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“Why do we even need to do this?” Soap grumbled as he hopped off the helo with a grunt of effort, adjusting the gun strap on his shoulder. “The place has been damn near abandoned for months.”
Ghost joined him a moment later, casting his Sergeant a wry glance. “It’s an intel grab, Johnny,” he explained, sounding tired for having to do so.
“I know that. I just mean… why send us and not somebody else?” It was implied he meant because Soap and Ghost were special forces and therefore less expendable for easy missions like this one.
“Gettin’ a big head about you, eh?” Ghost chuffed.
Soap glared back. “I dinnae say that.”
Ghost hummed and led the way towards the hospital, on alert but looking overall less tense than their usual missions. It was empty, anyway. They were just there to get information.
“Take left, Johnny. Call for me if you find anything,” the Lieutenant ordered once they stepped inside, tapping his mic with one hand before turning to set off down the largest hallway on the right.
“Aye, sir,” Soap affirmed, and made his way down to the left hallway. As they’d been told, it was abandoned, a thick layer of dust and grime beginning to form on every flat surface. For the most part though, it didn’t look like the building had been attacked.
No windows were broken, no doors kicked down, no blood on the floor. Instead, papers were strewn about and chairs were toppled, as if they had been evacuated in quite a rush. Soap wasn’t sure how much they would find given that.
Still, he followed his orders and checked each room, barely poking his head into each empty patient’s room since it was likely anything useful wouldn’t be stored in there. He slowed down once he reached the labs, skin crawling at how sterile and white everything was.
He wasn’t the most fond of hospitals to begin with, but abandoned ones like this were even worse. It was eerily silent, odd shadows cast over everything due to the minimal sunlight filtering in through the windows.
Soap walked slowly and silently into a second open lab room, scanning it quickly before lowering his gun. It was empty just like all the others, so he took his time combing through stacks of papers on the countertops, stuffing any that looked important into the folder in his pack for safekeeping.
Just as he turned to leave again, he spotted a small steel fridge on the far counter, with several thick aluminum aerosol canisters inside. It was plugged in, but there wasn’t power in the hospital so Soap doubted whatever was inside had kept.
Still, it looked important, so he cracked open the fridge and carefully retrieved a container, shaking it experimentally. He could feel the liquid inside slosh around, so he lifted it to his nose to smell. Odorless, and with no indication or label of what it contained.
It could be nothing. It could be important. Shrugging, Soap slipped it carefully into his pack and finally turned to leave. As he did so, his foot caught. He made an attempt to tug it free, and instead tripped forward into the fridge, toppling it and all its contents to the floor along with him.
Soap groaned as he rolled onto his back, glancing at the mess he’d made blearily. He shot upright in alarm when he noticed the ruptured canisters, slowly but steadily leaking their contents into the air with an ominous sounding hiss.
“Shite,” he cursed, covering his nose and mouth with his forearm and staggering to his feet. One of the canisters gave a disconcerting screeching sound before it popped once as the aluminum concaved and then exploded, a thick cloud of pale gas coming with it, quickly enveloping the small room.
Soap coughed as he staggered away, the gas stinging his eyes. He banged back into the opposite counter, knocking a metal tray of medical instruments and a stack of papers to the floor. Spinning towards the exit, he shut his eyes and stumbled blindly out the way he’d come, crashing into the wall with the force he traveled with.
“Ghost,” he croaked, but Ghost was on the other side of the hospital and had no chance of hearing him unless he used his mic. The Scotsman continued his escape, staggering down the hallway towards the exit.
“Ghost,” he tried again, this time into his mic and with a little more urgency.
“What is it, Johnny?” Ghost answered immediately, picking up on his alarm.
“Had an accident in one of the labs. Inhaled somethin’, dinnae know what,” Soap coughed, vision still blurry with reflex tears. Or were they? Was he still crying?
“Headin’ back to the exit, I’m-“ he didn’t finish, crashing heavily into a wall as his strength left him all at once and he crumpled to the floor, blurry vision suddenly making sense as it faded steadily to black.
