#ghoaptober

His phone buzzed rapidly on the table, it was Dominic.

“here”

“safe n sOund solotions?”

“in the lobby”

“whr r u”

Dominic was a nice guy, but Soap could admit that the way he texted was a bit annoying. Having his messages open to send Dominic the room number reminded him that he hadn’t texted Ghost yet. He pulled up his location and sent it to his Lieutenant along with a quick text,

“At Safe & Sound Solutions, Room 348, Booked for three days, Should be back Tuesday.”

His message showed as being read within the minute and while he was waiting to see if Ghost would reply another message came in from Dominic,

“come down”

Soap reread the message, why would he need to go down to the lobby? Maybe there was an issue Dominic needed help with? Confused, but willing to help, Soap texted back a quick ‘On my way.’ and headed out, his riled instincts insisting he double and triple check that he’d locked the door to his room. That he made sure his nest was safe from intruders.

In the lobby, Soap found Dominic leaning up against the wall next to the lifts with a bag at his feet. Walking over, he tried to spot where the problem was. 

“Dominic? Whit’s wrong?” Soap questioned,

“Hey, John. Some of the people were giving me weird looks. I needed you to come to show them I’m not some creep hanging around for nothing.” Dominic stood from his lean and stepped into Soap’s space, bringing his arm up to rub a wrist over Soap’s nape. Scenting him. Soap let him, tilting his shoulders so the other man wouldn’t accidentally brush his mating glands, they got heinously sensitive when he was heating.  

“Oh, alrigh’,” Soap privately thought that Dominic was overthinking it, if anyone was looking at him weird it was for loitering around in the lobby, but not actually sitting in any of the many chairs scattered throughout. The lobby of every Heat-Hotel that Soap had ever visited always looked like Moses had called a plague of plush chintzy furniture down upon them. 

Soap led Dominic back into the lift, pressing the button for his floor. A chime from his phone brought his attention to the fact that Ghost had replied, he’d reacted to Soap’s message with a thumbs up and had sent back,

“Rog.” 

Ghost had a habit of reading his notifications as soon as he could, but often didn’t have the time to actually reply until later. 

“Who’s that?” Dominic asked, peeking over Soap’s arm to get a look at the screen. 

Soap locked his phone, the smile that had pulled up the corners of his mouth falling away. 

“Mah L.T. He likes tae know every’hings guid.” Soap replies, watching the numbers of the lift ding over to his floor and stepping out as the doors parted.

“Your L.T? What’s that?” Dominic crowded up against his back as he tried to finagle the keycard into scanning properly and unlocking the door. 

“Mah Lieutenant.” Soap pulls the door flush closed, grips the handle to make sure it’s sitting straight, then tries sliding the keycard through at a snail's pace. The light flashes green and he whips the door open before it can change its mind, sending a silent thanks out to Price for teaching him how to sweet-talk card readers. 

“Oh yeah. You're in some kinda military army thing right?” Dominic’s realization carried a strange tone of praise. 

“Yeah, U.K.S.F,” Soap clocks Dominics blank gaze and spells it out for him before he can ask, “United Kingdom Special Forces,”

A light comes on behind Dominic’s eyes, but a skeptical look crinkles his nose. “But can’t only U.K citizens join?” 

It's Soap’s turn to stare blankly, “Aye?” the answer carries a subtext of ‘you dumbass’ that Soap couldn’t have stopped if there were hostages at stake.

Soap watches Dominic’s confused look intensify. Good, they could be confused together.

“But aren’t you Irish?” 

“Nae!” Soap refutes, that idea in need of immediate culling, “Ah’m no' Irish. Ah’m a fuckin’ Scot!”

“Oh, I didn’t know Scottish people could join the British army?” 

Soap searches Dominic's face for any sign that he’s joking, Dominic looks earnestly back at him. 

Jesus Christ.

He’s not joking. 

