#david garrick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

octopiys · 5 months

Text

II. two turtle doves

Wordcount: 7.2k IM SO SORRY THIS GOT AWAY FROM ME

Pairing(s): eventual Soap/Ghost, Price/Nikolai, implied Alejandro/Rodolfo

Warnings: blood/violence, traumatic injury, chronic pain (written by someone with chronic pain), ptsd, hallmark Christmas, description of an animal attack

(A/N: hello here's the second part! I hit 400 followers, and then lost a few so I was gonna celebrate but take this as it is! Thank yall so much for the support <3, my requests are still open!!)

Find the masterlist here.

His shoulder bag dropped to the floor as he shuffled his way into the small cabin, the snow picking up outside. Luckily enough, the majority of the place was furnished as Laswell told him it would be, outside of other decorations.

He was sure it was more than he needed, but it didn't quite matter. He limped into the bedroom, flicking on the light. A thin layer of dust had covered the place, another project he'd have to start, and dumped his bag's contents into the drawers. A few photos were set out on the dresser, the counter, and....

That was easier than he expected.

Maybe he should've gone into the store when he was in town.

Dammit.

It was late anyways. He forgot that the night comes sooner in the winter. It's been a while since he's been in a place where the nights were actually cold, where the darkness was one that enveloped you.

He locked the doors, double checked the windows, and then checked them again. All secured.

So he got in the shower.

He couldn't listen to music, not now at least. He had to make sure that he categorized everything, made sure that he had all the sounds processed, all the normalicies compartmentalized.

The warm water made him gasp, then breathe a sigh of relief as it worked out the knots in his shoulders.

He needed to cut his hair.

It was by no means within military regulations anymore, not that he needed it to be. But the normalcy was almost required of him, and his mohawk was growing long beneath his fingers. He hadn't had the chance to cut it since.... however long it had been before he started PT. He ran shampoo through it, almost touching the tip of his shoulders, then allowed himself a few more sparing minutes in the warmth before getting out.

The night was long. His mind was restless as he tossed and turned in his too clean sheets. His bed was too soft, too comfortable, or maybe not enough. By the time he got used to the sounds of the water heater, it turned off, and he was left with the whir of the fan and the space heater.

Helicopter blades.

Laswell was worried, and Roach was scared-

He pushed his covers off and turned off the fan, sighing.

His clock blinked at him, the numbers reading 04:32.

No better way to start the day than early.

He stretched, sitting at the edge of his bed. He didn't bother with his knee brace, he'd put it on before he left. Just had to be a little careful around here.

The linoleum was cold underneath his feet as he padded into the kitchen. There wasn't a coffee pot.

He wondered what the chances were that the bakery was open. If not, he was sure there was a Starbucks somewhere within this town, he'll just finish some reports, then....

He popped a few pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Pain meds, pain meds that didn't work. But it doesn't matter too much to him right now, as he straps his knee brace on and sighs. He shrugs on his windbreaker, since it's the only thing he has outside of the one long sleeved shirt he owned, and headed out.

The streets were cold, no suprise there, but in no way were they dark. The telephone poles were alight with decoration, Christmas lights winding up and down the wood. Every corner didn't go amiss either, bright as almost day.

His breath fogged up the cold air, and he hunched closer into himself to try and conserve heat. No one was out on the streets, not that he had expected there to be, but that meant that nothing was open, either.

Soon enough, the bakery came into view, the LED lights of the SpecBru sign reflecting on parts of the icy pavement. Lights on, Soap could see in the windows from here, the man from yesterday, Kyle, sweeping and looking like he was in the process of opening.

Soap entered quicker than he would've liked to, startling the crap out of the poor baker.

"Hey-! You're- oh. Hey, Johnny boy, early start to the day?" Kyle asked, recovering his broom from the floor where he had thrown it.

Soap groaned and slid into a booth, rubbing his hands together to try and get them warm again. "Too early. Can the day start if it never ended?" He grumbled to no one but himself, and he heard Kyle chuckle.

"I'll take it you need a coffee, then?"

"Bless ye, Kyle."

The rumble of the coffee machines were heard as Kyle powered them on. The dishwasher was currently going, and most of the display case was empty, not having been filled yet in the early hours of the morning.

Kyle was once again wearing his faded blur cap, but this time, he wore a dark blue apron that covered a red and green sweater.

"A fan of the holidays?" Soap asked, leaning forward as he watched the man work.