Soap wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he awoke again, but when he did, he was laying against the wall to the left of the exit. He blinked his eyes to clear them and sat slowly up with great effort, groaning.
“Had me worried I was gonna have to drag your ass to exfil,” came a gruff voice, and Soap turned to it immediately, startled.
Ghost stood against the opposite wall, arms crossed over that massive chest of his. He looked calm, but Soap could see the lingering concern in those whiskey eyes he loved so much.
“Och, I could never leave ye hanging like that, L.T,” Soap chided back, offering a strained smile. “How long was I out?”
“Half an hour,” Ghost answered, leaving his perch to approach his Sergeant slowly. “How do you feel?”
Soap looked up at him with a suspicious frown. “Fine, L.T. Dinnae think I’m concussed.” He paused. “Why?”
To his utmost shock, Ghost seemed a little… awkward? That couldn’t be right, could it? Ghost never looked anything but utterly composed.
“Ghost…” Soap pushed, heart beginning to race fearfully. “What is it? Did that gas horribly deform me?” He meant it as a joke, but surely that had to be the answer if Ghost was so unsettled?
His Lieutenant shook his head. “Not… exactly?”
Soap was beginning to get annoyed by his evasiveness. “Well, fuckin’ what is it, then?!” He demanded impatiently.
“You’re a… dog.”
He blinked, frowning up at Ghost. “What?”
“You’re a dog,” Ghost deadpanned. “Sort of. You’ve got…” he gestured to Soap. “Ears. And a tail.”
“I’ve got what?!” Soap screeched in alarm, reaching up to feel at his head fervently. Sure enough, sticking out of the shaved sides of his head were two pointed, fluffy ears. They twitched when he touched them and he jerked back, eyes wide.
To his ever increasing horror, when he looked behind him, there was a tail to match, sticking out over the waistband of his cargos. It was long and thick with fur, black and brown mottled in a shade that matched his hair.
Soap turned back to Ghost helplessly, suddenly wishing he had been horribly disfigured instead. “What the fuck.” He said it as a statement, not a question.
Ghost shrugged, looking equally as helpless. “I already talked to Price when I called for evac. He’s got no clue either but we can’t do anything until they can run some tests back at base.”
“So I’m just a… a golden retriever until further notice?!” Soap demanded a little hysterically.
“You’re a shepherd,” Ghost corrected.
Soap looked at him in disbelief. “What?”
Ghost gestured to him again. “You’re a German shepherd. Look just like one with the ears and the…”
“That’s not important!”
“Would you calm down? It’s… odd, yes, but for the most part you’re safe and healthy, and that’s all that matters.”
“With a bloody tail!”
Ghost glared at him now. “Pull it together, Sergeant!” he gruffed, dropping into his Lieutenant voice almost immediately.
Soap shut his jaw with an audible click, slumping against the wall and muttering a resigned “yes, sir.”
“Good b- good,” Ghost replied, stilted. He stood awkwardly for a moment, then went to sit at Soap’s side against the wall while they waited for exfil.
“Did Price say what the plan was? Am I supposed to try and stay out of sight?” The mere thought made Soap a little depressed. He liked to socialize around base, thrived on it. If he had to skulk around to avoid being seen, he’d have to stop talking to basically everyone besides the 141.
“Not that he told me,” Ghost hummed. “Would be kinda hard to keep secret unless we kept you under lock and key and Price doesn’t want to do that.”
Soap was grateful.
“Did he-“
“Soap,” Ghost sighed, gentler than his harsh correction earlier. “You’ll get all your questions answered soon. Just… rest for now.”
Soap wanted answers now- he was the one with ears and a tail- but he guessed Ghost was just as out of his depth as Soap was. The least he could do was shut up and let Ghost have some peace and quiet until exfil.
That, unlike their mission, was thankfully uneventful, and when they touched down on base once more, Soap was eager for his answers.
But…
“What’s the matter?” Ghost prodded, standing expectantly by the ramp to the tarmac.
Soap felt ridiculous.
“Nothin’,” he huffed. “Just… I’m gonnae get stared at.”
Ghost rolled his eyes. “Relax, Johnny. They’re gonna see eventually. Might as well get it over with.”
