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[1]
Price was done.
Dog tired and about two seconds from punching the next person who pissed him off.
He and Ghost had been on a long shitty mission; Price just wanted to have a warm shower so he could wash the sweat, blood, and dirt off his soul.
The plane shuddered through turbulence and he glanced around the large empty cargo hold. Ghost was sat next to him, eyes closed but by no means relaxed enough to suggest sleep.
The pilot had already told them it was t minus five minutes to touch down and Price tried not to count the seconds. Tried and failed.
The time passed like molasses and Price was sure he was going to pop a vein in his forehead before the wheels finally hit the tarmac.
He didn’t know how Ghost did it.
Two weeks away from base. Away from their team. Away from a nice fucking bed and a warm shower.
But Ghost always took it in his stride. Always shouldered the burden of a mission like it was nothing.
And it shouldn’t piss Price off.
But it did.
Because Price missed the things he cared about.
He missed his cigars (the good ones he kept in his desk drawer not the shitty ones he kept in his tac-vest).
He missed the camaraderie of lunch in the mess hall (not the food though. Never the food).
He missed Gaz. (God, he fucking missed Gaz.)
And he had thought that maybe they were getting through to Ghost. That they had wormed their way into the bloody broken shards of his heart.
But Ghost didn’t seem to miss… anything.
Or anyone.
He just got his head down and did what was asked of him.
It wasn’t that Price necessarily wanted him to disobey a direct order.
But some sign that Simon was still in there behind Ghost’s dead eyes would be nice.
The tarmac shimmered with the baking summer heat. Waves of cascading light danced in the horizon and Price couldn’t help grinning when he saw Soap and Gaz doing their best not to break into an outright sprint when they saw their team mates finally walking towards them.
“Been causing trouble?” Price called, smirking when Soap’s step faltered. “Rhetorical question. Let me shower before you tell me.”
Soap threw him a cheeky salute and a cheekier grin. “Copy.”
The bag over his shoulder slid onto the floor with a thud and he let Gaz carefully pull him into a side hug. Nothing too inappropriate for the middle of the runway but it calmed the painful tension around Price’s ribs nonetheless.
“Hey, stranger,” Gaz grinned as they broke apart. He bent to pick up Price’s go bag and Price couldn’t find the energy to protest.
“Miss me?” Price teased, catching Gaz’s eye. He knew he didn’t hide the longing in his voice when Gaz’s eyes softened.
Gaz just smiled sweetly and turned to walk back towards base. “Always, old man.”
Slight soft murmuring caught his attention to his left. He glanced over even as he felt himself compelled to follow Gaz’s swaying hips. He stopped short.
Simon’s head was bowed, forehead nearly resting against Johnny’s with how close they were standing.
And Simon looked exhausted. Big brown eyes crinkled slightly when Johnny gently brushed his knuckles along Simon’s still covered jaw.
“You doing okay?” Johnny whispered, so sweetly that Price was suddenly hyperaware that he was definitely intruding.
“Was a lot,” Simon muttered, voice cracking with the admission and Price’s eyes widened.
Johnny, however, didn’t seem surprised. Instead, he just hummed knowingly and pulled Simon’s beat up bag off the downturned slope of Simon’s exhausted shoulder as Johnny bore the burden himself. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Then we can watch a movie?”
Simon frowned, eyes suddenly glancing nervously towards Price.
Price dropped his eyes instinctively to the ground as ice pulse down his limbs.
There was a beat of silence before Johnny sighed. “He’s no’ gonna make ya go to debrief now, Si.”
Price jerked his head up and locked eyes with Simon.
Simon who looked like a teeny tiny puppy who’d just been stomped on.
Not like a Lieutenant that had been caught making post-mission ‘catch up’ plans with his charming if somewhat obnoxious Sergeant.
But then Price remembered that Gaz was probably already waiting in a steamy shower for him and decided that hypocrisy was too cliché for him to entertain. “Debrief tomorrow, oh-nine hundred,” Price heard himself say.
But then Simon’s eyes crinkled at the side and Johnny visibly relaxed.
And Price forgot how to care about propriety.
Not when Johnny had done the thing he’d never truly managed.
Not when Simon looked so fucking happy.
[2]
Laswell adjusted her scope. The mission was going suspiciously well; the hair on the back of her neck had stood to attention about four hours ago and refused to settle ever since.
They lived on a trip wire and eventually…
It would snap.
Laswell’s trip wire had been frayed for years. She was nearly fifty.
Borrowed time, Price had called it, blowing smoke out of his nose and grinning that wolfish smirk of his.
Dumb fucking luck, Shephard had smugly noted mere days before Price had put a bullet right in between his fucking eyes.
Pure skill, her wife had smiled from their crisp white sheets before making sure Laswell saw God.
