A/N: I'm back pookies, camp was a bitch but I survived. 

Requested by: Quackity_bwead

Ghost walks around the corner while out patrolling, confused as he hears high-pitched giggling and a familiar deep laugh, upon turning the corner Ghost is met with the sight of Price playing with his two young sons out in the yard of the base. The lieutenant leans against the wall, watching his captain play and give his kids every drop of his attention, fathering love basically seeping out of the man. As happy as he is for his superior, Ghost can't help but feel a pang of pain in his heart, he turns and disappears into the base before closing himself in his room. Price glances over at the wall, swearing that he saw someone out of the corner of his eye but maybe he was imagining it.

Sitting on the floor and leaning against the bed, he lets his head fall back as the memories flood his head like the afternoon light flooding his room through the curtains. His father's voice is so loud in his head that it sounds like that monster of a man is sitting right beside him, in the distance the cries of his mother are barely audible. "Simon!, Simon!" hundreds of voices are shouting in his mind, but through all those voices a Scottish accent is picked out and suddenly there is only one voice and this one sounds so real.

Ghost opens his eyes and looks to his side, being met with Sargeant MacTavish, his sergeant. Soap had been looking for Ghost for what felt like ages, knowing he was on patrol Soap did about 8 laps of the yard before giving up and deciding to look elsewhere like the sleeping quarters where he found himself successful but being met with a sight that made his heart ache.

Soap looks him in the eyes before standing and holding both of his hands out for Ghost "The bed will be comfier" He says softly, Ghost glances at the bed for a hot second before nodding once and reaching to pull himself up Soap's outreached hands. Soap was right... laying on the bed was way comfier than the hard floor. "Talk to me" Soap whispers.

Ghost wriggles closer to Soap, their legs intertwined and Ghost's head in the crook of Soap's neck. "I-... I feel fucking pathetic" Ghost manages to get out, disgusted in himself that he's stuttering. "I'm jealous of a six-year-old because Price is better at being a father than my own was... Price knew more about me in my first year of the military than my father did in his entire life." He breathes out, feeling surprisingly relieved to have said that out loud and to someone that he trusts with his life.

Soap's hands trail up and down Ghost's spine, fingertips pushing into knotted muscles and tense tissue. This small massage on top of the sweet words and calming words Soap is whispering every time another tear falls from Ghost's eye and soaks into his mask relaxes him, Soap slowly removes the skull mask from Ghost's face, leaving the balaclava untouched as a gut feeling is telling his that at the moment the masked man would like it to remain where it is.

The two close their eyes and drift slowly to sleep. Ghost has a dream that night, there is tall grass and flowers, a cozy home on a hill, overlooking the Scottish coast, Ghost is sitting in the grass, a daisy crown on his head as Soap stands over him with a grin and a little girl on his shoulders.

A/N: This looks really short but I'm writing more oneshots tonight so lay off.