“Scotland’s a par’ ae the U.K,” Soap says hesitantly, leadingly, begging Dominic to spend one brain cell on remembering his First Year geography lessons.

“Oh, Alright.” Dominic shrugs in a ‘whatever you say’ manner, that makes Soap think he’s doing it more to drop the conversation than he actually believes what he’s been told, “Are you already set up? When does your heat kick in?”

Dominic glances around the room, looking over Soap’s preparations, dropping his bag off his shoulder onto the desk pressed against the wall. Why a Heat-Hotel thought its room's occupants might need a desk, was the true mystery of the night. 

Soap shakes himself free of the disbelief clogging his brain, and checked his watch, “Wi’hin the ‘our, mebbe twen’y minutes?” 

Dominic shoots him an odd look again, clearly thinking something over.

“Whit? Whit’s wrong?” Soap glances around himself, but nothing looks wrong to him.

“Your accent’s cute, John, but it’s a bit hard to understand you. You know?” Dominic's tone is assured, almost complimentary, “It’s gonna be hard to know what you want if I can’t understand you.” He coaxes, like a parent reasoning with their toddler to not bite electrical cables. Like it’s what was best for everyone.

Baffled, Soap stares at him. He’s never gotten flak about his accent from his previous partners, everyone else had seemed to enjoy it. At least, Soap had thought they’d enjoyed it. 

“Aye,” Soap swallows hard, his stomach roiling “Eh- Uh- Yes. I can- Um- I’ll try tae- to speak,” Flustered, Soap stutters through his answer as he tries to flatten his accent, “I’ll try to speak more clearly.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Dominic nods at him, “Now,” he slaps at his own thighs, “Where are we setting up? On the bed?” He walks over to the bed, toting his bag, and starts rummaging through the nightstands, “They don’t have anything here, it's a good thing I brought my own stuff.” 

Soap eyes him as he approaches the nest, wincing as his tossed bag knocks free a carefully stacked pillow. Dominic clatters around a bit more, checking the minifridge and all the drawers in the desk. 

“Where’s your stuff?” He turns back to Soap.

Soap points wordlessly at the gutted dufflebag he’d carried his blankets over in. 

“Oh, you don’t use toys? A good omega? Like whining on your fingers instead?” Dominic’s voice dripped with sudden lascivious intent, he dropped his head to eye Soap through his lashes, licking his lips and petting his hands over his bag, “That’s okay, baby. Alpha will take care of you. I’ll give you everything you need.”

Soap inhaled shakily. He must not laugh. If he laughed he’d be out of a heat partner and his instincts would insist on him moving the nest. If he moved rooms he’d have to update Ghost. Ghost would worry about why he moved rooms and insist on checking on him. If his L.T came within one city block of him when he was on his heat Soap was dragging that alpha into his nest and not letting him leave. Soap did not want his L.T to write him up for fraternization. 

He must not laugh. 

“Oh yeah?” Soap eked out. Dominic must take the breathiness of his voice to be anticipation as his look only grew more seductive. 

“Yeah, baby. Come get comfy in your nest and Alpha will show you the presents he brought.” Dominic pats a hand on the nest, then gives it a surprised glance, “These are the blankets you want? They’re not very soft.”

Soap explains about how he doesn’t like his nest getting dirty as he crawls up onto the bed, petting a proprietary hand over his nest. It’s not like the blankets were scratchy terrycloth or anything, they were Heat-Sheets, they were made specifically for heats, they wouldn’t sell if they weren’t comfortable. 

“Here,” Dominic reached forward and Soap frantically knocks the hand away before it could tear into his nest. The judging look that Dominic shot him was completely uncalled for. What kind of psycho fucks with an omega’s nest. 

“What?” Dominic furrows his eyebrows at the omega, “I was just gonna show you a better way to do it. You could put a soft sheet on top, so you’re not laying on something so rough. I know omegas are super sensitive about that kinda stuff.”