A few fat drops of rain became sheets of icy brutality as Laswell’s visibility plummeted. “Shit.”
“Shit’s right, Kate,” Price groaned through the comms, bum knee no doubt aching in the chill. “Keep eyes on the boys, yeah?”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job, John?” Kate warned, voice far too warm for how fucking cold she was.
“Of course not, Ma’am.” John teased, voice just as fond.
At least they were fools together.
Laswell found Soap first. She watched his eyes flick up to the glint of her scope and his whole-body tense just before he mentally triangulated her position and he grinned up at her.
“Evening, Laswell. What’s a fine woman like you doing in a shit-hole like this?” Soap muttered, through the line. Thick brogue just cheeky enough for Kate to forgive the insubordination.
“She’s keeping you alive, Johnny,” Ghost’s voice growled through her ear piece and she watched Soap’s grin drop into something hideously private.
Her eyebrows drew together. This was… not something she should be watching. She wasn’t sure why but when Ghost’s huge form appeared next to Soap’s shivering body and bumped their shoulders together, she wished she could flick her scope away.
“Of course. Sorry, Ma’am,” Soap muttered, more to Ghost than to Laswell.
“Forgiven, Sergeant,” Laswell heard herself reply; more to remind them that they were being watched than because there was anything to actually forgive Soap for. “You’ve got four behind the truck to the right and another two on the left at the checkpoint. Best to do this quietly.”
At her words, she watched Ghost turn to Soap and his eyes glinted with murderous glee. For one truly horrifying moment, she was sure Ghost was going to tear Soap’s throat out.
But then Soap reached up and patted Ghost’s cheek, fingers curling around the skull mask as he pulled his Lieutenant’s face close. “Go on, big boy. Have some fun,” Soap purred and Laswell felt more than heard Ghost’s growl vibrate through her skull.
Now…
Laswell was very very much in love with her wife. More than in love. It would be unhealthy if it wasn’t so fucking perfect.
But something about the way Ghost gleefully unsheathed his knife and stalked around the building like a fucking dog going out to find his mate the perfect kill… well, Laswell understood violence well enough to know that look. It was the same look Laswell had seen in her wife’s face when she’d killed her boss and left his decapitated head on her doorstep. God, she wanted to see her wife again.
Kate sighed, keeping her scope on Soap as he ducked left to take out the two guards at the checkpoint.
She clicked to a private line as soon as the second body hit the floor. “John?”
Soap’s head snapped round, eyes finding the glint. “Yes, Ma’am?”
Kate let the silence sit for a while, watching blood turn pink and run off his cheekbones with the rain. She saw the shape of Ghost finish off the final enemy with a grotesquely artful spray of blood before she finally spoke directly to Soap. “Take care of him.”
Soap’s eyebrows shot up, lips parting in shock, right as Ghost trotted happy to his side.
“Johnny?” Ghost asked, stepping into his space and quickly checking his Sergeant for injuries.
The rain couldn’t clean the red from Ghost’s mask but Soap—no, Johnny-- reached up again and cupped Simon’s jaw. “I will. I promise.”
Simon tilted his head, confused by Johnny addressing someone that wasn’t him.
But then a tank crashed through a retaining wall and Kate’s attention was drawn away from the pair.
Later, when she was sore and tired, Soap nervously caught her eye as they all tried not to puke from turbulence as Nik’s chopper bounced through a storm.
“You did well today, Sergeant,” Kate soothed, hoping he could hear the unspoken ‘your secret’s safe with me under her tone.
Soap nodded, once. “I appreciate that, Ma’am.”
Message received.
[3]
Gaz stretched, back cracking as he groaned. The little light to Price’s en-suite spilled across the cold concrete floor and Gaz let himself feel the fucked-out ache in his muscles.
This thing between him and Price was good but tentative. He wasn’t an idiot. If a higher-up found out about them, it wasn’t Price’s reputation on the line.
But then Price swaggered round the doorframe and Gaz forgot why any of this was a bad idea.
“Morning, Kyle,” Price smiled, soft and private and just for the two of them.
“Captain,” Gaz purred, scratching the soft curly hair at his gut. He chuckled when Price’s eyes followed the movement. “You coming back?”
“I—” Price frowned and something brutal tightened around Gaz’s chest.
“Sir?”
“Would you not—Jesus, Gaz.” Price ran a hand over his face and snagged his discarded boxers off the floor.
Gaz sat up. “Should I not be naked for this?” He tried to joke, fingers tingling with the need to touch Price when his Captain just moved to look out the window.
“We need to talk, Kyle.” Price grumbled, squinting at the far horizon.
“If you say, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’” Gaz dropped into a deliberately shitty impression of Price before getting up and pulling his own pants back on. “I’ll fucking kill you. Sir.”
