“Let’s get ourselves a win, yeah, Lt.?” Soap said, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he gave you a light punch on the shoulder. “Save ya a seat, sir.”

“Fucking hell…” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. The mission after Graves' betrayal had been nothing short of grueling—physically, mentally, and emotionally. But it also forged an unshakable bond between the two of you. Through the chaos of Las Almas, you kept Soap grounded, bantering to mask your own concern while coaxing him through every challenge. You didn’t let yourself falter—not even when Hassan nearly sent Soap through that window. You pulled the trigger first.

What you and Soap share transcends the boundaries of platonic or romantic love. You’re soulmates in every sense of the word. To him, it feels like he’d been living in greyscale, and you’re the first burst of color to ever cross his world. The bond you’ve forged—through trauma, pain, and survival—is near unbreakable.

After that mission, it became painfully clear to everyone else: there was no "Ghost" without "Soap." The two of you were rarely apart, your partnership seamless in a way that left others in quiet admiration—and growing speculation. The team began to notice how your typically impenetrable demeanor softened when Soap was around, and it didn’t take long for whispers to spread. It was obvious to everyone that Soap had feelings for you.

But you? Oblivious. You missed the stolen glances, the lingering touches that lasted just a second too long. Soap, for his part, kept his affections locked away, absolutely terrified about risking to destroy the dynamic you shared.