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

5. Operation: Intervention

Author's note: Woah, ok, sorry about the delay..I had writer's block for a while coupled with procrastination. But I have my motivation back, so I should be updating fairly regularly. I really do need to work on getting day 4 of the otp challenge out. Sigh. I can't even begin to tell you how many AU ideas I have. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy~ :3

---

Arguing with your best mate was unpleasant for everyone involved; whether it be boyfriends, other people in your group of friends, even the loyal customers who depended on you suffered from the backlash of it. That was the very unfortunate predicament that was happening with Soap MacTavish and his best friend of several years, Simon Riley. It was all very foolish, really, the whole bundle of tension between them began with such a trivial, and not out of the ordinary, thing; Ghost intrusively harassing Soap over his sex life with Price. It wasn't like Soap hadn't dealt with Ghost barging his way into his personal affairs before, but when you tact on the issues with Soap's beloved and mischievous cat, Hellraiser, ...borrowing the Brit's skull balaclavas for a make-shift bed, the recent and extremely mature move of Ghost throwing his sopping stinking sweat soaked shirt at Soap, and the constant petty fights thanks to somewhat clashing personalities all caused a major snowballing effect to occur. And now there was a huge fucking mountain of problems, so buried, that an avalanche of a fight was just bursting to happen at any point.

Though the whole thing had been driving everyone mad (even the usually cheerful-no-matter-the-circumstances, Gaz), Roach and Price were the true victims in the (seemingly) minor rivalry, for they were the ones who had to deal with their boyfriends insistent whining about their friend and whatever it was that they had done to annoy them that day. Which, as of late, was just about everything they did or said.

And they were sick of it.

Which meant there was only one solution (if you'd rather not default to alcoholism, the problem is, they were already pushing that anyways); a friend-tervantion. A bro-vention? Is that what Gaz called it? Or was that Ghost? It was hard for Roach to be certain since Ghost and Gaz have nearly identical voices, in tone, accent, and pronunciation, even their vocabulary was scarily similar. There had been an occasion or two when they, plastered out of their minds, messed with Roach, Gaz acting as Ghost sweet talking Roach while holding onto him from behind, and Roach fell for it completely, but that was the day the two Brits learned this lesson; don't fuck with Gary Sanderson, he's as deadly as he is friendly. And you should never mess with the guy that cooks your meals or shares your bed. To make a long story short (too late), they didn't pretend to be the other around Roach ever again. To this day, the two of them will never look at ice cream the same. But it was still a mystery as to how much Gaz actually enjoyed Roach grabbing his ass — by accident. Then again, with Gaz, most things were a puzzle. Who was he even interested in besides green striped fruit? Truth be told, there were kinks that Gaz most likely had that Roach would be horrified to know. Ghost would genuinely intrigued, but then again, his sanity was questioned daily. Even by his own boyfriend.

It was hard to rile up a guy like Gary Sanderson, he's always been the most positive and cool-headed one of the group, the peacemaker, the voice of reason, so that's why he was the very person to step up and stage the 'brovention' (or whatever it was called.) Ghost had been a particular nuance at work on Friday, not that he'd ever call his boyfriend that, but he honestly could be a colossal instigator. Earlier during that morning, he "accidentally" mixed up Soap's orders, causing a horde of angry customers to come back up to the counter and demand it to be fixed. Soap was too busy up to his neck in correcting the disastrous mishap, that he had no time to plot his revenge, but Roach was worried it'd be something monumental. Soap could be quite vindictive and unforgiving especially when it came to payback, which left the window for Roach set things in motion to be patched up between Soap and Ghost a very narrow one.

