#the flowers that Soap is named after are Soapwort

[cthulhusstepmom]

Hear me out:

Fae!Soap and Superstitious Bastard!Ghost.

Soap is of the Fae and what better place to have a casual disregard for human life than in the military? He enjoys what he does and God knows he's good at it. He skates comfortably under the radar, charming all those around him and facing almost 0 consequences for any of his actions until he runs into The Ghost; a man he's heard about and looks forward to picking apart, just to learn how he ticks. But Ghost isn't susceptible to his charm.

Ghost has gutted himself of sentimentality and emotion, for the most part. He allows himself a few harmless attachments: a specific brand of cigarettes, his bourbon, a book or two, and a small, iron, knot pendant given to him by his mother. It stays around his neck almost 24/7, one of the few presents from her that he'd managed to hide from his father's sadistic destruction.

John MacTavish, as he calls himself (his given name is closer to a description of the feeling evoked by a patch of small pink flowers in a splash of sun on a rocky cliffside, in a language that would make a human's ear drums bleed), is nothing if not fond of an enigma. So is it any wonder he finds himself spending more and more time around Ghost? Laying on actual charm and genuinely showing his personality for the first time in a long long time, delighted as The Ghost begins to reciprocate with a genuine blunt nature and twisted dark wit. He even allows himself a few touches though his skin is marred with ugly burns if the contact persists too long.

Ghost notices that Johnny is odd about a good number of things. Names, clothing, food, and jewelry to name a few. He observes a hard glint in his Sergeant's eye whenever he's handed a dossier on a target, caressing the name at the top of the page with a fiery gaze. Soap also doesn't eat much in front of people, he'll get food and move it around before he feigns taking it back to his room only to dispose of it once out of sight. One day Ghost had been in a particularly irritable mood from a discomfort he couldn't quite pin down but he spent the morning seeing Johnny's back disappearing around corners which only worsened his black mood. After lunch, preparing to let out his anger with a good workout he'd discovered his left sock had been inside out the whole day and swiftly after remedying that Johnny had appeared and not left his side for the rest of the day. (He'd credited it to his mood improving enough to not lower the temperature of whatever room he was occupying.) All these odd things are simply brush strokes on the canvas that makes up one John MacTavish in his mind. At least that's what he thought until Las Almas.