“Nae- No. No, it’s fine like this. Thank you, Dominic.” Soap assures, sliding over to sit on the bed directly in front of Dominic, firmly between his nest and the alpha. 

After eyeing him for a moment longer, Dominic shugs and turns back to his bag, muttering something about omegas being so picky under his breath. 

“I got you that water you like,” he says, pulling three one-litre bottles of Volvic mineral water out of his bag and setting them on the nightstand. Soap felt warmed and a touch shocked, he’d only mentioned that he likes Volvic best in passing. The warm feeling vanished when the next item Dominic pulled from his bag of tricks was a tall omegaen guard-collar.

“I know it’s usually that alphas wear muzzles for heats and omegas wear collars for ruts, but the skin on my face is super sensitive and I’ll get a rash if I wear a muzzle,” Dominic explained, handing over the collar when Soap hesitantly reached for it. 

It was made of good thick leather, fastening with two buckles in the back instead of a cheap zipper. The things that were throwing Soap off were that it was much taller than the typical guard-collar, how it flared out at the bottom to cover over his trapeziuses, and the four D-rings spaced around its middle. It honestly looked more like a posture-collar. 

“I was looking into the failure rate of guard-collars and this one has amazing reviews and no accidental bites,” Dominic supplies, tapping at the collar in Soap's hands, “Do you need help putting it on?”

Soap absently nods, not really processing what’s being said to him, and finds the contraption out of his hands and strapped around his neck within two heartbeats. Hands coming up to scrabble at the new pressure squishing his mating glands Soap gives a startled yelp and Dominic quickly grabs his hands. Shushing and cooing at him, giving his hands a firm squeeze when he tries to pull away. 

“It’s alright, omega. You’re doing so well.” Tuning out Dominic's crooning, Soap focused on calming his breathing.

In for four, hold for four, out for four. In for four, hold for four, out for four.

With his breath under control, Soap can admit that the collar isn’t as restrictive as he’d feared, he can breathe fine, and turn his head. Looking down or up presses a bit, but it’s not terrible.

Focusing on himself for a moment also revealed to Soap that he’d been so busy judging Dominic that he’d completely missed his body cresting through pre-heat. Taking another deep breath Soap warns the alpha that he’ll be going into full heat in a minute or two and watches the shocked look take over Dominic's face. It’s not surprising to Soap that Dominic hadn’t noticed, Soap’s scent has never been particularly loud and he’s not throwing himself at the alpha like the needy heat-drunk omegas do in films. 

The next few minutes are admittedly blurry to Soap as his body plunges into full heat, when he comes back to himself he’s face down with his ass up in the air and Dominic is playing between his thighs. By the wetness dripping down his legs Soap guesses that he’s already cum once, that or Dominic drools more than Eas A’  Chual Aluinn. 

Giving a pitching whine, Soap tries to get up onto his elbows and finds that the guard-collar wasn't Dominic’s only gift for him. There are soft leather cuffs secured around his wrists, latched closed with simple carabiners and attached to one of the D-rings of his collar with a short chain. Stopping him from lifting his head more than about twenty centimetres away from his hands and, consequently, the bed. 

“Do- Dominic?” He pants through his confusion and feels the man pull his tongue and what felt like three fingers out of his hole. 

“Back with me, omega? You’re doing so well. Getting so wet for me. Cumming so pretty.” Dominic rumbles, reverent fingers coming back to pet over Soap’s twitching hole. 

Soap pushes back into the touch, feeling achingly empty, his lower belly cramping with the need to be filled. 

“Alpha, please,” he whines “Need your knot, please, please, knot me, ple-”

“Hush.” Dominic commands and the omega’s jaw snaps shut, “I’m not done with you yet, omega. Be quiet and settle down. Take what alpha gives you.” 

