Chapter Text
Being in a stealth mission isn’t what Soap was expecting when Price told him that Ghost and him had yet another mission together. Ghost, being Soap’s lieutenant, was the type of guy you’d put on a stealth mission. Not Soap. Without really a way to decline, here he was, crouching in the shadows, his right arm shot. Ghost, who was already at the church by now, was speaking into his comms. “Status, Soap,” Ghost’s voice rumbled in Soap’s ear, causing a pleasant yet unwanted shiver down his spine.
“Alive for now, Lt.” he assured him quietly, ducking and sneaking around the Shadows. He stayed silent until he got more cover. Their comms were private, usually were, in missions like these. They only opened them if they needed help, orders from their Captain or what have you.
Ghost came back. “Good. I’d like to have you alive,” that gets Soap smiling, though he was sure it was a lie. He’s secretly glad that Ghost’s scope isn’t on him right now. At least not yet. He had to get out of this area. Some silence later–as well as some stealth kills–he saw the gleam of Simon’s scope. Instinctively, he hit the ground, only to hear a low chuckle in his ear. “It’s me, Johnny. Good reflexes,” Ghost told him. Soap couldn’t afford to beam over the short praise. Not when Ghost was looking at him through the scope.
“Aye. Maybe warn me next time,” Soap grumbled, sighing and creating a diversion then heading the opposite way. “My arms killing me,” he complained, gripping the wound before steeling himself and eyeing the truck in the distance. “Lt, you think we could make it out with this truck?” He didn’t get a response for a bit. Waiting, he looked at where he saw the glint of the scope last, raising a brow, wondering if Ghost was paying attention.
“Positive,” Ghost briskly said. Soap paused, waiting for some sort of other answer. “I’ll drive,” he continued, which made Soap pray. Ghost’s driving wasn’t… the best… but he couldn’t do any better with his arm jammed up. “Some Shadows up here,” he told Soap, cutting off comms for a second. While Simon was dealing with Shadows, Soap made his way to the truck, the lights were still on. This meant there were keys in them. Thank the gods. Quietly, Johnny opened the door, getting into the passenger seat and flicking off the interior lights so as to not arouse any suspicion from the Shadow company soldiers. “Soap,” the sudden greeting made Soap jump.
“In the truck, waiting on ya,” Soap replied, keeping a keen eye out for any soldiers who might be nearby. Curse Graves for betraying them. This damn mission was unnecessarily difficult and tiring. And don’t even get him started on the soldiers. God, he hated them. They were everywhere, blending in with the dark atmosphere, communicating with one another. Hearing quiet footsteps, he saw Ghost coming. Unlocking the truck, he buckled and put pressure on his arm, his hand covered in mostly dried blood but also wet blood. Giving the signal to start the car, Soap got out his gun and rolled down the window slightly, poking his gun out. “Step on it, Lt,” Johnny ordered, which earned him a small chuckle.
Ghost started the truck, it rumbled to life, causing some soldiers in the vicinity to run towards them. Barely giving the truck time to start and heat up, Ghost stepped on the gas, running over some of the Shadow soldiers in the process. While Soap would normally celebrate, he was currently ducking and aiming out the window with his pistol at any soldier who tried to shoot at them, while his arm was also starting to gush out small amounts of blood. “Johnny,” the sound of Ghost’s voice was grounding. Thankfully, they were getting farther away. “Stay with me Johnny. You’re better alive than dead,” Ghost’s words caused him to let out a laugh.
“Yeah, Lt? Why’s that, eh?” Soap asked as he relaxed against the seat, rolling up the window and setting his pistol in his lap. Maybe it was the dizziness, the brief seconds of unconsciousness that made him the slightest bit braver, but he wished he just kept his mouth shut. “Is it ’cause if I’m dead, you can’t bully and tease me?” The words left his mouth before he could even think about or process any of it. He didn’t even know what he was saying. God, he had the biggest mouth in the world. Silence filled the truck and he wished that the radio worked. “Ah, I’m sorry-”
“Don’t be. It was funny,” Ghost assured him, quickly glancing over at him before looking back at the dirt road. They were taking back roads to a safe house. There, they’d be able to patch up Soap’s arm a bit before making it back to base. “Just, maybe leave the jokes to me next time, yeah Johnny?” Soap nodded, humming.
~
He assumed Ghost had an easy time patching Soap up because when Soap woke up from passing out, he was bandaged up. Any other injured were taken care of too. God, if he wasn’t in this state right now, he’d kiss Ghost. He never asked Ghost to patch him up, yet he always did. “Ghost,” Soap greeted, his voice a bit rough. Ghost’s head turned, he leaned against the headboard of the safe house’s bed. Then there was Soap, on the couch. Noticing this, Soap complained yet again. “How come we’re not in the same bed?” The question sounded even worse out loud. He grumbled and plopped his head back on the throw pillow.