"You kinda have to be to live here, Johnny. It's like a month long ordeal." Kyle said with a shrug of his shoulders, watching as the machine poured the steaming liquid into a mug. "It's the theme surrounding here. Y'know, we've even got a petting zoo. Except the guy there isn't too much of the 'Santa' type."

Soap grimaced. "He's nae like-"

"Oh God no!" Kyle laughed as the machine spizzled to a stop, and he pulled out the mug, sliding it across the counter to Soap. "Just a hermit, is all. Not much to worry about, but the kids seem to love him."

Soap hummed, taking a large sip of his coffee, practically moaning as the warmth coursed through him. "That's some good shite, Kyle."

The man laughed. "Thanks, mate. I should probably open a store."

Soap chuckled. "Och, speakin' o' stores, ye ken where I can find a warmer jacket?"

Kyle blinked at him.

"Do *you know* where I can find a war-mer jacket?" He tried his best British impression to try and get the words through the man's head.

Kyle stopped whatever he was doing, giggling like a child. "Please- please don't ever do that again, lord jesus- yes, I know where the general store is, I can take you once Alex gets here, he's supposed to help me open-"

As if on cue, the little bell above the door dinged as it opened, a new guy backing in through the door. Somehow, he was balancing a stack of boxes in his arms, unable to see past them, but still muttered a, "coming through!" as he walked by.

Soap saw imminent death as the man, Alex, was heading straight for a stray chair, diving forward to stop him before-

"Oh, shit!" The American said, tipping forward, but Soap grabbed the top two boxes before they fell, unable to save Alex who fell directly into the chair. The ceramics within the box clicked together, but remained largely unbroken as Kyle slid across a table to help him up.

"Ah- are ye alright?" Soap asked, hesitantly, setting the boxes down quickly before turning towards Alex to check him over.

"Yeah yeah, thank you, Gaz-" He batted Kyle away, doing a once over of Soap, then the boxes, before double taking Soap. "Wait a minute. I... don't know you."

Gaz, who was checking inside the boxes to make sure the mugs were still intact, glanced over between the both of them. "Oh, sorry. Alex, this is Johnny, Johnny, this is Alex. Alex is our head barista, and Johnny... just... moved here." Kyle settled on, smoothing his hands over his apron. To Soap, it seemed like suddenly he looked rather nervous.

The head barista, Alex, seemed also relatively put together, even if he almost tripped and died on the way in. His hair was brushed into an almost curled sort of way, his beard neat and trimmed, and a bit of an unruly mustache. Okay, a bit is an understatement, but you get the picture. Less noticeably, the man also had a prosthetic leg, and an impressive sleeve of tattoos, wearing a scarf he swore he'd seen before....

There was an awkward pause that had settled over the room, before Soap cleared his throat and turned away, feeling like he was intruding on something.

"Johnny boy!" Gaz almost shouted, startling the shit out of him. The baker was sin the process of taking off his apron, throwing it behind the counter, grabbing Soap by the arm. "Time to go to the store. Let's- let's go."

The door closed behind them, and through the frosted windows, Soap saw Alex blinking in confusion.

"So... Alex, huh?" Soap mused, zipping up his jacket.

"You shut your goddamned mouth, Johnny." Kyle groaned, hiding his face in his scarf. His face was burning as his cheeks glowed in embarrassment.

"What? Ah'm just sayin', he's easy on the eyes, laddie-"

"He's dating Farah, and they're both my best friends! Besides it's not like- like- oh, forget it." Snow was coming down lightly, melting as it came into contact with the salted pavement. Soap brushed some out of his hair before it froze in his mohawk.

The sun was barely rising despite it being a bit of a decent time into the morning now, a downside of the long winter nights. But the town was slowly waking up, Soap had started seeing more people come outside, other cars join the streets, lights and displays turning on.

Kyle made an abrupt turn into an alleyway, muttering something about a shortcut, and Soap followed without a trace of doubt in his mind, only burning with one question.

"Why do they call ye Gaz?"

He'd heard it before from the woman behind the counter yesterday, and hadn't thought much of it, and Alex's remark had caused him to remember.

"Ah well-" Gaz pulled the brim of his hat down onto his head, muttering something that he couldn't hear.

"Wh-?"

"I blew up an oven and a kid called me Gas! But he- he had a bit of a speech impediment so it came out as 'Gaz' and-" Soap started laughing at the man's defensiveness, and the story. "- And- shut up, Johnny- and everyone just started using it, that's-"

Soap had doubled over in laughter, clutching his aching sides in the cold air. Kyle rolled his eyes, but couldn't fight off a smile.

