Caffeine With a Side of Domestication

by Soaprice

*This is the sequel to 'RSASS and Shine'* Soap MacTavish. Resident barista at RSASS and Shine, Hereford's number one coffee shop, also, a man living in a real life romantic comedy, filled with loveable (sort of) idiot friends, a cat, and the boonie hat sporting man that stole his heart. Soap/Price, Ghost/Roach

4. Operation: Procrastination

The end of the day couldn't come fast enough, between a post-lunch rush of customers (bringing with it a new record of five "customer 69"s today, bloody idiots...) and Ghost's constant...'state' of being so very charming and completely appropriate during professional work hours, also known as typical Simon Riley, was gradually pushing Soap over the brink of insanity. And if he had to hear those goddamn chiming bells above the shop's door one more time he'd resort to using his coffee pot as some sort of improvised grenade or IED. It was possible, Ghost and him have watched plenty of 'DIY Post-Zombie Apocalypse Prep' shows because they needed all the ideas they could get working in a coffee shop. Alas, Soap resisted committing a federal offense, on top of first degree murder of his best friend (a harrowing daily task), and instead tried to focus on the boxed key in his pocket and what it meant; that he had a home, an escape, and a pretty damn relaxing boyfriend who's mere presence was akin to a warm hug around his nerves, melting away any and all stresses, easily able to make him forget about hectic friends during more than hectic days. Roach wasn't much help for after their talk, with his renewed burst of happiness and positivity, he was back to practically reaching third or fourth base with Ghost against the bakery display case. Thank god he collected enough self-control to stop before Ghost lowered his hands to the top of his pants.

Soap was seriously considering that tip jar for their PDA sessions, at least they waited until the shop was practically deserted before they turned into complete exhibitionist porn stars with no common knowledge to words like 'decency' and 'keep it in your pants until you're in your sodding bedroom'. To top it all off, it was apparent that a group of young college girls and one guy learned the pattern, because every day they were open, sure enough they'd be there, 3:41 pm on the dot, sitting in the right side table, doing the most piss poor job of secretly gawking at Ghost and Roach as they were making out. The group of perpetually horny youth barely gave Soap a second look as he took their orders, except for the redhead girl in the bunch, she had an blatant crush on Soap that made him a considerably uncomfortable under her deer in a headlights stare when he asked her what she wanted to get, but just like the rest of her perverted friends feigning their study break, her eyes were transfixed on Ghost and Roach the second he was back at his station. If his friends didin't approve of the tip jar idea, perhaps they'd consider adding 'Peep Show' to the menu, they'd easily be able to pay their rent for the shop in a single day's earnings, and Soap would certainly take, at the very least, 30% for himself due to the emotional damages and all the therapy he needs. Not that it'd do anything to erase the memories, Soap's seen horrifying things taken place against a baking rack.

The only saving grace was the fact that they changed RSASS and Shine's closing time to 5pm, and they went from being open every day, to six days of the week. Meaning that Soap had one day to laze away in bed till he couldn't stand it anymore, not that he could get up even if he wanted to when Price was wrapped around behind him like a human equivalent of sticky paper (and Soap thought he was the octopus sleeper) and Hellraiser planted himself on top of them both, laid with his paws tucked under, there was no chance he was moving until they did first. It was that thought, one of a warm and quiet Saturday morning with his little family that made a nearly insufferable work day, tolerable all over again.

Having endured the majority of the day, Soap leaned his lower back on the counter, although granite wasn't the most forgiving on it, and sketched up a rough scratched image inside his journal of his cat, Hellraiser, napping inside of Price's boonie hat while the last customers of the day took advantage of every last second before closing time. The napping incident happened a couple nights ago and Price is still unable to take the hat back. The stubborn cat claimed it as his new favored sleeping spot. Price found it hard to be upset when Soap was chuckling and taking photos to post on Hellraiser's Twitter, not that the mildly overweight white and grey hairball of a cat has his own account. He does. Damn Ghost and his drunken ideas. Damn him even more because Hellraiser surpasses Soap in the follower department by over a hundred, so he has to keep it updated just for that. Admittedly, he doesn't mind showing off his precious ball of fluff. Ghost has a fairly large fan following on the site due to his famous skull balaclava wearing ways. Although Soap is well known for the almost daily sketches he uploads and little poems he posts, most about Price, he also makes sure to post a significant amount of photos of him with Price so it's obvious that he's a taken man. Some of his followers are quite persistent, thankfully, unlike Soap, Price isn't a jealous man. There was a chance he's just quiet about it...but Price was confident and Soap certainly didn't refrain from displaying how much he loved and wanted him at any available moment. Ghost is always calling Soap a "damn hipster" because of his Twitter postings, whatever the hell that means. He figures that if Ghost thinks it's a bad thing, then it must be the opposite. Or that's what he tells himself.

"Come on, 72! Bob or whatever the bloody hell your name is. We're closing in," Ghost paused to lean over the counter and crane his neck to check out the clock, he squinted to read the small ticking hand. "20 seconds. Don't you think you've spiked your blood pressure enough with the past 13 cups of damned coffee!? Think of your wife, mate! How would she feel if you keeled over in our shop?" Ghost shouted to the poor guy in the corner with flippant hand movements, the skull mask on his face made his voice slightly muffled, but no less loud or intimidating if you didn't know him well enough.

Soap was interrupted from his peaceful little world of art and sighed, closing the journal and slipping it into his trouser pocket, he gave an apologetic smile to the customer who's eyes were wide and bulging, not just from the excessive caffeine any longer, his frazzled and thinning short brown hair stuck up from all the anxious touching and there was a solid dozen lines on his forehead. It was comical enough for Soap to bite back a burst of laughter at the man's expense, but he controlled it, molding his face into a stern expression.

"Hey, Ghost, think you could refrain from being the cause of the heart attack?" Soap said in his best 'captainly' voice to Ghost, with a look of pure doneness. "I think dropping the wife bomb was overdoing it a bit, eh?"

"Yeah, yeah you're right, sir. Dunno, Soap, it's just this bloody man...yesterday he tried to kill himself with espresso! And he's in here today drinking up enough coffee for a whole damn fraternity!" Ghost went on as if the customer wasn't in the same room.

The man in question was literally shaking from the buzz and dropped some pounds on the table before fleeing out of the shop with a chorus of bells. Soap rolled his eyes and glared at the bells, his mouth crooked as he looked back to his friend.

"Now the bloke is off to the pub, no doubt." Ghost said under his breath, shaking his head.

"Of course he is." Soap affirmed, shaking his head as well.

"Wonder how long it'll be before his wife shows up with a cardiac arrest kit?" Ghost asked, the two of them looked to the door then back at each other.

"We'll be out of here before then, let's get our shite together." Soap grunted, untying his apron faster than he ever has in his entire life.

"Did 72 finally leave?" Roach called from the back room, the clanking sounds of pans hitting together carried all the way to the front of the cafe.

"Roger that, we're in the clear, Lovebug!" Ghost informed him, pulling his red sunglasses out from his shirt pocket and slipping them on his face, all while wiggling his brows. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be helping Bug gather up food for Nikolai and Yuri." He informed Soap while walking to the back, patting him once on the chest on the way out. Soap knew, just fucking knew, that Ghost had a damn cheeky grin on his face the entire time.

"Uh-huh, I'm sure that's exactly what you'll be doing...bloody moron." Soap mumbled with a roll of his eyes. He looked over the main room of the shop and found it was fairly tidied up already, Soap had been on top of his cleaning game, thanks to him avoiding Ghost at all costs the whole day. He pulled the apron over his head and left it on the end of the counter.

The table previous occupied by the infamous heart attack waiting to happen was littered with his single coffee cup that had been re-filled for hours, a plate with remnants from a mocha crumb SCAR cookie, and a scattered newspaper. Soap glanced at the newspaper with no real interest, that was until he caught sight of a familiar figure on a photograph along with an article. Fucking Kingfish. What the hell was Vladimir Makarov of all people doing in the paper? Did he kill someone? It seemed he was heading down that path anyways. Soap leaned in closer, a simple photograph caused a violent reaction of irritation to flood through him, he never really completely got over the months of hell that he was put through thanks to the Russian man with his creepy eyes and nasally voice and altogether arsehole-ness. Soap picked up the paper, despite the part of him that wanted to torch the bastard's picture, but he couldn't help wanting to get a closer look because the other half of him was piqued with a budding curiosity that drove his nerves a little bit into overdrive. His scarred brow arched at the title of the side article:

'Out of town man, Vladimir Makarov, invests in several local Hereford businesses'

Ah, he should have known that it was unrealistic and too good to be true to believe that Price's damn near knock out punch would've driven Kingfish right out of England and back to Russia. In fact, judging by the content in the article, it seemed Makarov was intending to stay, and for quite a while at that. Apparently he was a big shot back in Russia, funded quite a few Russian military arms weaponry. Why was he moving on from that to...lifting up broken down companies and charities? Seemed like an odd transition.

The shop's front door bells went off again, and it would have been enough for Soap to groan in frustration any other time, but he knew just who it was. The very person he needed to see at this moment. Soap allowed the newspaper to fall from his hands and land on the table as he turned around, standing there in the opening archway was none other than sexy bloody professor 141 himself, Price, a grey pack with a stitched RSASS and Shine logo on the center was slinged across his chest, his hat looked like it had been adjusted to the point where it was all askew atop his head, and he appeared as exhausted as Soap felt, but nonetheless there was a smile on his face as he walked over to Soap.

"Well look who it is, eh? You're a sight for sore eyes. You missed our lunch date...John." Soap tsks with a smirk, crossing his arms with an expectant look on his face.

"I know," Price sighed out and slipped his arms around Soap as if he wanted to collapse into his him, just in case Soap returns the embrace and flexes his muscles a bit to to catch his weight, if necessary, good thing he remained dedicated to those push ups and pull ups. Price leaned down for a greeting kiss, it was gentle, warm, and wonderful, the two of them shared a deep exhale of relief at the contact. Soap's only complaint was that it was too short. Then again, any kiss that didn't lead into them being naked was always too chaste and tame. "I wanted to be here, love, really I did. But between the mountain of paperwork and the endless rambling of Kamarov, I was swamped. Utterly and hopelessly swamped." He explained with a tired and vaguely guilty smile.

"It's fine, Pri, I can completely relate..." Soap mumbled, now he leans into the hug, all but being held up by Price, it seemed the tables have turned.

