Chapter Text
One month, three weeks and five days.
It took one month, three weeks and five days to catch the bastard selling weapons contaminated by radiation up and down the coast like Girl Scout cookies, and seventeen seconds to spray his brains across the pavement.
That would irritate Soap if he had the energy. Damn near two months of cold leads and goose chases, chalky MREs, sleeping on the hard ground with no access to his exfoliating body wash - and he barely got to blow anything up. His toes are sticking together in his boots. There’s a patch of dry skin on the back of his arm that’s driving him out of his mind. There's a hundred different things he wants to gripe about but he’s too tired. God, the first thing he’s going to do when he gets back to base is scrub himself head to toe and drown himself in coconut oil. It’s gotten him made fun of plenty but at least he won’t look like he’s fifty before he lives to see it.
“Price is calling for debrief in ten,” Ghost sighs. Soap feels particularly bad for him. His favorite scope cracked a few days into the mission. “Have everything packed by then. We’re wheels up the minute we’re done here, with or without you or anything not strapped to you.”
And Soap is very proud of himself; the rumble of Ghost’s voice only turns him on a moderate amount for someone who hasn’t gotten off in two months.
He hasn’t gotten off in two months.
It’s a wonder he’s not setting off their Geiger counters. Ghost must notice that faraway look in his eyes because he’s pressing in close to him under the innocent guise of adjusting his vest straps.
“You did good work out there, Johnny,” he says softly. He’s never been short with his praise but when he says it like that- “That was a damn good charge you set yesterday.” When he says it like that- “I’d say you deserve a reward.”
Soap can’t stop himself from groaning.
“Mercy, darlin’, mercy. It’s fifteen hours back to base, I can’t go that long with a semi.”
“Then maybe I’ll get on my knees right-”
Both of them jump at the sound of the video call coming in. They must look conspicuous when it connects because Price’s eyes shift back and forth between them.
“I’m not interrupting you lads, am I?”
“No, sir. You just, er,” Ghost clears his throat. “Called early.”
From there he jumps straight in, letting his report dispel the tension. Soap only pays close enough attention to know when he’s supposed to talk and about what, but his mind is fifteen hours ahead. Ghost has expressed that he's not particularly religious, but he's going to make him see God. As badly as he wants to get off he wants even more to give Ghost everything he deserves, until he's coming dry-
"Did you find out if he had a secondary cache spot?" That one's for him.
"Yes, sir. Destroyed it and all the contaminated weapons we found."
He wants Ghost standing up when they get home. He stands with his legs bent and his back arched to account for the height difference, and the angle is so good-
“Good work as usual, lads. I’ll be back on base by the time you get there. Come straight to my office, we have a matter that needs addressing.”
Price hangs up before they can argue, probably because he knew they’d try to. Another hour or so added to his fifteen is nothing, but it sure does make him want to cry.
"What'd you fuck up this time?" Ghost teases while he's packing up the field computer.
"Me? How do you know he's not talking about you?"
"I'm not the reason we have special liability insurance on base."
Soap starts to argue that it was an accident, that if that shed was built worth it's salt in the first place it wouldn't have come down to a couple cherry bombs, but he thinks better.
"I bet it's a noise complaint against you."
Ghost looks him up and down before he walks past.
"Not yet, it's not."
Upon touching down Soap realizes that a fifteen hour nap was just what the doctor prescribed. His eyes are dry and he's not really sure who he is but half the things that were bothering him this time yesterday are just mild inconveniences now. All of them except the fact that he hasn't gotten his hands on his lover in two months, but he has a plan for that.
It's late when they come in. Mostly everyone's gone to bed except for a few recruits wandering out of the gym. They sidle to the walls to let them pass and keep their eyes down when Ghost goes by. For compliance reasons he can't condone him mean-mugging the newbies, but for it's-funny-as-hell reasons it delights him.
"Really, what do you think it's about?"
Ghost shrugs.
"New mission, probably."
"So soon? We're still radioactive from this one. 'S gotta be about something else."
"Whatever it is it better be good. I'm beat."
With the goalpost in sight Soap can afford to do some teasing of his own.
"Too knackered to go a couple rounds?"
"Not what I said," Ghost corrects, with the speed of a man holding on by threads. "I'd have to be dead to be that tired."
Price's office door is cracked open when they make it to him. Soap knocks gently on the door frame anyway before bustling in with all of his gear. He would've liked to put his things down but he did say straight there.
"Right on time. Good to see you back in one piece."
Ghost closes the door behind him and the two of them stand there like kids sweating, trying to figure out if they're in trouble before the hammer drops.
"I'll cut straight to it, eh? Effective immediately you boys are on a mandatory six week leave."
Ghost's eyes go buck.
"Can I ask why, sir? Are we being investigated or something?" Soap's doing all the damage control he can but he's just as shocked as Ghost. He can't remember doing anything in the past six months that would result in being sent on involuntary leave. All thing's considered he's been keeping his nose clean; he's not even keeping explosives in his locker anymore.
"No, no. Nothing like that. Neither of you have been taking your scheduled leaves and I'm getting red tape shoved up my ass about it."
