Chapter Text
“Where are ye plannin’ t’ go for your leave, Ghostie?” Soap asked casually, tipped back so far on the sofa he’d likely have tipped it over if it weren’t for Gaz on the other end.
“By himself in the same miserable flat in Manchester that he’s spent every year since I’ve known him, I’d wager.” Gaz said dryly, glancing up from his phone.
Ghost didn’t look up from the book he wasn’t really reading anymore. He turned the page on autopilot, knowing from experience how long it would normally take him to read this page of this familiar novel, attention wholly stolen by the cheerful Scottish brogue to his left. The sergeant had been awfully distracting ever since Las Almas, and it had only gotten worse once Soap’s patience had finally run out and he’d asked to kiss him. Well, he’d actually asked if Ghost would kiss him , but he’d rather shorted out at the question and had been frozen for long enough Johnny almost pulled away before he hurriedly said yes, and tugged him back in, and Johnny had given him one of those blinding smiles before pressing up to his mask . . .
Soap tilted his head at Ghost thoughtfully. “Not goin’ to visit family, then? Ye said somethin’ the other day about sendin’ presents to your mum and your brother’s family.”
Ghost shook his head, grimacing behind his mask. “No.” He said simply, not wanting to explain further in front of Gaz. The other sergeant politely ignored them both and went back to his phone with an air of smug amusement.
“Why don’t ye come to Scotland with me, then?” Soap suggested, to his surprise, and he looked up sharply. “Why no’? Mum would ne’er forgive me if I didn’t at least ask ye to come, she and Da want to meet ye. Make sure you’re good enough for me or some shite.” He grinned. “I told ’em they couldnae drag me away from ye if they tried, but they’d still like to know ye, if you’re willin’.”
A huffed laugh made its way from his chest at the idea of Johnny’s parents trying to get between them. He wouldn’t even say anything, Johnny would have him in the car and be storming off before he was finished processing that they disliked him. “You sure?” He asked anyway, softening as he looked at Johnny’s bright grin. He wasn’t all that keen to go back to the empty flat in Manchester, only coming out at night when it was unlikely he’d run into the other Rileys, carrying his military ID and badge everywhere for when the police stopped him about his mask . . . “Your relatives do a large get-together, don’t they?”
“Aye, whole extended family gets together, but only for about a day usually.” Soap’s eyes crinkled a bit at the corners, his brows drawing a tad - fondness softening his expression. “Rest of the time it should just be Ma, Da, and my sisters and their families. The cousins only drop by for a day or so, work schedules and all.”
Ghost hummed to acknowledge him as he turned the idea over in his head. A trip to Scotland, seeing dozens of new people - staying with about a dozen of them, if he remembered how many nieces and nephews Johnny had right. The new faces could be a liability; they might just be unpleasant, though he knew Johnny would have his back for that. It would be loud, likely, though he didn't often mind noise. Meeting Johnny's family, of whom he spoke so warmly. He hoped for Johnny's sake they liked him; he hated the idea that they might try to make his darling choose between them.
He'd win, if they pushed the choice, of course. Johnny would choose freedom with him any day before choosing to stay with a family that didn't respect his wishes. The choice would be cruel to Johnny, though.
In the end it wasn't much of a choice, was it? Underground for three weeks by himself in a barren little flat in Manchester, or hidden away with his lover in the Scottish highlands, as safe as they could get off base on a farm owned by a former officer of the 141 himself, Captain John MacTavish. He'd let the Army clear his flat, first, too, just in case the holiday went south, as a backup.
“I see ye planning over there, Simon,” Soap teased gently, leaning forward on his knees now to look at Ghost. “What're ye thinkin’?”
“I'll keep the flat as a backup.” Simon picked up where his thoughts had left without thinking until he registered the snicker from Johnny. “When do we leave?”
Johnny's grin became blinding and he hopped up from his seat to bound over and gently bumped their foreheads together in what he'd nicknamed his Ghost kisses. “My leave starts next week. I usually see if I can pack by then and get a flight about three days in, just in case of a long mission or finishin’ the packin’.”
“Good plan.” Simon knew he was staring but he couldn’t help it, too enraptured by the peppermint stained smile and the tantalizing view of Johnny's collarbone under his unbuttoned shirt.
Johnny's smirk became wicked and he leaned to one side to whisper in Ghost's ear. “Later, mo chridhe.” He didn't even have to add anymore for Ghost to grip his book a little too hard and stare at him, wild-eyed, when he straightened back up and strolled over to flop back on the couch.