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amongthebooks · 6 months ago

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{whumptober: day 9}

FANDOM: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II/III (Reboot)

PROMPTS: Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | "You're a liar." | "Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days."

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley / John 'Soap' MacTavish (SoapGhost)

WORD COUNT: 2.5k (AO3)

TAGS/CW: mistaken identity, misunderstandings, uncle Simon 'Ghost' Riley, light angst with a happy ending, hurt Simon "Ghost" Riley

SNIPPET:

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Soap asked in lieu of a greeting, still on his knees as he looked up to the masked man who stood over him. Hands shaking even after Ghost had pulled the polaroid out from between his fingers. “Tell you what?” Ghost settled on after a moment. Soap noticed how the man’s eyes never left the photo, his thumb gently tracing over the young boy’s face. “A kid, Simon. Were you ever going to tell me you had a son?” or Soap stumbles upon Ghost's box of old mementos and makes an incorrect assumption.

Soap’s hands were trembling. His knees ached where he sat hunched on the floor, though he made no effort to move. It was as if he was a deer caught in the headlights, encountering something he knew he was never supposed to see.

All because of the polaroid in his hand.

Soap honestly had no intention of stumbling upon the photo, planning to only rummage through Ghost’s closet, looking for a pair of boots the man said he could borrow. The two had made progress in their… friendship in the last few months, enough that they felt comfortable letting the other borrow their things from time to time. Hoodies, tea, throwing knives - it was all easy to give up if the other wanted it.

So when Ghost eventually noticed Soap’s boots were barely within regulations, the pair hanging on by the smallest of threads, he subtly let it slip that he had an extra pair in his room. Glossing over the fact of how he knew Soap’s size when he said the other man could help himself to them whenever he had the time.

Before long, Soap found himself walking down to Ghost’s room with an extra pep in his step, still baffled by the fact the lieutenant trusted him enough to let him in. Not just in his room, but in his life.

When he arrived, Soap entered using the spare key on his lanyard- another recent addition- and got to work scouting for the pair of shoes. It always amazed him just how neat and orderly the state of Ghost’s room was kept in. Everything always in the same spot when he visited, like there were a million unspoken rules on where each thing belonged.

… It was cute.

Before he got too distracted, Soap figured it would be best to begin his search in the closet, quickly squatting down to dig around for the item. Unlike the well-kept nature of the rest of the room, Ghost’s closet was a mess. Sure, his uniforms and gear were pristinely hung, but underneath?

Underneath was very clearly where all of Ghost’s more personal effects went.

Soap made a mental catalog of it all as he moved medals, awards, certificates, and even some souvenirs out of his way. It was sweet, in a way, to see that Ghost hadn’t completely gotten rid of things that gave him his rightful recognition, things that may have once brought him joy. Even if they were heavily out of sight, Soap felt happy that they weren’t completely out of mind.

After a few minutes of rummaging through foreign belongings, Soap managed to locate a shoebox that was lodged in the back corner. Having to nearly fight with every other object to get it loose enough to slide forward. He didn’t think twice about throwing it open, wanting to double check that they were in fact the boots Ghost had mentioned. After all, what else would a shoebox contain?

What he had not expected to see, in any capacity, was the immediate flow of papers that sprung out from the box as soon as the lid was removed. Soap examined the contents with confusion and curiosity - torn photos, ripped documents, old notes, children’s drawings…

It was clearly a box that the lieutenant kept his ‘Pre-Ghost’ memories in.

The prospect of new boots was promptly shoved to the back of his mind as he fought the urge to dive into the small box. Not believing the gold he had stumbled upon. Yet, at the same time he knew how wrong it would be to go through Ghost’s things, not wanting to do something that would so clearly betray the man’s trust.

So Soap went to close it back up, gently scooping up the papers that had fallen out. If anything, he’d bring it up to him later and ask if they could go through some of it together. The pieces that Ghost felt comfortable having on display, anyway. It wouldn’t be the first time that the two held chats about their past, swapping stories back and forth regarding their lives before they met.

As he was grabbing the last stack, though, a photo caught his eye. An old, black and white polaroid of a man in fatigues, sitting on the floor in front of a Christmas tree as he looked up at a kid on his shoulders. The kid was young, still in his toddler stage, and Soap was immediately drawn to the smiles on both of their faces.

How they looked at each other with nothing but love and adoration in their eyes.

