Star-Crossed Lovers

Don't Wanna Miss a Thing

The day had just started. Sergeant John 'Soap' MacTavish's alarm went off.

"I'm up!" He said to himself as he jolted upright in his bunk. The Scotsman rubbed his eyes and groaned, then looked at the clock.

"I'll never get used t' this." John had been with Task Force 141 for about two years now, and he still hated waking up so early.

He mumbled to himself as he walked to the bathroom to take a quick shower. He undressed and looked at himself in the mirror. He had scars on his chest from getting top surgery. John is a trans man and is proud of it. If only his family felt the same.

Every year for his birthday and Christmas, John's family would send him cards with his deadname written inside. They probably hated having to write his changed legal name on the envelope. John sighed and hopped in the shower.

Then there was a knock on the door.

"Soap, hurry up. We have to be ready at o eight hundred hours." It was his Lieutenant.

"Yessir." Soap responded, as he quickly finished rinsing out his hair.

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley was a mysterious man. He was very commanding and never really showed emotion. No one called him by his actual name, unless they had a death wish.

Soap was nervous when they first met, but that was only because of his ex-boyfriend, and the fact that Ghost is intimidating and tall. John finished washing the rest of the body wash off and got out of the shower.

"Alright, lads. We're heading to Las Almas to take down a man by the name of Hassan. Our intel suggests that he has missiles stored there. We can't afford any fuck-ups, so you'd best be on high-alert at all times."

Everyone in the 141 were surrounding a table. Captain John Price was giving orders, while the rest listened and nodded their heads.

"Alright, let's move out!"

"YESSIR!" Everyone shouted.

~~

"Hey, LT," Soap ran up next to Ghost and walked with him to a truck.

"What do you want, MacTavish?" He responded in a monotone and unimpressed voice.

"I was j'st gonna say, good look oot there, aye?"

"You too, Soap."

John looked up at Ghost. He was a 6'4 man, and Soap was a 5'7 man. Ghost looked down at him with his eyes.

"Quit starin', Sergeant."

"Sorry, sir," Soap said as he looked forward.

~~

During their time in Las Almas, the 141 met Colonel Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra, aka, Los Vaqueros. They interrogated a woman named Valeria, aka, El Sinombre. She told them where two missiles were.

When they were heading back to their station, they were betrayed by a man named Philip Graves. Soap and Ghost were separated during this, and Alejandro was captured.

Soap carefully snuck through Las Almas, trying to find Ghost. He was internally freaking out, and his emotions were at war. "How could Graves do this t' us, after all we've been through! Ah thought we were brothers!"

Soap hid in an abandoned bar. After he made sure he was alone, he sat down and huffed a sigh, as a tear started to fall down his face. "Fuck, what 'm I gonnae do?" He whispered to himself.

"Soap, how copy?" Ghosts voice came through the private comms.

"Ghost, I copy. Where the bloody hell are you?"

"I'm at the church, where are you?"

"I'm at a bar."

Soap sighed with relief, knowing that his Lieutenant was okay. He stood up and carefully made his way through the bar, making weapons out of random items.

Then he heard Ghost say something that made him blush profusely.

"I'd murder for a whiskey," Ghost said with a husky tone. Soap hesitated before responding. Did Ghost really say that?

"...Y'mean scotch?" He said, as he tried his best to sound unbothered by what he said.

"I drink bourbon," Ghost responded with a shrug, but Soap didn't know he shrugged.

"Like a good ole boy," Soap said with a grin. Wait, what?

"I love Kentucky."

"You're out yer mind, LT."

"That's for sure."

Soap made his way to the church to meet Ghost. When his LT climbed the fence and jumped down, Soap had some spicy thoughts. They quickly made their way to a vehicle to escape.

"We made it, Johnny," Ghost said, as he looked at Soap.

"We made it, LT." Soap said with a smile. Suddenly, someone shot at them, but Soap quickly shot back and killed the man. "Drive, I'll cover you." And with that, the duo drove to Alejandro's safehouse.

When the 141 got back to camp after taking care of business, Soap noticed Ghost was limping a lot and holding his upper right arm with his left hand. John panicked and ran to his Lieutenant.

"Are you okay, sir?"

"I'm fine, MacTavish. Don't you have something better to do?" Soap paused.

"Not really, no."

"Well, good for you."

That's when Soap saw the blood.

"Sir, ye need first aid."

"I can take care of myself. Just leave me be—"

Then Ghost lost his balance and fell to the ground.

"Dammit," he muttered as he struggled to get up.

"Noo j'st haud on. Let me help." Soap tried to pick up his Lieutenant, but he needed help. "Sir, ya need to help me oot here." Ghost grumbled, but cooperated.

Soap helped Ghost to his room and laid him on his bed. John stood there, looking at him for a second, admiring the man.

"Where's that first aid I need so desperately?" Soap blinked.

"Sorry, sir." He rushed to get it. Soap was really good at sewing, so it couldn't be that hard to stitch up a knife cut... Or what he thought was a knife cut.

"Let me see the wound," John said as he walked back into Ghost's room. But he saw his Lieutenant sprawled out on his bed, face down, sleeping. "Did he heal himself?" Soap shrugged and started to walk out.

"Thank you." Ghost spoke up. John stopped dead in his tracks.

"...Y'know, that thank you sounds more like a drop dead."

"It's a gift," Ghost said, as he continued to lay face-down on his bed.

"You're welcome, Ghost. Get some rest; ye deserve it." And with that, Soap walked out of Ghost's room towards his own.