“Easy for ye to say,” Soap grumbled, but brushed past Ghost, ignoring his Lieutenant’s snort from behind.
They made the trek across the tarmac side by side as usual, but soldiers stopped left and right to eye Soap as he passed. Every. Single. One of them. It was humiliating. He knew his new… appendages looked far too real for him to pass them off as fake. He’d thought about trying to lie that he’d lost a bet and this was his punishment but no, that was unfortunately not an option.
“Untuck your tail,” Ghost rumbled at his side, sounding amused.
Soap whipped his head around to glare at him. “Dinnae fuckin’ look at it!” He hissed, mortified.
He found, to his further humiliation, that it was tucked. It was so weird to feel it connected, several extra inches of spine just… hanging off of him. He didn’t have near enough control of it yet but he still did his best to untuck the fluffy appendage from against the back of his left thigh.
“Ears, too,” came Ghost’s unhelpful addition.
“I’d… almost hoped you two muppets were pulling some elaborate joke,” Price sighed from behind his desk once Ghost and Soap reported to his office after dropping their gear off. He’d removed his hat, rubbing at the stress lines between his brows.
“That makes two of us,” Soap mumbled miserably. He sat in one of the two chairs opposite their Captain, slumped low and dejected.
“Do you feel alright, son?”
Soap glared up at Price. “Other than the new ears and tail I’ve acquired, I feel fuckin’ dandy, sir.”
Price glared back wearily. “I’m just tryin’ to help, Soap. This is weird for all of us, not just you.” He sighed, pushing disheveled hair back from his forehead. “I’ve notified Laswell, she’s bringing in her best med team for the job. They’ll be here in a few days. In the meantime, you should rest. Expect a hell of a lot of poking and prodding once they get here, son.”
Soap sunk even further down in his seat. “Wonderful.”
Dinner that night was… awkward, to say the least. Just about every pair of eyes in the mess hall followed Soap everywhere he went and to make matters worse, he could feel the fur on his tail raising at the attention.
He sat at his usual table with Gaz, hunched over his tray with both fluffy ears pinned flat to his head miserably.
“Just ignore them, mate,” his best friend muttered encouragingly. Soap glared at him half-heartedly.
“I’m tryin’ to. Kinda hard when it’s every fuckin’ one of ‘em.”
He jumped when Ghost dropped his tray noisily on the table beside him, taking the seat to his right.
“L.T,” he greeted uncertainly.
“Johnny,” Ghost replied simply, tucking his mask up over his nose and beginning to eat in silence. Not uncommon, but he was awfully… close today, their thighs almost touching underneath the table.
Soap looked to Gaz for explanation, but the other Sergeant merely shrugged. He shrugged back, and they each continued their meals.
A pair of Privates wandered past their table slowly, not even trying to hide how they stared and whispered to each other. Soap had half a mind to write them up for insubordination. His tail bristled even more.
“Somethin’ on my face, rookie?” Ghost’s deadly baritone gruffed, killing glare trained on the two Privates. His voice was loud, drawing attention away from Soap and onto himself instead.
The two rookies snapped to attention, embarrassed at being confronted for their staring. “No, sir!” One of them rushed out.
“Thought so. Scram.”
They rushed to obey, thoroughly chastised. After that, everybody kept their eyes pointedly to themselves. Soap smiled down at his dinner.
“Thanks, L.T,” he muttered softly.
Ghost grunted beside him. “Anytime.”
~
A couple days passed and Soap really did his best to fulfill his duties as normal, but it was proving difficult with his new appendages. Most of the other soldiers on base did their best not to stare, but he also knew that was a bit much to ask.
There was also… something. He didn’t know what that something was, but it was there at the edge of his mind all the time, bothering him.
That night during rec time while he was playing cards with Gaz and some other Sergeants they were close to, he finally understood.
“Where’s Ghost?” Soap asked his best friend, hoping to seem casual about it.
“He didn’t tell you?” Gaz muttered distractedly, reaching forward to play one of his cards. “He’s on a solo mission, more recon as far as I heard.”