Tears prickled behind Soap’s eyes. He got his elbows under himself and lifted his head up off of the nest as far as he could, breathing easier without the blankets in his face. He yelps when hot suction suddenly seals around his cocklet with three fingers plunging back into his hole to bully his sweet spot. Thighs shaking, Soap is pushed into another orgasm, face falling back into the sheets, muffling his squeals when Dominic doesn’t let up. Hard sucks and forceful strokes propelling him through one orgasm and directly into the next. 

His honest yelping coaxes Dominic off his cocklet, “Poor omega,” The alpha croons, petting over his thighs and grabbing at his ass, “So needy. It’s okay, alpha’s here. Alpha will give you what you need.” 

“Knot- Knot me. Alpha, please. Need it.” Soap begs shamelessly, the heat roaring through him stoked by his untied orgasms, his body painfully demanding for him to be knotted and filled.

“I don’t know,” comes Dominic’s teasing reply, leaking more false sympathy than Soap’s hole was leaking slick, “Have you been a good omega? Do you deserve my knot?” 

“Yes, Yes.” Soap nods as much as the collar allows, still careful to smother his accent, “Please, need it.”

“Okay, omega. Alpha will help you.” Dominic’s fingers pull out of him and an actual sob escapes Soap when instead of a cock, he feels a tongue push into his hole. He purposely turns into the sheets to muffle his cries, his instincts rioting and his climbing temperature making him feel sick.

A brief unwelcome stroke over his asshole yanks him from his spiral. His head snaps up, eyes wide and stinging with unshed tears. Did he imagine it? His chest heaves and he freezes perfectly still, staring blankly down at the tangle his nest has become. 

A finger, wet with what he can only assume is his own slick, prods past his rim up to the second knuckle and Soap gives a startled yowl, “Nae! Nae! Donnae do tha!”

“No?” Comes Dominic’s skeptical tease, his free hand squeezing goadingly at Soap’s hip, “My poor Omega doesn't want all his heated holes nice and full?”

Soap frantically shakes his head, lacking words, but filled with denial. Tears knocked loose and coursing unseen down his cheeks.

“Alright,” Dominic agreed, no less skeptical, but slowly withdrawing his finger regardless.

When Soap felt that same finger slide down to line up with his hole’s entrance the omega is willing to admit that he may have come a little unglued.

He snarled, wriggling and kicking back at the alpha, yanking bruises into his wrists in the shape of the cuffs that bound them. Soap managed to thrash his way upright and huddled up against the headboard. Hissing at the flabbergasted alpha knelt at the foot of the bed, giving another throat tearing snarl when Dominic tried to reach for him. His instincts in full control and having decidedly assessed the alpha to be a bad heat partner. 

Keeping his full attention on the man, Soap brought his wrists up and bit open the carabiners, untethering the cuffs from the collar then unfastening the cuffs to slide them off altogether. His freed hands immediately moving behind his neck to unbuckle the collar, fumbling blindly and growling with bared teeth when the alpha made a move towards him. Managing to finagle the first buckle loose, he unhooked the second with much more finesse. Tossing the collar aside, Soap heaved a breath of relief, hands coming up to rub at his sore mating glands, the glands feeling nearly bruised from the constant pressing of the collar. 

“John, Calm down,” Dominic spoke up, voice slow and hesitant, “Everything’s fine, stop freaking out,”

Soap would have liked to close his eyes and regroup, but really didn't like the idea of leaving Dominic unsupervised. Instead he started up his breathing exercises again while keeping the alpha firmly within his sights.

In for four, hold for four, out for four.

“That’s good. Just calm down,” Dominic praised, stretching forward to reach for Soap’s drawn up knees. 

Soap tossed the idea of regulating his breath out the window and drew himself up, “Dominic,” He ground out of a throat that only wanted to produce growls, “Do. Not. Touch. Me.” 

Dominic sat back on the bed, stymied, thoroughly confused, and a little offended. 

Soap’s temperature was spiking, though the want to be knotted and filled had completely vanished. Falling forward onto his hands, Soap panted for air, sweat pouring down his skin. His vision was fading, the sound of Dominic saying something coming through muffled, like his ears were stuffed with cotton. Chills and prickles raced up his spine to dance over his scalp. His throat felt like it was shrinking to the size of a straw. 

