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The first thing Ghost notices when he wakes is that he isn’t in his room. He’s on the floor, and his sunglasses are askew, so he stands up as quickly as possible and reaches for his gun. Except, his gun is gone, and there are no people around him.
He fixes his sunglasses and takes the opportunity to look around, pulse racing. Unfamiliar land is not unheard of in his line of work. The issue is how the fuck he got here. He begins to walk in the direction that seems to have commotion, only to bump into someone almost immediately.
“Oi, watch where you’re going.” A Scottish voice says. Ghost turns and suddenly he’s face-to-face with his Captain. Well, a younger-looking, less haunted version of his Captain. There’s no scar on his eye, and his hair is a bit longer. This version of Captain MacTavish, who is also a bit shorter than the one he knows, gasps. “Holy shit, Ghost? You shrunk.”
“I was just thinkin’ the same thing, sir,” Ghost mutters, which gains him a slap on the arm.
“And yer voice is so…” MacTavish pauses, grin forming on his face. “Did you just call me sir? Holy shit, wait til Gaz hears about this.” Ghost raises an eyebrow, knowing Soap can’t see it. He’d never known Gaz personally, but what he does know is that Gaz is dead.
“I call all of my superiors sir, Captain.” Soap’s eyebrows shoot up, but his grin doesn’t disappear.
“Come with me, Lt., we’ll talk to Price.” Soap begins to walk off without waiting for Ghost, who almost scoffs and doesn’t go, but decides against it. What could be the harm?
This Price also looks much younger than the one Ghost knows. He’s smoking a cigar while he and MacTavish mutter to each other, looking at Ghost a few times.
A few minutes of this pass, before Price clears his throat.
“You’re Simon Riley, yeah?” The name makes Ghost shift uncomfortably.
“Yes, sir.”
“Not… our Simon, though.”
“No, sir.” Price nods, leaning back in to talk to MacTavish again. Ghost slumps in his chair.
“Ghost?” Soap pipes up. Ghost looks over at him through his sunglasses, and he’s struck by how attractive this version of the Captain is. He hums in acknowledgement. “Can ye tell us everythin’ you remember?”
Ghost’s explanation doesn’t seem to help, but when he mentions that it’s 2016 where he’s from, Price and Soap exchange a similar look of disbelief. Price mutters some more to Soap before he dismisses them.
MacTavish leads Ghost back to a room which he says is his bunk, and Ghost tentatively sits on the bed.
“I guess I should properly introduce myself to you,” Soap says, holding a hand out for Ghost to shake. “Sergeant John ‘Soap’ MacTavish of Task Force 1-4-1.” Sergeant? No wonder he’d found Ghost calling him sir funny. Ghost shakes his hand.
“Ghost.” He offers no more than that, and Soap seems to understand that he won’t be getting any more. Ghost is thankful that he isn’t questioned further and relaxes the slightest bit. Soap stands awkwardly by the door as if he thinks he should leave, so Ghost pats the bed out of pity. “You can sit.” Soap grins at him brightly and Ghost looks away, face flushing slightly.
He briefly wonders if the Ghost from this universe feels the same about Soap as he does about Captain MacTavish. That would be ironic, he thinks, the same man falling for the same man in a completely different universe. Maybe it was easier in this one, easier for Other Ghost to accept his feelings. The idea makes a hint of jealousy rise in his stomach. It took him far too long to understand his feelings, let alone accept them. He kind of hopes Other Ghost struggled the same.
“D’ye look like my Ghost under there?” Soap’s voice snaps him back into the present. He glances over at the Sergeant, who’s casually spread out on the bed, and he has to quickly avert his gaze.
“Not sure. What does your Ghost look like?” Soap hums.
“He’s got these… intense eyes, so dark you’d think they were black, it’s really fuckin’ scary. His hair’s short and blonde, got a strong nose too. Stubble, of course. Bastard doesn’t need to shave with that fuckin’ mask. Scars,” Soap trails off, and Ghost realizes he’s waiting for a response.
“Uh, no. I’ve blue eyes and brown hair. Sorry.” He shrugs, when suddenly Soap is right in front of his face. Ghost blinks a few times, fighting the urge to move away. Soap smiles.
“Y’should show me.”
Usually Ghost would want nothing less, but…
“‘nd why would I do that?” It’s a challenge. Soap can’t see his smirk, but Ghost can tell he gets the message by the way his eyes light up.
“Because I asked so nicely? I jus’ want a wee look, nothing crazy…” He began batting his eyelashes at Ghost. God help and forgive Ghost for allowing himself to be tempted by a pretty man. He sighs, snatching his sunglasses off and blinking a few times to get used to the light. Soap’s eyes are on him the whole time.
He hesitates when he gets to the bottom of his balaclava, but figures fuck it, if Other Ghost is okay with showing Soap his face, he shouldn’t mind that much either. He pulls it off in one swift motion, but doesn’t look at Soap to gauge his reaction. He can feel his heartbeat in a way he hasn’t been able to in years, and he jumps when Soap’s cool fingers touch his jaw. He’s forced to look at the Scot, but all he finds there is amazement.
“Still good-looking, Lt.. I’m almost jealous.”
Ghost’s cheeks are definitely a dark shade of red, but there’s no balaclava to hide it this time.
Fucking hell. This is going to be a long few days.