“What a charmer,” his lieutenant quipped sarcastically. “Don’t want you bleeding all over the covers,” Ghost explained, looking down at a map he had sprawled out on his lap. He didn’t deny wanting to be in bed with Soap. So… maybe it was something. Maybe not. After some silence, he was about to speak again until Ghost again. “Don’t get any ideas. Heal,” he simply said, dismissing Soap’s very thought. Damn him. Soap laid uselessly on the couch while Ghost got the privilege of the bed. This sucked. Ghost and Soap were like oil and water most times, it was aggravating. Yet, it only brought Soap closer to him. Like a moth to a flame, exactly like that. No matter what either of them did, they ended up back where they started. They knew each other like nobody else, but they both hated it.
A small sigh escaped him, his left hand running across the bandages Ghost had put over his wound. God, if Ghost wasn’t such a closed off prick, he’d… he actually didn’t know. What would they do? What would happen to their dynamic? Sure, they don’t get along, but they work perfectly together, have chemistry, whatever. “My arm hurts,” Soap said dumbly, complaining as usual. That just made Ghost very quietly groan.
“No shit, You got shot,” he replied, not even looking up from the map that was placed in his lap. Damn. Lucky map. He shook the thought away and sat up, ignoring the pain in his side. “Careful. Don’t want my bandaging to get messed up,” Soap just rolled his eyes. He let out a scoff and then turned his head to look over at Ghost. He wondered how long he’d have to stay here with him until the Helio came. “Heli’s gonna be here in about,” Ghost paused, as if reading his mind, “twelve hours.” Twelve… hours? Soap groaned, lolling his head. Must’ve ticked Ghost off because he just stared at Soap.
Didn’t even say anything, just stared. “Keep undressing me with your eyes. I dare you,” Soap challenged, joking, he told himself. Simon’s eyes went away, back to the map and writing something down on it. Probably ‘throw Soap off the damn helicopter’. Once again, should’ve kept his mouth closed. It really got him in trouble sometimes—if not all the time. Deciding he deserved better than the couch, he got up and stretched. “Sit back down. You’re staying there until you learn to keep your damn mouth shut,” the grumble that sounded as Ghost talked was scary but… it also sent pleasant chills down his spine. “Don’t make me pull those damn stitches and bandages out,” he continued. Soap sat.
“Jesus, LT. It was a joke,” he mumbled to himself, feeling a little sting in his chest. What would happen to their dynamics? Would they grow closer? Would Simon be disgusted by him if he found out how much of a freak he was? Would they grow apart? He fiddled with the skin near his thumb, making an already bad hangnail worse. He didn’t know why he cared so much, it wasn’t like his horrible jokes and banter meant anything. To be honest, he wasn’t sure. A great big sigh escaped him, his head falling onto the back cushion of the couch, eyes to the ceiling.
Nothing from Simon. That was another thing, the guy was unreadable, Soap was even scared to say his actual name around him. Simon. He sighed again, dramatically.
“Dear god, are you really that upset about what I said?” Ghost asked, the sound of paper being folded up made Johnny turn his head a little. Then, the sounds of footsteps. Soap just stared lamely, unsure of what to do.
He finally opened his mouth. “Uhh… no? Actually- maybe a little bit. I mean, wouldn’t want these perfect stitches to be torn,” his finger lightly grazed the bandages as he peeled his gaze away. Simon just stared. Damn, he was like a brick wall. Johnny continued for a moment before reluctantly meeting the lieutenant's eyes again. “And don’t lecture me. I don’t wanna hear it,” he mumbled, knowing Ghost liked to lecture him about his behavior like he was a kid. Which, he guessed, was fair but it was still annoying and aggravating.
Ghost’s head canted slightly before lolling it slowly, a deep low exhale escaping his lungs. “I’m not gonna lecture you. Just… Maybe I was a bit harsh,” he looked away. Oh? What’s this? Soap looked up to him with damn near sparkles in his eyes. “Holy hell, nevermind,” Ghost complained, seeing the look Johnny was giving him and jerking his head backwards before going back to the bed.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Johnny stood, instantly met with Ghost’s harsh eyes. He sat back down, earning a pleased, maybe proud hum. Johnny inhaled quietly. “Were you just ‘bout to apologize, Lt?” He gave a shit eating grin. Simon just looked like he wanted to strangle him with his bare hands. Maybe even dig his fingers into the bullet wound just to spite him. He put his hands up in surrender as the seasoned soldier made his way back to him, maybe his thought was about to come true. “Okay, okay, wait wait,” he hastily said as he pushed himself back against the couch.