Price sighed, finally turning to look at Gaz and he felt all his anger turn to worry when he saw Price’s ashen teary face.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Gaz soothed, crossing the room to pull Price into a hug. He couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not when Price just melted into his arms and tucked his face into the crook of Gaz’s neck. “Whatever it is… we’ve got this. Yeah?”
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” Price whispered, hands flexing against Gaz’s back. Like he was worried Gaz would turn to smoke and drift through his fingers.
Gaz felt panic settle high in his chest and he had to clear his throat before he could speak again. “Why?”
Something about not having to look each other in the eyes made talking easier. Like he didn’t have to worry about Price seeing his heart break.
“I—” Price tried, pulling Gaz closer even as his words tried to force them apart. “I can’t keep pretending.”
“Pretending?” Gaz was desperately trying to follow Price’s logic but kept coming up painfully short. “John, I don’t understand.”
“I know you just want a body to fuck and I can’t—”
Gaz pushed Price backwards, sharply. “Fuck you.”
Price went, stumbling backwards and breathing slowly.
“Fuck you.” Gaz spat again. “You don’t get to say that to me.”
“I know,” Price said, voice broken and bleeding. He couldn’t meet Gaz’s eyes. “I know this isn’t fair. I know that, Kyle. But I—I thought I could do it but I just… I can’t.”
“So… what? You gonna kick me off the task force because you can’t do this anymore?” Gaz asked, eyes flicking across Price’s face and settling on the wobble of his lip. There was something else here, but Gaz couldn’t find it beyond his own panic.
“No. I can… it should be me that goes—” Price started, hands shaking.
“NO!” Gaz half-screamed. And that got Price to look up. Eyes wide and wet. “Fuck no, we need you. John, shit. We can…” Gaz took in a slow deep breath and nodded once.
Price looked young. Painfully young and lost, when Gaz sat on the edge of Price’s bed and patted the space next to him.
Price went. He looked like it wasn’t even voluntary. Like Gaz told him what to do and he was unable to resist. It gave Gaz just enough hope to reach out and carefully take Price’s shaking hand in his.
“Talk to me, okay? Not as your sergeant. Not as the person you’re fucking. Talk to me as your friend, okay?” Gaz soothed, running his thumb over the bump of Price’s knuckles.
“Gaz, it’s—” Price tried, shaking his head like his mind was a broken etch-a-sketch and he was trying to clear it.
“Hey, it’s just me.” Gaz whispered, shifting to face Price better. “No matter what, it’ll be okay.”
“I can’t pretend this is just sex.” Price eventually ground out like it physically pained him.
And that wasn’t what Gaz was expecting.
“What?” He asked, inelegantly.
“I know you just want an outlet and—I get it. I thought—when this started—” Price ground his teeth together in a way Gaz wanted to tease him about.
Instead, Gaz just took another long deep breath and did something scarier than any mission. “It was never casual to me. I know that’s what it was supposed to be but—” he shrugged, eyes glued to Price’s knuckles even as he felt Price’s head snap round to watch him. “I figured if this was all you let me have then I’d be okay with it. I’d have to be okay with it.”
“What are you saying?” Price whispered, voice painfully raw and deliciously vulnerable.
“I’m saying I’m in love with you. Have been since—”
Gaz never got to tell Price when he’d first realised his awe and appreciation had dripped temptingly into adoration. And love.
Price’s hand cupped his jaw and pulled him in carefully. Their lips pressed together and the vice around Gaz’s heart loosened.
They’d kissed hundreds of times.
Hard and passionate.
Soft and sleepy.
Covered in blood and high on adrenaline.
They’d never kissed like this.
Sweet and gentle and with salty tears tinging their tongues.
When they pulled away, Gaz felt lighter than he’d ever been.
“I love you.” Price whispered into the space between them. “So much. Too much, I think.”
“It’s not too much.” Gaz whispered back. “Not when I love you the same.”
Hours later—
After kisses had turned into touches and touches had turned into patient careful want—
Gaz stood in front of Price’s window, pushing his fingers into the bruises and beard burn at his thighs. “We can’t tell anyone,” he finally breathed.
“No, we can’t.” Price panted from where Gaz was pretty sure his body and soul hadn’t quite reunited yet.
“Ever?” Gaz asked, voice hopelessly hopeful.
Price grunted, arm flapping pathetically in the air. “After retirement?”
Gaz hummed. “What about Soap and Ghost?”
Price laughed, just loud enough for Gaz’s own smile to pull at his lips.
Gaz could see them through the window, huddled around a lighter and stood—oh— stood very close together. He tilted his head and watched. Soap shoving his hands up the back of Ghost’s hoodie as Ghost grinned wide, smoke cascading out of his crooked lips.