Soap paused, frowning. “Oh.” Why hadn’t Ghost told him he was leaving? They were so close, they always shared when they were going off alone. There wasn’t anything really… concrete between them- yet- but there was something tangible enough that Soap thought Ghost would’ve told him where he was going.
His knee began to shake beneath the table anxiously. Maybe he was wrong? Was he reading too far into their relationship? Maybe Ghost just saw him as another good friend and teammate like Gaz or Price?
“Dude,” Gaz interrupted. “It’s your turn. And stop shaking the table.”
“Sorry,” Soap mumbled, playing a random card from his hand without even checking. He wasn’t interested in their game anymore, too concerned with thoughts of Ghost now. Hopefully he’d be back soon. That would surely alleviate some of the panicky tightness in his chest.
To Soap’s great disappointment, Ghost wasn’t due back until two days after Gaz shared where he’d gone. Even worse, Laswell’s team of doctors arrived that next morning, ready to start their endless tests to try and figure out what had happened to him.
Soap was not an anxious person. He didn’t love doctors, but he wasn’t anxious by nature. That fact made his mounting panic and shakiness as he made the trip through base to the medical ward extremely out of character for him.
“Good morning, Sergeant MacTavish,” one of the doctors greeted him when he stepped into the room, his American accent bright like Laswell’s. “How are you feeling today?” He didn’t seem at all phased by Soap’s ears and tail.
“Fine,” Soap gruffed, reluctantly sitting on the patient’s bench that the doctor indicated.
“How much water have you had today?” The doctor asked, taking Soap’s right arm in hand and beginning to knead gently at his inner elbow in search of a vein to draw blood from.
A cold shock of anxiety shot up Soap’s spine at the prospect of the needle that would inevitably go in his arm. Pull yourself together, MacTavish, he thought bitterly to himself, gritting his teeth. He’d never been afraid of needles in the past. He was a trained soldier, dammit. The best of the best.
“Not enough,” he answered quietly, feeling the fur on his tail bristle as his anxiety mounted.
“Hm,” the doctor hummed, frowning as he continued to search for a vein. “Well, we‘ll give it a shot anyway, yeah? You’ve eaten, at least?”
Soap nodded, watching with big eyes as the doctor moved around the room gathering the tourniquet, alcohol pad, vials for his blood, and the needle. He could hear his heart beginning to race in his ears, breath coming a little faster too.
As the doctor began to fasten the tourniquet around his bicep, Soap cleared his throat. “A-actually, maybe we could do this another day? I’m feelin’ a little off,” he tried to explain, cursing himself for stuttering like a fool.
The doctor looked at him curiously. “Off how? Is it because of your condition?” Despite Soap’s protests, he unwrapped the alcohol wipe and began cleaning the skin on the inside of Soap’s elbow in preparation for the needle.
“No,” Soap explained, eyeing the process with growing anxiety. “Just lightheaded.” Unwilling to let this get any further with how his hands had begun to shake, he reached up to rip off the tourniquet, standing in a rush much to the poor doctor’s surprise.
“Sergeant MacTavish-“
“Sorry, I dinnae think doin’ this today is a very good idea. We can-“ he swallowed. “-try again tomorrow.” And with that he quite literally turned tail and ran, fleeing to his room shamefully.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Price came to find him several hours later, surely having heard about the disastrous attempt at running some tests earlier that day.
“Licking your wounds?” He prompted softly as he shut Soap’s door behind him, pulling the chair from the Sergeant’s desk for him to sit in.
Soap glared up from his sketchbook, propped against his headboard. “Not funny,” he grumbled.
“Sorry, just trying to lighten the mood,” Price laughed, pulling off his bucket hat. “Talk to me, son. You’ve never been bothered by needles before,” he stated, leaving the phrase open for Soap to correct him if he was wrong.
He wasn’t, and Soap shrugged.
“Dunno,” he mumbled shamefully. “I just… couldnae calm down.”
Price hummed thoughtfully. “Well…” he trailed off uncertainly. “German shepherds are notoriously anxious dogs.”
Soap whipped his head up with a glare, and Price rushed to defend his words.