Soon enough, after both men recovered, they walked into the store. And it's The Store(trademarked!), according to Gaz, because it had anything they ever needed, which was real convenient! .....until he ran out of baking supplies one time and had to close SpecBru until the store got in their next monthly shipment.

It was much warmer in here than outside, despite the buzzing fluorescents above them. Most of the shelves were stocked, a few people with carts pulling around until they found what they needed.

Gaz dragged him to the clothes section first. "You're gonna want more winter clothes than summer clothes for sure, so we'll find you a jacket first. Then we'll move on to pants, and shirts, and then I'll leave you to roam before Alex burns the place down before I get back."

"Comin' from ye, Gaz." Soap teased, and Gaz grumbled a few curses under his breath.

"Still a valid concern."

He was lucky that the military paid him well before his leave. He never had much to spend it on either way, and rarely was it ever for himself. Between clothes, and the groceries that he hasn't even started looking for yet, it was good that he never did. At least ten outfits, and Gaz making fun of him for an hour, later, Soap finally was able to escape and get groceries. Gaz left him on his own, headed out to load his truck with supplies for the week.

Okay, he could do this.

He started worming his way through the aisles, picking off various things like cereals, some canned goods, and a case of water– all imperishables.

Then he stopped.

He'd be living here for a while, as Laswell tried to tell him, as much as he didn't want to believe it. He was sure he'd need other things, like a toothbrush and- oh, and a coffee pot. With coffee. Oh, that sounds so good.

So he made his way to the coffee aisle, which was also the tea, soup, pasta, and spice aisle, planning on beelining right towards the coffee machinery. Quickly glancing over each box, he picked out a little blue machine, turning it around to read about it as he walked back to his cart.

No more than two steps gone had he run into someone, stumbling backwards, a flurry of apologies leaving his mouth as he lowered the box.

"Watch it," growls a gruff voice in a skull patterned sweater.

You know how when you're imprisoned, and you're supposed to find the biggest, meanest looking guy and either beat him up, or befriend him?

This guy would definitely be the pick in the yard.

Soap did a quick once over. Tall and muscled, wearing at least a few layers of clothes, and an odd looking ski mask that barely hid honey colored eyes, the man was downright intimidating, even for him. Hell, he'd been through war, seen the gulags, dealt with experiments, and torture, and corruption, and yet....

Soap wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"Shite, yer just built like a brick chimney are ya? Not surprised ya didn't see me. I'm John MacTavish, but you can call me Johnny if ya want- or if ya want to call me anything else that'd be fine too." His voice wavered with his crumbling suave confidence. He was blowing it as he spoke, but he maintained to hold the fort down as he set the coffee machine in his cart and hurriedly stuck out a hand, just slow enough to hide his eagerness.

The skull patterned man instead glared and reached to grab something off the shelf behind him, brushing over Soap's shoulder to do so.

Yeah, Soap was absolutely dwarfed in comparison.

He smelled like lumber and pine, mixed with something slightly animal, sinewy, like a barn. Not that Soap was, like, paying attention to that at all- or anything-

And then the tension was broken as the man ended his glare to roll his eyes and mutter something akin to "bloody tourists", as he pulled away with a box of tea, honey eyes darting to the sign in the next aisle before walking off.

Soap's face flushed alight with humiliation as he stood, flabbergasted with himself, glancing around the aisle and making eye contact with a lady who also seemed to be hiding her second-hand embarrassment by reaching for too many boxes of pasta.

He needed to find Gaz. Fuck the coffee, he was done shopping, he could come back later, he needed to get out of there before he made anything worse-

"An' then ah just decided ta talk to 'im like a dumb lad who's never seen a real person! After ah hit 'im wit' a coffee pot!" Soap exclaimed frustratedly, as he forcibly hung clothes up in his closet. He had already donned his new boots and coat, feeling much warmer than he has within the previous hours. "Ah mean, sure, ah woulda liked ta get ta know 'im, an'-"

"John, mate, I can't understand a thing you're sayin' when you're all hot and bothered-"

"Ah'm NAE-"

"IF I HAVE TO hear about a fuckin' coffee pot again, I'm gonna throw it against the wall and send you off to get a new one. Take a breather, aight?" Gaz continued as if he hadn't heard about him. "Besides, I've got a pretty good idea of who you're talkin' about. Right miracle he didn't rip your head off after you touched him the first time."

Soap blinked at him, gaping like a fish. "What d'ya mean?"

