INFECTIOUS [GHOSTXSOAP]

XIV. TURMOIL

WARNING - JEALOUSY / CHANGE / PTSD / TRAUMA / ANXIETY

A/N ... I appreciate every single one of you who have stumbled upon this story of mine and would be absolutely grateful if you could leave a like or sneaky comment on this. It helps me know I'm on the right path but also keeps me motivated to write more stories like this.
Much love.

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“Jesus fuckin’ christ! What shit storm did we enter?!” Soap yelled out, voice practically a growl as he ran, sliding on his ass to cover behind a crate as the wall behind him was peppered with bullets.

The omega immediately crouched up, returning fire as leant around the crate, the spray from his rifle slamming into the chests of the AQ soldiers they'd been hunting all morning. He didn't have time to react to the carnage he'd inflicted, as ‘Freckles’ backed up against him, firing in the opposite direction around the edge of the crate.

“What ya complaining for mate, this is the shit we live for.” Freckles chirped back, a wicked little grin plastered on his face as he cleared the men in front of him, before spinning to pat Soap on the shoulder. “Recon sucks mate, this, in the thick of it-”

“Shut up Jensen!” The one Soap called Alejandro 2.0, Louise, grumbled out from his spot ahead, rolling his eyes back at them, while ‘Meathead’ laid out fire, taking down four more men. “Stop flirtin’ with the poor bastard.”

That had Ghost tensing, gaze immediately snapping to Jensen, sizing him up.

Sure the guy was big, not as large as Ghost, no one was, but there was a friendly, bubbly nature to the man, that Ghost couldn't compete with, and the helicopter ride to their drop off location had grated on his nerves with how easily Soap fell into conversation with the other alpha, their personalities bouncing off one another perfectly.

Jealousy had flared, reared its ugly head inside Ghost, and more so now, hearing Lousie joke about Jensen flirting with Soap.

Mine!

“I was doing no such thing!” Jensen quipped back, but threw Soap a wink regardless before he moved up, covering for Benson who was reloading.

Momentarily caught off guard, Soap gulped, unsure how to feel about the situation, but was thankful his mind was distracted for a moment, given they were still underground, nearing in on the centre of this hell-hole.

Shaking his head, the omega glanced over his shoulder, having not heard Ghost for a while, was worried he'd been injured or something, but what he found made his chest tighten instead, eye's widening.

Ghost stood, shoulders hunched, eyes solid black, claws poking out the ends of his gloves, while his chest heaved.

Jesus. He looks pissed.

He was preparing to move to the alpha, when Meatheads voice sounded down the tunnel and coms. “Let's move ladies! We got em panicking!”

That had Soap moving, signalling to Ghost, asking if he was ok, and for him to follow him. The alpha just stalked towards Soap, cleared the gap in 5 strides, sticking close to the Sergeant's side, not uttering a word.

Strange.

The team continued moving in beautiful sync, thanks to the years of training they received back home, only the best of the best were able to join the SAS.

Clearing the rest of the tunnels, they heard shouting, probably profanities as well being thrown their way, and as Richards moved forward, a grenade rolled down the tunnel in front of him.