“Don’t give me that, Soap. It’s not entirely absurd to think this-“ he gestured at Soap with one hand, “-could come with behavioral changes too.”
The Sergeant huffed, moping in his bed. It made as much sense as anything else, but…
“Why now, though? I’ve been fine the past few days.” It didn’t make any sense.
Price pursed his lips, looking at Soap with calculating eyes.
“German shepherds are known for having separation anxiety, too,” he prodded, raising an eyebrow.
Soap’s eyes narrowed. “Separation anxiety? From who?”
“Come on, son,” the Captain said gently.
Now, Soap knew he wasn’t entirely subtle about his affections for Ghost. He figured Gaz and Price had surely noticed, but nobody had said anything about it so neither did he.
The worst part was that he had been feeling anxious without Ghost, the stares and unfamiliarity of his new condition weighing heavily on his mind. But full blown separation anxiety?
“He gets back tomorrow?” Soap pressed, dodging Price’s knowing gaze.
“Tomorrow afternoon,” his Captain confirmed. “Ask him to accompany you for your next lab appointment.”
“Sir-“
“Do it, Soap,” Price said a little more firmly, getting to his feet and replacing the bucket hat on his head once more.
Soap wilted a little, sighing. “Yes, sir.”
Price nodded. “Come find me or Gaz if you need some company until then, yeah?” And then he was gone, leaving Soap alone once again.
Sure enough, the next day, Ghost returned. Soap was drawing in the rec room to distract himself, Gaz sitting on the other end of the couch on his phone, keeping him company.
“Slacking off, Sergeants?” Ghost asked as he walked into the room, an amused light in those whiskey eyes.
Much to Soap’s mortification, his tail began thumping insistently against the couch and Gaz’s thigh at the sight of his Lieutenant, betraying his pleasure for Ghost’s return.
Gaz snorted at his side, not even glancing up from his phone.
Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, and Soap gripped his tail tightly to stow its involuntary movement, smiling awkwardly up at Ghost as he approached.
“How was the mission?” He prompted, scooting over to make room for Ghost on the middle cushion if he so wished to join them. To Soap’s quiet disappointment, he didn’t.
“Blissfully quiet without your gibberish,” Ghost hummed, sitting in one of the large armchairs across from the Sergeants instead. Soap smiled, his tail giving another valiant jerk in his hands. He gripped it tighter.
“Och, ye’d get bored without my gibberish,” he argued breezily.
Ghost merely hummed, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile.
“How’re you feeling, Johnny?” He prompted suddenly, and Gaz glanced up at them both with mischievous eyes before standing and leaving them alone without a word.
Soap watched him go curiously before turning back to Ghost.
“Not any worse than before,” he explained, shrugging.
Ghost didn’t look away from his Sergeant. “Price talked to me when I landed,” he said slowly, conversationally.
Soap released his tail, thankful that it finally laid still on the cushion beside him. “Debrief?” He prompted hopefully, but he already knew he was wrong.
Ghost shrugged one shoulder. “Of sorts. Said you had trouble with your first day of testing?”
Soap swallowed, tapping the eraser of his pencil anxiously on his sketch pad. “Just got a little in my head.”
“You’re not usually anxious for labs.”
The Sergeant was silent for a long moment, glancing nervously up at Ghost a couple times. “I coulda used some… company.”
He saw an eyebrow raise underneath Ghost’s mask.
“When’s your next lab?”
Soap’s heart soared, his tail taking up another embarrassing round of thumps on the cushion. “Tomorrow,” he answered quickly, and Ghost nodded.
“Blood draw?” It was Soap’s turn to nod.
Ghost stood and wandered to the little kitchenette against the far wall, and Soap watched him pull a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water from the tap.
“Here,” he spoke, offering the glass to Soap who accepted it, a little confused. “You’ll need to be plenty hydrated for a blood draw and knowing you, I doubt you’ve had enough today.”
His obvious yet gruff concern made Soap’s chest warm, any lingering anxiousness fading with Ghost’s presence. Yet again, his tail thumped happily.
Ghost sat in Gaz’s vacated spot, raising an eyebrow at the fluffy appendage. Rather than embarrass himself trying to explain, Soap drank hurriedly at his water, setting the empty cup aside once he was finished.
