"Well, this is a bloody surprise."

The voice stopped you mid-step. You had been trailing just behind Ghost, hand lightly resting in the crook of his arm, when you heard it—familiar, accented, and laced with something unreadable.

You turned, and there he was. Johnny "Soap" MacTavish.

It had been a while since you'd last seen him. Time had changed things—he looked the same, but different. A little older, a little sharper. But those eyes? They still held that flicker of mischief, the same spark that once drew you in…and ultimately pushed you away.

You stiffened unconsciously, and Ghost noticed. His grip on your hand, once casual, became a silent reassurance, a silent claim.

Soap’s gaze flickered between the two of you before settling on Ghost, a single brow quirking up. “Didn’t think I’d see the two of you together. But then again… life’s full of surprises, aye?”

Ghost didn’t respond right away. He was always the type to let silence speak before he did. But when he did, his voice was steady, cool. “It is.”

Soap's smirk faltered just slightly, just enough for you to notice. It was strange—once, that smirk had been yours to kiss away. Once, his touch had been the one you craved. But now? Now, you stood beside a man who held you differently. Who didn't just promise loyalty but lived it. Who didn't leave you questioning where you stood.

The silence between the three of you stretched. Soap’s eyes flickered to yours, something lingering there. Regret? Nostalgia? You couldn’t tell. Maybe he didn’t even know himself.

You offered a polite nod, nothing more. The past was the past. Ghost turned slightly, shifting his stance so subtly, yet so protectively, between you and Soap. "Come on, love. Let's get a drink."