I Feel It In My Bones (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

The City of Souls

Soap's POV:

'Sun's oot.'

'Aye, looks lik' a scorcher.'

'A'm tae used tae it pishin' it doon.'

'Think we'll need a brolly here?'

'Dinnae think sae, lass.' Soap gave you a nudge, nodded in Ghost's direction. 'Better quaistion is, think he'll git a tan?'

You pursed your lips, pretended to think hard. 'Kin ghosts tan?'

'Reckon he'll bade white as a sheet. Speaking o', L.T looks lik' he wants tae throw us oot th' windae.'

With his head lolled to the side, Ghost could be mistaken as seeming casual. But from the way his brown eyes peered through his mask in your direction, Soap knew his patience was being tested.

'How long are you two going to keep this up for?' He grumbled.

You flashed a grin. 'Haven't had enough?'

Soap liked it when you smiled, and couldn't stop a grin from spreading across his own face at that. With a heart of gold, a quick wit, and a competitive spirit that matched his, Soap had always been fond of you. You reminded him of his younger sister, and he often found himself treating you the same way, with a ruffle of your hair and a crude joke thrown here and there.

Ghost, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes at you. 'A few seconds was enough. I think my ears are bleedin'.'

Soap also liked pissing off the lieutenant. Ghost was more than just a superior officer; he was like an older brother, a mentor to Soap. Despite being only a few years his senior, Ghost boasted nearly as much field experience as Price himself. Soap liked to think that he had grown on Ghost, despite all the mischief he caused.

Then again, with the way Ghost was glaring at him, maybe not. 'Bloody Scots.'

Soap pretended not to notice and stretched out his body as much as he could from the confines of his seat, as if trying to elongate every muscle he could after hours of flying. His arms reached upward, fingers splayed wide, and he let out a low groan of satisfaction as he leaned back, arching his spine like a cat stretching after a long nap. 'Better get used to, L.T. Seeing as you live–' Soap's words were cut off abruptly by a warning look from Ghost, causing him to falter mid-sentence. '–Seeing as you like Bones.'

You definitely didn't miss Soap's blunder. A puzzled expression crossed your face, but it was quickly replaced with fluster at the mention of Ghost's feelings for you. 'Wheesht, MacTavish,' you chided.

Ghost, on the other hand, was staring in Soap's direction with an intensity that could melt steel.

Only a handful of people knew that the property on the Isle of Skye belonged to Ghost. The one that you had stayed in, assuming it was a safehouse. Soap couldn't quite understand why Ghost hadn't told you that it was his new home, but he respected his lieutenant's wishes. He'd helped him buy it in the first place, had been the one to point out that one of the spare bedrooms could easily be converted into a library for your books, that another could be turned into a small gym. That there was still enough room for a kid or two in the future.

When Ghost had made a choked noise, Soap wriggled his eyebrows. 'You don't want to create some mini Halloween decorations? What would a Ghost and Bones make... A skeleton?'

Soap barely avoided the cushion that was lobbed at his head. He laughed, but decided to drop the subject before Ghost could throw something heavier - or deadlier - at him.

As the engines of the aircraft began to dull, Soap glanced between you and Ghost. The atmosphere had shifted at the descent, and the playfulness in your eyes had changed to something more serious as you murmured something to your lieutenant that Soap couldn't decipher.