Soap brushed his thumb over the photo, gently wiping over the older man’s face. It was Ghost, he realized. He was embarrassed by the fact he didn’t notice immediately, especially since it was so clearly Simon.

Sure, it looked as if he couldn’t have been in the service for more than a few years —his face devoid of any major scars or marks— but he still had all of the features that Soap was smitten with. His crooked nose, his jawline, the softness in his eyes…he was beautiful.

Soap was so caught up in seeing a young Simon Riley for the first time that it took his brain a moment to remember that there was a child in the photo. A small kid on Simon’s shoulders that bore a striking resemblance to—

Wait, who was he?

It was hard to believe that they could be siblings. Too many of his prior conversations with Ghost had centered around the Scot’s own family and his relationships with his siblings, and not once had the man ever brought them up.

And if Soap had a younger sibling like that kid, a giggling mess that looked at Simon like he hung the stars? Soap would never shut up about him.

But who else could he be, if not family? The two looked so similar it was almost frightening, and he knew that if Ghost was to show him a picture of himself from his childhood, that kid would be staring back at them.

A thought came to Soap, then. One he wanted to immediately dismiss, though it made more sense the longer he thought on it. It was the only other explanation he could conjure up at that moment — and with how secretive the nature of their work was, of course Ghost wouldn’t mention his existence. Part of the reason the man hid his face was to keep his identity safe.

Of course he would want the same for his child.

That was the revelation that had his hands trembling. That had him shocked to his core as he brought the photo closer for a better look. It had to be his child - the resemblance was too uncanny to assume otherwise.

Why wouldn’t Ghost tell him? Soap knew it was a selfish question to come to mind, and sure, it made perfect sense from a safety perspective… but it still hurt. Everyone was entitled to keep their secrets, but Soap and Ghost were more than just colleagues to each other.

They shared nearly everything, so why wouldn’t Ghost have trusted him with that secret?

Soap’s eyes stung as he tried not to take it personally, but then he thought about the implications of what the child would mean. He felt stupid for only now suspecting that it was possible for Ghost to have a spouse. Even if they weren’t married, it was highly probable that the man was certainly not as available as Soap was led to believe.

The thought of flirting with Ghost over comms, months spent teetering on the line between friendship and more — all while Ghost already had someone special waiting for him back home? Soap felt bile rise in his throat.

He was so caught up in his own head that he didn’t hear the door click open. Only noticing that he was no longer alone once a pair of legs entered his field of view.

“Strange, I don’t recall any pair of my boots looking quite like that, Sergeant.” A familiar voice rang out.

Soap jumped at the sudden noise.

Fuck, he was caught.

He felt no better than a kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar— if the jar was extremely personal and entirely off limits. He had no time to hide the evidence, though. All he could do now was own up to what he saw, and hope that Ghost didn’t notice the rogue tear track on his cheek.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Soap started in lieu of a greeting, still on his knees as he looked up to the masked man who stood over him. He tried to go with a neutral enough statement, though his mind was conjuring up so many opinions on the topic.

Ghost crouched down next to him, making himself comfortable on the ground as he gently took the photo from Soap. His thumb softly tracing over the young boy’s face in a manner not dissimilar to what Soap had done to Simon’s.

“About what?” Ghost settled on after a moment. Soap noticed how the man’s eyes never left the photo, a foreign expression stuck on his face…one Soap had never seen on him before.

Longing?

“A kid, Simon. Were you ever going to tell me you had a son?”

Ghost’s eyes flicked up to him, then. The two making eye contact as his brows pinched together.

“Not my kid, my nephew.” He corrected, the sentence delivered in a monotone voice with as little words as he could muster. Evidently not providing any other details that could help his case.

“Bullshit,” Soap found himself snapping before he could stop himself, still trying to wrap his head around everything. “You’re a liar, LT. Not once have you ever mentioned having siblings, and I’m pretty sure you need one of those to have a nephew, yeah?” Soap phrased it as if he was joking around. Well, mostly joking. It was an attempt to use humor to cover up the offense he still took with Simon still not letting him in on such a big part of his life.

“Just because you haven’t heard of them doesn’t mean they don’t exist, Soap.” Ghost’s tone grew a protective edge to it, reverting to calling the other man by his call sign.