"I mean, the man's a social recluse. Rarely see him, and half the time I do, it's never longer than ten minutes. I barely get a hello out of him when he comes into SpecBru-"

"He goes into SpecGru?" John eagerly swayed like a teenager learning new gossip on their favorite celebrity.

"-Shush, let me finish. I barely get a hello out of him when he comes into the bakery, but the man's kind. Doesn't quite get on with most people, either, but we see 'im more around the holidays than any other time." Gaz tossed him another shirt, and he caught it, before sticking a hanger through the sleeves, and wiping a hand over his face. "That's the last one, by the way."

Soap thanked him, before an alarm went off on his phone. It jarred him out of his senses for a moment, the newness deciding to-

He hated that goddamn alarm. Up and at em, always. Whether it was paperwork, or deployment, it was always there. Always constant. The coldness of the tile beneath his feet grounded him, soothed the horrid ache in his leg from the ground up. It always got his heart racing when it went off. He'd have to change it when he got back to wherever Laswell was deciding to send him for recovery.

"John, you alright?"

It was the default on his phone. Had to take his goddamn medicine. Always a part of the schedule, so he didn't have to worry about it until suddenly he had no work to do. He lost his schedule. Some things were best left behind.

"Uh- aye, sorry. Can you-" Gaz had his phone in his hands, and Soap was sitting on his bed. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. The alarm was no longer going off. "-hand me the medicine container on the dresser please?"

The deep ache in his knee was beginning to return the longer that he thought about it. He blinked again slowly, taking a deep breath like he was grounding himself. Gaz wordlessly passed him the container, not even sparing a glance to read whatever it said. Tramadol, paracetamol, and another thing he usually forgot. One pill would do for now, while the pain wasn't bad enough to incapacitate him for a second pill.

"As I was saying before," Gaz continued as if he had never stopped, and Soap was thankful. "His name's Simon. Simon Riley. His go to order is usually two eccles cakes and an English breakfast, or an earl grey-"

"Why are ye telling me this?"

"Because I think you're practically in love with this guy, and I'd rather tell you instead of watching you struggle to figure it out. Anyways," He fixed his cap, standing up and leaving to the kitchen to unload the rest of the stuff. Soap followed him out, looking like a lost puppy, begging and sniffling for a crumb of anything Gaz wished to give him.

"Ah'm nae in love wit' 'im! Ah just hit him with a coffee machine!" He exclaimed, storming into the kitchen.

"Right, right, of course. Y'know, he runs the Riley Farm just outside of town. They call themselves a tree farm, but there's a shit ton of other things to do there too. Shame it's just him runnin' it, though." Gaz plugged in the coffee machine. "Got a whole petting zoo and everything."

"Petting zoo? For what, reindeer?" John joked, half disbelief written onto his face that much of anything could live up here, much less be considered 'petting zoo.'

The look of brief confusion on Gaz's face told him that he had hit the nail right on the head. "Nae, you dinnae- reindeer? Really?"

"Well... I mean, it's kind of on brand for us up here." Gaz gestured around, and Soap somehow knew what he meant. A Christmas themed town who's whole shebang is.... yeah, reindeer seemed the least weird out of it all, actually.

It turned out, reindeer was not, in fact, the least weird out of everything he learned.

Gaz had left a few hours ago after everything had been loaded into his little cabin, a place that was slowly coming together as home. Bacon was sizzling in a cast iron on the stove, Soap tired enough to only throw something together.

Skrrtch.

"What the...?" Soap whipped around at the sound behind him. Like scratching on glass, like someone was trying to open a door. He clicked off the burners, reaching for a kitchen knife. "Who's there? Yer at the wrong fuckin' house!"

Skriitchh.

He flipped the knife in his hand, angling the blade away from him. A slight breeze blew through the room, the curtains drifting in front of the glass door. It was dark outside, the early kind of dark that you get in the dead winter. Hair raised on the back of his neck as he heard it again, the slow scratch of something being drawn across glass. He took a couple steps towards the swaying curtains, hand out and-

"Creepin' jesus, fuck-!" Soap shouted after tearing the curtains away to reveal a.. deer? An elk? Whatever it was, it was stuck in the screening of his window, tired pants leaving it limp with exhaustion, it's antlers all tangled in the screen. He breathed an aggravated sigh, pushing the curtains against the wall.

He grabbed his nearest sweater, resting on the dining table and shrugged it on, before clicking in the flashlight on his phone and trudging outside. Pity nipped his heart with the biting cold outside as he stuck his phone in his pocket, the flashlight just peeking out to illuminate the creature.