"Long day?" Price asked, his hands moved up to Soap's shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze and rub.

Soap sighs into Price's neck, rather, into the scarf around it. "You could say that, easily one of the longest of my entire goddamn life." He pulled away and pressed another kiss to Price's lips, then to the edge of his jaw, purposely, just to feel his beard prickle on his face.

"M'sorry I couldn't be here to take the edge off..or take you to the back room and make you forget about it for a little while." Price said with a suggestive raise of his brows.

"Price, I told you what goes on the red chair back there, I don't ever want to sit on that thing ever again."

"Who said anything about being in a chair? We put the walls to good use, don't we?" Price murmured in Soap's ear before he nibbled on the edge of it.

Soap shuddered and retrained himself from fully melting into Price's arms from his light bite and smooth yet rough voice that was damn melodic and soothing to his ears. He nodded once. "Aye, that's true. Chairs are damned overrated."

Soap wasn't sure what the hell he was thinking by insinuating making out with Price right in the middle of the dining area of the shop when Ghost was still here, but despite the poor timing, Soap felt Price's hands lower to the top of his pants, grabbing his belt and pulling hard, lurching him forward, setting Soap off to put a hand on the back of Price's head and bringing him down into a kiss so fast that his hat nearly flew off his head. It was a sweet few seconds of sensual bliss, the only thing on Soap's mind was getting this man home into bed, either home, either bed, just in one and naked, right now preferably. But just as Price dared to tease under the band of Soap's trousers, a loud and over-done clearing throat was heard.

"Well well well, if it isn't Soap and his boyfriend, Professor Freak! Can't refrain from heavily groping in the middle of the shop." Ghost said with a bark of laughter. Soap's eyes flew open but he didn't break away from Price just yet as he took in the sight of Ghost standing with his mask was pulled up to the bridge of his sharp angled nose, even with his sunglasses Soap could see the pointed stare given to both Soap and Price's scarves around their necks, his hands rested on his hips. Price and Soap broke away from their kiss and slowly turned to the chuckling Brit by the display cases, irritating Soap enough to make him have the intense desire to shove his friend into the very case he was leaned on and put up a sign, 'Free to a good home'. Not too good of a home though, Ghost didn't deserve that much kindness, not right now at least.

Soap shot him a glare. "Look who's talking, you were all but on third base with Roach earlier, so shove off, you sodding moron." Soap said with the smallest pinch of venom, only the smallest. His annoyance only served to amuse Ghost greater, his laughter increased in volume.

"Professor Freak? What the bloody hell is Ghost on about this time?" Price asked quietly, bowing his head to Soap.

With a deep grunt, Soap pointed to scarf on his neck, the corner of his mouth turned downward in a frown, a look of understanding flashed on Price's face.

"Bollocks, not you too." Price uttered with a groan, a hand slapped on his forehead and dragged down the side of his face.

"Are you telling me that someone saw yours?" Soap's frown shifted to the other side of his mouth, his eyes close as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Obviously their plan to stay 'discreet' and 'decent' with scarves didn't go to well.

Price closed his eyes and nodded. "Gaz." Was all he said, it explained everything, from the slump of his shoulders and the extra crease between his brows. "Pulled my scarf off right in the middle of the teacher's lounge. Made quite the scene."

So the concealing plan would have worked then, if not for their friends. Times like these Soap wished that it was legal to strangle someone, in the most friendly way, you know, teach them a lesson.

"Ah, it all makes sense." Soap's hand waved in the air. "Ghost did something similar..." He paused to frown over at his friend, who shrugged like it was no big deal. "Nothing like best mates, eh? Not sure if you wanna murder them or name your first born after 'em." Soap pondered with pursed lips for a moment before concluding, "Murdering them is always damned close to winning out most of the time."

Price chuckled deeply and kissed the peak of hair on the top of Soap's forehead. "I can't say I disagree with you there...I won't mention how many times a stapler has almost becoming the leading evidence in a homicide."

"Oi! If Gaz and me weren't in your lives, you'd be the miserable old gits, admit it! We bring you joy and light heartedness. You know you love us. Right?" Ghost walked over with a ridiculous pep in his step and put an arm around both of the men's shoulders and shook them, pulling them in closer and looking to each of them with a wide grin. Soap shook his head slowly with a sarcastic smile and slipped out from under Ghost's arm, pulling Price by the hand with him. "...Right?" Ghost shouted after them.

Ignoring Ghost, Soap led Price to their table in the corner, and slumped down in the chair. He ran his fingers through his mohawk as Price sat across from him, not even a second later his hand reached out on the the table and took Soap's free hand in his own, Soap smiled serenely over at him, yeah, he felt relaxed now, fucking peaceful, all thanks to his infuriatingly attractive boyfriend with that smirk of his, no matter how tired it looked, it was still there and firmly in place, not smug, but warm and soft.

"Ugh, sorry 'bout Ghost...he's on a roll with being a complete arse today." Soap muttered, shaking his head.

"Don't worry about it, I'm used to it, him and Gaz are two sides of the same coin." Price brought Soap's hand up to his mouth and kissed his knuckle, keeping it close after.

"Sadly, they are. A diabolical duo of pure torment, hell bent on driving us insane."

"At least we have each other." Price said simply, and fuck, it meant everything to Soap, that statement, that fact right there, that they weren't alone, and had each other at the end of a tiring day. "That and a glass of Oban 14."

"Or three. But anyways, thank god for that, I don't know what I'd do without you..." Sometimes, when Soap was feeling down, he'd think back to the days before Price walked through the coffee shop's, then squeaky, door. Life wasn't much different then, not when it came to putting up with Ghost and working, but every other part was, he wasn't unhappy in the least before, but he was a little lonely and didn't have anyone to confide in completely, unless you counted his cat and journal, and most wouldn't. Now, fuck, now he had it all. Soap stroked his thumb just below Price's lips, a smile edged on his mouth as he did so, it felt good to have this, to have Price, and Soap could see it in his eyes that he was thinking the same.

Roach appeared in the doorway to the backroom, now free of flour and not a sandy blonde hair out of place, which meant that him and Ghost were definitely making out in the back room, as usual, and he attempted to fix the mess that his boyfriend left on his head a little too much, a dead give-away.

"Price! Hey, man." Roach greeted Price brightly, his face was flushed but he didn't seem to notice or care as he walked over to them, his smile was a complete 180 from the weak and forced one he was met with when he first saw Roach that very morning, apparently whatever he worked out in his head after Soap's pep-talk was something good. Very.

The romantic moment between Soap and Price was lost, not that Roach ever arose much, if any, irritation with Soap, so he didn't mind. But it probably appeared all very sappy to anyone witnessing Soap and Price staring at each other the way they were, Price backed his face away just the slightest amount, but kept his hold on Soap's right hand.

"Hello, Roach. Long day for you too?" Price propped his free hand under his chin and smiled up at the younger man.

"It started that way, but it, uh, got better. A lot." Roach answered, his smile grew as he looked over to Ghost, who was by the table Soap was intending to clean up before he was interrupted by the dammed newspaper, the one that was in Ghost's hand at that very moment. Roach practically beamed over at him before returning his attention to Soap and Price. "What about you? You look like you're ready to take a nap on that table." Roach observed with a mildly concerned expression.

"That's because there's a good chance I might, lad. Kamarov striked again." Price mumbled dryly. That explained a lot to Roach, everyone knew that Gaz wasn't the only nuisance in Price's life, though Kamarov was the only unwelcome one. Soap squeezed his hand in sympathy.

"Kamarov? Oh shit, sorry about that, man, that's rough. What was he bugging you about this time?" Roach asked, scratching the side of his nose. Soap was honestly curious too, ever since Gaz told him earlier that Kamarov, the Dean at the college, was one of the main reasons to blame for Price's absence at lunchtime.

Price visibly tensed, his shoulders bunched up the smallest bit and his grip tightened on Soap's hand. "Everything, really. He's a little behind on my dating life...first, he managed to forget my sexual orientation and tried to set me up with his sister's friend, that was exceedingly uncomfortable, to say the least, I silenced that pretty fast by showing him the photo of Soap and me on my desk. Then, he repetitively insisted that I go to one of his dinner parties and bring Soap as my date." Price answered with a look that may have appeared blank and monotonous to most, but Soap could see the pure horror in his eyes at the prospect of being dragged to one of Kamarov's vodka-soaked get-togethers. Soap's heard all the stories from both Gaz and Price, and none made the idea of attending one appealing in the least.

"Damn, he's still all up in your personal life?" Roach asked with a disbelieving scoffed laugh.

"As always, yes."

Soap let out a deep woosh of air and gave Price a small, sympathetic smile. "And here I thought my day was rough..." Soap said under his breath before leaning across the table to kiss Price as swiftly as he could manage and still include all the necessary comforts he surely needed, his cupped the side of Price's face and dragged his thumb down the side of his jaw, Price returned the smile and let himself fall into the gentle touch and kissed Soap's hand.

Price reached over and mussed with the stubborn piece of Soap's hair, the cursed lock that was giving Soap hell that very same morning, limply laid on his forehead, before saying, "It's fine,...I'm used to his gossipy and intrusive ways after suffering through the bollocks for nearly 12 years."

Roach made a choking noise from beside them. "12 years of Kamarov...dude, that's brutal. Being locked up in a Russian prison sounds easier to deal with than that." Roach commented from the sidelines, a grimace crossed on his features. Soap was surprised to hear this coming from a man who puts up with Ghost every single day, and chooses to on top of it all.

Price had to laugh at that. "Join the bloody queue, lad. It's not just me, everyone at the Uni is driven crazy by him... Gaz and I have even talked about starting a group therapy for those affected by Kamarov."

"Shite, I feel like I need it just from hearing stories about him." Soap mumbled, Roach nodded fervently from the side. "So what did you tell him when he asked you to come to the dinner?"

"I was tempted to say, 'I would rather have my entire beard waxed off, hair by hair, than be present during your drunken ramblings one more time', but I'd like to keep my job, plus I'm clearly far too much of a gentleman to say such things." Price said pushing his deadpan expression to its full extent.

"Too right, Price. Always a sodding gentleman..." Soap grumbled, rolling his eyes. Roach looked confused by Soap minor grumpy expression, Price knew exactly what was wrong and smirked deeply.

"Hmm...if this is about the whole opening doors first thing, then, better luck...never." Price teased with a wink.

