This was supposed to be like 1.5k words turned into 3.4k
No warnings. A bit of action, nothing graphic. It should be a fun read (I hope)
Ao3 link
“A’righ’, ya muppet, get up.” Price chuckled, “I signed it fifteen minutes ago, when you handed it to me.”
“Fift- then wha’ th’ fuck am I on th’ floor for!” Soap climbed up on aching knees, Price looked like he was in pain with how ard he was holding in his laugh.
“Wanted to see how far you’d go.” he shrugged.
“Oh, up yer arse wi’ it, ya bloody baw.” Soap scowled, adding, “itsnae funny.” when Price couldn’t contain his boisterous laughter any longer. He slumped into the chair he should have been sitting in, and pointedly did not sulk. It was about as funny as a Scot dating a Brit. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t.
“Oh don’t sulk, Soap, I was never gonna send him to Siberia in December.”
Soap slumped harder in his seat, making it a point to not look at Price. He was mad at him. It was harder to hold his frown when the man was gleefully nudging him with the toe of his boot. Okay it was a little funny. Not that he would ever admit that to the man.
— — —
“How are you gonna jus’ sit there!” soap threw his arms up in exasperation, “he ‘ad me on my knees, an’ you’re laughing!” he was starfished across Ghost’s bed while the man worked on reports at his desk. Laughing at him. Not exactly routinely… okay it was pretty much standard.
“You won’t even tell me what you were there for, why would I help you.” Ghost shoots back at him smoothly. Bastard.
“Wha! You dinnae need to kno’, yoo’re just supposed to defend my honor.” Soap cried in faux-offense.
“ ‘Defend your honor’.” Ghost parrots as he sits back in his chair, he hums thoughtfully as he turns to look at soap, “for all I know you were getting in trouble for taking Price’s cigars last week. I don’t think that’s an honor even I can defend.” Ghost chuckled, catching the pillow Soap threw at his head. Soap was going to say something else when Ghost’s phone rang. taking it out of his pocket, “it’s Price.” he said before answering.
“Yeah, he’s here.” Price’s voice was loud enough to hear, but not loud enough to make out what he was saying, so Soap was only privy to a one-sided conversation. “No, not terribly. You ask me that after you ask if soap’s here?” Ghost bolstered, “mmmh not likely. And you mettle too much.” there was a pause that Price’s muffled voice filled. “Did you call on business, or just to poke at me?” Soap couldn’t tell if it was annoyance or deflection, but if it was Price on the other end it was all in good nature. “But it’s christmas. Soap has-” price, evidently, cut him off, “Fine.”, Ghost hung up with a sigh. “Price needs us geared up and on the tarmac in fifteen.”
— — —
They were kitted up and waiting on the tarmac faster than you could say ‘Two Clicks and a Cracker’, fortunately Price didn’t make them wait too long. He met them with a cigar, and two folders tucked under an arm.
“New mission.” he holds out the folders for them to take, “and before you start, I did my best, but without either of you putting in leave there’s not much I can do. But,” Price sighed. “I pulled some strings. You two are going to Chile for the next three weeks. We had a team pass through a few months ago, they had to crash at a safehouse for a few days. They sent in a report of broken equipment and utilities. It needs to be cleaned, as well as restocked.” Soap flipped open his folder, the list of broken shit was longer than it reasonably should be, in soap’s opinion. “Now, as your directive is not a highest priority you will have a scheduled exfil for January second at fifteen hundred local time. With what remaining time you have between infil and exfil, you will keep an eye on everything to make sure it’s running smoothly. You’ll have quite a bit of time on your hands, so just chill out and don’t break anything, I don’t want to have to go back to fix anything any time soon. Capisce?”
“Yes sir.” Soap flipped his folder closed, they had a long list to do, but nothing they can’t handle. Ghost was still studying the photos in his folder, as thorough as ever. “When do we-”
“Are these bullet holes?” Ghost cut him off, holding up one of the photos.
“Well it’s a military safehouse, what do you expect?” price said, unworried.
“For them to not break the safehouse.” Ghost deadpanned. Which to his credit, yeah that was usually what was expected. “Was there contact, or were they just dicking around?”
“The reports say there was brief contact, but all hostiles were neutralized.”
“Which could mean exactly nothing in this line of work.”