“I think they’ve got enough to be thinking about.” Price teased, grinning up at the ceiling as Gaz gasped.
“You knew?” Gaz asked, even as he thought back to every interaction the pair had ever had and realising he was an idiot for not seeing it sooner.
“They aren’t subtle,” Price huffed, eyes still closed as the sweat dried in the curls on his chest.
Gaz turned back to the pair and smiled; Ghost had pulled Soap into a hug, gently cradling the back of his head as Soap tried to chase Ghost’s warmth. “I suppose not.”
[4]
It was König’s first day training with the new task force. He’d been loaned for a big mission to locate a scorpion. Or… something. It wasn’t König’s job to think. It was König’s job to break doors and skulls.
He’d noticed Ghost immediately. The guy’s hard to miss. Massive. Verdammt riesig.
At first, he’d expected Captain Price to pair them up. Monster versus monster. But Ghost hadn’t even tossed him a look, eyes uninterested and bored.
“Sir?” König asked, nervously looking at the small sergeant that Price had beckoned over.
“Trust me, König. He’s stronger than he looks.” Price smirked. “Soap, go easy on him, okay?”
Soap winked at his Captain and König waited for the reprimand. It never came and König turned back to Soap. “Should we begin?”
“If you think ya can handle me.” Soap grinned, teeth glinting in the sky. Ghost huffed out a fond chuckle and König felt his head hurt at how complicated this whole situation had become.
But then Soap moved and König’s instincts kicked in.
A fist collided with his ribs as König followed the momentum and swiped Soap’s feet out from under him.
They ended up tangled on the floor, Soap flipping them with an obscene flick of his hips. Something in König’s periphery flickered. Dangerously. Threateningly. Predatorial.
But then Soap’s meaty forearm pressed against König’s throat and his focus returned to the fight.
His elbow caught Soap’s nose and blood slicked their movements.
No one called it off so they kept moving, fingers digging in shiny flesh and red coating their hands.
Finally, once König’s muscles screamed and his breathing tore in rough pants, he managed to pin Soap and keep him there.
“Enough,” Ghost growled, suddenly appearing at König’s side.
Soap grinned, blood staining his teeth. “Go on, König, gez a compliment. Ya ken ya wanna.”
König had no idea what Soap had said through the thickness of his blood and brogue beyond the word ‘compliment’.
König looked at him.
Mohawk sweat slicked and blue eyes shining.
“Du bist schön,” König muttered. “Very pretty.”
Soap’s eyebrows shot into his hairline as his lips parted slightly in surprise.
“Beautiful,” König corrected, proud of himself for giving a good compliment.
A thick fist wrapped around the back of König’s neck and hauled him up, up, up until his back hit a wall and he had a face full of a very angry Ghost.
“Lieutenant?” König asked, trying to think over his performance. He’d won so Ghost’s anger made no sense.
“The fuck you say to my Soap?” Ghost growled, eyes oozing a murderous intent that König aspired to.
“Ah, I see,” König nodded as much as the hand at his throat allowed. “I am sorry for calling your partner pretty. But you are also very visually appealing. In your own way.” König corrected, pleased when the manslaughter left Ghost’s eyes.
“What—I—you—I’m not… umm… I’m not interested. But—thanks, you’re… physically—umm—impressive?” Ghost muttered, hands falling off König’s throat and hanging uselessly at his side.
“I have no desire for sex with you either.” König agreed. “But if you could give me Sergeant Sanderson’s—”
“No!” Ghost yelled, turning to stalk back to where Soap had sat up on the map. “With me, Johnny.”
Soap tossed König a bloody cheeky wink and let Ghost pull him to standing. “Oh, Gary?!” Soap singsonged, cackling when Ghost’s slapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him out of the gym.
König glanced over to see Sanderson smiling bashfully at him; a blush barely visible over his mask.
He liked this team.
He liked this team a lot.
[5]
Valeria was having a very bad no good day.
It had been going not terribly until Alejandro showed up and fucked it all to hell.
He was good at that.
Fucking shit up for her.
It was rude really.
She cracked her back and looked at the rubble blocking her only exit.
Graves had intercepted Los Vaqueros’ comms and showed up in that stupid plane of his.
God, she hated him.
Anyway, at some point the 141 had shown up and that when shit went from fucked to really fucked.
Valeria was just about the make her cunning escape when Soap had tackled her, dragging them both down an old disused elevator shaft.
And Graves decided Valeria’s death was worth the cost of Soap’s life and sent a missile after the pair of them.
“Fuuuuck,” Soap groaned, rolling onto his back and gazing up at the ceiling. He had concrete dust in his stupid mohawk and Valeria wondered why she hadn’t just killed him when she’d first woken up. “Wha’ ‘appened?”