"I will get it, just you wait, one day you'll be an old man and won't be on top of your game." Soap said, pointing his finger at Price.

Price winced at the nickname. "Ouch, an old man? Who's to say I'm not already an old man?"

"Well, you're an older man, not exactly an old man...old man." Soap teased right back, copying the wink.

Price grunted in slight annoyance. "Why do I have a feeling this is the start of a new thing?"

Just as Soap saw fit to inform Price that, yes, this was going to be his new affectionate nickname, Ghost rushed over, almost flapping his arms around like the madman he was, the newspaper was held in his grasp, and Soap could see that his eyes were wide under his red-tinted sunglasses.

"Bloody hell, mates, did you see this load of bollocks? Makarov's buying half the town! This is awful...this miserable arsehole is determined to be the dark cloud over this lovely city. I can only imagine strolling down the street only to be met with signs on buildings with this wanker's face. Stuff of nightmares, I'm tellin' ya." Ghost shuddered and peered at the picture of Makarov again, making excessive gagging noises.

"Yeah, I saw the article. Fucking Kingfish, eh? Just when you think you're rid of the muppet. And, Ghost...since when do you 'stroll around'?" Soap asked with a blank expression.

"Ey, I do my fair share of strollin', collect my thoughts, contemplate the meaning of life, all that deep stuff." Ghost defended, though it wasn't a very convincing display since he kept shifting his weight on his feet like he was stepping on hot coals. "Come on, Lovebug, tell the git that I stroll." He said, walking over to Roach and wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Right, suuure, you stroll all the time, Simon..." Roach muttered sarcastically, his eyes almost going cross eyed at the exaggeration. Ghost was about to open his mouth in protest but Roach took the newspaper from his hands and skimmed over the title and the article. "What the fuck, Kingfish is a businessman?"

"Makes sense with all those fancy suits he wore all the damn time..couldn't be wearing them just to impress us." Soap mumbled, moving uncomfortably in his chair at the discussion of his former arch nemeses, he could still remember the way his expensive suits scraped on his hands as he purposely bumped into him. Price made a noise of agreement and nodded to the paper, reaching out with the hand not twined with Soap's, Roach handed it over to him. Price quickly read through the article, looking at it with significant distaste.

"Those stuffy suits weren't so fancy after good 'Ol Price socked him in the nose and splatted it with blood, oh man, that was the greatest moment of my life, I love you, mate." Ghost snickered, slapping a hand on Price's back. Price chuckled quietly, Soap rolled his eyes and scoffed out a laugh, but he was far from annoyed, the memory brought him great pleasure as well. Next to Ghost, Roach cleared his throat with an expectant stare, Ghost mouthed the word 'What?', to which Roach responded with a lopsided frown, finally Ghost worked out what he meant. "Ok, ok, not the greatest moment of my life, but it was pretty bloody close." He corrected, earning himself a resigned sigh from Roach and a kiss on the cheek a second later, Ghost grinned cheesily at his boyfriend.

Would you look at that, for once they weren't being excessively raunchy, Soap threaded carefully on the thought, because, at any moment, the sex-crazed wheels in Ghost's head (not that his or Price's were any better) would start turning and — bam — Roach would jump on him and they'd stumble into the backroom. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened and, much to Soap's grief, it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Ah, not one of the best displays for someone who's made it through anger management, I assure you." Price put out with a shrug, but there was a smug smile on his face, clearly he didn't have any regrets, but was trying to be modest about it.

"Not one of the — are you kidding me? That was the most romantic act I've ever witnessed! A man could learn a thing or two from you, heroic and badass, yet so bloody chivalrous. You're a dying breed, Price." Ghost complimented with a huge grin, he was still wearing those damn sunglasses but Soap could see his eyes were glinted like a child on Christmas morning in the lighting of the shop. Once again, Soap found himself silently agreeing with what Ghost said, causing himself to worry if maybe he was in the wrong.

"I wouldn't suggest socking the nearest bastard you see, mate..." Price scolded jokingly.

"I would for Roach." Ghost said honestly. "I mean, would you do it again? For Soap?"

"Yes." Price answered without hesitation. "I've been in a lot of fights before, my whole youth was a damned fight club, really. Hence the need for anger management."

Soap perked up at this and sat up straighter in his chair, he still hadn't dug in too deep into Price's mysterious past, not from lack of trying. The problems was, Price didn't seem to eager to discuss it. But judging from his boyfriend's scarred knuckles, there was a lot of history in that skin, most of it violent, apparently.

"I knew you were a fight club, I just fucking knew it. Gathered that from all the scars on your knuckles, plus the obviously killer right hook." Soap said as he stared at the very marks in question, his finger running over the outlines.

"Oh man, I bet you have loads of stories, Price." Ghost sounded almost giddy, Soap was surprised he wasn't rubbing his hands together in maniacal glee, of course violence would make Ghost react in such a way, he snapped his fingers and pointed his index at Price. "That's it, I'm buying a pack of that horrible American beer Bug loves so much and we're telling scar stories at home." He said, giving Roach a firm kiss on the mouth and running to the backroom presumably to get his and Roach's coats, Roach shook his head in bemusement, and shrugged at Soap and Price before following Ghost to the back.

"I'm guessing from Ghost's lack of commentary on the subject that you haven't told them about moving in with me yet?" Price asked with a nod of his head in Ghost and Roach's direction. He was obviously trying to backtrack his way out of discussing his fight filled younger years.

And he did it with the very bomb Soap had been dreading Price to drop.

"Ahh, not exactly." Soap sighed, scratching the side of his face with a scrunched expression. "Couldn't find the proper moment for it, honestly. I'll admit, it was tempting after all of Ghost's blasted sexual comments, but still, at work didn't seem like the best place."

"I agree, just take all the time you need. But not too long, I do actually hope we live together within our lifetime." Price teased with a wink and smirk, the usual deadly combo that sent Soap's heart skyrocketing even after all this time.

"Me too. I'll tell them. Soon." Soap promised with a solid nod, Price sealed it with a kiss as he leaned over the table, his hand unwrapped from Soap's and moved to the side of Soap's neck, applying pleasant pressure to the marks left from that morning, Soap moaned quietly into the kiss and broke away. "Very bloody soon." He breathed out.

Soon. What was the deadline on 'soon'? Could it be put off for...say, forever? Couldn't he just move in with Price without actually breaking the news to his friends? Of course not, but a man could dream, right? Damn right he could, pretend that by "story time at home" Ghost meant they could go to their prospective bedrooms and ravish their boyfriends.

He had a feeling that wouldn't be the case, but he could imagine it for a few more seconds, getting lost in the demanding movements of Price's lips.

---

The plan for Soap to tell Ghost and Roach about him moving out was going just as well as you'd expect. Which meant there was zero progress. Soap's strategy for dealing with unknowing outcome conversations was to put them off as long as possible, not that he didn't try to bring it up a few times over the past week, the thing was, every opportunity that popped up that seemed like the ideal time for Soap to break the news ended up...falling through, to say the least.

Three days after their anniversary dinner, a perfect moment arose.

It was Thursday and Soap was having the typical post-work day munchies while laid up on his bed at his current home. Price was sitting criss-crossed next to him, physically, at least, mentally he was off in paperwork land and basically a zombie, albeit the sexiest zombie Soap had ever seen, but the fact remained that he was in his 'zone'. Even so, he would peek up from his reading glasses once and while (which he wore for both necessity and because he knew the glasses were a huge turn on of Soap's) to give Soap a smile, sometimes it'd be soft and sweet, other times it would be a leering look that implied all the dirty things Soap could hope for, Soap loved both, but the latter left him a frustrated squirming mess when he knew Price that wouldn't be able to act on it.

When they got together, Soap was more than aware of what he was getting into, Price warned him on several occasions that his work was important and required a great deal of his time, but he also worked on balancing it with their relationship, he didn't neglect Soap in the least. Leave him with a piqued hunger for sex for extended periods of time? Yes. But at least he always was there to...relieve the pressure before bedtime.

With a bag of crisps, Soap first peered over at the clock; 7:23 pm, Price had been grading for an hour and seven minutes, he then glanced over the offending paper Price was studying intently, Soap's eyes registered a page full of dates and significant events in history, just the sight of the jumble of words was giving him a headache.

"You almost done?" Soap asked with a full mouth, careful to not spew crumbs all over the paper.

"Hmm?" Price hummed, glancing up at Soap, pushing his glasses up his nose, Soap gave him a crooked grin. "Oh, nearly, love..." He answered, returning to the paper, a noise of disapproval left his throat as he scribbled something on the page with the pencil he borrowed from Soap.

Soap frowned and kept contact with the brim of Price's hat as he reached into the crisp's bag again getting a handful and smashing the contents into his mouth. "Alright, I'll just find other ways to entertain myself."

"Good idea, I have 10 more to go and you know how...questionable some of these kid's answers can be, especially this lad, Jacob, I heard he goes by 'Worm' though." Price said with a grunt. "Everyone in this town has a nickname of the strangest sort..."

Soap almost spat the crisps out of his mouth, his hand flew up to his mouth just in case. "Worm? What in the sodding hell?" His voice was muffled behind his palm as he swallowed.

"And Soap is a completely average name." Price muttered, not looking up from his paper.

Leaning over Soap kissed the corner of Price's jaw, "You can always call me John...John." Soap said with a sneaky smile.

Letting out a sigh, Price turned his head and kissed Soap on the lips, judging by the shaky breath he exhaled he was on the cusp of a short laugh. "You would like that, wouldn't you?" Price asked, Soap reviled in the success of finally getting Price's full attention and leaned in to kiss him deeper, Price rested his flattened palm on the side of Soap's neck.

"Mmm, I'd like you to call me whatever you want, whenever you want." Soap murmured on Price's lips.

"I'll call a rain check, I still have all this to do." Price whispered raspily and shook the small stack of papers in his other hand and pecked him on the lips chastely, once again returning to his work.

The surge of frustration Soap felt made him vaguely itchy, he could be patient, but that wasn't his greatest inner strength. He couldn't help being a little troublesome sometimes, perhaps that could be chalked up to the mohawk on his head, if he wasn't being a troublemaker, then he was alternatively a bit distracting. Both seemed to be at the forefront of his mind, so he tossed the bag of crisps to the mattress and hopped from the bed. He wiped the front of his blue shirt before pulling it over his head and throwing it to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room. While scratching his bare stomach, he peeked subtly at Price, hoping to see that he caught his attention, but was met with disappointment, Price was remained involved in his grading and not the half naked Scot.