“It’s been months, Ghost, you’re always so suspicious.”
“It pays to be a skeptic sometimes.”
“Just take the free vacation, Ghost.” Price exasperated.
“Since when do I take vacations?”
“Since now.” Soap jumped in, he wasn’t much one for sand, but he wasn’t complaining as long as they weren’t sent for snow. Plus, a little birdie told him Ghost loved the beach. Ghost whipped his head to him, soap watched his eyes look him up and down.
“Soap hates the beach.” Ghost turned to Price. Soap wasn’t sure when or where he got that information, but it was Ghost, so he probably had a way.
“Nae, the beach is fine, Ghost. When do we leave?”
“Now. Nik is loading up your supplies in hanger two.” Price handed Ghost a card, and an envelope. “Money for anything else you might need.” he paused, “do not spend it on porn.” he said with humor in his eyes.
“What if it’s really important though?”
“If it was, I’d have already bought it myself.” Price walked them over to the hanger where Nikoli was waiting, and saw them off.
— — —
The human body isn’t meant to sit in the back of a cargo plane for twelve hours straight, though he’s had worse on cramped commercial flights, so he’s only allowed to complain a little bit.
Nikoli helped them unload, and then he was back in the air headed for home within an hour and a half.
When they finally shuffled all their things to the door and opened it up. The place was a mess. Soap stepped inside and just dropped his bag on the floor while he took it all in. It was like a frat house hurricane swept in, trashed everything, and left. Ghost pushed in beside him and all but froze.
“Well… looks like we got some work to do.”
“Steamin’ jesus, what did they do?” there was trash and takeout boxes everywhere, cans of beer to go along, and soap kicked probably a dozen shell casings just walking further into the living room. He’d seen the pictures, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad.
“C’mon help me get the rest of the stuff inside. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” Ghost broke from their stupor, turning out the door.
It took a little longer without the help of a third person, but by the time they were finished they had stripped a few layers in the heat, and the sun was just beginning to set. They’d both stripped their kits, Ghost the mask and hoodie as well, Soap himself had stripped his own shirt off as well.
“Go get a shirt.” Ghost instructed, pulling out a face mask from his bag, and slipping the card into his pocket. “We gotta head to the store for dinner.” Soap tugged his shirt on as Ghost spoke.
— — —
The following two weeks were spent sweeping and cleaning, and fixing whatever they could find that was broken. Which included but was jot at all limited to, a broken water heater, A drippy shower, a leaky sink, a toilet that didn't flush all the way, and the team that was here last had left a broken down humvee around that back which Soap had taken to taking apart to fix.
But aside from that Soap didn't think they'd get all the shell casings given a whole season. And in the most random of places too. Obviously the living room, but also under the bottom cabinets In the kitchen along the crown moulding, behind the doors of just about every room, there were a few behind the toilet and in the bathtub, he even found one in the bed that first night.
Price and Laswell kept in communication, calling them every few days just to make sure everything was running smoothly, and to ask if they were in need of any extra parts that hadn’t been sent. As predicted everything was running smooth as butter, they updated them on what they were able to fix, and what was taking a bit more time. Soap had gotten the humvee running before the end of the first week, and road worthy by the second, albeit missing a few parts. The windshield was cracked to shit, and the metal top had been taken off in place of a canvas one, but it was solid. It was smooth until Laswell called one morning without Price.
“Soap. Ghost.” Laswell’s voice came through the phone’s speaker.
“Laswell. Is Price there? This isn’t a scheduled meeting.” Soap answered.
“On his way. Where’s Ghost?”
“In the shower. I assume something’s come up.”
“Local law enforcement tells me you have hostels inbound, but they won’t come near it with a ten foot pole. I’ve sent Price and Gaz your way, but they won’t get to you in time.” Laswell informed. That wasn’t exactly the news he wanted to hear.
“Do we know how many?”
“Last time anyone was at your location, it was a team of five. I’d hazard a guess at two dozen.” seems a bit overkill to him, but who’s he to say.
“How long do we have?”
“Six, maybe eight hours.” okay not as bad as it could be.
“Aye, I’ll let Ghost know. And Laswell?”
“Yeah, Soap?”
“We’re gonna break a lot of shit. And I don’t want to fix it.”
