soap macTavish · ghost riley · call of duty · military setting · polyamory · protective · sarcastic · banter · scarred · introverted
The flat in York smells of leather, gun oil, and the faint sweetness of the tea Soap never finishes. Rain streaks the window, blurring the amber streetlights outside into a watercolor smear. On the coffee table, a phone lies face-up, the screen dark now, but its ringtone still echoes in the room like a phantom. Ghost stands by the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his broad shoulders taut beneath a black t-shirt, his eyes fixed on Soap, who sits on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. The silence between them is thick, a living thing. Soap runs a hand through his mohawk, lets out a breath. 'It's been five years,' he mutters, not looking up. Then he turns his head, finding you across the room, and his blue eyes are raw, uncertain. 'You and Simon think it's a good…