'Let's see if he can resist this' Soap thought as he stretched his arms above his head and arched his back, hearing it crack several times, he let out a low and deep groan, making sure to prolong and sexualize it, but he followed with a peeved grunt, Price remained unaware. Clearly on purpose, Soap walked around the bed and fixed his lounge pants so they rested lower on his hips, then moved so he was in Price's line of sight before balancing his weight on the balls of his feet and falling forward, catching himself with his hands. It was an impressive display of his physical strength, one that got him pushed down into the carpet and fucked into it before, the rug burn he had the next day on his knees was beyond worth it.

This time he didn't even look up at Price as he began doing a series of push ups, first, it was slow motions, bending his elbows and lowering himself just enough so that his chest barely grazed the dark carpeted floor, the muscles in his biceps strained at the controlled pace but he kept it going, adding a deliberate roll of his hips towards the floor when he could feel that Price's eyes were on him finally. The move was something he picked up in gymnastics when he was a teenager, not that it was on the curriculum, but it certainly drove his past boyfriends and girlfriends crazy. The list of hookups was relatively short, especially compared to someone like Simon Riley, but no one was ever left unsatisfied, and Soap was certainly planning on getting his fill of Price, insatiable as he was. He knew it set Price right off, responsibilities be damned. Soap certainly was the bad influence now. He couldn't resist lifting his head and instead, peeked up from under his lashes, he could see that Price's gaze was glued on him now and that his hand was gripped tight around the pencil, the hold looked strong enough to snap the wood in half. Soap felt an uprising of smugness, he had the tendency to get a little cocky when it came to firing up Price, so he lifted his left arm and placed it behind his back and, with greater effort, bent his elbow on the only arm keeping him up and went up and down a considerable amount of times. In the struggle, Soap earned himself a fine sheet of sweat over his forehead and torso, but he continued rising up and down, winking at Price when a look of sexual-repressed exasperation crossed on the older man's features.

"What are you looking at, darling? Don't you have work to do?" Soap asked nonchalantly, like this whole workout wasn't taking all of his strength to do.

Price all but growled in response and flicked his eyes back down to his paperwork, only to snap them up in the next push up Soap did. Ah, he definitely got to him now. Soap, with greater effort than it ever took before, which he blamed on Price's cooking, quickly pushed himself up with his left arm and switched so that his right hand planted down to catch his weight, the floor vibrated with the transition. Soap considered this whole performance as delayed payback for how turned on Price made him when he fixed the shop's door months ago, all sweaty and clad in the tightest shirt known to man, or this man at least.

"It's pretty hot in here, eh? Think I'll need to take off these pants next..." Soap tried to sound as serious as possible, but biting back the smirk was failing...miserably. Price had his mouth slack just the smallest amount, Soap could see that his teeth were clenched and his eyes were half-slited, he swallowed hard at the look. Right about now, the thought of Price rubbing his beard across his entire body sounded damn fantastic to the point where he nearly lost his concentration and collapsed onto the ground, but he had soldier's focus, despite never having been one, and kept going. How could he break now that Price had seemingly pushed his work to the side in favor of, in his own Price-y way, openly gawking at him.

"Would you look at that...I'm getting all sweaty," Soap said through a struggled grunt. "Guess I'll be needing a shower now, maybe you'd care to join me? I never get any cleaner than when I'm with you..." He lowered his voice to a husky seducing tone, his brogue deeper and panted through his exertion.

There was no time to register Price throwing his notebook to the side, landing right beside his discarded bag of crisps, his reading glasses were removed and placed on the side table. Soap paused his movements.

"Need me to be your drill sergeant?" Price questioned in a smokey voice, he was the one smirking now as he rose from the bed and made his way over to Soap.

Caught off guard, Soap fell to the carpet with an "Oof!" at the sight of Price pulling his shirt above his head and dropping it to the floor, his hat fell with it, he must have been aroused if he didn't even care that it fell carelessly to the floor. Half of Price's lean and toned body all out for Soap to see, it was a little incredible (and not to mention, unfair) how ripped Price was for simply being a professor.

"Well?" Price asked, crouching down next to Soap.

"Aye, Captain..." Soap answered breathlessly with a nod, his eyes skimmed over Price's body.

Price hummed, his hand came underneath Soap's collapsed body and settled on his hip, with little to no trouble, Price lifted Soap's entire lower half up and bowed his head down so that his lips were right by Soap's ear. "In that case, we need to work on your form, your body needs to be straight and parallel, not flat on the ground, that position comes later..." Price whispered.

Apparently Soap was thoroughly distracted enough that he didn't notice the loud groan he let out from Price's words, his damned enticing words and touch. However, Price did hear it and pulled back, giving Soap another smirk before moving so he was out of Soap's vision and brought his free hand to the other side of Soap's hips, gripping and fixing the positioning to the 'proper form', but his hands never left Soap's body. "How many can you do one handed when I'm next to you like this?" Price challenged.

"Let's find out, eh?" Soap certainly did not have to press the words out through a moan, well, maybe a little.

It seemed easy enough, he was an expert at the one handed push up after all, he crushed both Ghost's and Roach's best records put together, but somehow Price's hands all over his bare torso, also half naked himself, made it a much more difficult task. Price dug his fingers harder into Soap's hips, the other man's skin heated in response. Fuck. How was it that Price was always the best at getting his revenge? Soap should've learned his lesson by now, but he liked being punished like this, pushed.

"I'm waiting, Soap..." Price tutted.

"Bloody fucking hell." Soap grumbled under his breath. With his left hand being the only one on the ground again, Soap controlled himself and lowered his body till his stomach nearly made contact with the plush carpet and pushed up. He was on a roll, ten push ups in and he felt unstoppable, sexy bloody professors or not, that was until Price's hands moved from his hips and skimmed across his abs, before sweeping around and feeling on his ass, Soap let out a groan and faltered mid-push up. "Price, that's no fair."

"Keep going, come on, come on." Price scolded with a firm squeeze. Soap could tell there was a chuckle begging to escape Price's throat, oh he was enjoying this. Of course he was.

"You're not exactly helping here, Pri." Soap said with a strained upward movement.

"Oh I'm not, hm?" Price slid his hands up Soap's body until they reached his shoulders, then he removed them completely, Soap was about to complain, but Price moved suddenly so his body was over his own. Soap could feel his heated breath on the back of his neck. "That's perfectly fine, I lead better by example anyways."

Soap froze when Price did his own hip roll, pushing himself into Soap's ass, he was hard and made damn sure Soap could feel it, Soap lifted himself up more, pressing back on the older man, but Price raised up, removing the contact between their bodies. Soap wanted to writhe back, fuck, even whine, but he knew that was exactly what Price was hoping for. Instead, he placed both of his hands solidly on the floor and resumed his push ups like everything was normal, Price moved with him, and it went fine for a while, but Price increased his rutting against Soap and his tongue and teeth found their way to the back of Soap's neck and all the way to the side, leading up to his jawline.

That was when Soap lost his well maintained control and dropped to the floor and flipped in one move, pulling Price down on him in the next, placing his hand on the back of Price's neck and connecting their mouths, open and messy, tongues slipping together. Price wrapped his arms around Soap and ground down into him again, leaving them both groaning into the other's open mouth. Soap's free hand felt around Price's biceps, trailing up his arm and to his back, his fingers dug into the ridges of muscles there. Before, Soap had mentioned something about it being so hot that he needed to remove his pants, well now Price was certainly taking his time getting them off, both of them too distracted in the kiss to concern themselves with trivial things like pulling down pants.
Price broke away from the kiss, not before licking at Soap's full bottom lip and taking it between his teeth, nibbling at it and releasing. A hand came up and lay flat on Soap's neck, his heart beat thudded under Price's heated palm.

"You know, I never did finish grading, once again my lunch will be consumed with work, endless bloody work. I blame you for that..." Price didn't sound like he minded one damn bit, especially when he leaned down to kiss and bite at Soap's chest.

"Yeah, yeah, just fuck me already, worry about that bollocks later..." Soap groaned out. It was enough for Price to chuckle deeply, but not stop his fervent attention on Soap's body as he licked his way back up to the other man's mouth.

"Before you, there's no way I'd have dropped that so called 'bollocks'..but you, I think I'd drop anything for you, everything." Price murmured, his soft tone caught Soap off guard, it confused his wracked with perpetual arousal body and mind and made his heart start a whole new string of thumps, his hand came up and stroked across Price's beard.

"Huh, guess I am pretty special, eh?"

"Mhm..." Price nuzzled into Soap's hand and kissed him fully again, closed mouth this time, just soft presses of their lips, the opposite of their writhing and quite aggressively moving hips, slamming into each other at this point, both of them dying for the friction, needing it.

"Special enough to get fucked into the floor?" Soap asked as he pulled away with an edge of that built up arousal bubbling to the surface, his hips snapped up rougher this time, indicative of how they like to fuck.

"I think that can be arranged..." Price answered in his gravelly voice, the scratch of the sound hit Soap right below, he squirmed a bit impatiently under Price.

Pants removal finally became worth the attention, Price slipped his fingers under the spandex band of Soap's lounge pants and he began to tug them down, but — the moment was interrupted when a loud yell was heard from somewhere outside of Soap's bedroom, the pair's heads snapped over to the direction of the door and the source of the shout.

Ghost.

The two of them let out an irritated sigh, with the shout, almost every trace of arousal went out the window. Letting out a grunt, Price placed one last kiss on Soap's mouth before, reluctantly, lifting to his feet and reaching a hand out for Soap to take. Soap was the more stubborn of the two, he remained laid up on the floor, still a panting mess from their heated make out with a side of grinding, his arms crossed over his chest.

Price nodded at his hand and shook it. "Soap, don't you think we should see what Ghost is on about out there?"

Of course that was the last thing he wanted to do, he continued to glare at the door, Price was now standing above him instead of pinning him down into the ground and he was so damn close to being out of his lounge pants before the interruption.

"Do we have to? I mean, maybe Ghost and Roach are just being obnoxiously loud toni—" Soap started to protest.

"If Soap thinks there'll be no repercussions for this, he is massively mistaken!" Ghost's yell carried more clearly this time.

There was no way to get out of it now.