On Saturday, the one day they had off, Roach decided to meet Price in a secret place to discuss the plan for the...whatever-vention-intervention, and texted the location to a place that was quiet and rarely visited by both of their boyfriends, one that neither Soap or Ghost would be caught dead in, mostly because it had to do with a talent both of them lacked, — the recipe book section of a book shop. Roach had to admit, he was having a little bit too much fun with the classified meeting, he even dressed in his 'incognito' attire, wearing all black, which was odd transition for the young American who had a thing for bright blues, greens, and reds. Spy attire planning was the easy part, convincing Ghost that he had to head out — alone — would be the difficult part. One might find it hard to believe, but Ghost was kinda clingy and basically Roach's shadow. Hard to part him from his "LoveBug".

Technically the black hoodie he was wearing belonged to Ghost, and smelt oddly like beer and Axe body spray, perfume ala Simon Riley and Roach thought it was irresistible. While pulling the hoodie over his head, Roach resisted reciting a speech from Star Wars in the mirror, ever so tempting, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of the jacket as he left the bedroom. Walking on the tips of his toes, Roach peeked around the corner of the hallway and into the living room, an unmasked, shirtless-just-rolled-of-bed-messy-haired Ghost was sitting on the edge of the couch (a blanket under his ass that was in place ever since the night they walked in on Soap and Price), a video game controller in hand and he was cursing obscenities at the TV screen. Nothing was missing from the scene but one thing, Soap MacTavish on the other end of the couch, spewing his own collection of vulgarities at either the other players or Ghost, all in good fun of course. It was that glaring missing factor that was the exact reason why Roach and Price needed to push them into making up. No way would the two notoriously stubborn guys do it on their own. But it was obvious they had to be missing the good ol' days when they weren't plotting each other's murder on a daily basis. Maybe just a monthly one.

It didn't matter how well he planned it, there wasn't a route for Roach to avoid his boyfriend as he made his way to the front door. He could walk as if the floor were made out of claymores and the softest of footfalls would make it go off, but it would be useless. Ghost had a literal mental radar capable of two things; sensing anything edible in his general vicinity and the one thing that would make sneaking out a total failure...detecting Roach wherever he was. There's even been times he's sleep walked to Roach in their bed in the middle of the night. Including the evening they had a bad fight and Ghost ended up on the couch, but sure enough, he was back in their bed two hours later, not a wink of consciousness about him, but he was mumbling "mmm, my Bug" when he flopped on the bed and pulled a formerly sleeping Roach into his arms. Kinda impossible to stay mad after that, neither one of them mentioned the fight in the morning, but Ghost was significantly apologetic in a way as he burrowed his way into Roach's chest and said sorry for "being a wanker". People would be shocked to know just how sweet Ghost was, of course he was a little rough and a touch obnoxious at times, but when he was alone with Roach there was a whole different side to him. A side Roach hoped he could use to his advantage as he attempted to slip past his boyfriend, casual as possible.

Roach took a deep breath, tugged on the bottom hem of his (Ghost's) long sleeved black hoodie, and stepped fully into the dimmed living room. Curtains were always drawn during Ghost's extended video game marathons, apparently the darker the room, the easier to concentrate. So much for that cleverly crafted concentration, the moment Roach was in sight, Ghost fumbled with the controller in his hand and gave him a sly grin, not even a second later his expression drastically changed, brows pulled down to an all time low and mouth crooked into an outraged sneer as a loud explosion went off on the medium-sized television screen and the words 'You Died' were shown.

"Aw that's fucking bollocks! I looked away one fucking second...I can't believe this," Ghost shouted at the TV, and Roach took this as his opportunity to make his way to the front door. But he was stopped in his tracks. "Bug! I was kicking arse, 'Kill-Streak Riley' is what they call me, but that's all gone in a second...why must my boyfriend be so bloody damn sexy and my attention span a poor excuse for one?" Ghost looked from the TV to Roach, who was half-way to the door, his brows crinkled together in confusion. "Oi, where're you off to looking like you're ready to ramshackle every house in Hereford?"

Like this was going to be a simple thing to talk his way out of. Of course it wasn't. Roach sighed and turned back around, forcing an easy smile and sauntered over to Ghost, the Brit quirked his own smile at the way Roach walked to him and leaned back on the couch, making room on his lap, apparently he thought that Roach was going to sit on him and he looked severely disappointed when the younger man stopped directly in front of him and didn't. Ghost's lap did look painfully inviting, particularly since he was only wearing boxers, but Roach had to compose himself before he actually let himself collapse onto it.

