Ghost X Soap Oneshots (CoD)

Hand-to-Hand Combat

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Smut (with some plot) 2520 words
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Trigger/Content Warning: NSFW/18+ Scenarios
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Hand-to-hand combat. A physical confrontation at short ranges between two or more people. Ghost calls it an art form. Soap calls it a bunch of bullshit.

He wasn't necessarily bad at hand-to-hand, but there were definitely things he'd rather do. Such as hanging out with Gaz in the rec room, or going to the shooting range, or literally anything else.

Soap saw no point in it. They had guns, after all. But Ghost had insisted that the entire task force practice hand-to-hand at least once a week to "keep them sharp" while off duty. Sadly, Captain Price had agreed with him. So now the sergeant found himself waking up at 6 in the morning to get ready for a 6:30am training session with Ghost.

Soap rolled over in his bed, glaring at his blaring alarm clock. He clicked it off, pushing himself up out of bed and stumbling his way to the bathroom.

He stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Soap started up the shower, stepping back to let it warm up. He gazed tiredly at himself in the mirror.

God he hated Ghost for making him get up so early. Why couldn't it have been an evening session or something. He would have even accepted as much as an hour more of sleep.

Soap sighed and peeled himself away from the mirror, getting undressed and stepping into the shower. He relaxed as the warm water washed over his body, easing the tension in his muscles.

He stood there in the shower for what felt like an eternity, dreading having to leave his room. But he knew he'd have it leave eventually, either the easy way or the getting dragged out of his room Ghost way.

He eventually gave in and turned the water off, leaving the shower stall and grabbing a towel, drying himself off. Soap left the bathroom, digging around until he found a pair of camouflage army pants and a standard issue sandy-colored t-shirt. Good enough for the day.

MacTavish quickly got dressed before leaving his room, making his way down the hall towards the exit. It wasn't long until he ended up outside in the training field, a large cleared out area in the center of the base. The field was sparse of practically everything, including grass. Instead the ground was covered by a layer of sand.

Standing in the center of the field was Ghost. He was fully dressed in combat uniform besides his tactical gear. His skull balaclava and mask were pulled over his face.

Soap made his way over to him, mentally preparing himself for the beating he was about to endure.

"Ghost." Soap nodded to his companion, stepping into the field.

"You're late" was Ghost's only response.

Soap looked down at his watch "Only by five minutes. Surely you didn't miss me that much."

"Not in the slightest. Get ready, we're starting now."

"Straight to the point. Lovely."

Soap got down into a defensive stance facing Ghost, studying him closely before attacking, dropping low to the ground to sweep his legs out from under him.

Ghost reacted quickly, stepping back before moving around him. He grabbed Soap's arm, twisting it behind his back while simultaneously shoving his face into the sand and dirt.

"You were slow and obvious. If we were on the field you'd be dead." Ghost let go of his arm, allowing Soap to get up. "Again."

"I don't see how this is going to help." Soap muttered.