Something wet touched his bottom lip and he was automatically gulping down the water before he consciously made the decision to drink. The ringing faded from his ears just enough for him to hear Dominic.

“-hn, I called the emergency line. There’s a nurse comi-”

Soap’s vision blacked out.

When he blinked back to himself he was flat on his back with something cold pressing against the nape of his neck and his legs being held aloft by a beta woman that was standing beside the bed. Struggling to get his eyes to properly focus, he grunted his confusion.

“Hello, Mr Mactavish. I’m Kelly. How are you feeling?” The beta, Kelly, spoke with a voice that was friendly, but not perky. More of a matter-of-fact warmth. 

“Pre’y shite,” He groaned out, letting his eyes fall closed again as he rubbed at his face. Dimly registering that a thin blanket had been draped over his hips to cover his unmentionables.

“Yeah, I’d guess so,” Kelly commiserates, gently lowering his legs back onto the bed, “Could you keep your knees up for me? Just like that. Perfect. So, Mr Mactavish, you’ve just had a rather bad bout of Heat Rejection,” Kelly informs him, while keeping a grounding hand on his obediently raised knees, “It’s completely natural and not at all life threatening, the symptoms should level out within the next twenty-four hours. You’re welcome to ride it out in the medical suite here with us, or if you have someone that you can call that can sit with you for that time you’re free to leave.”

Soap slowly thinks this over, cracking open an eye and blearily noticed that the room is empty of anyone but Kelly and himself. “Dominic,” He grunts, not quite managing to make it pitch up into a question.

“I asked Mr Wilckes to wait in the hall, as I wasn’t sure if his presence would make you uncomfortable.” Kelly is a consummate professional, but Soap thinks he can detect hints of scorn flitting about the corners of her eyes, “I can call him back in if that’s what you want.”

“Nae.” Soap denies, “Nae, I dun wan’ ‘im ‘ere. If ye coul' pass me mah phone I’ve someone tha’ can take me outta y’ur hair,”

Kelly kindly fetches his phone, though she doesn’t let him sit up to make the call. Eyeing Simon’s contact, he mentally apologizes to everyone on the base for the chaos he’s about to unleash, then hits dial.

He’s barely had the time to move the phone to his ear when the call is picked up.

“Johnny?” Ghost’s harried voice barks down the line, “What’s wrong?”

“Why’s some’hing gotta be wrong fer me tae call ye, L.T,” Soap bitches, trying to calm Ghost down from the lather he’s no doubt already worked himself into, “Gonnae gi’ a man a complex,”

“What’s wrong, Johnny” The voice that rumbles from the phone is pure domineering alpha and it kicks a reflexive placating whine from Soap’s chest. 

“Si, ah need ye tae come ge’ me,” Soap mumbles down the line, his bravado drowned by the sudden twisting need he has for Ghost to be here with him. 

“I’m coming, Johnny.” Is the immediate reply, and by the rustles coming from Ghost’s side of the call, Soap knows he’s hauling ass, “Can you stay on the line? Are you hurt?” 

“Ah’m fine, Si. Ah’m no' hurt,” Soap lets his eyes fall closed again, ignoring the judgmental look Kelly shoots him for his little fib. In his own defense, he’s not physically hurt. From what he knows of Heat Rejection, his body is just gonna be all kinds of outta wack while his hormones try to rapidly bring him back down to baseline. For now, he’s content to listen to the sounds of Simon snapping at any unfortunate soul that dared get in his way. Soap only realises that he’s begun purring when a quiet answering purr comes from Simon. 

The slam of the room door opening jolts Soap out of the calm daze he’d fallen into and he reflexively punts the most pertinent object at the intruder. Unfortunately, that object happened to be the phone he’d been holding, even more unfortunately, the intruder was Ghost. 

