Chapter Text
Soap can still remember his first serious boyfriend.
A tall alpha with tanned skin and a charming smile named Alan. They'd met at a shop after Soap had accidentally bumped into him sending the papers clutched in his hand scattering all over the floor like a scene in a shitty and cliche romcom that would undoubtedly have his brother and sister gagging.
He remembers Alan asking him out for a apology coffee, remembers Alan shyly asking him to become his boyfriend, remembers the first time they had sex, remembers the dates and kisses they would share, remembers thinking he'd found his forever with sweet sweet caring Alan, with Alan who'd love him eternally and perfectly the same way fairytales make it out to be.
Soap also remembers, vividly, Alan's face as he fucked another man on their bed.
A pretty little omega, curled up in their sheets and mewling loudly as Alan fucked into them.
A cruel joke, curiosity gotten out of hand and a bet all mixed together. That had been his relationship with Alan, a relationship built on a stupid bet made between friends of seeing how dating a beta would be, of how long it could last.
Alan had laughed cruelly at him, called him a "experiment out of curiosity and nothing more" because after all "why would a alpha date a beta", had crushed Soap's self esteem into a million pieces that to this day, 6 years on, he's still slowly putting it back together.
In hindsight Soap should have listened to his family, his deeply religious and old fashioned parents. They'd always told him that betas had no business cozying up with alphas and omegas, that the perfect dynamic between those two shouldn't be meddled with by "curious" betas.
Deep down Soap knows that back then he'd set himself up for failure. Before Alan, before his attempt at finding something that would last, he'd dated more people such as alphas, a few omega, and betas, and the only relationships that had truly lasted had been the ones he'd shared with other betas.
The omegas had always been sweet, sweeter than the alphas at least, had gently told him that it wasn't going to work in the long run, that their dynamics weren't compatible and that it just didn't make sense. The alphas had always been (usually unintentionally or so Soap hopes) cruel, they had always told him that he'd always just been a casual thing, that settling down with a beta didn't appeal to them, that his lack of scent and him essentially being pheromone blind was disturbing and uncomfortable to them.
Soap had understood, had pushed down his hurt and smiled at them, told them it was okay and that he had no hard feelings, that his parents had always said the same thing. With Alan Soap had known that the chances of him being different were slim and yet he'd still foolishly hoped.
Alan had been a damn good actor all through till the end.
The memories of Alan still linger in the back of his mind and it's not just Alan that sticks to him, but every other comment ever made towards him, towards his status be it by a ex partner, parent or friend.
The hurt and sadness, the self loathing and wishing to have been born as anything other than a beta if even to have had half of those relationships be something serious and real still follow him like a phantom haunting him, pulling at his fragile wall of self esteem trying to pull it apart once again.
Which is why Soap will never tell Ghost he likes him.
Absolutely not.
Simon Ghost Riley, the very picture of the word 'alpha', tall and broad, toned muscles lining every inch of his body, a deep voice smothered in a thick manchester accent that sends tingles down to Soap's toes, deserves someone who can match his dynamic, something better than a common beta.
Soap likes Ghost and thus he will not let himself fall for his fake expectations, for his wide eyed naivete of having a life with said man, he will not be selfish this time.
-
Soap has been sneaking glances at Ghost for the past half an hour, the pencil and sketchbook in his hand long forgotten.
Soap may never confess but that doesn't mean he can't watch, can't watch Ghost work out, watch him run drills and bark orders, can't watch him sink knives into enemies and pour over mountains of paperwork because if Soap can't have Ghost then watching him live his life and perhaps even eventually fall in love with someone is enough for him.
"What are you staring at sergeant?" Comes the deep rumble of that mountain of a man. Soap detects a light hint of amusement behind those words, warm and soft.
Soap grins devilishly, snapping his sketchbook shut and effectively hiding away all the lovelorn sketches of his masked lieutenant. "Ah, nothing sir, jus' sum sketches an all tha'"
He practically sees Ghost raise a eyebrow behind his mask in question. "May I see one then?"
Soap chuckles nervously, hands immediately tightening on the leather bound book, mind flashing through all his stupid Ghost drawings, annotations and even letters dedicated to said man. "Only if I get to see yer ugly mug"
Ghost scoffs at that and turns away. "Fucking cheeky brat"
"Aye, that's me sire" He says with a mock salute and a butchered posh English accent that has the bigger man turning away and snickering into the palm of his hand.
Crisis averted it seems. Soap relaxes his grip, slowly sinking further and further into the couch of the rec room before laying completely flat on it, arm thrown against his eyes, shielding him not only from the light but also from the urge to stare at Ghost any longer.
Soap hears the scratch of a pen in the background, hears other soldiers horsing around playing a game of cards, he hears conversations and footsteps walking past the rec rooms door and he hears the familiar sound of training going on outside. Slowly he starts drifting off, his soft, barely there scent mellowing out even more as his defenses relax themselves.
After a while, whilst drifting in and out of consciousness he hears soft steps approach him, feels the couch dip and faintly smells the strong and comforting scent of Ghost.