“Shut up,” he ordered Johnny. And to that, he did. Lips in a tight line.
—-
Ghost just about had it up to here with Soap. The way he’d make those stupid ass jokes, his bitching and complaining all the damn time, the way he had Ghost responding to him, the way he smiled earlier. It was a headache. He was a headache, a headache that Simon could never get rid of no matter how much he had tried. And he’s tried. Soap had his moments where he was at least tolerable and he temporarily forgot their ‘mutual’ dislike. But now, he just wanted to wrap his hands around Johnny’s neck, feeling him struggle to breathe or swallow. Just squeezing. He wasn’t sure if it was out of hate, he hoped it was.
“Shut up,” he firmly ordered the headache pressed back against the cushions of the couch. Thank fuck he actually did. With a heavy sigh, he went to the back door, opening it slowly, almost in habit from these damn stealth missions. When he was satisfied he was safe, he let the door hit the wall as it opened all the way. He could feel a certain pair of eyes burning into his mask, into the back of his head. Maybe he should gouge Soap’s eyes out while he’s at it.
Smoking had always been a sort of escape for him, he enjoyed it. Enjoyed the quietness as he just watched the smoke fill the starry sky. He usually had one before bed on long ass days like this one. Despite his earlier warnings, he heard the unfortunate and not so subtle footsteps of Johnny. Sure, he hated Johnny, but he wasn’t sure why. He just… pushes all his damn buttons. He pushes them in all the right and wrong ways. “Thought I told you to stay,” Ghost spoke around the cigarette, his mask pushed up to his nose.
“Got bored,” Soap’s casual tone grated on his nerves. His shrug only added to it. “Plus, needed some fresh air,” he told Simon, leaning on the creaky wooden railing. He wished it’d creak and just snap. But, one can’t be that lucky. He didn't turn when Soap turned to look at him. “Got some to share?” Johnny asked, expecting him to just hand over his smokes. He shook his head.
It was obvious he had enough to share, he knew Soap knew. “No,” he simply replied, blowing smoke into the air, watching it move. “Solid?” he found himself asking, not sure why he did, Soap had a tendency to get something new out of Ghost. It wasn't too often but, it definitely happens, and they both don't say anything about it. Almost scared that it’d disappear after mentioning it.
When Soap hummed, he just let out a grunt of acknowledgement. “Sure, Lt. Only got shot in the arm and injured literally everywhere else,” he retorted, holding no heat. Ghost almost huffed, instead he just inhaled deeply and exhaled grey smoke from his fag. What an odd thing to call a cig, a fag. Ghost was a little distracted, why would it be called a fag? Smoking a fag? Really? He rolled his eyes at the thought. “...Earth to Ghost, hello?” Soap dragged, waving a hand in front of Simon’s masked face. He only grunted in response. “Jesus, spacing out are we?” Johnny mused, hand on his hip as he leaned his side against the railing that creaked in protest.
He prayed that it’d snap, but of course, once again, it didn’t. “Was talking about the mission, ‘bout Shepherd,” he mumbled, almost contemplative.
“What about that pig of a traitor?” Ghost asked, the cigarette resting between his fingers. He stared down at it. “Better off not thinking about him. Or Graves,” he flicked his eyes over to the sergeant beside him. Soap looked ahead, breathing in the smoke. “This mission went fine, did a helluva job back there,” he admitted begrudgingly. He wanted to put Johnny’s mind at ease so he wouldn’t be such an annoying prick. He wasn’t saying that for Soap’s benefit, he was saying that for himself.
Soap didn’t seem to realize, if he did, he didn’t say anything. “Yeah. I suppose,” Soap agreed. “Just wondering how this will all work out now, the General is a fucking traitor. A shameless pig. Hell, never trusted that country idiot either,” Soap huffed, hand clenching at the railing, shoulders tense. Ghost just listened silently, thinking it over. He wasn’t too worried to be honest. He knew that Price would have them dealt with. He trusted Price with his life. Simon could agree with Soap on that, Graves always picked at something in his brain that he just couldn’t place. Soap must’ve realized because he chuckled. “Seems like you didn’t either,” Johnny pointed out, stating the obvious. He rolled his shoulders, sighing deeply and shrugging at Johnny.
“Yeah, you’d be right,” Ghost replied, nodding.
“Think Price’ll get rid of him?”
“... Maybe. Dunno what he’d do about the General though.” Ghost flicked the cigarette before stubbing it out on the wooden railing. Soap’s eyes followed.
