top. Then he turned the paper, offering the pen to Soap.
There was some hesitation, eyes reassessing, second guessing. But finally, he picked up the pen and signed. When Soap handed them both back to him, Ghost stood.
“This can count as today’s thirty minutes,” Ghost said, gesturing to the door. “We’ll meet back here tomorrow.”
Soap stood too, taking one, long look around the room. Anxious, but like he understood he had no better options. He looked up at Ghost. “Tomorrow,” he agreed.