Ghost looked pleased by that, at least, and turned to switch the tv on. He didn’t say anything else, simply relaxed into the couch at Soap’s side. The Sergeant smiled to himself, turning back to his sketchbook as they enjoyed the silence together.
The next morning, true to his word, Ghost accompanied him to his labs. The same doctor from before greeted them.
“Sergeant MacTavish! Ready to give this another try?” He asked cheerily, gesturing to the exam chair. Soap, reluctantly, hopped up onto it.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he muttered, attempting a smile. It was shaky at best.
“Lieutenant Riley,” the doctor said then, glancing at Ghost while he tittered around for his supplies. “Is there something you need to add before we start?”
“No,” Ghost gruffed, arms crossed as he hovered at Soap’s side. He offered no other explanation, and the doctor was smart enough not to press any further.
“Alright, Sergeant, you know the drill,” he spoke, holding a palm out expectantly for Soap’s arm.
Soap offered it nervously, allowing the doctor to tie the tourniquet around his bicep once again. Just like last time, his pulse skyrocketed and he began to shake minutely, watching with rapt attention as his inner elbow was swabbed with the alcohol wipe.
The needle was unwrapped, the first tube ready to be filled, but the doctor hovered just over the largest vein uncertainly, glancing up at Soap.
“I need you to calm down, Sergeant. You’re shaking,” he said gently. Soap appreciated the effort but…
“Sorry,” he gritted out, taking a deep breath in an effort to calm his shaking. It didn’t work as well as he’d hoped.
The doctor glanced at Ghost. “Lieutenant, would you mind…?” He trailed off, leaving Ghost to interpret what help he wanted to give.
Ghost nodded once, stepping closer to lay a hand unobtrusively on Soap’s shoulder and squeezing once. Soap twitched a little, but his shaking persisted. Another squeeze to his shoulder, then Ghost moved his hand to the top of Soap’s head, tentatively rubbing at one fluffy ear with his fingers.
For a moment, Soap tensed even further. Then, as Ghost grew more confident and began scratching at his ear with stronger, broader strokes, he finally relaxed. The doctor watched them closely for a moment, then proceeded, sliding the needle into Soap’s arm without incident.
One vial was filled, then a second, but Soap remained a little slumped in the chair, eyes shut and a blissed out expression on his face. If he noticed the vials of blood being drawn from him anymore, he didn’t show it.
He peeled his eyes open tiredly when the needle was finally withdrawn and a bandage placed over the entry site. The doctor was smiling, disposing of the needle. “Great work, Sergeant. This should be more than enough. We’ll run some preliminary tests, then call you back for more testing once that’s done.”
Soap nodded blearily, glancing down at his arm. Ghost had yet to stop petting his ear, and it was making it very difficult for him to focus. “So that’s… all?” He prompted, just to be sure.
The doctor nodded, pulling off his gloves. “That’s all. Get some food and rest for the next hour or two. You might feel a bit lightheaded, I took a lot of blood.”
Soap nodded, finally lifting his eyes to Ghost, who met his gaze after a moment. Much to Soap’s disappointment, he removed his hand. “Let’s get you some food, eh Johnny?”
Embarrassed, Soap slid from the chair, skin buzzing on his forearm where Ghost gripped it to steady him on his feet. He hoped his eyes weren’t as heart shaped as they felt, but he had a sinking feeling his affection for Ghost was written all over his face.
They walked towards the mess hall quietly, Ghost lingering a little closer to his side than usual. Protective bastard.
“Was that too much?” Ghost asked suddenly, voice a little stern.
Soap blinked over at him. “Was what too much?”
Ghost gestured to his ears, and Soap flushed. “Oh.” He shrugged. Was it… weird to say he liked it? “No. It… well, it helped,” he stumbled over himself, embarrassed.
“Good,” Ghost nodded, looking clinical about it. “You were just so tense, I figured it might help.”
Soap was quiet for a long while, then spoke again. “Price… thinks it’s a side effect. German shepherd thing.”
Ghost looked at him curiously, so he continued.