Soap breathed out slowly. "Never mind." He said. Inwardly, Soap cursed at the stiffness in his pants, he reached up to clasp his hand on Price's, doing most of the lifting himself, but letting Price do enough work so that his biceps bulged that much more.

On the way to the door, Price grabbed up both of their shirts and handed Soap's over to him as he pulled his own over his head again, concealing his fit body which drove Soap from previously being put out and turned on to presently wallowing in a wash of regret, he slipped his own shirt on again and could see a similar look on Price's face. Soap didn't attempt to open the door of his room before Price could, he was far too engrossed in thoughts of a solid floor and more than solid man on top of him.

The hallway was empty, but the door to Ghost and Roach's bedroom was wide open at the far end of it, separated by the joined bathroom between both of their rooms.

Soap pinched the bridge of his nose, "Prepare yourself for anything, Pri, this could either be a monumental disaster or...a slightly less catastrophic. Either way, it's gonna be a fully over-dramatized Simon Riley moment." Soap warned Price with a hand on his boyfriend's chest, it was pointless, really, since Price had come to learn all about Ghost's...wonderfully charming and rational handling of any situation.

At the entrance to their friend's room, Hellraiser came bursting down the hallway, stopping just at the space between Soap and Price and peering up at Soap, his bright silver eyes shined with an edge of mischievousness, yet his expression looked suspiciously innocent, for a cat anyways. He lifted a paw and began to lick it, swiping it behind his fluffy dark grey ear.

"And there's the bloody menace himself!" Ghost said, coming into view from inside his and Roach's bedroom. His expression was glowering, face unmasked, his blue eyes blazing.

"I swear if this about that last piece of bloody pie I ate...it was late and you know how I sleep-eat." Soap defended with a shrug.

"No, not that, you git. It's that cat of yours!" Ghost thrust out his pointer finger downwards right at Hellraiser, but he faltered at Soap's words. "Wait, you ate the rest of Bug's pie?" He asked with squinted eyes. "I should've known!" His hands flew up in the air.

"Besides the point, Ghost, now tell me, what did Hellraiser supposedly do?" Soap grunted, he was already getting a headache.

"It's not supposed, it's what he did do...come look at this fucking travesty, little bastard hadn't planned on me finding out, but oi, did I." Ghost did a gesture with his hand, signaling them both to follow.

"Simon, it's not that big of a deal." Roach said, walking up next to Ghost and rolling his eyes, it looked as if he'd been hearing about whatever the issue was for a while. Poor guy.

Ghost looked over to Roach in disbelief, "Bug. Are you...how can you say such — you know what? That's fine, don't have any empathy for your boyfriend." Ghost walked out of the room with his head held high, as Soap and Price both glanced to each other and sighed, following after Ghost.

Roach was left in the bedroom, a hand dragged down the side of his face, Hellraiser walked into the room and laid on the floor next to him, not a trace of guilt on his feline features.

Leading them to the living room, Ghost came to a halt next to the couch and turned back to his friends."Alright, you know how these past few weeks my skull balaclavas have been going all missing and shite? Well, I know exactly where they are now. Just a couple minutes ago, I caught the cat devil running out of my room with a mask in his mouth, so I followed him...look at this load of bollocks!" Ghost moved out of the way so Soap and Price could see the small pile of masks, neatly arranged into quite a warm and comfy improvised bed, hidden behind the space of the couch and the wall,white cat fur could be seen scattered all over the fabric. "Ok then, MacTavish, what do you have to say about what your feline spawn of satan did, hm?" Ghost snarked, his hands propped on his hips.

Ok, so this wasn't exactly an unreasonable thing to be upset about, Soap knew damn well how much the masks meant to Ghost. Not that he was given every detail of his friend's childhood, to sum it up, his family was awful, his father and brother in particular. Soap wasn't sure he'd ever want to hear every story anyways, the ones he was told were bad enough, but Roach must help Ghost with his patience and understanding, Ghost was a much happier man since meeting Gary Sanderson. Years ago, when Ghost was plastered one night, he told Soap why he wore the masks; his older brother was a considerable bastard, taunted Ghost every night with a similar skull mask to frighten him, make him lose sleep, that along with his father's persistent abuse made his childhood hell, so he wore the mask in the present to prove to himself that he wasn't a scared little kid anymore, that he made it through.

"You don't think this has anything to do with you using Hellraiser's cat bed as a personal barf bucket last month?" Price pointed out, scratching the side of his face, his nose wrinkled up as if he could still smell the unpleasant odor.

Ghost appeared to be taken aback from the accusation, apparently he hadn't even considered it, or he just completely forgot until Price brought it up. "I — If anything, that whole thing was Gaz's fault! He was daring me to down that line of shots, alright, and I never turn down a dare, except for that time Roach told me to strip off my clothes to my bare arse and run down the side of the street."

A cringe mirrored on both Soap and Price's faces.

"Simon...first off, no one dared you to do that, second, you actually did it. Really enthusiastically, by the way." Roach informed his boyfriend, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he made his way over to the three of them, Hellraiser pattered quietly behind him, not looking guilty in the least.

"Oh, I did it then? Bloody hell I need to cut back on my drinking." Ghost groaned, his hand covered his eyes, splitting a few fingers apart, he looked at Roach. "How uh — how'd you feel about that? I can't quite remember, Lovebug."

"I wasn't upset, if that's what you're asking. Pretty sure I slapped your ass and cheered you on the whole time." Roach admitted with a bit of difficulty, a faint blush crept on his cheeks.

"Don't forget you were yelling after him, 'That's right, that dick is mine!'." Price added while shifting on his feet, he looked amused at the shocked expression on Roach's face.

"Ugh, you just had to mention that part, didn't you? Now I'll have to re-bleach my eyes and ears." Soap shuddered visibly, throwing his head back and praying to whoever was listening that he could forget that entire evening, excluding the part where Price went down on him in the bathroom after shot number 8. Price mouthed the words, "I'm sorry" over at him, he clearly hadn't wished to have the images in his memory banks either.

"Oh god, I didn't remember that part...fuck." Roach mumbled with a severely reddened face now, rubbing the back of his neck. Ghost, on the other hand, was practically beaming over to his boyfriend, he even walked over to him and put an arm around his shoulder.

"I love when you get all possessive on me, Bug, it's pretty sexy." Ghost whispered to Roach, wriggling his brows and pressing a kiss to his cheek, Roach smirked in response. Ghost was fixed on his boyfriend for a few moments before he shook his head aggressively and snapped his head back at Soap and Price. "For fuck's sake, Soap, you say Price is the one always changing the subject, but the two of you are like a goddamn tag team of distraction. Tell me, what am I supposed to do with that pile of my beloved masks?" Ghost asked with a frown, as if he were mourning the ramshackled balaclavas, his eyes cast downwards, Roach comforted him, running his hand up and down Ghost's back.

"...M'msorry mate, you could always wash 'em." Soap said, squatting down and picking up a mask, only to see it was thoroughly covered in white and grey cat hair.

"Are you kidding me? They're fucked, MacTavish, fucked! There's enough fur on there for Roach's grandmum to knit a sodding sweater!" Ghost shot back, glaring at Hellraiser when he kneaded on the masks and curled up on them in a ball.

"You did ruin his second favorite sleeping spot, Simon." Roach said carefully with a nudge into Ghost's side. Roach still felt guilty about the whole thing, even if it wasn't technically his fault. Or maybe it was, he certainly didn't discourage the barrage of shot glasses being lined in front of his boyfriend that night.

"But, but, Bug, my masks..." Ghost whined, picking up one that Hellrasier wasn't planted on and shaking it a bit, pieces of hair drifted off of it and danced in the air.

Bracing his hands on his thighs, Soap sighed and rose to his feet, "Look, I'll pay for the masks, mate. You can buy yourself an unnecessary amount and it will all be forgiven and forgotten, alright?" Soap offered.

Clearly that was a poor choice of words, Ghost looked offended all over again. "Unnecessary? Please, Price has well over 40 hats! Not that he's wearing any at the moment, nice hair mate." Ghost didn't try to hide the laughter from coming out.

Price's hands shot up to fix the hat on his head, but there was nothing there but his disarrayed hair, he frowned deeply. "I'm too old for this..." Price breathed out, effectively leaving the living room and heading to the kitchen.

"Ghost, I'll reimburse you for the sodding balaclavas and it'll all be like it never happened." Soap repeated, bending down to pet the now sleeping cat who purred in contentment.

Ghost remained silent for a minute, his lips pursed and his eyes glanced thoughtfully around the room. That is, until Roach cleared his throat and gave a pointed look to his boyfriend, his brows rose expectantly.

"Fine, fine. But your cat is a nightmare." Ghost said, Soap was surprised he wasn't sticking his tongue out at the napping cat.

"You were saying how adorable he was last night, Simon, he was sleeping in your lap..." Roach stated blankly.

"That was before this shite!"

"He's a cat, Simon..."

"Exactly! He knew damn well what he was doing, look how proud he is all sittin' there!"

"Fuck it, this is going on twitter." Soap said with a smirk, taking out his phone from his pocket and snapping a picture, posting it to Hellraiser's twitter with the caption: 'Revenge on Uncle Ghost — SUCCESS'.

It was Soap's turn to laugh at Ghost's expense, all the way back to the kitchen, ignoring the curses that left his friend's mouth.

Entering the kitchen, Soap slipped his phone back in his pocket and smiled at Price who was leaned on the counter, hat back on his head, the brim of it tilted more downward than usual, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Soap walked over to him and leaned up and kissed Price on the lips, lingering a bit and pulling back, his tongue darted across to taste the traces of whiskey before taking the glass in his hand and sipping a small amount, controlling the grimace from falling on his face.

Price wrapped his arm around Soap's waist. "Love, if you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell them about moving, that was it." Price said, half teasing, half serious, a smirk directed at Soap.

Soap remained looking forward, his head nodded slowly. "Aye, no better time than that..." He lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed down another mouthful of the alcohol.

"There's no rush." Price reminded him with an easy shrug.

"How long are you gonna say that before it becomes untrue?" Soap asked, glancing to Price with slitted eyes.

"I can be persuaded to say it a little longer..." Price started, taking the glass from Soap's hands and downing the remainder of whiskey, setting the empty cup on the counter and leaning in close to Soap, his breath fanned on Soap's face.

