Chapter Text
Soap feels anxious. He knows they are all tired and worn out. This last week has been hell on them all. Back to back missions, all with the same goal to finally find a group of people, who have captured a handful of reporters, bring them and their leader in and free the hostages. Sleep has been hard to come by even if they finally have a few hours to rest between missions, and they are all running on fumes.
From experience Soap knows that the less sleep he gets, the more he talks. And he knows that this can be a little overwhelming for the people around him. It hasn’t been much of an issue since he was selected to the 141, but on his previous teams he had been told to shut up or bug off more than a few times. So, usually, when he gets to a point like this, and someone tells him to shut up or go away, he doesn’t take it personally. Because he knows everyone is as stressed as he is, and everyone works through that differently. Soap knows he gets even more talkative than usual, that he needs company to be around to not get lost in his head. But he also knows that others need quiet.
A briefing for a new mission is supposed to start in 20 minutes. He hasn’t seen Price for a while, but would bet money on the fact, that their captain hasn’t eaten anything or taken a nap since they arrived back from their last mission a couple of hours ago. So, Soap has found a not so horrible looking sandwich with Price’s favorite topping in the mess, grabbed some water, and now he makes his way towards the captain’s office.
Though his captain keeps an open-door policy, it’s not uncommon for the door to be closed like it is at the moment. With the pressure they are operating out of at the moment, it only means Price is probably smoking one cigar after the other in there.
Soap knocks lightly, only barely waiting for the muffled grunt of consent for him to enter. As he had expected, the air smells of heavy cigar smoke, even though the window is pulled wide open. His captain sits at his desk, buried deeply behind a wall of paperwork. Price doesn’t look at him, just continues working through the next form, filling or scratching words out, signing papers at the bottom.
“Cap, I brought you something to eat and drink.” Soap puts the sandwich down in front of Price, the bottle of water right next to it.
Price only hums but he makes a grab for the food and starts chewing. Satisfied, Soap retreats to one of the chairs and sits down. “Briefing starts in 20 minutes.”
“I know. Just have to finish this.” Still, Price doesn’t look up, only guzzles down the water absentmindedly.
Soap sees his captain is stressed, knows his own stress level is almost at the max. His knee starts bouncing, and he can’t suppress his urge to talk. It’s like his mouth has a will of its own. It’s not even mission related stuff. Just some random gossip he picked up while choosing a sandwich for his captain.
At last, Price looks up at him, tired and maybe a bit annoyed. “Is there anything in particular you need from me at the moment, Sergeant?”
Soap stops mid-sentence. Sergeant, not Soap or lad. He shakes his head.
“Then please, for heaven’s sake, just shut up and let me be, so I can finish this crap and be on time for the briefing.”
Right. Yes. He can do that.
“Sorry, Cap.” Soap gets up from the chair and moves to the door. “I’ll see you then.”
Soap moves out of the office and closes the door. Seems like he was a little too much for the captain at the moment. But at least he got him to eat and drink something before they have to head out again.
He makes his way towards the briefing room. Surely, someone is already there, someone he can talk to, be friendly with, someone to engage his overactive mind.
When he steps into the room, he can see the large figure of his lieutenant standing with his back to him at the counter, obviously brewing himself a cup of tea.
“Hey there, LT.” His greeting is met only with a grunt and a small nod. It doesn’t bother Soap. Ghost isn’t a very talkative person even on his days off. And they haven’t had down time in a while. He walks to one of the chairs and lets himself slump down in it, smiling a little as he watches Ghost going through his ritual of brewing a perfect cup. Soap has yet to master the art of getting Ghost’s tea perfect, but whenever he attempts the task, Ghost at least drinks it without spitting it out or pulling a face as he sometimes does when Gaz has tried. Someday, Soap thinks, he’ll get it right. And it’ll earn him one of Ghost’s rare smiles. A smile Soap will actually see, because Ghost always has to pull up his mask to his nose to enjoy his tea. And Soap will enjoy that rare smile when he can finally draw it out of his lieutenant.
He pulls his thoughts away from smiles and tea and focuses back on the upcoming mission. Maybe this time they’ll be able to snatch that SOB responsible for the kidnappings. They’ve been close a couple of times, but they’ve never found the hostages or the top man. Always only his minions.
Ghost has taken the seat right next to him, as he always does. Soap only notices when a gloved hand lands on his knee.