“German shepherds are notoriously anxious dogs, so I’m told,” he explained. Ghost nodded. They’d both spent enough time around Riley to know that, when she wasn’t given a job, she became rather antsy and anxious.
Soap swallowed, wondering if he should continue.
“He thinks ye being gone on yer mission didnae help. Somethin’ about… separation anxiety.” He didn’t elaborate, leaving it up to Ghost to draw his own conclusion.
“From me?” Ghost ventured. He’d always been quick on the uptake. Soap nodded, waiting anxiously for his reaction.
To his growing nervousness, Ghost didn’t say anything else. They made it to the mess hall, blissfully empty while Ghost grabbed him a prepackaged bowl of sliced fruit and a protein bar, both of which he kept firm hold of as he led the way back down the hallway.
“Ghost?” Soap prodded softly, following slightly behind his Lieutenant. Ghost still said nothing, eventually opening his own bedroom door and keeping it propped with his hip, gesturing for Soap to enter.
He did, shoving both hands into his pockets to stop them from fidgeting, trying to seem as unbothered as possible. Unfortunately the low droop to his ears and the growing tuck to his tail revealed just how anxious he was.
Still not addressing Soap’s implied revelation, he gestured to his bed. “Sit,” he ordered, not unkindly.
Soap almost commented on the absurdity of Ghost ordering him to sit in his current state but ultimately didn’t, instead choosing to sit obediently on the edge of the mattress as Ghost had asked.
“Here,” he offered the food, which Soap took gratefully, opening the protein bar and beginning to chew on it worriedly.
Ghost looked down at him, expression unreadable beneath his mask. “How do you feel about what Price said?” He prompted finally, tone giving nothing away.
Soap shrugged, uncertainly.
“Johnny,” Ghost said, drawing Soap’s eyes. “Tell me.” He sounded almost like he was pleading.
Soap took a breath, looking down at the protein bar in his hands. His ears pinned further back to his head. “I think… I did feel less anxious when ye got back,” he explained, shrugging.
Ghost stared at him for a moment, then nodded. He stepped a little closer, reaching slowly out until he could gently set his hand on Soap’s head between his ears. Soap looked up from his bar, surprised. He didn’t make any move to dislodge Ghost’s hand, though.
Taking that as the permission it was, Ghost shifted to fluff one ear back up from Soap’s head where he’d pinned it, doing the same to the other one until both stood proudly at attention.
“You look,” Ghost began distractedly, “so cute with these. You were distracting before but now…” he trailed off, fondling one fluffy ear between his fingers. Soap looked up at him like a lovesick puppy, the praise and the attention going straight to his head.
“Ye always were a dog man,” Soap teased softly, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. Ghost’s eyes crinkled beneath his mask.
“Eat your food, Johnny,” he ordered, tone gentle with a smile.
Stomach settled with Ghost’s reaction, Soap lazily saluted with one hand and set to consuming his protein bar once again. Ghost, for the most part, seemed content to pet Soap’s ears in silence, though he did eventually move to sit on the bed with him.
“Ye gonna live when they finally cure me of this?” Soap joked once he’d finished his fruit as well.
Ghost grunted. “An improvement, if you ask me. You should keep ‘em.”
Soap scoffed. “I dinnae think that’s a good idea.”
Ghost made a show of looking disappointed, but he took Soap’s wrappers to dispose of in his room’s trash. The gesture was strangely sweet.
Ghost climbed back into bed once he was done, this time settling himself up against the headboard with ample room between himself and the edge of the mattress for Soap. He patted the space expectantly.
Grinning, Soap crawled into it, fitting himself against Ghost’s side like a puzzle piece. His tail thumped happily against the bed and Ghost snorted.
“Someone’s happy, hm?” He teased in that low baritone Soap loved so much. He resumed his gentle rubbing at Soap’s ears, smiling down at the puddle of a man tucked into his side.
“Shh,” Soap shushed him, eyes slipping shut blissfully.
To Ghost’s great disappointment, Soap was cured of his ailment within three weeks.
But if Soap occasionally broke out a pair of novelty ears for his benefit, that was nobody’s business but theirs.