Its breaths fogged up in the freezing air, small, short puffs of cloud fogging against his window.

"Poor bastard." Grumbled Soap, gently reaching over and patting the deer reassuringly, smoothing over its soft fur. It appeared to be so well kept that Soap could've considered it someone's pet, having escaped its fencing to enjoy the luxury of a screened window. He reached his knife just above the antlers, cutting into the screen and sawing away at the thin metal. The deer huffed, struggling again at the sudden release of pressure and Soap jerked the knife away before the animal could hurt itself any further.

There was a sharp tear in the screen as the deer bucked her head, and Soap muttered out a low curse, taking a step back from the animal. There would be no way to fix it now, not without getting it replaced.

Another tear, and Soap jumped into action, smoothing over its face with soft whispers of reassurance, slowly bringing his knife to cut around what he could.

A beam of light flashed over one of the hills further off his property, followed by some yelling in another language, and Soap's hands started working faster. The deer seemed to have realized that hebwas trying to help, because she lessened the tension in her body like she was trying to help him set her free.

"That's a good lassie, almost done, almost done..." He murmured, cutting through the last bit and snapping to get her attention. She shook her head, grunting and huffing with what he assumed to be appreciation, taking a few wobbly steps.

"We got her over here!" Shouts a deeper voice, thick with an accent and he looked up, startled, to see a man cresting his hill, holding a flashlight. Suddenly blinded by the beam, he doubled back with a wince, shielding his eyes from the bright light.

Another figure joined the one on the hill, and they began making their way down towards him.

"Er- can ah help ye lads?" Soap asked, now on the defensive. The deer huffed against him, pushing her nose into his jacket.

"You found Dasher!" The other man exclaimed, like that explained everything.

"Sorry, what's a-?"

"Dasher!" The man in the hat gestured to the deer, who happily trotted up and pushed her nose into the man's hand.

"Well, seems like the lass found me... More than tha', my window." He gestured to the torn up screen with a grimace. "But ah was able to cut 'er out without too much trouble to 'er."

The first man with the flashlight was currently looking over the deer, quietly scolding it in Spanish. He had shorter black hair, and the beginnings of stubble on his tanned face, a carhart jacket zipped up to his throat.

The other man was older, wore a kind of a fishing hat, along with what Soap would consider an impressive amount of facial hair. It looked slightly similar to Alex, from the bakery, but that was where the similarities ended. Soap noticed he appeared to be doing the same thing as he was, searching for a threat. He recognized the look, after all, he saw the same thing in the mirror every day. A military man.

But the man in the hat spoke first.

"You Laswell's guy?" He barked out the words like they were an order, one that he fought against to comply.

"Aye, I am. Ah take it you're hers as well?" He countered, biting back any attitude that may have leaked the 'I'm not good with authority figures' that he couldbe held in his tone.

"You could say I'm an old friend." The man said, with the same amount of force. Soap had an inkling of a feeling that he would be good friends with this man. "John Price," he said, clicking off the flashlight and sticking out a hand.

"John MacTavish, but you can call me Soap, sir." Soap said with a tip of his head, shaking his hand. It was warm, rough and calloused, the hands of a working man.

"This is my right hand, Alejandro Vargas. He usually monitors the park during the night, but Dasher here seemed to have slipped through." Price continued as the other man, Alejandro, nodded at him.

"You name all the creatures out in yer park?" Soap asked.

"Dasher is more of a, eh... Mascot." Alejandro reasoned, trying to fit a harness over her head, but she was not having it, instead backing up and huffing at him, before retreating back over to Soap.

"Right, a deer for a Christmas town named Dasher. What happened to Rudolph?"

Alejandro bit a laugh. "Too similar to the vet. Besides, I see no red nose."

While Soap was trying to figure out why the vet was a deer named Rudolph, Dasher pressed her nose into the small of his back, nudging him forward.

"She seems to 'ave taken a liking to you." Price grumbled, the thick rasp of his voice giving Soap the idea that the man might smoke a few. "Mind helping us get 'er back to the park? Not a long way from here, promise."

Soap shrugged. He had nothing better to do. If Laswell trusted this guy, then he did too.

He found himself saying that a lot recently.

So, haphazardly, they began steering Dasher up through the hills, the warm lights of his cabin fading off into the distance as Dasher believed this was all again. She pranced around the lot of them, wiggling up to each of them, like she was trying to push them into the snow.

Soon, a barn came into view, and she stopped, her head jolting up, ears pricking as she looked around... like she was looking for a threat.

