Chapter Text
The entire stupid idea started when Soap had sort of heard Laswell's wife in the background.
Laswell had been forced on leave for a week, and opted to spend it back home. But duty called, and Price had to set up a video meeting with her to update everyone. Laswell looked calmer than he had ever seen her. Face soft and relaxed, a little less tired and frustrated than she usually was. She spoke the same, going over the reports, and in the background a quiet voice spoke. Laswell briefly turned from the camera, a coffee being handed to her before she turned back with a small smile, her wife's hand coming into frame as she squeezed Kate's shoulder before disappearing.
Soap tried to focus, but his body was so acutely aware of the heat coming off Simon next to him, what it would feel like if he put his hand on his shoulder just for a moment. To have him in his home while he checked in with Price over a call, to have his LT hand him a coffee while he went over files and data and training he had planned. Tried to ignore the bit of pride at the mere thought of Price and Gaz seeing Simons signature glove peak in for just a moment as he ran his fingers over Soaps shoulder.
Johnny shifted, trying to readjust his position a little since his mind was going to keep running wild with thoughts of what it felt like having Simon touch him.
And Simon glanced over, giving him that look that said “I know you’re not focusing”, gently nudging his elbow against him before readjusting himself so they were arm to arm again.
Usually, it wouldn’t be this distracting. Him and Simon were practically glued at the hip. But Soap was very very positive, for a while now, that he was starting to have a wee bit of feelings for the Lieutenant.
Maybe they were due for a chat. Actually, it started earlier.
When he had to sleep in the carrier, or on a job, Simon would pat the space beside him. He used to give a half assed reason, mumbling as he set up his scope, or cleaned his blades.
“Sfucking distracting hearing you toss and turn behind me.”
“Gonna drive me up the wall if I have to see your leg bouncing for the next four hours.”
“If you’re sitting with me it means I don't have to listen to your big mouth goin off to the recruits.”
Slowly it turned into quiet confessions.
“It’s nice, hearing you draw. Keeps me grounded.”
“Don’t like the cold too much… “
“S’a reminder of who I’m trying to keep alive tonight.”
“Don’t have to try to be still around me, Soap. Gives me something to focus on instead of the shit show we're in.”
Then, without Soap even realizing it, it turned into no words at all. He’d find his way to Ghost's side with a drink and a blanket before leaning into his side. No words exchanged, only Simon readjusting to fix the blanket around them both. And on long flights, it had turned into the two letting their legs and shoulders press together, arms crossed as they both fell asleep in their shared silence. Okay, before that, actually.
Soap told Gaz about it. About whatever this thing was. Never said who it was, and swore him to secrecy. Explained in brief detail the first time.
A guy he knew from the UK. Tall, handsome, painfully quiet and mean when he was in a mood, talked with Soap a lot though. Seemed like an asshole most of the time, but was actually really sweet and kind. Worked too hard and carried the weight of his job with him everywhere he went. The guys job was his life, as far as he knew, and didn’t have much time off. Secretive as hell, but he had been opening up more and more over the past few years. Funny, in a cringe-dad-joke kind of way. Spending time together didn't feel exhausting, or stressful. The guy seemed to just get him. Wasn't an ass about how bad his fidgeting had gotten after Las Almas. Never told him to shut up. Or that he was too loud, or too much. Did little things here and there for him, when they could see each other.
“Sounds like you found a copy of your work husband.”
The wrestling that ensued at the comment ended with their beers spilt, the two of them out of breath as they tried to drink back what was left from their bottles.
Gaz listened after though. Every time they went out for food or drinks alone. Kept saying it sounded like he had caught feelings. That he should do something about it. That his sweetheart back home sounded nice.
And that Soap sounded like he wanted more.
Actually, it was before that.
Simon walked ahead of him through an abandoned farm, the snow light and hard to walk through as they scouted ahead looking for shady going-ons in the area. Soap knew Simon could walk faster- that his longer legs could handle the deep fluffy snow better. But his pace was in time with Soaps, pausing here and there when he went off balance every now and again.