“You are concussed. And irritating. But I think the latter is unrelated to your injuries.” Valeria shrugged, turning from Soap’s hurt expression to check for alternative escape routes.
“Rude,” he grunted, sitting with a pained moan.
Valeria did not turn around.
“Shit, you’re bleeding.” Soap grunted—he needed to stop grunting, it was annoying—and carefully stood. Valeria turned enough to see him grabbing his already strapped knee.
“Yes, most of this was due to the massive explosion. But some was due to you actively trying to kill me.” Valeria growled, incredulously.
“Hey, I never wanted to kill ya. Just arrest ya and make ya rot in jail. Ya ken, normal stuff.” Soap grinned.
“You remind me of Alejandro,” Valeria grunted—god, it was contagious—and watched Soap’s whole face brighten. “It was not a compliment.”
“What went wrong with the two of you?” Soap asked, pressing a few buttons on his comms and speaking into it without waiting for an answer. “Simon? It’s Johnny, do you copy?”
“Simon?” Valeria asked, eyebrow cocked as Soap waved her off.
“Come on, Si. You there?” Soap shook his head, throwing a hand up when the movement sent him dizzy. “Shit.”
Valeria stepped forwards despite herself and caught his arm. “They have probably already declared us both KIA. And if they leave us here, they will be right.”
“They won’t leave us.” Soap stated, like it was fact. But then he caught Valeria’s gaze and winced. “They won’t leave me.” He corrected, softly.
“Sit down, there is nothing you can do standing up except hurt yourself even more.” Valeria sniffed, hands far too gentle as she lowered Soap to sit on a fallen support beam.
She ignored Soap’s continued calls to ‘Simon’ and continued her lazy perimeter. The blast had spat them out the bottom of the shaft, into the basement below. The ceiling had caved but they were close enough to the load bearing wall that they had a small pocket of space. It was roughly eight feet by eight feet. She didn’t know if they were running on limited oxygen and she chose not to worry about it.
Someone might be coming for Soap. But, depending on who found them first, Valeria wasn’t guaranteed to make it out of the basement alive even if they were found.
“You not gonna call anyone?” Soap finally said, once he’d seemed to grow bored of blank static replying to his increasingly embarrassing pleas.
“Who would I call?” Valeria sighed, rolling her eyes to fix Soap with a withering stare.
Soap frowned. “You got friends, family, right?”
“I have colleagues who would rather take my job than dig through rubble.” Valeria shrugged, it was mostly true. She was sure some people would be sad at the news of her tragic yet badass demise. But someone willing to dig through rubble to reach her? No, there was no one.
“I’m sorry.” Soap whispered, softly.
“Why are you sorry? I have tried to kill you. Many times.” She asked, leaning against a fallen fragment of ceiling and watching Soap rub his knee.
“You never answered my question.” Soap noted, wincing as he found a particularly sore spot.
“Stop fucking with your knee. You will make it worse.” Valeria scolded, grabbing a broken piece of metal piping and dropping to her knees next to Soap. “It needs stabilising.”
Soap did his best to not yelp as Valeria carefully secured the makeshift split. The noises he was making were as embarrassing as they were oddly cute. “Why are you helping me?”
“You are annoying me. If you are no longer in pain, perhaps you will be less annoying.” Valeria replied, stifling a smile when Soap laughed.
“I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m always this annoying. Just ask Simon.” Soap grinned, teeth glinting in the low light mischievously.
“Simon?” Valeria asked, patting Soap’s knee harder than she needed to. She chuckled when he groaned in pain.
“Ghost. My Lt.” Soap supplied, blush blooming across his cheeks.
“A superior?” Valeria deadpanned, shoulders tensing despite herself.
“Yeah, we’re… friends, I guess.” Soap said, softly. “Was Alejandro your—”
“Can you leave well enough alone?” Valeria spat, closing her eyes as she took a steadying breath. “Alejandro is nothing to me now.”
“Come on, Val.” Soap soothed, lips twisted into a wry smile. “Just you and me. Might die down here. Why not tell me?”
“Because it still—” Valeria snarled, cutting herself off sharply.
“Still hurts?” Soap finished, infuriatingly right. Valeria nodded, once. “Tell me? What happened with you two?”
“It was… it was the three of us.” Valeria whispered, words like ash on her tongue. If Soap was surprised he didn’t show it. “Alejandro, me, and… and Rudy. He—” she barked out a laugh and Soap flinched at the sound of it. “—I thought he would leave with me. Rudy, that is. But I was never enough for them.”
“I don’t think that’s true.” Soap offered, voice low and like gravel in Valeria’s head.
“There was nothing for me there. And once the others found out… well, I was nothing but a whore for my team. I had nothing and they had everything.” Valeria’s lip quivered and she growled at herself for the weakness she was so carelessly showing.