Soap’s knees go weak with relief. He’s been putting his leaves off because hanging around base where there’s guns and c4 and Ghost is preferable to sitting bored senseless in his all but abandoned flat. But, he knows the other side of the coin well enough.
“Can’t I take my leave on base?” Ghost asks, and it sounds suspiciously close to pleading.
“Negative. I have to have you off base for your allotted leave time. Six weeks will put everything in the clear for now and we’ll have this conversation again next year.”
Price is doing his best to sound apologetic. If anyone understands Simon besides Soap it’s him. He’s bound to know what sitting off-duty does to him. Ghost shifts on his feet, uncertain. That’s when Price reaches into his desk and comes back with a thick file.
“That being said, I thought I’d provide some reading material for your flight and a sightseeing guide for your resort town.”
Ghost blinks over at him, as if he could provide some heads or tails as to what Price is on about. Leave is one thing but he’d french kiss his sidearm before spending it in some tourist trap.
“Got word of some bad business coming out of a small city out in the country. If what we hear is true we’re talking home-grown bioweapons. Thought you’d rather spend your time gathering intel than doing jigsaw puzzles.”
Ghost takes the file, and the tension seems to be falling out of his shoulders.
"I'm sending both of you to kill two birds with one stone. And I'd be a ninny to let MacTavish loose on the population alone."
Soap’s suddenly so excited that he's going to let that slide. He shouldn't, but he is.
“Are we looking for anything in particular?”
“You’re not looking for anything at all. If I assigned you work while you were supposed to be on leave I’d be in deeper shit than a two-foot plumber. But what’s it to me if a file goes missing from my desk, and you spend your leave in a safe house in a town there’s rumors about?”
"Understood," Ghost mutters, but it's not convincing.
"Any questions?"
And Soap has a couple for once, but there's something else he'd rather be doing.
"Negative, captain."
“Alright. That's it from me. Plane leaves at 0500. See you boys when you get back.”
They start out the door but-
"Don't make me regret sending you together. Control yourselves to some degree, yeah?"
Soap doesn't bother turning around.
"No."
Ghost is quiet the whole way back. Shifty, won't meet his eyes. He's silent as he undresses, and into their customary joint shower. That part in particular is bothering Soap. It's a dark day when Ghost misses an opportunity to tell him his ass is flat. He takes him by his broad, firm shoulders and turns him out of the water's spray to face him. Soap's heart drops.
Simon's eyes are downcast, brows tight. He looked like this all the time before he let Soap in. It means he's in a fight with his own mind, and he's losing.
"What's going on in there, love?" Soap asks, gently. He puts a testing hand up to Ghost's face, not quite touching. If it's too much he won't engage, but if he needs it he can take all he can handle. He presses his cheek into Soap's touch and covers his hand with his own giant one.
Ah, there he is.
With the all clear Soap sets to cleaning the greasepaint from around his eyes carefully, silently amazed by the way his wet eyelashes curl. Simon lets him. More than lets him, he nuzzles into the cloth with every swipe over his skin. If only because Soap's hand is behind it. When that's done he works shampoo into that darling blonde head, refusing to deny himself slicking it up into a mohawk that rivals his own. If Ghost minds he doesn't day anything. He only holds onto Soap's arms while his eyes are closed, as if he would vanish into the cloud of steam.
"I thought I'd have to go alone," he says suddenly. Softly. Soap hums in acknowledgement, but leaves him the room to keep talking. He does.
"Going on leave is bad enough but alone-" He stops himself, tangled up in it. Soap puts the sudsy palm of his hand on Ghost's forehead, right on his brow. His wrist sits snug across the bridge of his nose. Ghost covers it with his hands and presses his head into it hard, grounding himself with the pressure. "I'm not meant to be out there. Not... by myself. Not anymore."
Soap gently pulls his hand free, squished pale in Ghost's grip. He's quick to give the contact back, wiping the water away from his eyes and holding the sides of his head firmly.
Ghost opens his eyes and looks at him for the first time all night. Simon looks at him, asking for help.
"You won't be. I won't leave you alone for a second if you don't want me to. You look after me every time we go out in the field. You're the best man for the job." Soap pulls his head to his own, until their foreheads touch. "This is just a different field. Let me look after you now."
"You're the best man for the job," Simon whispers.
Soap gets them clean, something he's not ashamed to chuckle to himself about for the millionth time. While Ghost dries he pulls on a pair of sweatpants - two sizes too big but they're his, he swears. And Ghost must be feeling at least a little better, because while he doesn't speak he does pull the waistband out to snap against his hip. Soap yelps, and gets the faintest shade of a smile.
He knows sixteen hours ago he was on demon time, ready to beat one to the sight of Ghost's bare wrist, but he knows when his baby boy just needs to be held. Or, more accurately, crush him to death under his massive frame. He likes sleeping directly on top of him with as much skin contact as possible, just short of wearing him as a coat. Soap doesn't mind. It's like having a weighted blanket that snores and won't let him up to pee.
Tomorrow they'll wake up and get on that plane. They'll settle into some little old house in a small town. They'll putz around the kitchen in the morning and watch stray cats play on their porch in the evening. Like normal people. They'll fuck like kinky, depraved rabbits, but they'll do normal things, too.
And Soap will do his best to keep Ghost sane through all six weeks of it.