“S’a shame we ain't on a mountain. Could be a vacation.”
“You’d want to be on vacation in this?”
“Aye, wouldn’t mind it, if we weren't trudgin’ through a lumpy field in four feet of the shit. Ain't your cup of tea?”
“It’s not.”
“Then what is LT?”
Ghost glanced over his shoulder as he paused, Soap drawn into the little crinkle of Simon's crows feet as he smiled from behind the mask. Watched as his LT looked him over.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” His voice was deep, teasing, starting their little game of tug o war they played with flirting words and glances. Neither pulling hard enough to win, just enough to knock the other off kilter for a bit, get them to stumble over their words.
Soap grinned back, matching the tone. “Would like to know a lot of things about you, LT.”
“Classified, Sergeant.”
And maybe the shitty day was making him feel a little ballsy as he walked right up, standing straight into the others space and looking up into those eyes that were usually so dark, but with the sun reflecting off the frigid landscape, looked like melting pools of golden honey. Soap had never wanted to taste someone so badly before.
“Yeah? Your name was classified too, Simon.” He gave him his best shit eating grin before walking past him, making sure to brush his shoulder against him as he went.
Even when he wiped out only ten steps ahead, he couldn't stop the rush he felt from seeing Simon’s eyes go wide as he stared down at him, at a loss for words.
Knocking Simon off kilter was a high, but maybe the other had won the war, because all Soap could think about later as Simon started a fire in their safehouse and handed him a blanket was what he would look like on vacation. Where he would choose. What he would like to do. Who he would go with.
And then he was at a loss for words.
Maybe it was further back.
Soap had realized his nightmares were changing. Not about betrayal, not about losing Price, or going back home, or being alone in the streets of Las Almas bleeding out.
But of Simon's voice going quiet over comms.
He would check in, he would beg, he would scream, pressing the button over and over, begging for Ghost to copy.
And he never did.
But he was always woken up softly, either by a knock on his door, or by Simon's gentle hands on his shoulders when they had to share a space.
Actually, it started earlier.
He had been sitting with Gaz at their booth, laughing and drinking as they tried to relax. But Soap was on edge, sitting up. Simon had left a while ago, and suddenly the bar was too loud for Soap, too crowded for his liking. The other patrons were too obnoxious for a Monday night.
He was trying to listen to Gaz talk about what his plans were for the week. He was clocking the key points. He was making eye contact, and trying not to fidget or bounce his leg.
But he was tapping in time with the seconds since Simon had slinked off from their table with a stranger who had been glancing his way the whole night. His mind was trying to imagine what the stranger saw in Simon's face as he walked over. Tried to imagine what it felt like to have Simon's eyes on him, his hands gently reaching out and guiding him out of the bar. Maybe it started when Soaps flirting wasn't a funny joke anymore.
It probably started when Simon shot Hassan.
Before that, even, when they both survived the night in Las Almas.
It was actually when Simon spoke with him before the Las Almas fallout.
It wasn’t any secret that he spoke his mind- fucking Christ if he could shut his own mouth up half the time he’d be better off for it. But he spoke, always. Loudly telling Price he felt differently, or telling him what he would do otherwise. Even if it didn’t change anything, he would proudly state that he disagreed. And he was lucky to be working with a team that took it for what it was. Never insubordination- Soap wasn’t trying to disregard orders- would follow them to his grave if he had to. But staying quiet wasn’t an option.
Wasn’t just Price, either. Him and Gaz often had friendly spats about what to do- never in a way that would impact the timeline of a job, or put anyone at risk. Just jabs over comms as they both moved, delivering their own pros and cons to the task at hand and how it should be handled.
For a while, he was sure Simon hated him for it. Ghost was methodical. His focus purely on the success of the mission and keeping casualties of team members at a minimum. The man worked solo missions so much. It was probably jarring to hear someone question his decision. The first time Soap had spoken out, made a barbed comment about the Lieutenant telling him to stop worrying about the other dead soldiers at their feet, he froze. Ghost had turned, eyes burning before he grabbed Soap by the vest and tugged hard. “Sergeant, you will follow my orders and get out of here, or you can stay with them and learn how to bring someone back from a bullet to the head.”