"Something wrong with what I'm wearing?" Roach asked casually, crossing his arms and flashing an innocent smile. "These are your clothes after all..."

"I noticed. Nothing wrong with it, just odd as hell, since when do you dress like...that?" Ghost waved his hand, gesturing to Roach's outfit with a raised brow.

"I don't know, I wanted to, that's all..no big deal. Maybe I just wanna look like I'm doing the walk of shame after a long night of sex with Simon Riley, took his clothes as a souvenir." Roach had to admit to himself, that was a good one, and it certainly got Ghost smug and flustered all at the same time. "Look, I have to go..." Roach swallowed hard and quickly skimmed through random excuses in his brain, trying to pick one that didn't seem too far fetched. "Uh — it's a surprise, can't tell you." He finished coolly like he wasn't about to slap his own self on the forehead. Wow. That was the best he could come up with after the first smooth line? Out of the vast array of things to choose from, he picked surprise...as if that would get his nosy boyfriend off his tail.

Just as expected, Ghost sat up from his leaned back position and looked up at Roach with raging curiosity, his eyes brimming with excitement that was innocent and youthful as it was naughty. "Oh, a surprise, hmm...couldn't be a birthday..mine's not till August. Does it have to do with what's under that hoodie, eh? Or what's not?" Ghost's eyes glinted as he reached up and toyed with the zipper on the front, pulling it down a few centimeters.

Roach controlled his breathing and fought the urge to jump on Ghost with that face he was making. Either way, he didn't remove his fingers from the zipper. "Might as well not even guess, Simon." Roach mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Fine, I'm busy anyways, no time to play into your infuriatingly vague blue ballin' guessing game." Ghost retorted, slumping back into the cushions and retrieving his controller in one hand, the other patted at the seat next to him. "Sure you can't join me for a quick match, Team BuggyBoo show the wankers how it's done?" He asked, now rubbing the cushion in smooth, suggestive motions, playing it up with wriggled brows. There was always something more implied behind anything Ghost said, and right now it was nothing short of dirty.

Roach gnawed at his bottom lip and snapped his eyes away from the opening next to his warm and comfortable boyfriend, thinking an afternoon on the couch making out and playing video games was much more appealing than a stealth mission. "I really need to get going or I'll be late." Roach's voice was lined with strong regret for shooting down the offer, his hand rubbed anxiously at the back of his neck.

Ghost scoffed in disappointment. "No one will bloody play with me...not you, the cat...Soap...I'm a lonely Ghost fighting against a never ending siege of gits."

"Sounds like a typical multiple-player match..." Roach mumbled under his breath, "Simon, look, I'll be back in — less than two hours, OK? I'll even bring some beer home with me and we can play for hours...but I'm sure we'll find other ways to waste the night." He said, sweetening the words to the best of his ability with a soft, wicked smile, his fingers mimicked the move made by Ghost, tugging on the zipper.

The words seemed to placate Ghost, for his frown melted away into a heated smile. "Alright, LoveBug...I'm holding you to that. Quite literally when you get back. Can I at least have a kiss before you off and leave me here all by my lonesome?" Ghost asked hopefully, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his thighs.

"The Lonesome Ghost, hah..." Roach said, coughing out a laugh. He couldn't help but be amused by his own stupid puns.

Ghost had a carefully held blank expression at the comment, but there was crinkles forming on the edge of his eyes as he stared just on the edge of adoringly up at Roach. "Clever, Bug. Now, kiss?" Ghost pleaded softly, his blue eyes wide and shiny even in the darkened living room.