Ghost easily ducks the unconventional projectile and covers the distance to the bed so fast, Soap could have sworn he teleported. From Kelly’s jump she also wasn’t expecting a man of Ghost’s size to move with that speed. 

Spooky bastard, his L.T.

“Ghost!” he cheers and is climbing up the alpha to nuzzle into his neck before he can rein in his rampant instincts. 

Omega and alpha freeze, Soap midnuzzle and Ghost with his hands reflexively clamped around his Sergeant’s bare thighs. 

Kelly, the blessed angel she is, gently clears her throat. Effectively snapping the awkward tension.

“Mr MacTavish is experiencing Heat Rejection and needs someone that is able to stay with him for the next twenty-four hours, or until his symptoms abate.” She looks up at Ghost, clad in his full skull-plated balaclava and half his field kit, without fear. Soap must have called while he was busy terrifying the rooks, “Can you do that?”

Ghost gives her a solemn nod, “Yes.” 

“Perfect,” Kelly starts listing symptoms, proper care practices, and things to watch out for when dealing with Heat Rejection and Soap is man enough to admit that he didn’t listen to a lick of it.

He was busy oscillating wildly between bone shaking horror that he was clinging to his Lieutenant while bare as a newborn, a deep seated greedy pleasure that Simon had come for him without question, and the brainless need to purr and rub against this perfect alpha until the rejected alpha’s scent was gone from his skin.  

Ghost’s hands gently squeezed his thighs, then loosened as he leaned forward a bit to encourage Johnny to stand on his own. Soap gave a petulant whine, but a reassuring purr and a gentle pat to his thighs had him reluctantly hopping down. Before his instincts could coax his better sense into indulging in a full blown pout for having to give up his prize, he was distracted by the sight of Ghost knelt at his feet holding out a pair of trackies for him to step into. 

If the mere thought of any kind of sexual touch didn’t currently make Soap want to run all the way back to Alba, Ghost on his knees for him would be a very enticing image, he couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t be the only thing on his mind the next time the need to let off steam hit either. For now, however, Soap was tired to his core and was pitifully grateful for the help as he stepped into the trousers, letting Ghost draw them up over his hips. 

Feeling like naught more than a bairn, Soap threw his arms up at Ghost’s gesture and let the man pull a shirt over his head. The impression was not helped by Ghost then immediately picking him up and perching him on his hip. The man was only eleven centimetres taller than him, where did he get off manhandling him like he was some kind of waif. Soap grumbled to himself, but was disinclined to actually demand he be allowed to walk on his own. Content to wrap all his limbs around Simon, like a particularly lonely limpet, and purr like a motorbike while rubbing their jaws together. 

There was a bit of a scuffle when Ghost had to convince him to let go and get in the car, but by the time the car was parked again Soap was barely conscious. He dully registered Simon picking him up out of his seat, the tension falling out of his muscles when he recognized the smells of their base. He thought he heard Prize and Gaz, but their voices were far away and the rumble of Simon’s chest was nice against his. 

Johnny cracked open an eye when he was plopped onto a bed, content to drowsily track Simon as the alpha threw his duffle, once again stuffed to bursting with blankets, next to the laundry bin. Simon heading for the door sent an unpleasant jolt through him and he whined forlornly, desperate to keep his alpha here with him.

“I’m going for drinks and food, Johnny,” Simon assured him, coming back to pet a hand over his warhawk, “I’ll be right back, I promise,”

Johnny whined again, but did nothing more to stop Simon from leaving. He could also do nothing to stop his instincts from insisting that he had disappointed his alpha and the man was never coming back. Trying to appease the gordian knot his logic and instincts were tying themselves into, Johnny started rumpling around in the bed he’d been deposited onto to make up a new nest. A deep rolling purr bursting from him when he realized it was Simon’s bed. No doubt the alpha’s instincts were also going haywire, demanding he protect the omega.

No better place than the heart of his own territory for that, Johnny supposed. 