A write up and meeting with Price followed after.
It got better after that. After they had worked on and off together more and more, and Simon learned the way Soap ticked, got to know it wasn't an argument, but a statement. His own way of acknowledging the fucked up world they all worked in. Got even better after the 141 was formed, and the two developed a rhythm.
And in Las Almas, after they had found the missiles, that's when Ghost had spoken to him. Soap was outside, staring at the last dredges of light as the sun set.
“You weren't wrong.”
Johnny pulled his gaze away, eyes falling on the shadows that Simon slinked out of. Watched as he pulled the mask up enough to light a smoke, holding the pack out.
He took one, licking his lips a moment so the paper wouldn’t stick, lighting it then turning his eyes back to the sunset.
“About it being fucked up that we found American missiles?”
“No, I think we were all in agreement about that one. Bout leaving the other team behind. “
Johnny took his drag, frown setting on his face. “No point in telling me then is there? After the fact. Dead and long gone. Can't do nothing about it now”
Ghost was silent for a long while, focused on his cigarette. Taking his time with each puff, his dark eyes solely on the burning tip between each drag. “There is, actually.”
His voice was rough, but quiet.
“You were right. I wasn’t wrong though. Don't know if there was a way for us to aid them without losing our team. Don't think I ever really know how to be right about keeping you safe, but also how to tell you you’re right too. Think you should know that.”
Soap turned, eyes falling on the usually so tall and proud Ghost who looked small after the confession. “I don’t say it cause I think you’re wrong, Ghost. I know why ya make the choices ya do. Sometimes, we're lucky, and when I’m right I can do something about it. Can help someone, get em to cover. But it isn't often, is it? Can be right in saying its fucked up. Can yell all I want, but it don't change that we still have to succeed in the mission. You haven't been wrong making the tough calls yet. Sfucking exhausting, ain't it?”
Ghost barely nodded, tossing his butt and grinding his boot down onto it. Johnny kept his eyes on his lips though, until he rolled the mask back down. “It’s exhausting, but I think we need to hear it. Need someone with the backbone to remind us. “ As Simon walked past, he gave Johnny a hard clap to the shoulder.
“Remind you of what?”
"That we aren't fucking machines." Simon pulled away, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets, shadowed eyes staring down at the other. “Get some sleep, Soap. We’ll need you in top shape tomorrow.”
Maybe it started at the beginning, when Simon was just Ghost.
The base in Herefordshire was buzzing. Word was that some folks were being considered for some classified missions, and they would be running drills today to help aid the recruiter in his decision.
Soap was ready for it, wide awake, on the tarmac waiting to greet the Captain who would be overseeing them.
What he wasn't expecting was the soldier following closely behind Price as they exited their carrier. All the rookies were muttering quietly, eyes wide at the hulking masked figure that folks whispered about when they tried to scare each other.
Soap couldn't pull his eyes from him. His steps were silent, his movements fluid, and he honed in on the pale eyelashes that framed dark brown eyes.
Price was talking, people were talking all around him, but it was all quiet rumble as he stared at the myth before him with the pretty eyelashes. THE Ghost turned to him slowly, eyes honing in on him, his brow bone more prominent as he glared down at him.
Soap straightened his back in attention, meeting his glare with a cocky smile, toeing the line that could lead to him getting in trouble. He watched as Ghost turned towards him, taking a step forward. Soap was narrowly being saved from his wrath by Price calling out.
“Soap MacTavish. Would like to have a word with you.”
Soap offered his best polite smile to Ghost before joining them.
Johnny would like to say he was listening to every bit of the offer Price had been laying out for him. That day was one of the most important of his career. The day he was asked to run some small ops with Price and Ghost, to get a feel for a small team that focused on difficult missions.