A familiar gloved hand runs itself through his hair and down his face and Soap must be dreaming, he must be, so he hums half heartedly and snuggles into dream Ghost's touch. If he can't have real life Ghost then he'll settle for whatever his imagination manages to cook up, settle for whatever fake domesticity his head will come up with.
"Sweet dreams Johnny"
-
Soap is crouched in some bushes.
Gaz would say he's hiding, avoiding but Soap thinks he's just doing some damage control.
His crush has bloomed into full on love and to Soap that's a very obvious problem.
Gaz had told him to calm down, to confess and said that the worst Ghost could do would be to say "no". In his own humble opinion the worst Ghost could do would be to stop talking to him, to push him away or perhaps even pull a good old Alan on him, although Soap doesn't think the brit would be that cruel.
It's getting painful, having to avoid the bigger man, to make short polite conversation without getting carried away into a endless hole of banter and jokes, of comfort and safety. It's getting harder and harder to not break down at night in utter self hatred, to convince himself that being a beta isn't a bad thing, that someone out there would eventually love him for how he is.
(He's told himself these lies before, danced the same tango routine and tripped over and over every single time, he doesn't know how much longer he can keep this dance going)
The older man doesn't say anything, simply stares into the back of his head whenever he makes a hasty retreat. He doesn't speak on it, doesn't get angry or curious or sad and perhaps that makes Soap a bit sad, but at the same time it makes it a bit easier on him to move on, to have that small confirmation that he was never anything that important in the first place.
The sketches in his leather bound journal get more and more aggressive, they get more frequent as well. Harsh pencil lines form Ghost's mask and face, they form his body and muscles, they form lines of stupid jokes that have come out of his mouth. Sketches of him cover every single page, entries written in anger and sadness and heartbreak as well, his pages are a mess of every emotion clouding his heart, of every feeling that he could never express all laid bare in a cheap journal.
And all because of one man.
Gosh he's pathetic, so so pathetic it's almost pitiful. Never learning from his past heartbreaks, always first in line to get his heart shattered.
His mother, despite her shortcomings and traditional views, was a observant woman. She'd been the first to point out how he always wore his heart on his sleeve, she'd said that he loved too much and too fast and as stupid as it might sound that that would be his downfall. Not some bullet lodged in his brain, not old age or a disease, but the fact that he so willingly gave over his heart even if it got crushed time and time again.
And Soap isn't stupid, he knows he isn't, he's in the S.A.S for christ sake, but sometimes he does feel it and it's a feeling that keeps him up at night with his mother's words echoing all around him.
-
New additions to the base aren't new news and it certainly isn't bad news, except for the fact that maybe it's bad news for his heart.
There's been a new soldier introduced into the base, a surgeon, more specifically a general surgeon with three tours under his belt and a lot of first hand experience with a few shiny medals to accompany it. The new surgeon is called James, General Kane to the younger starry eyed recruits. What Soap is getting at is that said man is competent.
Kane is very obviously a omega, and a looker at that, with a small willowy build unseen in the army, long eyelashes and dark enchanting eyes that draw in anyone like a siren.
And Soap has no real issue with Kane other than the fact that said man spends most of his time hanging around Ghost, and that according to Gaz and other soldiers, despite having met almost a month ago they get along like a house on fire, with what Gaz calls "flirty banter".
And okay, maybe Soap does have a bit of a issue with Kane, maybe he does only really talk to the man when needed but he is trying.
When Soap had met Ghost it had taken the larger man three month to even warm up to the idea of his presence and had taken another month before Ghost had even smiled at him. It took Ghost 11 months to properly laugh in his presence and let Soap touch him properly, and yet here he was, the stoic, emotionless lone wolf lieutenant laughing and letting himself be touched all over a single month after meeting the new surgeon. And Soap can't even be mad, can't be petty or jealous because Ghost obviously likes Kane, Kane who is everything he's not, Kane who is competent and calm as opposed to his own loud mouthed self, Kane who is slender and small, a desirable trait for alphas, Kane who is so so pretty and has such a strong sweet scent as opposed to scarred pouty and heartbroken Johnny with his barely present scent of wildflowers and rain.
Soap can't be mad because Kane is everything a alpha would want and need, because Kane fits like Ghosts other half in a way he never could, because Kane whilst still retaining properties of a traditional omega still stands out as his own strong, individual not bound by his secondary gender, and Soap knows that Ghost respects that behavior.
Soap can't be mad because he's the one that pushed Ghost away, that ran from his feelings and any confrontation.
Soap can't be mad because it isn't his place, as a lowly beta, to interfere with mother nature's dynamics, with God's dynamics.
Soap can't be mad because Ghost seems to genuinely like Kane, to genuinely enjoy the mans company, and at the end of the day who is he to stand in middle of said man's happiness?
All Soap asks for is his own happy ending.
-
(Soap is standing in another person's happiness begging to be let in, the irony isn't lost on him)