“I’ll get it taken care of.”
“Thanks, Laswell.”
“Merry Christmas. I’ll see you back at base, Sergeant.” she cuts the line. And it was only after a moment of heavy contemplation that Soap realized it was christmas day. And he hadn’t even gotten Ghost anything.
Soap could still hear the shower running, it would likely be another while before Ghost finished. He was tempted to join him, but he knew himself well enough to know that he shouldn’t get distracted.
— — —
It must have been a half hour later when Ghost came and sat on the sand with him, wrapping himself around soap, legs bracketing around him. They’d spent quite a good amount of time on this beach. It was a private spot, the water washed up a dozen feet from the house at high tide, and the treeline began right where the steps met the sand. And he found, he didn’t mind finding sand in all the unholy places quite so much when Ghost was involved.
“Laswell said we have incoming.” soap muttered softly as Ghost kissed up his shoulder to the nape of his neck, he could feel still-damp hair brush over his neck and cheek, but he leaned into it instead of pulling away; like he probably should have.
“But we have time?” Ghost pressed his face into the back of his neck, hugging soap closer to him.
“Beaches aren’t so bad.” he hums. It’s answer enough.
“When’d you decide that?” Ghost mumbled into his skin.
“Just now.”
“Hmm I like the beach too.” Ghost said after a moment of contemplation. And Soap wanted to stay there for eternity, but they had five hours to prepare and they needed to go to the store. Ghost’s arms wrapped tighter around his middle. Maybe they could say for a few more minutes.
— — —
“You’re flooding the sink?” a quick trip to the store, which consisted mostly of string and snacks, had them back at the house within an hour. This was the last thing in order after setting up the rest of his Home Alone traps. They had probably just under an hour, and now Ghost was questioning his decisions while he was checking and loading their firearms and eating Soap’s gummy peach rings. That he teased Soap about getting.
“Obviously. Nobody wants to see a flooded sink. Whether it’s yours or not.” Soap rolled his eyes, shoving more cloth and sand down the drain. He very specifically kept his eyes away from the cabinet above the microwave, there was no reason for him to look there. truely. “Those are my peach rings, by the way.” he didn’t really care, they were mostly for Ghost anyway.
“Mmh, obviously.” Ghost said around a gummy as though it wasn’t obvious. “What’s that mean for the dumber of us?”
“A flooded sink is never good. Mean’s it’s connected to something, or something’s gone wrong. Plus water on the floor means they can’t sneak, and they leave tracks. If anything it draws their attention for a second, and that’s a second more for us”
“Smart.”
— — —
“Soap two vans just pulled up.” Ghost’s voice came through their comm line, the flora around the house wasn’t incredibly dense, but it was enough that it made Ghost difficult to spot if you didn’t know to look for the crook of branches twelve feet up. Soap only knew because he helped him up there.
“Think they’ll check the bathroom or the bedroom first?” He was precariously crouched barefoot behind the kitchen wall, just barely out of sight if they peeked in at the sink, water from the sink licked at his toes. Armed only with a knife, a pistol, and an extra magazine. If he played his moves right, they wouldn’t see him until it was, hopefully, too late.
“I reckon they’ll split up, ‘s what I’d do.” soap could hear boots stomping up the two stairs to the front door.
The door slammed open just before Soap could respond. Almost immediately the rope tied to the door handle pulled taut, and the shotgun sprayed buckshot as the trigger compressed. He heard a body hit the ground, followed by shouting and sounds of panic. He heard more soldiers storm up the wooden stairs, whoever stepped through the threshold first pulled the tripwire. It pulled the pin on the grenade.
“Beautiful, Johnny, I count eighteen, down to fifteen. I’m heading to the back, arm the backdoor when you're out, keep it loud.”
The remaining soldiers continued with more caution. There was a pause, then uneasy shuffling. More footsteps entered into the house. Soap could feel the tension as they split up. The water around his feet rippled as one of the soldiers stepped into the water by the sink. There was a nook in the kitchen that created a blindspot from outside of the kitchen, he stepped into view, and sunk his knife into the throat, and gently lowered him to the ground before he even had a chance to react. Four down, fourteen to go.