“Stop fidgeting so much. I haven’t even had my tea yet.”
Soap stares down on his bouncing knee and stills instantly. He never even realized it was moving. Nodding at Ghost, he concentrates on keeping still. It’s a lot harder than it looks. His body just buzzes with energy. It always does right before missions, but with the added exhaustion from the past week it seems to be even harder to keep still.
Ghost is back to sipping his tea while they wait for Gaz, Price and Laswell to join them, mask pulled up to his nose, eyes closed.
“Who won the zombie war?” Soap can’t keep quiet, and he shoots Ghost a lopsided grin as the man next to him groans and rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly.
“Nobody. It was dead even.” Soap chuckles at his lame joke and is a little disappointed when Ghost just ignores it. “Oh, come on. That wasn’t that bad!”
Ghost just huffs and keeps sipping his tea.
“Alright, I got another one.”
“Not now, Soap.”
Soap doesn’t ignore Ghost’s low growl per se, his mouth just doesn’t seem to want to comply with what his brain deems sensible to do. And either way, he really wants to see his lieutenant at least attempt a little smile. “Why did the soldier detonate the bomb?”
Ghost turns his face towards him slowly. His eyes dark, tired, a little bloodshot. “Stop annoying me before I finish my tea, Sergeant. Go live out your pre-mission jitters with someone else.” He turns back to his tea and takes a deep breath.
“Alright. Sorry.” Soap mutters quietly and turns away from him. He’s been too much. Again. He shakes his head at himself. It’s a miracle he’s still on this elite team with the way he sometimes can’t stop himself from talking. Quietly, he gets up and moves to the door. “I… I’ll go check on Gaz. Back in a minute.”
Ghost doesn’t even open his eyes, just takes another sip.
Soap moves out into the hallway, his eyes searching for his best friend. His best bet of finding Gaz is their gear room. He’s probably checking over his gear as he usually does before briefings. Sure enough, that’s where his friend is. Standing at the table in the middle, his gear spread out in front of him, Gaz just leans against the sturdy construction, his gaze miles away.
“Gaz? You okay?”
Gaz’s head snaps towards him, a tired smile on his face. “Hey, Tav. Alright?”
Soap just nods. “Meeting starts in 10. You coming?”
“Just need a few minutes. I’ll be right behind you.” He turns back to his gear and actually starts packing what he’ll need.
Soap steps closer, leaning against the table. His things have been packed hours ago in an attempt to get rid of the post-mission /pre-mission energy. “I can wait with you. Keep you company. Got nowhere else to be.”
Gaz halts his movement without looking at Soap, then sighs heavily. “Soap, I…”
“I know. You don’t want to talk. You don’t have to. I’ll do the talking and you do the packing. I can even help with the packing if you want. You’ll be done faster if…”
“Soap, stop.” Gaz’ voice is sharp, and Soap stops instantly, looking at his best friend.
“What?”
“I can’t do this at the moment. Go annoy someone else.”
“But you’re my best friend!” Soap tries for a bit of humor, tries to ease the tension in the room. “Annoying you is part of the best-friend-contract.”
“Should’ve read the fine print.” Gaz mumbles then looks straight at Soap, his face stern, frustrated even. “Look. I just need a little more quiet time, alright? So, either shut up or even better, go away. I’ll see you at the briefing.”
“Fine.” Soap tries for a light chuckle, but his heart feels heavy. He’s managed to annoy all three of his teammates in under 15 minutes. Must be a new record.
He shuffles to the door and starts moving back towards the briefing room. Why can’t he just keep his mouth shut? It’s not like his yapping hasn’t gotten him into trouble in his career before. It has happened lots of times. He should have learned his lesson by now, even though it has been some time since he has been reprimanded for being too loud or too chatty. Not since he joined this team. Up until now, they have never seemed to be bothered by his loud mouth. But if they need him to be quiet, he will do quiet. He’s done it before, or he wouldn’t be where he is now. All it needs is to rebuild a few of the walls he so happily tore down since joining this team, and find less annoying stress-coping mechanisms. But he can do it. He will.
Entering the briefing room, he notices that both Laswell and Price have arrived since he left looking for Gaz, talking quietly over maps. Ghost is still sitting exactly where he left him a few minutes ago. Soap nods at the three and pulls up the chair opposite of Ghost to sit down. That earns him a raised eyebrow, but Soap ignores it and just stares at his lap, trying to keep his knee from starting to bounce again. Before Ghost can say anything, Gaz enters the room, and Price and Laswell stop their discussion to start the briefing.