“So, you left.” Soap bit his cheek and Valeria hoped he drew blood.
“I did what I had to.”
Soap nodded, thoughtfully. “I don’t think Rudy stayed with Alejandro because he loved him more.”
Valeria laughed, shocked. “If he didn’t love him more then why stay with him. Why?”
“You left.” Soap noted, not unkindly. “Maybe they thought you were leaving them too. Besides, Rudy said once ‘the only person who can kill Alejandro, is Alejandro’.” Soap shrugged and Valeria fought the urge to vomit. “Maybe he just knew you’d be okay.”
“I’m trapped in a basement with the most annoying person I’ve ever met. What about that is ‘doing okay’?” Valeria said, voice flat as she watched Soap cackle.
He took his time enjoying his glee and Valeria couldn’t help toxic fondness blooming where her heart used to be. When his giggles finally died, he pinned Valeria with a startlingly careful look. “You think there’s a way back for you?”
“Maybe once.” Valeria shrugged, uncomfortable under Soap’s kind eyes. “But not anymore.” Soap opened his mouth and Valeria was suddenly far too tired to keep talking about her fucked up life and the loves she’d lost. “What about Simon? You said you are ‘friends’, no?”
“Oh, I—it’s not like that.” Soap flustered and Valeria finally smelt blood in the proverbial waters.
“But you want it to be.” It wasn’t a question. And she knew she was right when Soap’s eyes turned sad. “Have you asked him?”
“I can’t lose him,” Soap swallowed, nodding to himself sternly.
“Can I offer some advice?” Valeria asked, standing only long enough to sit next to Soap and take his hand in hers. “Some people think it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. That it is worth the risk because the gain is so beautiful. I do not agree.” Soap’s head snapped round; wide eyes so full of sorrow, Valeria felt herself tear up. “I wish I’d never met Ale and Rudy. I regret knowing their love because now I have to live without it. Protect yourself, Soap. For the only person who will never hurt you, is you.”
“Fuck, Val.” Soap laughed, throat as wet as his eyes. “Ever the optimist, ain’t ya?”
“Besides, Soap.” Valeria grinned, all teeth and evil predator. “If we die down here, it won’t matter.”
Soap bumped their shoulders together.
It took eight hours and two very awkward trips to the corner that they’d dubbed ‘the bathroom’, before the rubble fell away and a voice called out. “Johnny?”
“Simon?” Soap was up before he remembered his knee was fucked and Valeria had to steady him.
“Shit.” Ghost’s voice wavered before he was barking orders to people behind him. “Ale! We found them!”
“Them?” Alejandro asked, voice thin and brittle.
“Both of ‘em.” Ghost affirmed as some rescue team worked to free them.
The second the last of the rubble fell away, Valeria helped Soap limp to Ghost and deposited him in Ghost’s frantic hands.
“I got you, Johnny. Fuck, thought—” Ghost’s throat clacked shut as he buried his face in Soap’s neck and shuddered around a breath.
“Can’t get rid of me that easy, Simon.” Johnny grinned, winking at Valeria who rolled her eyes. “Ain’t that right, Val?”
“Val?” Rudy stepped through the opening and raised an eyebrow at Valeria.
He looked like shit. Bags heavy under his eyes and hair stuck up at odd angles. He’d always been so beautiful.
She just cocked and eyebrow at him, unimpressed to the end.
“Valeria?” Alejandro appeared at Rudy’s side.
And if Rudy had looked bad, Alejandro looked worse. He’d always worn his emotions on his sleeve and now was no different. His eyes were bloodshot, red and swollen like he’d cried the second the missile exploded and only stopped when he’d stepped into the piss stinking basement.
“I did not know you both cared about Soap so much.” Valeria teased, trying to remember how to breath when Alejandro let out a sob.
“You are an idiot.” Rudy muttered before crossing the distance and pulling her into his strong arms. “Do not do that again, Valeria. Please. Por favor.” Rudy held her like she was something precious. Something worth holding.
“What?” She whispered, hands finding the back of his sweaty shirt despite herself.
Alejandro hugged against her back, lips pressing against her forehead.
She glanced over at Soap, her line of vision obscured by Rudy’s bicep and Alejandro’s shoulder.
Soap was looking right back.
Fond in a way she no longer deserved.
But maybe.
Just maybe.
She could earn it.
[+1]
Soap picked at the frayed edge of his bedsheet. His knee was still fucked. Weak. Painful.
God, he was pathetic.
It wasn’t his fault that he’d landed badly but it sure as shit felt like it was when Ghost had half carried him to exfil.
The only reason that he hadn’t just scooped Soap into his arms was that Soap refused to be carried out of the field.
“Fuck.” Soap’s eyes burned with tears as he pushed the heels of his hands into the sockets and tried to breathe through the knot of emotions in his chest.