Almost simultaneously the shotgun in the bathroom went off, and shouting and gunshots came from the bedroom, letting him know they tripped the flare in the closet he’d used as a distraction. That was Soap’s cue. He whipped out of the kitchen, snatching up the shotgun that took out that first soldier. With one more shot in it, he aimed at the second soldier in the bathroom, and shot. He went down like a ton of bricks. Six down, twelve to go. This is where it gets hot. He unholstered his pistol without waiting to watch. Four shots. Two bodies. He ducked behind the couch. They all aimed at him, he was outnumbered, but they didn’t know the space, and he was two steps from the back door.
“Ghost, I need out.”
“Copy.” Half a second later the glass at his back splintered, and one of the soldiers fell over dead. And the rest scattered for cover like cockroaches from a light. Nine down, nine to go.
Soap didn’t wait, he flew out the door, arming it as it closed behind him. Ghost met him as soon as his foot touched sand. And there wasn’t a second to spare when the door flew open behind them. They split and ran down the beach, careful where they stepped.
“Soap,” Ghost called, waiting for a response.
“Ghost.”
“wanna see something sexy.” and of-fucking-course he did.
“You know I do.” And not a moment later did he hear a boom accompanied by the sand under his feet rattling, and he could see sand and bodies flying. Soap let out an overexaggerated moan. Too which he got a chuckle from Ghost that he could hear the eye roll through. He will be salty that Ghost got to set off the first sandy explosive later. Eleven down, seven to go.
Soap could hear the two soldiers behind him, he wide-stepped over a small rock in the sand, and detonated the explosive buried right below in two paces. The shock sent him off balance, but he caught himself before he fell. Thirteen down, five to go. And he was out of tricks. He had three more after him, and lead flying by his head.
Pinwheeling around a bloody large boulder he deaded back the way Ghost was headed, he could see Ghost had been able to do just the same. Trust. Ghost had two on him. He didn’t stop running as he shot.
The first one went wide. The one after had a body falling, and the one after that had the other soldier stumbling. He couldn’t tell which bullets flying by his head were Ghost’s and which were enemies’, but somehow, some miracle, none of them hit him.
— — —
He frowned as he opened the cabinet above the microwave, it had been bullet ridden, but somehow he’d still hoped the little skeleton ghost plush he’s bought would have remained untouched. It wasn’t so. Stuffing fell out before he even opened the cabinet all the way, and what greeted him when he did was a very sad, very stuffingless once-was plush. He pulled it out with a frown anyway.
He turned to toss it in the trash, and promptly had a heart attack when he turned around and Ghost was right there. He clutched the sad bit of fabric to his chest, and panted dramatically.
“Christ, Ghost, scared me half to death.”
“I’d hope not.” Ghost smiled. “What’s that?” soap held out his was-gift.
“Oh. uh merry christmas?” he felt his face pull in disappointment, “I was hoping that it would somehow stay safe, but…”
“Lemme see.” Ghost held out his hand for the thing. “Eh he’s not so bad. Just needs a bit of stitching and stuffing, and he’ll be right as rain.” he smiled at him. Then, impossibly, his face brightened further, “wait right here.” and then Ghost was out of the kitchen.
Soap stayed put like instructed. Christ they’d made a right proper mess of this safe house. Water everywhere, shell casings, damage to everything. Price was going to throw a fit when he saw it.
“Okay close your eyes and hold out your hands.” Ghost said before he walked in. soap did as told. Something was placed in his hands, “okay open.”
It was a leather bound Journal, with his initials engraved into the front. He flipped open the cover to see that ‘SR’ had been scratched into the inner surface, along with a polaroid of Ghost, and a sleeping him in bed.
“I noticed you were getting to the end of yours.”
There were so many things Soap wanted to say. That he loved it, he loved him, that it was the best thing he’s ever been gifted, that it was a privilege to get this, that he was honored that Ghost would put their names together, that Ghost would let him see his face. He settled for kissing him instead.
— — —
There wasn’t much for Price and Gaz to do when they landed, except help pack. And Soap and Ghost left for base with them. There wasn’t much they could salvage without another team and more tools and parts. And what could be done, wasn’t worth the effort after they just fixed it. So home they went.
au where mrs Riley gets the chance to leave her husband’s abusive ass when Simon and Tommy are little and takes it. She’s got no money, no relatives nearby, and no idea what to do with two children under five. So she takes a long shot.