He did remember it all, but his memory was equally filled with pretty and mean brown eyes staring at him.
[4:18am] 🧼: gaz i fuckt it
[4:18am] 🧼absolutely fuckd up on a scale i have never i thought i could surpass
[4:18am] 🧼pls tell me ur wrapping up surveillance i need u
[4:19am] 🧼fuck shldnt be buggin ya when ur busy
[4:20am] ⛽ u blow up a part of the barracks?
[4:20am] ⛽not too busy if its an emergency, but gotta keep my ears open. Hands free though.
[4:22am] 🧼oh bleeding jesus thank fck ur up
[4:22am] 🧼no nothing exploded
[4:22am] 🧼burn something in the microwave once and u fucking arseholes never let it go
[4:23am] 🧼awy n bile yer heid ya fckin arse
[4:24am] 🧼rmbr last time we were talking at the bar?
[4:24am] 🧼u gave me some advice about the person i liked
[4:26am]⛽ r u drunk?
[4:27am] 🧼wasnt when i fucked it up, but now i am cause i FUCKT IT UP SO BAD GAZ
[4:27am] ⛽fuck ok give me a run down when i have a moment ill call
[4:28am]🧼 idk if i can call im sittin w ghost and packing bags but
[4:28am]🧼u said i should fucking tell them and i been tryin to find the right time and ghost and i finished up before u so i had the night off and i might have tried to tell em while i was drinkin and playing cards w ghost
[4:28am]🧼Asked if i could spend my leave with em and all that
[4:31am] ⛽look mate if they were a cunt about it, hold ur leave off a day til im back and we can go out for a night. Can have ya come back to mine in london
[4:31am] 🧼gaz i would love to go for drinks but they fuckin said yes
[4:31am] 🧼gonna visit me on leave in glasgow
[4:35am] ⛽they said yes
[4:35am] 🧼 👍
[4:36am] ⛽then how could u have possibly fucked it up. Been sweet on this bloke forever and he’s gonna what, go on a date?
[4:36am] 🧼 idfk what hes gonna wanna dfo i havent thought that far ahead
[4:36am] 🧼gaz its fake tho i was fucking nervous and i got sad about going back home alone and i fuckin
[4:36am] 🧼i asked if he would pretend
[4:36am] 🧼i didnt even ask i fckn won a bet for him to pretend
[4:40am] ⛽the hell do u mean pretend
[4:40am] 🧼tell n e1 and ill kill u
[4:40am] 🧼asked him 2 pretend to be my fucking boyfriend. Stay at my flat and fucking pretend to be with me
[4:40am] [⛽ is typing]
[4:41am] [⛽ is typing]
[4:42am] [⛽ is typing]
[4:43am] [⛽ is typing]
[4:44am] [⛽ is typing]]
[4:45am] ⛽fckn hold on
[4:46am] [⛽ is typing]
[4:47am] [⛽ is typing]]
[4:48am] ⛽call
The line barely made it through a ringtone before Soap heard Gaz.
“You got water to drink?”
“Scotch.”
“Get some fucking water. And explain to me, in brief detail, how the fuck you asked your sweetheart to pretend to be your boyfriend instead of asking him to be your fucking boyfriend?”
“Gotta be quick, Ghost is waitin’ for me.”
“You tell your work husband about this?”
“Naw, can't tell Ghost.”
He could hear Gaz’ sigh. “Got your water?”
“Yeah. Ok. I uh… I swear I was gonna ask em proper, Gaz. Just, i brought up how they felt about datin’ and all that, and i was panickin mate, fuckin freakin’, ready to fucking explode, and i made a stupid bet that if i won theyd spend leave with me, but i fuckin got scared and i said it was just pretend though cause i was fuckin lonely and i said so much dumb shit and i was scared they would feel pressured to say yes or that they would say no and-”
“Soap, breathe for a second. Sip your water and breathe.”
Soap followed the order, trying to calm his racing heart.
“Fucked it all up, Gaz. “
“Don't think you have. You really think they would have said yes if they didn’t care about you?”