The door opened and Johnny’s reflexive hiss broke into another purr, the mere sight of Simon cutting through his anxieties. He actually barked a few ecstatic chirps when the alpha dropped lovely soft clean scentless blankets onto the bed. Johnny hadn’t chirped since his age was in the single digits, but Simon bringing him blankets -his alpha contributing to their nest-, was really doing it for him. 

Johnny lost himself in weaving the perfect nest, as he always does, and once he deemed it faultless he looked for his alpha. 

Simon was standing, backed against the wall on the other side of the room, with his hands palms out and his chin tipped up to expose his throat. His bare uncovered balaclavaless throat, to match his bare uncovered balaclavaless face. 

Oh, Johnny's alpha was perfect.

The omega might have gotten a bit overwhelmed by the sheer excellence of his alpha as he immediately went limp to flop and roll in his nest. Catching a glimpse of Simon flinching forward at his abrupt fall before realising what Johnny was doing and assuming his non-aggressive stance again, with a perfect peachy pink blush creeping up his throat to bloom over his cheeks. 

“Alpha,” Johnny called him over, patting invitingly at the nest.

Simon took a hesitant step forward and was pulled the rest of the distance to the bed by Johnny’s delighted chirps. The omega was still flopped, but curled around just enough to snag the loose fabric of Simon’s pants, retracting his hand and shaking it out with an unhappy whine when the fabric’s rough texture offended him. In the next second Simon stood before him in only his knickers. Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever seen Simon strip that fast, including that time when Simon's clothes had actually caught fire. 

Johnny gives a surprised meep, gazing wide eyed at the alpha stood vibrating before him, waiting for permission to enter his own bed. Then gets over it and hauls the man down into the nest. Pushing him around until he was in the perfect position for cuddles. Johnny purred, burying his face into the warm nook between Simon’s arm and his side, whining inconsolably when the alpha lifted his arm to give him more room, only purring again when he put it back where it was.

A hand comes up to hesitantly pet over his back, creeping upward to scratch across his nape and dig into the base of his warhawk. Johnny feels his purr drop down his throat to resonate in his chest. Announcing for all who cared to listen that Johnny considered himself to be perfectly safe, cared for, and comfortable. An answering purr kicked on in Simon’s chest and Johnny let himself drift off. 

Knowing Simon wouldn’t hurt him.

Thank You For Reading!

Let's all pray that Dominic wasn't still in the hall by the time Ghost got there, or pray for the opposite, depending on how much you hate Dominic.

So, did y'all know that Tumblr has a "4096-text-characters-per-block limit." ? Cause that was a fun discovery to have while I was trying to put this post together.

I'll admit that this one got minimal editing, if you spot something wrong lemme know!

Going to a pub or a bar was a regular enough occurrence that the 141 had a little bit of a system. Price was the designated driver, so he’d nurse one drink for an hour or so before cutting himself off. Gaz and Soap drank enough to cause Ghost to get a sympathy headache, and Ghost himself would have a drink or two. Of course, he was never allowed to drive since Soap wouldn’t let him hear the end of what had happened in Las Almas.

If one or both of the sergeants got clingy, they wouldn’t bring it up in the morning.

“Ghost….Lt.” Soap whined, leaning against the brick wall of a man fearlessly. “Y’know I've never gotten flowers before? Have nae seen many flowers since I was a bairn.” Ghost sighed heavily. “That so?

The Scot nodded, taking a sip of his final drink. (Price had cut him off) “Dunnae why… Maybe cuz ah’m a big lad? Maybe…cuz they think ah would nae like em. But ah do! Love flowers.” He set his drink down. “It’s mah birthday end o’ this month. Prob’ly will nae get any flowers this year either, ye ken.”

Ghost just hummed. He’d known about his upcoming birthday, Gaz having already planned an outing to a pub that evening. He’d bought him a new sketchbook and nice pencils after learning about his affinity for drawing.