"I'm a creative man, so I have a few ideas, what do you say we go finish our work out?" Soap murmured, licking his lips and leading Price to his bedroom. It was safe to say that it was the last time the issue was brought up for the rest of the night.

---

The next missed chance was completely Soap's fault...ok, not entirely. It was the following Saturday night and Soap and Price had the house to themselves. Or they were supposed to, Ghost and Roach went out with the promise that they wouldn't be home "until way past you old wanker's bedtime, so don't worry." Directly quoted from Ghost's mouth muffled by his mask, and Soap, for whatever fucking reason, took the words seriously and figured they were true. The couch at Soap, Ghost, and Roach's place (the one he swore he'd never touch again, that didn't last long) wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one at Price's and technically, his, place, but that didn't stop them from collapsing on it after dinner. Soap had intended to recreate the night of their anniversary, flipped positions this time, and it went well, for a while.

"Do you think Roach will miss these oven mitts?" Soap asked, rubbing the back of his neck and belly simultaneously while he stared down at the charred fabric on the counter, previously light blue lined with black, now crispy and no trace of blue to be found on one side.

Price mingled a sigh with a chuckle. "Maybe, maybe not."

"That's not very helpful, darling..."

"I can't believe you threw it on the burner..."

Rolling his shoulders, Soap picked up the lost cause of an mitt between his thumb and forefinger and walked it to the trashcan, he lifted a few pieces of garbage out of the way and dropped the mitten inside, then covered it back up with the trash. effectively hiding it. Stepping back, he examined the trash seeing if there was any way that it'd be visible before giving a short grunt and headed to the sink to wash his hands, Price had that ever-present smirk on his face, making it pretty difficult for Soap to feel anything other than a rising surprised cough of arousal in his throat and another type of rising, only lower.

"That wasn't my fault. How was I expected to just stand there and keep off you while you showed off flipping those knives in the air like a goddamn Iron Chef?" Soap defended with an accusing hard stare at Price, but there was a smile on his face. "Those hands of yours are bloody talented." He added under his breath, turning the knob on the sink.

Right in the middle of sudsing up his hands, Price slipped his arms around Soap, pulling him in close from behind, his hands stroked up and down Soap's stomach, and his head rested on the younger man's shoulder.

"These hands?" Price clarified, no doubt satisfied that he made Soap completely freeze his hand washing and stiffen before melting into the embrace.

"Aye, those would be the hands..." Soap answered roughly. What was it about home cooked dinners that made Soap so comforted, lazy. and extremely turned on all at once? He could chalk that up to Price and his attentive hands. Price was a supreme tease and started pressing a line of kisses down the back of Soap's neck, he wasn't playing fair at all. As usual.

"And talented, hm?" Price asked between a kiss, this time right under Soap's ear.

"Mhm, how you know your way around a knife is impressive, I mean it, I — uh never seen a man with skills like yours." Soap said, somewhat husky and partly bashful, his hands moved to Price's forearms to bring him in tighter, then rested his hands on top of the older man's, twining their fingers together.

Price was having none of that one-sided compliment business, he made sure Soap knew how much he meant, every day through all of Soap's modest brushing off of the sweet words. "I think you're the one with the talented hands, love. With your art and all."

"Nah, that's just for fun, I'm nothing compared to real artists." Clearly Soap hadn't exactly gotten better with accepting compliments. How was it that Price had done so well on working through his bad traits, yet many of his remained unimproved? He'd have to work on that later. Later? That's exactly one of Soap's biggest problems. Somehow, even if they weren't facing each other, Soap could sense that Price had rolled his eyes.

"Bloody hell, I'm not even going to acknowledge that full of bollocks statement. What even defines a 'real artist', you're an amazing artist, Soap..." Price paused to kiss the side of Soap's face before resting his own face there, their facial hair scraped together in pleasant itch. "You know, Mac was telling me about this art show that's coming up in a few weeks..." Price's words trailed off like his thumb did across Soap's stomach, bringing their hands with him.

"Art show, eh?" Soap considered the implication for a minute, his fingers drumming on his stomach. "You sure I'm good enough for that shite?"

Price made a humming noise in the back of his throat. "Remember when we went out to dinner about two months back and you doodled the cityscape on that napkin, then the waitress bought it off you for 30 pounds? A bloody napkin sketch you did in the time between getting the menus and ordering. If that doesn't tell you something, I don't know what could, love." Price said with a click of his tongue.

Soap turned in Price's arms, quite done with not being able to see his face and settled his forearms on the older man's shoulders, Price's hands shifted back to his waist, easing a little lower than before. "Come on, Price, that was one waitress — hardly proves I'm worthy of being featured publicly."

"It was only one waitress because you've never shown anyone else your art before, remember?"

"So you think I should enter an art show? For artists?" Soap asked slowly in questioning disbelief.

"I don't know what else would be at an art show but artists...and art."

Soap gave him a sarcastic smile, "I know that, what I mean is, I just scribble sketch." Soap said with a self-deprecating shrug.

After all these months Price had noticed that Soap was excessively private with his art, Soap was a bit discontented when Price told him about displaying one of his drawings on his desk at the college. He didn't press the issue about the obvious self-conscious vibes Soap sent when he was complimented on his sketches, but it felt as good of a time as any to ask. "Why haven't you shown anyone else your work? Before me?" Price prompted softly.

"Ah, it's stupid..." Soap mumbled, picking at the collar of Price's shirt and avoiding his gaze.

"Nothing you say is stupid." Price enunciated the assurance with a gentle, encouraging smile and a brush of his fingers under Soap's eyes, leading down to the full pout on his lips.

Soap sighed and was quiet for a while, he hoped that this question wouldn't come up, well ever, but of course it would eventually. "When I said you were the first person who's seen my sketches before, that wasn't completely true."

"I figured I couldn't have been the only one."

"Of course, you know everything." Soap said, playfulness coloring his tone. "Growing up, drawing was my thing. Remember when I told you about going on the roof when I was a kid?" He asked, Price gave him a small nod. "That's where it all started, up there on lonely nights..I'd make up these sort of comic-like sketches. It's funny you bring up an art show, to be honest my other dream for a while, besides the military, was to be an artist."

"What stopped you?"

"Myself? Self doubts and all that? Nah, I'd be lying if I said it was 100% that..."

Price stared on, waiting for him to continue, his focus remained on Soap, his eyes didn't flicker off to the side to the covered plate of brownies Roach made last night, he was that good at keeping his attention, even Soap faltered to give them a backwards look every so often, the chocolate desert was certainly more tempting than bringing up old wounds, but Price asked, and Soap wanted him to know every part and piece of time from his life.

"I was with this girl in high school, Alana, ah — she was the one I broke it off with before I moved to Hereford. We ended it because we had different goals in life, she wanted that 'ideal life', ya know, boring mundane careers, kids, basically that white picket fence rubbish and I was some punk with a mohawk and my head in the clouds that thinks that life is a bloody nightmare...not an A+ match." Soap scoffed, that was a bit of an understatement. "Anyways, at the point where we were together a while, I was at the peak of wanting to pursue my artist dreams, but she thought it was a silly 'hobby', that drawing was a petty way to make a living, not a notable job, a waste of time, basically. And she wasn't quiet about letting me know it every time I would sit around sketching..." The corner of Soap's mouth turned down in a frown and his eyes skimmed all over Price's face. "I wasn't lying when I said you were the first person I let see my drawings, Price, because she took it upon herself to take my journal from me and look through it herself...told me they were good, but not enough to sell for shite. Got drunk that same night and gave me sodding ultimatum, a life with her, the one she wanted, or the life that I wanted...and I hate fucking ultimatums, ..I choose me. Needless to say, that was the downfall of our relationship."

Price's brows rose in surprise. "To put it bluntly, she sounds like she was a dreadful girl."

Soap couldn't help but throw his head back and let out a throaty laugh. "Then I'm making her sound worse than she was...she wasn't a bad person, really, she just had her dreams and I had mine. We were different. And we went our separate ways."

"But what she said still bothers you, doesn't it? That's why you've never shown your art, why you gave up on making it your profession..." Price observed, he appeared very bothered it, his arms held onto Soap all the more tighter.

"Honestly, it does..." Soap confessed, not without struggle as he shifted in Price's arms. "She made me feel mediocre enough to question if going for it was the right thing to do. I put down my old journal for a while, didn't pick back up on drawing until I moved to Hereford and saw that small black journal in a shop, it was like a sign that I shouldn't give up, but I still heard the self-doubt prickling in the back of my head." Soap paused for a moment and the corners of his mouth turned up in a soft smile as he gazed on at Price. "It's a lot quieter these days though, thanks to you."

"That's bollocks, no one should discourage your dreams. I think you're amazing, every piece of your work I've seen is beautiful and detailed. Then again, I might be a little biased." Price's voice was warm like honey, his smile was even more of a comfort. There he was being his inspiration all over again, telling him exactly what he needed to hear when he needed to hear it.

"Thank you, it means a lot to hear someone else say it...bloody hell it means so much to me. I never thought I'd show anyone my stuff, but then there's you." Soap was far from trying to disguise his affection, it's not like it was possible to with how it was practically bursting out of his chest and clogging up his throat.

Price leaned in and kissed the side of his face, then the other side, and settled on his lips for a little while before pulling away. "So I take it you'll consider the art show?"

"You know what? I think I will." Soap decided with a solid nod, maybe it was the kiss that provoked his bravery or Price's words, but either way, he was going through with it, showing the world — or Hereford, his...talents? Eh, Soap wasn't sure if he could go that far. "Huh. Going from showing only you, to a huge chunk of this town and who knows else. Never thought I'd say that." He added with a nervous laugh and a smile to match it, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

"Can't wait to see what you come up with, but whatever it is, it'll be amazing, I know it."

OK, now Price was buttering him up extra good and hard now, his hands were playing a dangerous game on Soap's lower back, drifting down slowly with each passing second making the conversation come to full circle right back to where it began...those fucking hands. Soap moved his own, squeezing firmly on Price's shoulder and up to the side of his neck. The marks on both of them from last week were long faded and Soap was so very badly tempted to put it there all over again, his fingers circled around the very spot as he bit on his bottom lip, Price noticed it all and brought Soap closer, a deep chuckle in his throat.