It had been just over a week.
Ghost had made sure he checked himself into medical and then… vanished.
Gone to finish the mission that Soap had fucked to all hell.
He chewed his lip and forced a long slow huff out of his nose.
After he’d watched Valeria’s panicked expression as Alejandro and Rudy hugged her, Soap had promised himself that he’d tell Simon how he felt.
But that had been then and this was very much now.
And Soap couldn’t even be upset with himself for bottling it. He was broken. Beaten. Defeated.
And Ghost was perfect.
Ghost was the bogeyman and an angel wrapped in one smoking hot package.
Ghost was kind and scary and sexy and nerdy and a little weird and—
And stood at the bottom of Soap’s bed.
“I thought you’d still be in medical but they said you’d checked yourself out?” Simon asked, carefully.
Johnny shrugged, setting his jaw and clenching his fists from reaching out for Simon. “Nothing they could do. Just need time.”
“That why you look like shit?” Simon asked, mask jumping as he cocked an eyebrow.
It shouldn’t have sent shame through Johnny’s gut. Ghost was just checking in on his sergeant. It wasn’t like Ghost felt the same. Johnny had never been under that delusion. It was just fucking Valeria who’d—
“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Simon soothed and Johnny realised in absolute horror that he’d started crying again. “Is it your knee?” Simon asked, kneeling on Johnny’s bedroom floor and covering his throbbing knee with a huge warm gloved hand.
“I—yeah,” Soap lied, wiping his cheeks roughly with a growl.
Simon frowned, golden eyes crinkling at the corners. “Talk to me, Johnny.” Simon gentle pushed, hand never leaving Johnny’s knee as he used his other hand to pull his mask off.
God, Simon was beautiful.
Golden curls plastered to his head with old dried sweat and Johnny realised that he’d come straight here. Simon had gotten off the plane from the mission and come straight to Johnny.
“How’d the mission go?” Johnny asked, thick clumsy fingers reaching out to brush a curl off Simon’s scarred forehead.
Silence stretched for a while, the pair just looking at each other carefully.
Then Simon sighed and smiled, gently. “Success. Price and Gaz are… celebrating.”
“Do they still not ken that ya ken?” Johnny asked, breathing still uneven as he tried to smile.
“English, MacTavish.” Simon whispered, brushing his thumb over his knee cap soothingly.
“Do they still think that you don’t know they’re fucking?” Johnny clarified, making a point of enunciating each syllable.
It was worth the silliness for the pretty strawberry blush across Simon’s cheeks burning bright in the evening sun streaming through his window.
“No. I think they’re trying to be subtle.” Simon laughed, smile kinking into a snarl with the scar dragging his upper lip towards his cheek. “Do you…”
Johnny pushed himself to sitting, wincing at the change in position. “Do I..?” He mimicked, wiggling his head with a soft smile when Simon pushed his tongue into the missing ‘v’ of his top lip; it was a habit Johnny knew was nervous despite looking so cute.
“Dunno,” Simon grunted; his voice would sound mean to anyone else but Johnny could real the maelstrom of emotion bubbling just beneath the surface.
“Si, just—what? I’m not gonna laugh or nothing. Just ask,” Johnny soothed, letting Simon help him shuffle until he was resting against his shitty metal headboard. Simon stayed at his side, hand on his knee like it could tether him.
“Do you think they’re just fuckin’?” Simon’s baritone rumbled through Johnny’s gut and he had a second to bask in the giddy warmth before he actually processed Simon’s words.
Then he laughed.
It wasn’t his finest moment.
Bully laugh bouncing off the walls as Simon pouted, eyes downturned.
“’m not—” Johnny tried, still cackling.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” Simon whined, dropping his hands to twist in the fabric of his shirt.
Eventually, Johnny got a hold of himself and held an apologetic hand out towards Simon. He had to shake Valeria’s voice out of his head when Simon carefully covered his fingers with his own, gloves still covering the long thin scarred objects of Johnny’s desires.
“Didn’t have you down for a romantic,” Johnny eventually noted, smiling when Simon’s blush turned beetroot.
Simon ran his finger across the crease of Johnny’s index finger and chewed his words. “Be easier if I wasn’t.”
It wasn’t what Johnny had been expecting.
“Hmm,” he hummed, unwilling—and unable—to say anything for fear of Simon shutting down.
“This life… be easier if it was just… you know?” Simon frowned, tongue distractingly running over the pink of his lips.
“If it was just fucking?” Johnny offered when it became obvious the Simon wasn’t going to finish his thought.
Simon nodded, finally meeting Johnny’s eyes.
He looked younger. Less…
Less like the weight of the fucking world was clinging to his veins.