Fuck if Soap knew he needed to stop pushing, but… this was important. He didn’t need answers, but he wanted them. Maybe if he was a better man, he would’ve stopped himself, but if the two were ever going to be ‘more’, he wanted to know about his family. Especially when Soap doubted he would ever get the opportunity again.

“I find it hard to believe you’d keep something that big from me, Si. After all this time?” Soap tried again. Christ, did the man really have an entire family that he knew nothing about? Did Gaz know? Did Price?

“Learning everything isn’t always what it seems, Johnny,” Ghost sighed, the fight seemingly leaving his body as it morphed to dejection.

“C’mon, LT. Try me, I can keep a secret.” Soap encouraged, continually trying to persuade him.

“Dead, Soap. He’s dead. They’re all dead, just drop it.” And… oh. Soap regretted his actions as soon as he heard the blanket desperation in Ghost’s voice.

“Oh, shit, Simon I-” Of course, that was— what was he even thinking? Asking a question like that? It made so much since now, after he stopped to think for a moment. Why was it that as soon as he picked up that photograph, the rational side of his brain just disappeared? Simon never talked about them because they had passed, and Soap had gone and opened that wound back up.

Soap’s hands now trembled for a different reason, for the fact he had upset the man. He didn’t even have a valid excuse, the entire situation was one of his making.

How could he ever fix things?

“Can you…Could you tell me about them?” Soap asked, hesitant for the first time that night.

“Johnny, I-” Ghost’s voice sounded wet and unsteady. Wrong choice, MacTavish.

“Shit, wait no- don’t. You don’t have to answer that, Si.” He immediately backpedaled. Soap was two seconds away from getting up and leaving. Completely embarrassed that he had mistaken his nephew’s identity, and upset that he had let such a small detail supersede the boundaries he knew Simon had.

“Joseph loved planes.” Ghost mumbled after a few minutes of silence, sniffling twice before scooting over to Soap. He took a breath to center himself before shifting his body so they could look at the polaroid together.

“See there in the picture? Couldn’t pry that bloody wooden toy out of his hands. When it was time for dinner, we had to bribe him with candy to let it go. Tommy—his dad— would always joke about how Jojo would become a pilot before we’d know it. But he was… he was the light of my life for a while there.”

Soap could see the crow’s feet in the corner of Ghost’s eyes, how he was smiling down at the photo with sad eyes. “I adored him.”

“He seemed like he was a great kid.” Soap said, and he meant it. He could almost picture it, the child rambunctiously running around the house, clutching the plane for dear life as a younger Simon chased him.

“Oh, he was the greatest,” Ghost whispered.

“I wish I could have met him.” He mused, wondering what it would have been like. Unashamedly imagining how he’d fit in with Simon’s family in another life.

“He would’ve loved you, the absolute menace you are. Pretty sure we’d have to keep the both of you both on leashes.” Ghost’s chuckle came out wet, but it still made Soap light up, happy to cause a reaction like that despite the circumstances.

“Yeah? Well, it seems like you were a great uncle, too.” Soap looked over at the man when he didn’t respond right away, worried that he had gone too far. That he had crossed a line by directly mentioning his old status. But then-

“...I miss it more than anything.” Ghost admitted in a small voice, leaning into Soap as he looked at the polaroid a moment longer.

The two spent the rest of the night on the floor, Ghost retelling stories of his ‘Uncle Simon’ days, and Soap asking a million questions about it all. He learned that it had been years since the lieutenant had talked about his family willingly, though the man reassured him that it was…nice to have someone that he could share them with. Like he was keeping their memory alive.

At some point, when dawn had crested through the curtains, the two had migrated to Ghost’s bed - coherent conversations morphing to exhausted mumblings as they mutually fell asleep on top of the covers.

Though Soap still had doubts that he hadn’t irreparably damaged their relationship due to his ridiculous accusations, when he woke up to see Ghost still in bed next to him? He figured that everything had somehow worked out better than he could have ever imagined.