“What if they feel pressured cause I was a fuckin pathetic. Told ya Gaz, he’s too fuckin good for me. Think he’d do a lot for me without considerin’ how he felt.”
“Alright, but going to stay with you for a month in fucking Glasgow ? Mate I wouldn’t even stay a month with you in Glasgow. And I’d die for you.”
“Piss off Gaz, this is fuckin serious.”
“I know it is, Soap… Alright, we're gonna break this down step by step, alright?”
Soap tried to hide the way his voice wavered with the panic he was trying to keep wrapped up tight in his chest. “Alright. Let's hear it.”
“They lost the bet and are coming to Glasgow?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“And you asked them to pretend to be your boyfriend to go on dates? “
“They.. Might be pretending to be something more, I dunno how I fuckin had the gall- they’re staying at my fucking flat Gaz, the whole month, unless they get sick and tired of me, i guess theyd just leave then-”
“Living with you, then?”
“Aye.”
Gaz was silent long enough that Soap was scratching at his fingertips, dragging his callouses along hangnails.
“And you’re really unsure if your sweetheart feels forced into it?”
“Yeah Gaz, I do. Look, I’ll fucking tell em its off and I’m fucking stupid and-”
“Soap, fucking calm down for a minute. You’re not gonna bloody do that, cause if they do like you, they fucking wont after you bail on them. Everything you’ve fucken told me makes them sound like if you don't roll with this, neither of you are gonna say or do anything. So you’re gonna commit to whatever fucking mess you’ve managed here, and you're going to listen to me, alright?”
“Yeah, alright, I’m listening Gaz.”
“Ground rules. Have them set ground rules- not that I think you need any, sounds like you two have both been ready to fuckin’ jump eachother whenever you’re in a room together. But since you’re worried, set ground rules. The most important being that either of you can call it off at any moment for any reason. So if he’s uncomfortable, he’ll tell you.”
Soap nodded, eyes shut as he thought it through. “Yeah, I can set some rules. S’good idea.”
“You’re going to ask what he wants out of it too. Ya don't just agree to a bet like that without possibly wanting that outcome. He probably has some ideas of his own. Alright? Gonna ask him about stuff he’d like to do while you’re… Pretending. “
Soap nodded, “I can do that. “
“And you're gonna take this opportunity to show this idiot ya fell for exactly what he's missing, Soap. Ya gotta trust me on this, I dont think he’d have played along if he wasn't interested. And you're gonna do your best damn job to show him you're worth it. I know how much this matters to ya, but you're not gonna be nervous. You're gonna be your goddamn self, and you're gonna be the usual confident idiot I know, alright?”
“I… I’ll try Gaz, I just- I don’t want to fuck this up, dont want him to run off cause I scared him or something.”
“If he runs off, he really isnt worth your time, Soap… Listen… You sure you dont wanna tell Ghost about this?”
Soap bit into his lip, focussing on the feeling as he shut his eyes tight.
“Naw, really can't tell Ghost about it mate.”
Gaz let out a softer sigh from the receiver. He had tried to tell Soap that it seemed maybe there was something there. That he should try his luck with the LT, rules be damned. Ghost seemed plenty interested in the demolition specialist. The two were practically a package deal now. If you needed Ghost, you’d get Soap too. If you needed Soap, Simon was right behind.
But Soap would have none of it, swearing up and down that he was wrong. That him and Ghost had become good friends and nothing more.
Gaz wasn't sure why he was so adamant, he saw the way Soap would look at him, how they moved around each other, how they existed together. The casual touches, the jokes whispered together and the laughter that followed.
But Soap had this crush for what felt like ages now. This person he would never show pictures of, just swear the guy was an 11/10.
“Alright, then when you’re sober, we're going to create a list of what you want to do, and you’re going to make damn sure you do it.”
Soap rubbed at his eyes, letting out a long breath. “Ta, Gaz.”
“Don’t thank me til you’re dating your boyfriend for real.”