“I hope we could at least get something out of Graves. Some interrogation,” Soap grinned maliciously, expression hopeful. Hmm, Soap was a fucked up bastard. Then again, he wasn’t any better. But seeing Johnny so hopeful at the idea of ‘interrogation’ was a little surprising. He’s seen him look like that while on the field. They both kept counts of their kills, would fight over them, get angry when the other stole it. It was definitely insensitive but they both didn’t care. After some silence, Ghost made his way back inside and dug back out the med kit.
“Come ‘ere,” he ordered the sergeant. He patted the couch, watching the man hesitantly make his way over, reluctantly. “Just need to change the bandages,” he assured Soap, unraveling the gauze and bandages. He took out the scissors as Soap sat down, he stood near him, holding his arm up. The scissors sounded nice when they cut off the bloodied bandages and medical tape. He was careful not to hit the red, aggravated skin. “Seems to be fine,” he noted, turning the arm slightly from side to side as he assessed the damage.
Soap hummed, trying to hold as still as possible. Seemed like he wasn’t trying to overstep or take this for granted, soaking it in. He wanted to vomit at the sight. God, it pissed him off. He had no idea why. He hated how easily Soap got under his skin, made him frustrated with all Hell. “Don’t make me plunge my fingers into the wound,” he threatened Johnny. That made him look away finally.
“Can patch myself up, y’know? Don’t have to be a damn mother hen,” Soap grumbled, eyebrows furrowed as he looked ahead instead of at Simon. Goddammit, he was not a ‘mother hen’. He was just making sure that his stitch work was still good, that he didn’t have to deal with Soap complaining insistently about the pain. Much of it was a ruse but it still got under his skin, much like everything else about him. His grip tightened on Johnny’s arm, causing a sharp hiss from the man. A small trail of blood poked through the stitches. “Fuck, Lt. Let me do it myself,” he yanked his arm away, rubbing tenderly around the wound.
Ghost let him. He watched as Soap shot him a venomous look, picking up the needed supplies and the way his brow furrowed in frustration and pain. It was probably throbbing. He just stood lamely. “Maybe don’t say I’m a damn mother hen, ‘m not and never will be.” Especially not for you, he wanted to say but figured that was too harsh. Wait, since when did Simon hold back his words? His thoughts? Instead, he just let it all roll off him and sighed deeply. “Didn’t mean to squeeze,” at least he tried to apologize in his own way. That had only gotten an eye roll from Soap, who was finishing up his arm.
My god, what did it take for this guy to just accept his apology? He could just strangle him. He genuinely considered it before Soap spoke. “It’s fine. Just don’t like being coddled,” that was a lie. He’s seen the way he looked at his arm earlier; he’s seen the way Soap would react when someone remembered something important to him, he’s seen it all. And honestly, it made him even more frustrated. But what made him more annoyed was the fact that he had no idea what got him all like this. The root problem.
“Wasn’t. I was just replacing the perfect job I had done,” Ghost added, concealing his thoughts. He was grateful his face was hidden. He knew his emotions splayed easily on his face.
There was some silence before Soap seemed to find yet another thing to talk about. It was like this guy never ran out of topics. “Suppose I’m sleepin’ on the couch?” Johnny’s question was met with Ghost already making his way to bed, the springs creaking in protest. Then another threat about trying to see his face when he was sleeping, that if he did, his eyes’ll be scooped out with his fingers and then he’ll make a new mask with Soap’s skull. Surprisingly, Soap laughed at that.
—-
They woke up bright and early, despite Soap’s body protesting against waking up at the crack of dawn. He just wanted to lay down. Despite the couch being a tad uncomfortable, he slept fine. What really woke him up was the dampness in the room, the humidity. Sitting up and peering over the couch, he noticed that Ghost was no longer in bed. Probably took a steaming hot shower. That’d explain the gross feeling of humidity. He hated being sticky and humid. As he sat there and woke up just a little more, he thought back to last night. What a confusing shitshow. First, Ghost patched him up while he was sleeping, then just about apologized for threatening him, shared worries about Graves and Shepherd, and he had to just ruin it by his tease about him being a mother hen. Which in all honesty, he really was. Every time Soap had sustained an injury, Ghost would insist or force him into letting him bandage and clean him up. Or he’d just do it when he was sleeping. Yet, Ghost wouldn’t even let him help with his.
Caught up in recapping, he jumped when he heard the lieutenant’s voice from the bathroom. “Johnny,” he called out. Woah, using his actual name? He rarely did that. Unless it was serious or he got fed up with him. He decided not to let Ghost wait and ended up knocking on the door in response.