"Price, eyes up." Alejandro barked quietly, eyes careful and guarded. He pulled something from the belt of his jeans, which Soap immediately realized as a gun. A flash of relief flooded through him, quickly masked by worry.

"What's out here that she could see as a threat?" Soap asked, his voice hushed as he stepped closer to Dasher, figuring he was safer close to her, considering the only weapon he had was a kitchen knife he left on his windowsill.

"Lobos," Alejandro says. "Wolves. Or bears. Or other people."

Soap shivered. "What can-"

"Quiet now," Price hissed, taking a few steps back towards them, carefully surveying the trees around them. "We move together. On me."

You can remove the man from the military, but you can never remove the military from the man.

They hadn't moved ten feet, ushering Dasher along like she was precious cargo on a recon mission, before a scream of agony tore through the air, echoing over from the open windows of the barn.

Yeah. Just like the field.

Alejandro's face went deathly pale as his head whipped around to look. "Rudy!" He shouted, tearing off in the same direction as the scream had come from.

All at once, they snapped into action. Soap dodged for the reindeer, grabbing it by the scruff and tugging her along as Price's heavy footfalls led him through the darkness.

They left the reindeer in the yard, bolting for the large barn doors.

Alejandro was a decent few paces ahead of them, pushing through the doors, turning the corner and disappearing behind it.

It smelled like animals, but well kept ones. Not like a zoo, where the poor creatures are kept in their own filth, ones that weren't cared for. It was clear to him, in this moment, that these animals were very well loved, not just by the owners, but by the town. As he was running, his eyes picked up small drawings, or little cards written in a child's hand on the sides of the stalls where other reindeer were pacing.

At the end of the barn, in one of the very last stalls, was a bit of a gory sight. One of the reindeer had another man pinned to the wall with her antlers, and he was squirming, looking like he was trying his best not to scream. Her antlers went through one of his shoulders, and upon spotting them, his eyes went wide.

"D- Don't hurt her! Dios mio! She's calving, she can't help it!" He shouted at them, his green apron covered in blood. He had a soft nose and kind eyes, his hair was bedraggled, and his face looked to be a few shades paler than it should've been.

"What d'we do then!?" Soap shouted, grabbing Alejandro by the shoulders to pull him back from startling the creature even further.

"Just- ah- don't- we gotta wait for her t-"

A sharp snap filled the air, and everyone froze, hearts hammering in their chests. It sounded like the sickening crunch of a bone breaking, and no one moved for fear of something breaking inside of the poor man.

And then the antlers fell.

The man dropped to his knees as the reindeer backed up, and Price rushed to calm her as Alejandro went to the man's side, muttering in soft Spanish.

Soap joined Price in calming the creature, who seemed agonized. "He said she was calving?" He asked the older man frantically.

"Yeah, that means she's-"

"Having a bairn, ah ken! Let her rest, she's gotta ground herself, we can help 'er from there!" Soap commanded, and Price stepped into act. "Alejandro! How's he doing?"

"I'll be fine, señor! Just- just help Vixen!" The man on the ground said as Alejandro pressed against the wounds in his shoulder.

Vixen. Huh.

Less than a minute past, and Vixen, the reindeer, had lay on the ground, bleating. Her breaths were falling heavy, and Soap slowly crouched down in front of her, palms up to show he wasn't a threat. Gently, he brushed through the fur on top of her head. "That's a good girl, yeah? Just breathe, mama, ye got this, yer doon fine, that's a good lass...." He murmured, and her bleating grew softer.

A gentle silence enveloped the barn. "I need someone ta check ta see if the bairn's comin' out." He said quietly, still stroking Vixen's head.

The man from before pushed Alejandro away, after his shoulder was thoroughly covered enough to staunch the bleeding. "She's almost here." The man spoke quickly, with little shake to his voice. He still had a bit of a Mexican accent, but not as heavy as Alejandro's.

"Aye. Can you gently tug her legs? Very slow, ah dinnae want her ta get stuck." Soap said, before going back to comfort the poor reindeer.

Moments later, tiny bleating filled the air, and the man next to him cheered, holding the small thing before gently balancing it next to its mother and tugging Soap back.

The mother took to her young quickly, licking the rest of the gunk out of its fur, leaving it looking bedraggled and fluffy.

"Got any names, boys?" Price asked, stepping next to them slowly, and crossing his arms as he watched.

The other three men stood there, covered in hay, and blood, and afterbirth, glancing around at one another before Soap spoke up.