Roach gave him a short nod and bent down, placing a kiss on his boyfriend's lips that was far too chaste for Ghost's taste, leaving Roach to catch himself as Ghost slipped his hands behind the younger man's back and yanked him forward, his hands fell on Ghost's shoulders, he patted them a few times in an attempt to comfort the brooding Brit and stand up right. "I won't be long, promise." Roach said in a reassuring tone, leaving on last kiss on Ghost's lips before straightening himself back up, he twisted his upper half and heard it make a cracking noise.

"Fine, go already so you can come back..." Ghost grumbled with an flippant wave of his hand as he slumped back into the couch and picked the controller up, his eyes fixed on Roach the entire time he backwards walked to the front door.

Just as Roach swung open the front door and prepared to throw himself out of it, he turned his head back once more and caught Ghost blowing him a kiss, he did the cheesy hand motion of grabbing it and putting it in his pocket.

"I'll save that for later..." Roach told him with a wink. "Love you!"

"Love you too, you sappy Bug." Ghost chuckled, a affectionate grin was heavy on his features.

With a glance to his left, Roach spotted a pair of Ghost's black sunglasses laying on the small wooden table by the doorway next to a dumped pile of keys (most of which Roach had no idea what they unlocked) and a petite dish filled with Jolly Ranchers (Ghost's candy obsession). What could be more inconspicuous than a pair of sunglasses? He pondered for a moment if his boyfriend would notice the missing pair, but when he snapped his head back around, Ghost was fully enveloped back in his video game, his brows pinched together and his mouth pressed in a firm line, he knew then that sunglasses were the last thing on his mind. Roach smashed them on his face in a last minute rush as he all but ran out of the front door of their home.

---

All things considered, it wasn't the best time of the year to be dressed head to toe in all black, well it wouldn't have been a problem if it was an average cloudy, chilly day in Hereford, but the sun was fully blazing with a heat akin to Summer in the desert. Roach was from California; sun, beaches, and nearly perfect weather year round; moving to England was a big change for the former beach bum that was Gary Sanderson; his thriving sense of adventure and need to break out of the routine and typical life he was heading towards is what drew him to go on the solo vacation that brought him here in the first place. The bold and slightly maniacal British man with the (oddly) charming skeleton grin and mask to match is what kept him here. Falling for Ghost may have been instantaneous, and he never was a believer in that kind of stuff before, falling for the weather, on the other hand, took some time. He still wasn't crazy about it, but Ghost would pile the jackets and scarves on him in the middle of winter and wrap his arms all around Roach to keep him well and insulated. That was good enough for him.

Right now, he was sweating bullets as he walked down the gray, rustic stones on the Main Street sidewalk, his trainers thumped on the ground in a steady beat, the ray of sun hit him directly on the top of his disarrayed sandy hair. His hand lifted up and mussed around in the overgrown locks that fell on his damp forehead and pushed them back. If his mother were here, she'd lightly bicker about the length and probably end up sitting him down in the nearest chair and whipping out the pair of hair cutting scissors she kept in his purse at all times. The joy of being the child of a hairstylist. If she'd even make in to Hereford anytime soon, hell, he didn't even know when the next time he'd be back in Ventura, California again. The thought made a ping of sadness hit him in the chest, but he couldn't bring himself to even think of returning there for good. He loved this town, the smells of the local shops; soap stores, restaurants, and their coffee shop. The scenery was beautiful as well. Ghost wasn't an outdoorsy person, but Roach still managed to drag him out of the house to places other than the local pub, like the hiking trails or camp sites. It was almost impossible to convince Ghost to go camping again after the last time...let's just say they both came home from that trip unnervingly itchy. They discovered that they had found themselves on a patch of poison ivy. Roach blamed that completely on Ghost, he insisted that if they were being all "mountain man-like" for the weekend, they might as well go all the way. Somehow that ended up with Ghost flat on his back, and the position was flipped several times over. One awkward doctor's appointment later, they were left with a jar of gel they had to rub in on each other' asses for a week. Normally, that would've been a welcome task, but the burning and stinging that came with each touch of the other's hand could have been left out.