This time Laswell has at last found where the hostages are being held, and therefore the team will have to split. One part of the team will go after the leader of the group, the other part will secure the hostages and take them to the secondary exfil location.
“Ghost, Gaz, you’re with me. We’ll get that bastard this time.” Price turns to Soap. “Soap, you’ll get the hostages out and blow that part of the compound as soon as you are a safe distance away. Two of the support team will assist you. There shouldn’t be much resistance, so those two should be enough. The rest of support will come with us.”
Soap just nods. He would prefer to help get the HVT, but he knows getting the hostages out safely is an important job, too. And he is always happy to blow something up.
“Good idea, cap, sending Soap to get the hostages. Minimalizing the danger of him coming back injured again.” Gaz chuckles lightly, and Price just huffs in amusement.
“Och, haud yer wheesht!” Soap growls out. “I’m not injured that often.” That gets him incredulous looks from all four people around the table.
“Ten stitches only last mission.” Price points to Soap’s forearm where the protective bandage is still in place.
“Bruised ribs on the one before.” Gaz chimes in.
“Pretty sure a concussion was the one before that.” Ghost growls from opposite him.
“And those were just minor ones.” Laswell smiles at him, no menace in her voice. “I’m convinced, you would already have a gold bonus card if our infirmary would hand out those.”
Soap just shakes his head. Those were mere scratches. All of them sport minor injuries after missions. That’s just part of their job. He knows they’re just teasing him, trying to lighten the tense mood before the op, but they make it sound like he isn’t capable of doing his job, and it stings a little. As if he is the weak link in this team. He never thought he would be seen as the weakest part.
“Would be nice for once not having to train your recruits while you rest your ass on sick leave.” Gaz smirks at him. “So, I’m all for Soap having the easier part this time.”
“You think you have it hard when he’s off on med leave? I’m the one stuck with the all the paper work explaining how he, yet again, managed to get hurt. Can’t get worse than that!” Price puts on an exaggerated scowl.
Ghost’s eyes light up with a teasing glint. “Stop complaining you two. At least your phone won’t blow up with whiny messages how bored he is on leave, and that he can’t wait to be back with us so he can chew our ears off in person.” Ghost finishes with a wink in Soap’s direction, but his words burn a hole into Soap’s soul. Because deep down he knows that in every teasing there’s a grain of truth. He never even considered that Ghost would be annoyed by his texts. But now that he really thinks about it, Ghost had always just answered with emojis or single words, if he answered at all. Soap had always thought that was just Ghost’s non-talkative personality. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Ghost really doesn’t like it when Soap texts him.
Looks like there is quite a few things his team doesn’t like about him, things he really needs to work on if he wants to stay on this team. But that’s something he has to put on the back burner for now. The mission comes first. And if they really catch their HVT this time and free the hostages, they will have some time off. He’ll have time to think this over after this is done.
So, he just forces a smile on his face, trying his best to not let his team see how much their words hurt him. He’s the first one out of the room, grabbing his gear on his way to the tarmac, and the first one in the heli, ignoring the exchanged looks and questioning stares of his teammates. They want him to be quiet? He can do quiet.
He’s a little surprised that Ghost takes the seat right next to him. After what he said before the briefing, Soap had thought the lieutenant would want a little more space. To not be affected by his ‘pre-mission jitters’ as he had called them. Because Soap can already feel his knee starting to bounce again, his nervous energy returning so close to take-off.
“Settle down, Johnny.” Ghost’s hand is back on his knee, and Soap can feel the man staring at him.
‘Johnny’? Soap is confused. First, it’s ‘shut up and fuck off’, now it’s ‘Johnny’ again?
He can’t do this at the moment, so he stills his movement and closes his eyes, trying to take centering breaths. But it seems this isn’t enough for Ghost.
“You doin’ okay, Johnny?”
“Solid, LT.” Soap doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t want to see whatever Ghost’s face is doing behind his mask. The hand moves away from his leg, and Soap’s body relaxes a little. They don’t have to go far he knows that, but it still feels like forever.
When the bird finally sets down, Soap is the first to exit. From there, it’s all business as usual. His nervousness makes way for his calm professionalism, and he leads the two from support away from the rest to the part of the compound where the hostages are being held.