Slowest Heart

Chapter 9

They settle into some semblance of a loose plan for the day. Laundry—Soap's plate carrier will need to soak after everything else is done, thanks to the RMP's blood that they let not just soak in but dry in place on top of it—lunch, since it's too late for breakfast, and then check up on Captain Price.

Thankfully, they'd both woken up to the same text from the Captain, a single word: "Safe." But they need more details. Surely Laswell has managed some answers from her information network, anything would be better than sitting in the dark like they currently are. And, more importantly, they heard from Price, but not from Gaz? Surely he's not hunkering down with the Captain like Soap is with Ghost.

Surely not.

Dutifully, Soap follows Ghost back into the kitchen, starts to reach for the various components of their lunch—and Ghost slaps his hands away before he can touch any of it. The Sergeant levels him with the most pathetic hurt look that Ghost has ever seen, and it takes every ounce of Ghost's composure to not laugh.

"Wash your hands first, I don't want zombie juice on my lunch," Ghost feels even sillier for saying it, even if it is the truth. They don't know how transmission vectors of this new pandemic work—is it just bites, or does indigestion of the blood count?

"Alright, fuck's sake," Soap's hurt look dissolves into some level of genuine concern as he follows the request, and Ghost catches him washing his hands for the full two minutes they were told back in the early days of Covid. Who knows if it's enough, this is still so utterly unknown.

To his credit, Soap is more than just an extra set of hands in the kitchen, he's an actual help. Ghost sets him to work cooking the ground sausage while he prepares the rest himself. It will be an adjustment, this living together. What Ghost tries to do is focus on the routine, of making lunch, to try to keep himself from startling out of his skin whenever he brushes up against Soap.

But, Soap seems a step ahead of him, filling the silence with nonsensical talk about his family. Just like it did in Las Almas, it serves a purpose: to settle Ghost. Idle chatter to turn the silence into something safe and warm. Back then, Ghost did it to give Soap an anchor to hold onto so that they could even make it to the safehouse. Now, in the relative safety and security of Ghost's own home? Soap seems to offer it to him to settle and soothe.

As much as Soap seems to not pay attention, that he has his head in the clouds, Ghost is beginning to realize that not much passes by the Sergeant's notice. A good match for the team, were circumstances better.

Sausage rolls in the oven—for dinner, later—they're halfway through making matching Ploughman's sandwiches for lunch, when Ghost realizes he's comfortable. Maybe it'll still be a struggle, moving forward, but Soap is warm and friendly next to him. Not a single word of judgement in his rambling, only friendship offered, just as he'd been trying to do since they started working together.

Maybe that actually is Soap's natural state of friendly—Ghost hasn't really ever had someone level that sort of state at him, so he can't particularly say.

"We touching base with the Captain during lunch?" Soap grabs a bag of crisps out of the pantry to match his sandwich as he trails after Ghost into the dining room. Already the table has had more use out of it in just 24 hours than the entire time Ghost has owned it.

"Might as well," Ghost settles in the same seat as yesterday, watching as Soap settles across from him. Like he belongs there. He tries not to think too much on that stray thought as he fishes his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. "Try not to chew too loudly at the Captain."

"Fuck off," Soap says, but there's a smile on his face as he thunks his lunch onto the table.

Purely by memory, Ghost dials Price up, hits speaker and leaves his phone in the middle of the table. Today's call is weighted differently, not a frantic scramble to make sure their Captain isn't ambushed—they know he's safe, he said so himself—but they both need answers, badly. Answers that the Captain might not have, but if nothing else he'll have a plan.