"Olive? I mean, ye got that reindeer song going, then it goes like "Olive, the other reindeer," y'know?" He asked, and Alejandro nodded, not having the heart to correct his lyrics.

"Olive-" Price snrked, before covering his mouth, and scratching through his beard. "Yeah, Olive is good."

Soap rubbed his knee.

Price eyed him before clapping his hands together. "Let's head into the house, we can get you lot cleaned up. C'mon, we'll check on em later."

Wordlessly, they followed after him.

Price had a... large house, to say the least. The ranch house was build up near the base of the mountains, shrouded in tall pines that grazed the skies. The lower windows were lit up, and Soap could see people moving about inside.

"Were you a vet, Soap?" Price asked as they walked up the pathways to the house.

"O un medico?" The man, who he now presumed to be 'Rudy' asked, sounding like he was biting back his words. Alejandro stood directly at his side, helping him up the paths, with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Nae, just my basics. My ma had a farm in the highlands where she kept sheep. Figured it couldn't be too different." Soap said with a shrug, wincing as he took another step. His brace was a bit stiff beneath his pants, and the cold nipped his ears, and boy, was he excited to get inside.

"Jack of all trades, then." Alejandro grumbled, pushing open the front door.

The interior of the house was very... campy. But it had a cozy kind of warmth to it, and Soap felt all the tension immediately slip from his bones as he was hit with a wave of exhaustion.

Price took off his bucket hat and hung it by the door, calling out, "We're back! And remember, we have guests, so I hope you're on your best behavior!"

The older man disappeared into the kitchen (that smelled heavenly, by the way) and returned with a tactical bag, unzipping it as he walked. "Let's get you into the dining room, we'll use the light in there to stitch you up." He said firmly, and the three kicked into gear.

Some of the voices they heard towards the livelier parts of the home died down as they left the foyer. Soap didn't want to pry. He really didn't. But some questions were just bubbling up, begging to be asked.

"Ye have kids, Price?" He asked, feeling a strange familiarity between the group he was with. Oh man, did he have things to tell Gaz tomorrow.

Price shot him a cautious look, but relaxed slightly. "I foster." He says simply, and turned to Rudy. "You wanna do this, or should I?"

"Ay coño-" Rudy breathed sharply through his nose, beginning to pull his shirt off, before slapping a hand to his mouth to muffle a cry of pain. Alejandro's hands seized forward in a second, murmuring something softly into the man's ear, before pulling off his shirt.

Soap suddenly felt very out of place, like he was intruding on something much, much more private.

"You better not be getting blood on my dining table, John Price." Said a very distinct, yet very familiar Russian tone.

Soap whirled around, eyes wide as he exclaimed, "Nik?"

And there was Nikolai in a very comfy looking sweater, and a 'Kiss the Cook' apron, suddenly startled at the amount of activity going on in his dining room. From an outsiders perspective, it could've been a horrifying sight: three men covered in blood, hay, and snow, crowding around another guy sitting on the table, with his shirt off, and also covered in blood.

But Nikolai was no regular stranger. Instead, he barked a laugh at their predicament, and turned to Soap. "Did they rope you in too?"

"Wha-? How are ye- do y'know th-?" Soap spluttered before Price sighed loudly, looking between Nikolai, Soap, then to Rudy, and back.

"Can we focus on one thing at a time, please?" Price asked, gesturing to Rudy, who was now trying to fight off a smirk despite being slightly in pain. Alejandro seemed to be making the same face along with him.

"Seemed to have found your way back alright, eh, MacTavish?" Nik asked, stepping into the room and clapping him on the back. Soap seemed to feel slightly relieved at knowing someone else here, but was still extremely confused as to how he fit in. "I hope my meddling husband did not cause trouble for you?"

And it clicked. There we go.

"Nik..." Price mumbled. "Men are bleeding out on your table."

"Okay, okay. Boys, there's a bathroom down the hall, and one right up the stairs to your left. They both have showers. Go clean yourself up, we will take care from here."

Soap didn't even question it, only wanted to get out of his nasty, sticky clothes. He looked to Price, who rolled his eyes and mouthed 'Go', before going back to work on Rodolfo, who gave him a weary smile.

Next thing he knew, he was in a stranger's shower.

Now, this was not the first time he's ended up in a stranger's shower. He had experience. And also, he was tired, and hungry. He wanted to go home and sleep. He wanted... He wasn't really sure what he wanted. The bathroom smelled nice, and the shower felt even nicer, as he washed the grime, blood, and cold away from his skin.