“Yeah, Lt?”
A brief pause, “Come in ‘ere.”
Soap stood still, as still as humanly possible. His hand hovered there on the knob, “Solid?”
“Solid,” came the reply from behind the door. With that, Soap made his way in. The sight was… not what he was expecting. He was already dressed and dried, Simon had his shirt rolled up to his pecs, He had a wrapped bandage on his back that he couldn’t reach easily. Johnny wondered how long he had been injured for, without even saying anything. “Can’t reach,” Simon had told Soap, affirming his thoughts. Seemed like a stab wound, probably from when there were Shadows where Ghost was earlier on their mission.
Johnny hummed, nodding as he moved closer, almost hesitantly. He knew that Simon and him had a difficult time getting along, which Soap did agree with. But he definitely didn’t hate Ghost like he seemed to with him. It didn’t go unnoticed sometimes. “Just replacing the bandage?” Soap asked, gently peeling off the sticky bandage on the wound. Jeez, he didn’t even stitch it or anything. It didn’t look like it needed it anyways, too quick, it probably wasn’t all that deep either. Seems like it was just a ploy or maybe the enemy had different plans before Ghost had disposed of them. “How’d this happen?”
Seemed to be a dumb question because when Johnny shifted his shoulders and head to the right, looking at him through the mirror, Ghost scoffed. “Someone stabbed me. What does it look like?” Johnny just went back to Ghost’s back. He tossed the bandaging into the trash near the toilet. Next, the new bandage was handed to him from Simon, who once again said nothing. Johnny didn’t either. Didn’t feel the need to. He wondered why he didn’t tell him when he got injured, was Ghost expecting to just deal with it himself?
“Y’should tell me next time,” Soap suggested, cleaning the excess and crusted blood around the wound with a wet rag, dapping it dry and then remembering something. “You think they have med stuff here?” Another dumb question, of course they did, how else did Ghost patch Johnny up? Idiot. He sighed, rubbing the back of his outgrown mohawk and squatting, coming in front of Ghost and searching the cabinet. Once he found the petroleum jelly, he looked up from his squatting position, trapped by the cabinet and Simon’s body. He gulped and immediately stood, returning to the wound on the man’s back. With little to no hesitation, not wanting to irritate Ghost even more than he has. Once he was done, he took a step back to appraise his work before the shirt covered it.
“Should be here any minute now,” Ghost mumbled, going to the bed, gathering his stuff and then setting it all by the door. As they were packing up, the distant hum of a helicopter sounded. Soap looked out of the window, unable to see it. Mentally, he was already working on their report, already thinking of brutal ways to get Graves to speak. Maybe his fingernails, surely, he didn’t need those, did he? His slew of thoughts got unfortunately interrupted by Ghost speaking again, he seemed to notice. “Focus. We can brainstorm later.”
Soap scoffed, picking up his bags. “I’d rather come up with ideas now.”
“Why?”
“So I don’t waste time. I can get to Graves faster.”
“You’re a sick bastard,” Ghost mused, they both knew neither of them cared. Not really. Soap just shrugged and went to the window, watching the helicopter come into view. Ghost stood beside him, opening the door beside the window, and gesturing for Soap to walk through first. What a gentleman. He stood on the porch, watching the Helio cautiously still in the air before finding a clearing. Which, Johnny could admit, was surprising. A clearing? Here? He shrugged and walked up, being welcomed by a cool wave from Nikoli. Settling everything inside the helicopter, he waited for Ghost to be settled as well before drumming his knuckles on the steel behind him, motioning ‘all-good’ for lift off.
The headphones, he always enjoyed them. Not too uncomfortable, cancelled out noise real well while still having a bit of background noise. He relaxed as he leaned back, sighing into the mic. Ghost’s eyes went to Soap, maybe he shouldn’t have the mic on? He flipped a switch and his mic turned off. Ghost’s eyes went away from him. He shifted his feet, rolled his shoulders, stretched. His eyes followed movement, Ghost’s hand raising up to the mic, gesturing to him to turn it back on.
“Feeling restless, sergeant?” Ghost asked, eyes bored into him. Another sigh escaped him, this time, Ghost seemed to be unaffected by it. “Sleep. I’ll wake you when we arrive,” his lieutenant ordered. Soap rolled his eyes but complied, closing his eyes and sighing deeply, forgetting about his mic. Hopefully a nap would help ease his nerves. He didn’t even know why he was anxious. Maybe he was just eager to get away from Ghost, eager to go along with his day, to get proper medical treatment for his arm. Either way, he hoped a nap helped.