"I'll think of something...after the move, you are my biggest muse nowadays, darling. I think you inspired about five new drawings in the past few minutes, ah — three of those were in the last minute. Can't say any of them are particularly innocent..." Soap murmured lowly, directing his gaze in a sweeping motion over Price's form, and at last came back up to his face, he took note of the wicked smile that was etched on Price's features. Why did it look like Price was sizing him up in a hungry way? Probably because he was, and thinking of desert in the form of Soap drizzled in chocolate. But Soap honestly wasn't sure if that was his own thought or one conveyed through his boyfriend's eyes. Either way, he liked where this was heading.

"Hmm, I'm not sure if they allow erotic art or not at those shows..." Price said, quirking up one half of his mouth, many naughty implications were wrapped up in that look.

"Who says anything about my thoughts being 'erotic', I was talking about full blown pornographic images here, old man." Soap dropped the newly acquired nick name and that was enough for Price's mouth to fall into a straight line. Oh, Soap was gonna pay for that.

Not that it was a bad thing to pay the price for.

It wasn't like they ever kissed softly, well there were the times in the early morning when the damned birds outside of the window wouldn't shut the fuck up and made him feel like he was in a Disney fairy tale, the times when Price would keep his arms around him and somehow manage to roll him over, because he was dead weight in the morning, and cuddle him tight, leaving whispers of kisses all over his face, Soap had never had that much adoration in the morning, but he felt it for Price. He'd let Price kiss some unsolvable maze around his face, every line, freckle, and sun spot until he made it back to his lips and hold them together like that, in the morning of all times.

Those were occasions when kissing softly was nice, preferable, but right now, right now all Soap wanted and all Soap got was a hard clash of lips in the middle of the kitchen. Messy is what got the job done, his arms wrapped completely around Price's neck and kept the fast pace of their mouths going. It was hard to breathe at this point, and they both ended up sucking quick breaths through whatever passage they could, not sure if they were getting oxygen or each other's exhales. Soap knew how to set off Price, how to make this go from a little irresponsible and sloppy to downright rough and destructive, all it took was a groan drawn out from the back of his throat as Price's hands ceased their teasing touches and grasped firmly at his ass, planting Soap between the counter and a Price, much better than between a rock and a hard place, though that very same situation was happening in his pants, ones he needed to get out of very soon.

Price tore away from Soap's mouth, thankfully, as much as it was unfortunate, now he could get some air. Price grazed his teeth along Soap's jaw, giving a less than gentle nip on his neck, Soap was wondering how he could multitask breathing, biting, and groping all in one movement, Soap was having enough trouble keeping his balance and his eyes open so he could watch the way Price worked him, though he didn't have the best view, the hat on top of the older man's head served as another obstacle, obscuring his view of Price's hot mouth on his neck, not marking this time, just light bites this point, and his tongue was the brunt of the assault. For a moment, Soap considered tearing the hat (and the shirt) off of Price, but after the unfortunate accident with Roach's oven mitt and a oven top burner that was still hot, he resisted. They just needed to get the fuck out of this kitchen.

"Could an old man do all this to you?"

"Ah — not just any old man, but you could..." The noise that left Soap's mouth was a mix of a moan, a gasp, and laugh, whatever it was, it made Price growl in his chest. Clearly that wasn't the exact answer Price was aiming to here, but Soap was only doing what the two of them do best, play off each other, find that balance of power play, see who came out on top, in every way, not just the obvious.

It was that answer that got him shoved down into the couch and got his shirt strewn across the room, just barely missing Hellraiser's liter box.

"You're the one who's going to be feeling like an old man after I'm done with you." And just like all of Price's promises, it was cemented with a kiss. Soap's not sure if he says 'Fuck yes' out loud or if it's all in his head, but at this point, it doesn't matter, not when he's working his fingers to the best of their abilities in unbuttoning Price's pants, in aid to hurry up the process. He's ready to feel Price sink into his skin, bones, and wear him out to the point where serving coffee tomorrow will undoubtedly be a trying task.

For the second time in a week, it's a yell that rips their mouths apart, nearly identical to the one they heard just a few days ago. Their heads snap over to the entrance of the living room, Ghost is standing there with his mouth gaped open like a half-masked fish and Roach is next to him, pale as a sheet. It's not like they'd never seen them make out before and Soap didn't get what the big deal was until he remembered that both of their pants were off now, and Soap had dragged a fair share of Price's boxer-briefs down his ass, where his hands were still in place in a unrelenting hold. Ghost took the liberty of covering Roach's eyes and his own as he backed out of the living room until they were out of sight, leaving him and Price to jump up and hurriedly dress. Ah, nothing like getting rock hard and having it plummet down like you were dipped in ice water.

"What the sodding hell happened to you two not being back until after our 'bedtime', you arse?!" Soap shouted as he frantically searched around and lifted couch cushions looking for his pants, Price tapped his forearm and handed them over, somehow he was already dressed, and standing stiffly, when Soap dropped his eyes, he knew exactly why. He gave his boyfriend a grimaced smile and looked on at him helplessly, Price sighed and shrugged in one motion, all but power walking to Soap's bedroom. Apparently this hadn't killed his mood at all, living up to Price's sex drive being the 9th world wonder.

"Don't even try to make this out like it's my fault, MacTavish!" Ghost yelled back with a hard jab of his finger as he returned to the living room, mask-less, and giving Soap a quick glance over to see if he was decent before letting out a relived sigh and waving his hands about in the air. "I thought we agreed, no more sex on the couch."

"Please, like you and Roach aren't on it every night I'm not here! Plus, who bought it? That's right, I did, you numpty. And you weren't even supposed to be home!"

"Well it turned out that drinking several pints of beers doesn't make bloody awful local bands sound any better, so we came home."

"You couldn't, I don't know, call or text me to let me know first?"

"Like you could find your pants to even pick up your phone...and I shouldn't have to, it's my house!" Ghost shot back.

Soap knew right then was both the most idea, and yet, the worst moment to drop the moving out bomb, he knew it wasn't for the best to do it there when the tension was high and more stupid, regretful things could be said. "You're right, it is..." Soap pushed past him and retreated to his bedroom, closing the door and leaning back against it. Price sat on the edge of the bed, once again shirtless and pant-less, not looking any less turned on. It was just what he needed right now. The lock was clicked and he made his way over to Price, settling right on his lap, a knee on either side of the older man, his forehead pressed into Price's.

"There I go blowing another perfect opportunity..."

"It wasn't perfect...s'not the best to tell them in the middle of an argument." Price said, rubbing soothing circles on Soap's back and kissing at his nose.

Soap nodded lightly, Price's lips brushed on his nose, "Mmm, I know..." He said with a sigh.

A brimming, filthy grin overtook Price's mouth. "Although, I can think of other things to blow, love..."

Proper gentleman. Yeah right.

"Price. Goddammit."

The bed squeaked loud enough that night for Soap to be 10000% sure that Price's mattress was far more superior. His own bed now too...where he wished they were instead.

---

Things still hadn't been resolved between Soap and Ghost, they spent their time avoiding each other and not speaking outside of work related topics. The two of them fought like brothers all the time, driving the other crazy and pissing each other off...it's how it's always been. They'd make up eventually, but until then, Roach and Price were caught in the middle and perfectly fine with all parties involved and putting up with their boyfriend's petty and silly fights, which seemed to be increasing as of late.

"God, what the hell is that sodding thing?" Soap regretfully asked the empty bathroom, poking at a balled up black...something or another on the edge bathroom counter, it made an unpleasant squelching sound when his finger prodded it, he gagged openly and felt completely tainted. While coughing back the nausea, Soap washed his hands once, twice, and maybe a third time, scrubbing his finger so hard it burned. Better safe than sorry, right? Especially when it came to USC; unidentified smelly clothing. If that's what it even was.

Roach squeezed into the small bathroom that the three of them had to share and eyed the oddity on the counter as he reached across Soap to get his deodorant. "Hey, Soap. What's up?" Roach greeted friendly as ever, not a hint of falseness in his smile. Receiving no answer, Roach leaned over the counter and got a good look at the Scot's face and arched an eyebrow. "Um, nice face you're pulling there, man." He said with a laugh, straightening back up and shaking his head, amused.

With a hand towel, Soap dried his hands and turned to face Roach. "Mate, do you know what that foul thing is?" Soap nodded in the direction of it, tossing the hand towel into the basket by the tub and crossing his arms over his chest, Price was at conference with all the stuffed shirts, so since Price was unable to dress how he felt comfortable, Soap decided to do it for him and wore one of his boyfriend's favorite green shirts, finding it a little too relaxing. He'd more than likely end up stealing it, as ridiculous as that was considering the fact that they always shared shirts nowadays, even if Price's were a tad too tight on him.

"Simon just got back from his run." Roach said simply with a shrug, reaching under his shirt and applying the deodorant.

This news didn't exactly please Soap. "So he leaves his bloody disgusting...god please tell me that's just a shirt, on the counter?" He asked blankly.

"Hasn't he always done that? It's just now bothering you, dude?" Roach raised an eyebrow and returned the deodorant to its place.

"Well no, it's always been irritating as fuck, but the bastard has never listened to me in all these years."

"'The bastard', you must be talking about little old me." Ghost burst into the bathroom, for some reason his skull mask was in place though his shirt was off, obviously it was the repulsive one on the counter.

"Who else but you, numpty..." Soap mumbled, rolling his eyes. With Ghost's entrance there was a wafting scent of strong body odor, Soap cringed and physically shrank back, Roach didn't look bothered by it at all and let out a laugh at Soap's words, blissfully not noticing his boyfriend's thoroughly stinky body. "Ugh, Ghost, you need a goddamn shower." He added, no longer able to ignore the smell, and pinched his nose closed.

Ghost barked out a laugh and lifted his arm and the bottom of his mask above his nose, then sniffed his armpit, blowing out air with a 'woooo' sound. "For once, you're actually right about something, MacTavish." He slicked his hand across his under arm, collecting a considerable amount of sweat and waved in front of Soap, who ducked away from the hand.

"I swear if you touch me with that shite, I'll toss your arse into the nearest dimension with unbearable and never ending pain." Soap threatened in the doorway, clenching his fist for good measure.

"Big fucking deal." Ghost said, scoffing and slipping next to Roach, dangling his surely smelly arm around him. Either though true love or...polite grace, Roach doesn't react to the odor, in fact, he rolls his eyes at Ghost and leans into his arms.

Soap smirked and jutted his chin out in the direction next to Ghost, "...Without Roach."

That got to him, Ghost's eyes bulged almost out of his head and both of his arms wrapped around Roach in a protective side hold. "Sodding fucking hell, alright I won't put my hands on ya, calm down you sadist grouchy prick."