Johnny carefully pushed his finger along Simon’s palm, under his glove. “I don’t think Gaz thinks they’re just fucking. He’s not... I—he wouldn’t do that with Price.”
“Because he has you?” Simon asked, head tilting curiously when Johnny choked on his own spit. “You two weren’t subtle either.”
Johnny winced. “We haven’t in a long time. It wasn’t like that. I—”
“It was just fuckin’?”
“Yeah, we knew that though. Before we started, then…” Johnny sighed, pushing another finger under Simon’s glove greedily.
“He got with Price.” Simon finished, voice too sad.
The glove slowly eased off Simon’s hand, falling to the ground and Johnny threaded their fingers together. So, Simon wouldn’t be exposed. So, he’d have Johnny protecting him. “No. I ended it.” Johnny hurried to clarify when Simon’s mouth dropped open. “But I’m sure he would have, if he’d gotten with Price. We were… place holders. Just to tide each other over. Until we found someone.” Johnny huffed out a humourless chuckle. “That makes it sound bad. I love Gaz. And he loves me. We just—”
“You aren’t in love with each other.” Simon nodded, like he actually understood.
“Yeah, ‘s different.”
“But you… you found someone?” Simon asked, voice soft and sweet and just a little wrong.
Johnny smiled. Now or never. “Kind of.”
“Oh,” Simon muttered, eyebrows pinching in the middle and tongue back in his lip.
“It… I didn’t know if he felt the same. But I couldn’t keep going with Gaz. Felt wrong. Bad. Like I was cheating without us actually being together.” Johnny tried; Valeria’s words echoing around his skull.
Simon squeezed his hand, gently. “I’m sure who ever the bloke is, he’d understand.”
“Would you?” Johnny asked, throat dry. “If.. would you? Mind, I mean.”
Simon smiled but it was a broken thing. Painful to look at and bitter in Johnny’s chest. “Yeah, if it was me. I’d want you. Regardless, despite, and because.”
“I’ve got a lot of baggage, Si.” Johnny tried, his knuckles where white where he gripped Simon’s hand and he couldn’t remember needing to hold on so tight. He just knew he did.
Simon just laughed and held his hand back just as tight. “Who doesn’t?” The silence that fell was comfortable but not complete. When Simon broke it, he cleared his throat first. “Who… you don’t have to… but… who is it?”
Johnny’s mouth fell open, incredulously. “You, ya muppet.”
“Well, I don’t know.” Simon snapped, throwing his free hand in the air. “You’re barely understandable at the best of times. I didn’t want to assume.”
“Who the fuck else would I even be talking about?” Johnny threw back, just as exasperated. “Fucking Sanderson?”
“Leave Roach out of this,” Simon shuddered, rolling his eyes in faux-disgust. “He already tells me about how he’s ruining König every night.”
“Wait, Roach and König?” Johnny gasped, quickly reminding himself to corner Gary later. “Wait—” Johnny shook his head, like a dog clearing water. “—we’ve gotten off topic.”
“Yeah,” Simon grinned, teeth glinting in the low shitty light of Johnny’s barracks. “How about you get us back on track, Sergeant?”
“I’m in love with you.” Johnny said, mostly because it was true but also because he knew Simon’s eyebrows would shook up and his mouth drop open. He was vindicated when just that happened. “Sir.”
Simon’s eyes blew black and Johnny cackled again. “Oh, piss off.”
“You love it.” Johnny giggled, hiccupping on the last one when Simon sat up on his knees and cupped Johnny’s face.
“Yeah, I do.”
Then there was scarred perfect lips on his and Johnny could only sigh. Simon took the invitation and licked into his mouth sweetly.
When Simon pulled away, it was just far enough to bump their noses together and press a kiss to Johnny’s cupids bow.
“Valeria was wrong,” Johnny grinned.
Simon just looked vaguely horrified. “Why the fuck are you thinking about her right now?”
“She said it was better to never know love than have to know how much it hurts to lose it,” Johnny remembered. The look in Valeria’s eye when she said it would haunt him forever. Like she was haunted. Like she was broken. Like she was still painfully in love. Even after everything. “She was wrong.”
“Can I offer and alternative?” Simon asked, moving to straddle Johnny’s hips and bracket him with his forearm.
“Sure.”
“How about we get to love each other and then we live happily ever after?” Simon smiled, like he couldn’t fight the joy in his chest. Johnny sympathised as he grinned so wide his cheeks hurt.
“Can’t guarantee a happy ending in this line of work.” Johnny noted, anticipation bubbling in his gut.
“Oh, Johnny,” Simon’s smiled turned a little mean and the glint in his eye promised danger. “I always guarantee a happy ending.”
Johnny was pretty sure his laugh woke the entire base.
But even if it didn’t, his screams later on that night definitely did.