When she was in school, she was very close friends with another young woman. Close enough to consider themselves as good as family, even if they weren’t blood related. They fell out of touch after school, with work and life and other things getting in the way. The last time they’d seen one another (before marriage tore her from her own life) she’d gotten her phone number and a promise that no matter what, she’d answer. Mrs. Riley never found the courage to do so before. But despite years and distance separated them, she still remembered it.
Elizabeth (formerly Riley) calls Grace in tears, standing in the rain at a pay phone, trying to keep her kids out of the worst of the deluge, expecting the worst. Derision. Judgement. Perhaps even blame. But she gets a warmly familiar voice in her ear, beyond joyful to hear from her again, and of all things, a plan. A plan to get her out of Manchester and somewhere safe.
Three train tickets to Scotland later, Elizabeth, Simon, and Tommy stand on the doorstep of the MacTavish house and are welcomed by Grace and her family with open arms.
(Simon doesn’t remember much from that period right after they got away from his dad, but he does remember the important things. A warm house. Full bellies. Firm embraces. Blue eyes everywhere. And a hand that fit perfectly in his own. When he sees the Sergeant hop down from the truck before that goddamn mission, he’s thrown back in time. And when he hears that Scottish lilt in his words, he knows.
The heat from the sun lingered in the air and wrapped pleasantly around their bodies. The shaking leaves rustled above them, casting them in a comfortable shade. Unseen critters happily chirped in the distance.
They sat in white plastic chairs, slightly used and scuffed, each a half glass of red wine in their hands as they watched their sons playing in the yard.
Tommy was napping so it was just John and Simon sitting on the short grass, a dozen or so marbles spilled out across the yard, many more still sitting in a nearby cloth bag. They sat next to each other, Simon focused intensely on the marbles, John less so focused. He was chatting, a flurry of words spilling from his mouth like it always did. He could talk for two. For three.
Simon remained silent.
"So sorry if John is bothering him," Grace said with an affectionate chuckle. "He's got some strong lungs on him. He just doesn't stop sometimes. Don't know where it came from."
Elizabeth smiled warmly, watching the amusing scene before her. "It's okay," she replied, genuinely. "Simon has always been a quiet boy, but if he didn't like someone, he would let it be known. We've had a few instances at the playground where he simply turned around and said 'Go away. I don't want to play with you.' Left some kids in tears before."
"Oh goodness..." Grace mumbled into the lip of her glass as she took a sip.
"So you don't need to worry. It looks like Simon doesn't mind. It's just nice to see him play again, ya know?"
Elizabeth took a second to watch the boys playing again. Simon furrowed his brow and picked up a marble, peering at it with great scrutiny. He lifted it up and quickly brought it around, holding it between two fingers right next to John's eye. The faint jabbering stopped from John for a second, surprise taking ahold of him.
Simon then gave John the marble, putting it directly into his hand. His attention then shifted towards the bag and he gently started to massage more marbles out.
John looked down at the marble in his hand, his mouth left slightly open. Then, across his face it spread, a delighted smile, the joy that a mother prayed her children could feel all the time.
John looked up at Simon. Without hesitation he leaned forward, giving him a kiss across his cheek. Simon didn't react.
Both Grace and Elizabeth let out similar surprised gasps, their eyes immediately turning to find each other. Elizabeth raised a hand to her mouth. Grace raised a hand to her heart.
Grace's eyes glimmered with tenderness. "Seems like Johnny has a little crush." Her words ended with cooing and aww-ing.
John had been good for Simon. Elizabeth had barely gotten to see him act like a kid. But John was kind, he always encouraged Simon to play with him, always invited him to build forts or Lego castles or mud pies.
Overtime, Elizabeth could see how Simon had become less tense, less uncertain. He became more curious, he asked more questions. And she saw that he even started to smile again.
They were free.
Grace held her hand out, Elizabeth swapping her glass of wine to the other side so she could take her hand. They came together.
"As long as they have each other," Grace said softly, "they're going to be okay."
Elizabeth blinked away the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She squeezed Grace's hand.
The way you can tell Simon was still alive when Johnny went because he's taking his last breath and Johnny's hand is slack while Simon's is gripping his wrist
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