#whumptober2023 #no.9 #polaroid #mistaken identity #“You're a liar”#“Learning everything ain't what it seems.”#ignore that i'm posting this eight months late LOL #call of duty #fic #misunderstandings #ghostsoap #soapghost #mw2 #mw3 #ghostMW2 #soapMW2 #Scar's SoapGhost Fics

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amongthebooks · 1 year ago

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{whumptober: day 1}

FANDOM: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (Reboot)

PROMPTS: Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?” | "But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley / John 'Soap' MacTavish (SoapGhost)

WORD COUNT: 1.7k (AO3)

TAGS/CW: falling, near death experience, light angst with a happy ending, hurt Simon "Ghost" Riley

SNIPPET:

Ghost had no time to react as both he and his attacker were sent flying. His muscles tensed to brace for a quick impact… only it never came. Fuck, it still hadn’t happened yet - they were still falling. Why were they still falling? A fact realized only a moment too late, was that both men were fighting in a wing that was still under construction, around a place that would soon be a stairwell. The caveat? Instead of that finished structure, there was a big gaping hole. or Ghost takes a fall while on a mission.

“I’m in place, you’re clear to move,” Ghost stated into his comms, settling into his position of overwatch.

The 141’s latest mission had sent them to the heart of a city, seeking out a target of extremely high priority. The immediacy and sensitive nature of the man they were looking for had been the sole reason that the team had agreed to infiltrate an area where things could go south quickly.

All it meant for Ghost is that they had to practice extreme caution. That one misstep could lead to an unwanted interaction with civilians.

Ghost was posted up in a multi-story building, chosen due to the fact it was in the middle of being constructed. It had been relatively easy to gain access, the toughest part coming where he had to navigate through the various ladders and scaffolding, the tools serving as the only means of getting between levels.

Setting up his lookout post using a top floor apartment allowed him a clear view of the building across the street without being too obvious from the outside. There, he provided support as Gaz and Soap infiltrated the building, constantly updating them to the security detail’s locations as they swept each floor.

Before long, he watched through two sets of windows as Gaz secured the target. Both men having a tight grip on him, quick to cuff his hands and gag his mouth.

Ghost watched as they descended back the way they came, heading to where Price was waiting outside with the exfil vehicle.

A few minutes later, and he was sitting on his heels, waiting to hear his favorite words.

“Mission success. Ghost, regroup on us.”

That was his cue. Ghost lowered his scope as he turned to grab his gear and leave. He didn’t get far, though, before the door suddenly burst open. And behind it? A man pointing a gun in his direction.

Shit.

Ghost wasted no time in rolling to the side, hearing a shot fly by him as he ducked into the adjacent room, hand reaching to unsheathe a knife on his thigh. He stayed low to the ground, waiting for the other man to take the bait.

The fight was anything but clean - Ghost not expecting resistance, and the intruder not expecting a tank to be his target. Fists and blades flew, guns abandoned as the close quarters got tighter.

Before long, the two had burst back out into the hallway. Both were out of breath and pissed that the encounter hadn’t ended yet.

With one last attempt, the intruder lunged at Ghost, putting his entire body into sending the man to the ground.

Ghost had no time to react as they were both sent flying.

His muscles tensed to brace for a quick impact… only it never came. Fuck, it still hadn’t happened yet - they were still falling. Why were they still falling?

A fact realized only a moment too late, was that both men were fighting in a wing that was still under construction, around a place that would soon be a stairwell. The caveat? Instead of that finished structure, there was a

big

gaping

hole.

Ghost used his strength to kick at the man mid-air, succeeding at prying the arms off of him seconds before his back connected with something firm. The wind was knocked out of him as he tried to understand the reason for his sudden cease of movement.

But before he could assess things, he heard a snap, his fall continuing seconds later.

What was going on?

His body spun as his leg snagged on something, and then everything stopped. Well, to say that everything stopped would have to mean that the room wasn’t upside down and spinning - but it most certainly was.

Ghost felt as if he was going to be sick.

He tucked his head to his chin, looking around to assess the situation. As it was, the fall had to have lasted at least a few stories at the minimum. His leg had been caught up in some rope, miraculously enough that it had looped in a way that stopped his descent in its tracks.

It was a safety net.

It made sense now, recalling the harsh snap when he had first fallen.

The nets were only meant to handle a fall of six feet, and Ghost guessed that he had easily doubled that amount. He had been lucky that it had snapped in a way that had snagged on his leg, though it had definitely pulled something and left him still suspended up in the air.

The alternative would have been a much worse fate.

Peering to the ground below, Ghost clocked the body of the man that had fought him, and how it was in a contorted, unmoving heap at the bottom of the stairwell.

That could have been him.