By the time he got out, the mirror was completely fogged up, even the tiles of the floor were warmed from the steam. The liveliness of the house had picked up outside, he heard, and he wrapped himself in a towel. His clothes were missing from the floor, which caused a slight panic, so he grabbed the nearest robe and shrugged it on as he dried out his mohawk.

The laughing and giggling got louder when he stuck his head out from the bathroom. "Oi! Price!" He hissed down the hall, and the laughter disappeared.

Three little heads poked out from behind the corner. They appeared to be young boys, the oldest no more than 8.

The taller one, also presumably the oldest, had short cropped dark hair and bright eyes full of mischief. The one in the middle had fluffy light brown hair, and kinder green eyes. And the youngest one, still enough of a baby face, he appeared to be around five, unable to conceal a wide smile on his face. He was blond with brown eyes that were very hidden in his smile.

"Ye lot! Gimme mah stuff, ye little gremlins!" He hissed, and one by one, the disappeared, running down the hall.

Now usually, it's frowned upon to chase after children in a robe, and really, this felt like a movie locker room situation, where the bullies took his clothes while he was in the showers- lord. He was being bullied by children.

The children were bolting towards the kitchen, a separate garment in each of their hands.

"Git back here-!" He growled at them, slipping on the carpet, before grabbing the corner of the hall and launching himself to try and catch them, and they turned, and-

The kitchen was dead silent, all four adults, and three children staring at him, dressed in only a robe.

"Boys!" Price said firmly, and the children froze, turning to stare at him. "We've talked about this!"

Meanwhile, Alejandro was trying to hide a laugh behind his hand, and failing, horribly. Soap's face was burning as he crossed his arms over himself.

Price stood and the kids bolted, scattering throughout the house. "Nik-! They'll listen to you!"

"You know they will not, мое солнышко." Nik laughed. "Soap, come with me, brother, I'll give you some of John's things."

This was mortifying. Now back in the kitchen, and much more appropriately dressed, he was now avoiding eye contact with the three boys that were still taunting him, just to a much lesser degree.

"Alejandro, where did Rodolfo and Price go?" He asked, over the sizzling of something good on the stove. In their absence, Nik had invited them to stay for dinner, the least he could do when one of his ranch hands got speared by a reindeer.

He learned that the ranch hands called themselves Vaqueros, or Cowboys, which he thought was fitting. They were around for the winters, but went back to a town called Los Almas in the warmer months where they were dearly missed, but they had duty to that town, and everyone understood the call. They were very nice, and the whole place was very homey, something he'd missed in the military.

The boys, he'd learned, were three of the fosters. Their names went from oldest to youngest, Keegan, the tall one who had orchestrated the plan to steal his clothes, then David, who was more shy, but very headstrong (and the one who Kickstart the plan), and finally Logan, the youngest, who was David's biological brother, who gave them away.

They'd had Keegan longest, around three years, and the other two they'd fostered after their father went missing in action. But they were practically inseparable since they had met, which warmed his heart some. He missed his sisters.

"They went out to the barn to check on the little one." Alejandro supplied. "Rudy is.... well, he's usually the vet, but he may be, er, out of commission for a little bit."

"Mandated leave?" Soap wiggled his eyebrows at him and Alejandro rolled his eyes.

"Permiso obligatorio, tu pendejo!" He laughed, waving him off.

There was some commotion towards the front door, and Nik straightened, pulling something out of the oven. "Must be them. Back just in time!" He said happily, and Soap slid out of his seat.

"'M gonnae go see if the bairn's doin' okay!" He said excitedly, before darting out towards the front door.

Fidgeting with the cuff of Price's sweater that he now wore (it was so comfy), he started speaking even before he turned the corner. "Hope the wee one's doin' okay, Price! Ah was gonna ask if ah could come ta check on 'er, but-"

Suddenly he ran into something very firm, and very unmoving, and for half a second he feared he walked into a wall. He took a step back, apologizing, before looking up.

And stared directly into the wide, honey-colored eyes of the stranger he met at the store.

The stranger he now knew as Simon Riley.

Taglist(open): @neonanarchystudios @rai-to209

Prev | Next

#call of duty #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #modern warfare 2 #ghostsoap #captain john price #incorrect quotes #alejandro vargas #alerudy #rodolfo parra #nikolai cod #kyle 'gaz' garrick #kyle gaz garrick #farah karim #alex keller #keegan p russ #david hesh walker #logan walker

23 notes · View notes