Finally, Roach reacted to his smelly boyfriend, "God, Simon, you really do need a fucking shower..." Roach said, waving a hand in front of his crinkled nose, the freckles lost in the wrinkles. Even so, he didn't make a move to get away from Ghost.

"That's it, the lot of ya. I get the point. I was going to take a fucking shower anyways..." Ghost muttered with an appalled expression and removed one of his arms from around Roach to lift his mask completely off his face, a row of hard lines between his dark pulled down brows, a prominent frown on his mouth.
Roach gave him an apologetic smile and took the arm that was taken off from him and put it back in place, patting Ghost's damp from sweat forearm. "Sorry, just being honest. That's the most important part of a relationship, right?"

"I could argue that one, Bug." Ghost said mischievously, leering at Roach, who's eyebrows rose with understanding. Of course he knew what horribly perverted things his boyfriend had in mind. "There are certainly much other important parts..." His hands came down to grab Roach's ass firmly in his hands, making the younger man gasp in surprise.

Soap's eyes made contact with the ceiling as he rolled them and sighed. "Right here, ya know..."

"You can always leave, mate." Ghost didn't look away from Roach and started leaving small kisses of the side of his face.

"Oh I plan to, but tell me, how, after all these goddamn years have you not learned to put your disgusting shite in the hamper like a normal fucking person?" Soap snapped with a flippant wave of his hand in the direction of Ghost's mess of clothes on the counter.

"How have you not learned after all these years to not be so uptight and take it easy like a normal fucking person?" Ghost shot back, his head snapped over to Soap.

"We're talking about a germ's paradise right on our bathroom counter! This has nothing to do with being uptight!"

"Oh, sure it doesn't, you're always jumping on my arse for every little thing!"

"And you're always in my business with your constant commentary!"

"Can you two shut up, jesus christ, you two are best friends, cut the pointless fucking arguments." Roach tore away from Ghost's hold and walked over to the offending article of clothing meaning to throw it in the basket himself but was cut off by Ghost picking it up first.

"You want me to get it off the counter, sir?" Ghost asked in a mocking voice, all but sneering at Soap and ignoring his boyfriend's words.

"Aye, that would be the decent thing to do." Soap said, mimicking his tone.

"Well, here you go then."

A smug smile crossed Ghost's features as he picked up the t-shirt with a hand and pulled it backwards, Soap had no time to react before the near soaking wet shirt slapped on his chest.

---

"And that was how I almost accidentally murdered my supposed best mate." Soap said, pacing about in the bedroom, recapping Price on the day's events, the two of them exhausted after a long day, Price putting up with the formal lot and Soap with the less than formal Simon Riley. Soap made the smart decision to not chase down Ghost as he dodged his ready to punch fist and left his old home to come to his new one, all but collapsing into Price's arms, after a extra long shower at their place and change of clothing first.

"You two are still at each other's throats? You ever heard of something called letting it go?"

"I'm stubborn, you know that, and so is he...and neither of us like to say sorry, that's the main problem." Soap grunted, running his hand through his mohawk, Price rose from the dark blue lounge chair in the corner of the bedroom and gave Soap a tight embrace, his lips pressed into Soap's hair.

"My advice is that maybe that means you need to be the bigger man and say it first, eh?" Price said, all muffled by the thick mohawk.

"You're right, of course, but he's infuriating and egotistical, and a git to the fullest extent, which means...simply apologizing is easier said than done." Soap replied, melting into Price's hug, his arms finding their favorite place, wrapped around the older man's firm middle.

Price chuckled and kissed the top of his head. "I believe in you, love."

"Enough about me and Ghost's shite, you've heard it too much these past few days...how was your day?" Soap asked, pulling out of the hold just enough to look up at Price, reading the tired creases on the corner of his eyes and frowning.

"Let's see, what do I love more than being forced to dress in a suit and tie and sat next to Kamarov for an entire lunch period? Absolutely everything, it was awful." Price answered dryly, he looked about a few mere seconds away from sinking right back into that chair in the corner, or Soap's arms again, Soap hoped for the latter, so he took it upon himself to keep Price standing, his strong arms anchoring the older man in place.

Soap nuzzles his way under Price's jaw and lets out a long held in exhale. "Sounds like fun. Tell me he at least isn't trying to get you, or us, to go to his dinner party of muppets."

"He is."

"Oh hell. We'd stick out like bollocks on a bulldog at one of his fancy parties..."

"Tell me about it."

"He's not going to let it go, is he?"

"Not until me or someone I love dies or is hospitalized."

"That's a bit extreme, but I could arrange Ghost being hospitalized."

"Soap..."

"Alright, don't say I never offered." Soap said, pulling out from his warm place on Price's chest and kissing him soundly on the lips, the smile he received in return was like a shot of hot coffee, hot and comforting. He removed himself from Price's arms and walked to the long table at the foot of the bed, it might have been a bench before, but now it was scattered and covered with clothing and the object Soap was searching for — his journal.

"I'm just gonna come out and ask, are you ever planning to tell Ghost and Roach about moving in? Quite frankly, I'm losing hope."

Soap froze in place, flipping through the pages of his journal and looked up to Price, a guilty expression on his features telling Price everything he needed to know, not that it was what he wanted.

"Soap...you have to tell them eventually, and by that I mean within the next few days. You're moving in next bloody week, for god's sake." Price said with a stern look, his hands on his hips, breaking out the scolding teacher moves. Usually a turn on, right now, a reminder of how much Soap puts off...everything.

In one move, Soap tucked his journal into his pocket and flopped down on the bed, his hands came up and covered his face, shaking his head. "Ugh, I know I need to but..how can I do it without upsetting them? They're gonna be lost with me. And now I've been out of sorts with Ghost..." Soap said, letting out a low groan.

Price sat on the edge of the bed and put his hands together. "The two of you will make up, and they'll be fine, Soap, they're grown men."

Soap peeked through his fingers and shot a look at Price, his eyes slit in a questioning manner. "Are we talking about the same Ghost and Roach here? You did hear the story I told you about Ghost, right?"

Price chuckled and laid back so he was side to side with Soap, his arms rested behind his head. "Yes. And I'm telling you, they'll be ok."

"I know, I know. It's just..I feel like I'm their big brother, ya know? Responsible for 'em." It seemed like Soap was pulling excuses out of a hat, maybe one of Price's millions, but it wasn't on purpose, it was a valid reason, as was this. "Ghost doesn't have any family besides me and Roach, his biological family was either the worst kinds of people, or straight up abandoned him, and I don't want him to think I'm like that... No matter how much we fight, he's my brother." He confessed in a hushed voice.

"Love, Ghost, even if the two of you are fighting right now, knows that you care about him, moving out won't change that. But if you're having any kind of doubts or hesitation..you don't have to move in with me, you know." Price said looking over at him, a wry smile on his face.

Oh no, no, that was the exact opposite problem Soap was having, he instantly moved his hands away from his face and turned his head to Price. "I don't have any doubts. There is zero doubting here, Price. I want this, with you. Everyday. God, I want it so bad." Soap told him earnestly, rolling from his back and onto Price's body. He burrowed his face in the older man's chest. "The dishes won't get done, the garbage will pile, they can't do laundry, for fuck's sake. Roach, bless his soul, but he killed my first leather jacket, he thought you could put it in the washer on delicate, that already fucked it up, but then he put it in the dryer. Let's just say it became literal beef jerky and Hellraiser ate some of it and had to visit the vet." Soap mumbled into the fabric of Price's shirt.

"Soap, we barely do the dishes. Remember our anniversary plates that ended up tossed out? And those were my bloody good ones. Mac will be shocked not to see them at Thanksgiving...and they were a gift from his wife. Not looking forward to explaining that one."

"Ah, aye. You have a point there." Soap sighed and breathed in the faint scent of tobacco that resided on Price's clothing. "Guess you've discovered my bad habit number...whatever, don't ever have me be the one to tell people anything or I'll just put it off for as long as I can... Remember that one time I delayed ordering those coffee beans and then your efficient self did it for me me? I can be terrible with this stuff, Pri, really bloody terrible." Soap made a gruff noise and burrowed himself closer to Price.

"Well, it's never too late to work on it, I wasn't always this way, I chalk my productivity to countless bad experiences and age..." Price stopped and peered down at Soap, from the younger man's prospective, his mouth was hidden in the bristly hair of his beard, but he could tell from his eyes that there was a frown there, a deadpan expression to the fullest extent. "I set myself up for the old man thing, didn't I?" Price asked, his annoyed face was deceitful because he sounded like he was a moment away from laughter. Ah, he was warming up to the endearment after all, Soap nodded in response and Price rolled his eyes. "Bollocks..."

"Are you trying to be a good influence?" Soap asked, picking lightly at Price's beard.

"You certainly don't make it easy for me, particularly when you waltz around right in front of me half naked, or less, when I'm working. The good influence thing goes out the window damned quick then."

Soap gave him a sheepish grin, a naughty glint in his eyes that suggested, or boldly told, that he didn't regret that in the least. "Maybe by the time I'm an old man, I'll stop postponing things so much. For now, getting me to do something before the last minute is a lost cause."

Price allowed that because it was true, but still comforted Soap because he loved him, no matter how much he avoided the most trivial of things. His hand ran up and down Soap's back as he hummed what sounded like 'Silent Night', even if it was just near summer time, not Christmas, and Price wasn't a religious man. Other than the soothing low melody from Price, it was quiet for a while, a nice kind, one he never got at his other place. It was the most obvious fact ever that he wanted to be here, that he belonged here, he wasn't sure if he meant this house or Price's arms, but there wasn't a difference in his mind, this right here was home. His friends would be fine, they'd understand, they'd be happy for him, hell, they'd be happy to have their privacy and a place for their own too. The timing was at just the right at the point in both of their relationships. It was time for Soap to take that dive after things got patched up between Ghost and him.

Soap sat up and looked Price directly in the eyes, he looked sleepy, warm, and colossally attractive with his hands now resting behind his head. "OK, no more procrastinating." Soap said, he took one of Price's signature moves and bent back down, pressing a promise sealed in a kiss to his lips. Price moved one of his hands to the back of Soap's head, stroking over the shaved part and mussing with the longer pieces of hair before pulling out of the kiss, a contagious smile left behind.

"No more bloody procrastinating..."