Ghost’s head spun as he tried to reorient himself. Too disoriented on the fact that luck had saved him from certain death that he didn’t hear his radio going off.

'-ost? Lieutenant, check in, godammit!'

'Price, I’m going to Ghost’s last known location.'

All the while, the man dangled like a fish on a line as he resigned himself to his fate in the net, blood already rushing to his head. He had definitely gotten whiplash from the fall, feeling sick to his stomach and sore in more places than one.

Ghost was still utterly disoriented when he barely registered his name being called; far away at first but getting closer with every passing moment.

Footfalls that seemed to pick up until, “Oh my god,” he heard Soap mumbled breathlessly. Of course it was Soap that had come to find him.

Ghost assumed he was creating quite the sight, even when he couldn’t see the other man. Walking into a room to see your lieutenant hanging upside down, entangled in rope, would get a rise out of most of his men, he knew.

Though Soap wasn’t like most of his men.

He had half of a mind to attempt rotating around to greet the man, though he didn’t want to risk the seven foot fall that awaited him. That, and he felt like he’d be sick if he moved even an inch.

“Ghost? Ghost! Shit, no, please tell me you’re not-�� The man circled around him until he was facing him properly. In lieu of a verbal greeting, Ghost raised one of his hands to wave gingerly, ignoring how the movement made the nerves in his arm tingle like crazy.

Even from the vertical distance between them, he could clearly make out the loud sigh Soap let out. Presumably figuring out his predicament.

“Steamin’ jesus, are you serious? You can’t just not answer your comms, Ghost! What’s a man supposed to think, walking in here to find that body over there and you suspended in the air like that?” The smidge of relief on Soap’s face had morphed into something more harsh, his accent getting stronger as he ranted.

And oh…Ghost hadn’t even thought of it like that. Of the conclusions that could be made from seeing his attacker’s broken body below him, and his limp one all tangled up. He opened his mouth to reassure the man, before another wave of nausea washed over him.

On second thought…talking would have to wait another moment.

Soap let silence fall over them for a few moments before he sighed again.

“Alright, let me find something to soften the fall, LT,” he offered before turning on his heels, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, and don’t go anywhere, ‘k?”

“Fucker,” Ghost mumbled as the other man’s laugh echoed down the hallway. Deciding to blame the fact that he was lightheaded as the reason he let a few chuckles of his own out.

Soap was back after a few minutes, hauling two bags of insulation behind him.

He made short work of placing them underneath where Ghost was dangling before disappearing again, presumably to get to a position where the rope could be cut.

In the meantime, Ghost allowed his eyes to shut. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion seeped into his body the longer he continued to be suspended.

“Ready?” Soap’s voice echoed down the empty stairwell.

“ ‘mm?” Ghost grunted as his eyes fluttered open. His mind trying to fill in gaps again as the room seemed to spin again.

His reprieve was short lived when there was suddenly a distinct snap was heard, and Ghost’s body was in free fall once more. This time for a much shorter amount, though, before he impacted something soft beneath him.

Ghost stayed prone until Soap caught back up to him.

The man immediately tried to help haul him to his feet, balking when Ghost swatted at his hand and insisted that he didn’t need help standing.

Soap scoffed, “There’s no way you can stand after dangling like that, sir.”

When he received a side eye from the man, he added, “Alright, how many fingers am I holding up?”

After a few unsteady steps, Ghost had made it to his feet, though he had to immediately brace himself on the nearby wall.

“Uh,” he squinted towards Soap, looking for where his hand even was. Fuck, why was the room spinning so much?

“None?” Ghost settled on, before suddenly swooning, eyes rolling back as he started to go down. Soap luckily lunged to catch him before his body hit the ground.

“It’s alright, LT. I gotcha,” he said reassuringly, repositioning his arms so that he was essentially bridal carrying the man. He figured it was the easiest way he’d get them both outside, especially when Ghost couldn't be awake to protest.

Soap couldn’t help the mote of excitement that buzzed through him as he made his way out of the building.

After all, it wasn’t every day the lieutenant was found hanging mid air, and he had a feeling there was no way that the rest of the team would let Ghost live this day down.

#whumptober2023 #no.1 #safety net #swooning #”how many fingers am I holding up?”#“But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”#callofduty #fic #near death experience #ghostsoap #soapghost #mw2 #mwii #ghostMW2 #soapMW2 #Scar's SoapGhost Fics

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