Soap groaned, his stomach lurching slightly. Ghost hissed, scooting away from him. “Don’t you dare throw up on me.” Soap laughed, wincing. “Ah won’t. Ye- ye ken, my ma had a flower garden. Before we grew apart, I used to help her tend to em. Loved the roses. They were mah favorite. Cliche, I ken.” He sniffled. “Miss em. Hell, miss me ma.”

Ghost sighed, hooking his arm over his shoulder. “You’re drunk, Soap. We should get you home.” The man groaned, but didn’t protest.

The day before Soap’s birthday, Ghost found himself thinking about that conversation. Sure, Soap had been drunk, but he also tended to be a bit more honest when he was drunk. Ghost found himself looking for stores near the pub that sold flowers.

When he found one, he just stared at the bouquets for a solid ten minutes before an employee came over. “Need help, sir?” She asked him, smiling a little wearily. He hummed. “...don’t know flowers.” He said in lieu of an answer. She looked through them. “Well, who are you looking for?”

He thought for a moment. “Friend’s birthday. He likes roses.” She nodded, before pointing out a pretty looking bouquet. “This one has roses and sunflowers. Does he like those?”

Ghost didn’t know, but from what little he did know about flowers, he knew that sunflowers would turn towards the sun, yearning for any bit of light from its rays.

They reminded him of how he acted around Johnny, always looking for his next fix of his sunshine’s attention.

He nodded. “That’ll do.” He picked it up and bought it, praying to whatever being that may exist that Soap would like them. They smelled pleasant enough, at least.

When he walked into the pub, the others hadn’t arrived yet. He’d already texted Gaz that he’d be coming separately, and would save them a table.

He tucked the bouquet in the booth seat next to him nervously when he saw them enter. Gaz ordered them a round and a cake, crowing at the uninterested waiter that it was his friend’s birthday just to piss Soap off.

Price got Soap a nice bottle of Scotch, and Gaz had laughed when he saw it because he’d gotten him the same thing. Soap didn’t mind, just grinned. “I get two bottles of the good stuff, why would I be mad?

Ghost gave him the sketchbook and pencils a bit nervously, but his nerves were soothed when his face lit up. “Oh wow! These are good supplies.” He grinned. Ghost touched the bouquet next to him lightly, having second thoughts, before sucking it up and handing them to him.

The table fell quiet, and Soap looked at him with wide eyes

“For me?” He asked softly, holding them so gently they could be made of glass. Ghost nodded, feeling really dumb all of a sudden. He felt a weight lift from his chest when Soap beamed at him.

“You remembered! Christ, this is too muchI was so sloshed when I said I wanted flowers, but… thanks. They’re beautiful. And- and they’re roses… like I said…” Soap was smiling so widely it made Ghost’s heart hurt.

“I love them, Lt.” Ghost had to fight back the disappointment that came with the title. It was his sergeant’s birthday, not his boyfriend’s.

Gaz and Price settled down a little upon hearing Soap had asked for flowers specifically, though Price did shoot Ghost a knowing look.

The rest of the time was business as usual, drinking and laughing with friends until they inevitably got drunk and had to go home when the bartenders cut them off.

Ghost walked Soap back to his room. The other man was so drunk he was just mumbling under his breath.

As Ghost eased him into his bed, the Scot spoke up. “Thanks for the flowers, Lt, Really like em. Specially from ye.” He smiled before knocking out. Ghost stood there for a few minutes before sighing quietly to himself and placing the bouquet on the nightstand next to Soap.

For the rest of the week, Soap was in a significantly good mood. Watching him interact with the recruits, Ghost found himself smiling softly. If a simple bouquet of flowers made him so happy that he was beaming every day, then Ghost would give him all the flowers his heart desired.

And the gestures would never lose their meaning; no, Ghost would put just as much thought and heart into every one, just like he did the first time.

In any universe, he would give him flowers just to see him smile.

From a church altar to a gravestone.

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