Tempting as it was, Roach refrained from pulling the black sweater over his head to get some relief from the near suffocating heat. It would take away from the whole "in disguise" look if he was left wearing the red as a stop sign shirt that was underneath it. But he needed something to relieve the heat, without putting on a strip show (Ghost would hate if he missed that). He spotted a drink cart on the corner street, conveniently right at his turn. There was a small line which left Roach with enough time to rummage through Ghost's black jeans (a tad tight on him. How Ghost managed to stay so fit on his diet of booze and sweets is mystery to all), hoping there was some kind of money hidden inside. He patted the front and back pockets with no luck judging how flat it felt on the exterior of the rough fabric.

On the edge of a mini panic, Roach glanced up and saw the line had dissipated and he was now the current customer. His face flushed as the grumpy plump man running the cart stared on at him expectantly. Clearly he was in the business of dealing with people. And so good at it.

"Um — I'll take a lemonade. Extra ice, please." Roach grunted and gave the man his best boyishly charming apologetic smile. While the cart's owner was turned away and making his order, Roach was pulling any and everything out of Ghost's pockets, desperately searching for an item that felt like a coin. His search was turning up empty, all he felt so far was a foil wrapped condom (had to be old since they haven't used one in months), jolly ranchers (of course) and a crumpled up list of songs that he shoved back down. With that shove, he moved his hands and buried them each into a back pocket, and finally, he came across some coins and slapped them proudly on the small table, feeling a huge sense of relief.

The apparently always angry looking man running the cart turned back around and pushed the icy lemonade in the plastic cup forward towards Roach. Just the sight of the water condensation sliding down the edges made Roach's dry mouth water, he slid the money to the man with one hand and reached for the drink with his other. But before the cold liquid could come into contact with his chapped lips, the cart runner made a grunt of annoyance, Roach's eyes snapped up.

"You're short..." The man said holding the coins in the palm of his hand, the lines in his forehead deepened, as did his frown.

At first, Roach was insulted and prepared to make a witty comeback from the viewpoint of a shorter guy, having acquired many since he was the shortest in their group (5'10/177.8 cm) but then he noticed the coins in the owner's hand. Roach choked back a whine as the man started take back the lemonade and he desperately pleaded. "Wait! Oh, shit, hold on — there's gotta be more in here somewhere." Roach squinted at the sign on the front to see exactly how much he owed the man and once again started uselessly rummaging the pockets of Ghost's jeans, inwardly cursing himself that he forgot to bring his wallet.

A small line had formed behind Roach and the cart runner had no patience for Roach's pointless search, so he snatched up the drink and turned away.

"No, come on, man just give me a second..." Roach mumbled in a half-hearted attempt to stall the man, but it was to no avail. That was when Roach smelled the familiar strong waft of over sprayed cologne and heard a harsh toned voice that he would know anywhere. Roach froze in his tracks.

"Here. I'm sure this will more than cover it." Said the man with the nasally voice that cut through the peaceful calm of the outside, slipping the cart owner a overly generous amount of pounds and retrieving the drink from the cart owner.

Roach reluctantly quirked his head just enough so that the man came into view; none other than Kingfish himself, Vladirmir Makarov, his blue and green irises piercing and beady as ever, his lip turned up in what may have been a smirk, but it looked more like a disgusted grimace, and his nose, well, it certainly appeared to be shaped slightly crooked more off to the side than the last time he'd been at RSASS and Shine, no doubt that it was Price's handy work. The same stuffy, over-priced 3 piece suit was still on him, almost the exact one from the last time Roach had seen him in the cafe, sans the blood stain on the crisp white collared shirt. Roach kept his expression mutual as possible, he felt a bitter resentment towards the Russian for all tormenting he'd done to Soap, but at the same time he was hesitantly grateful that he paid for the lemonade, if it was even for him.

"Well, are you going to take it?" Makarov nodded once at the lemonade.

Roach swallowed hard, on one hand, his thirst was out of control, on the other, Kingfish was holding the drink, but it wasn't like he could have poisoned it in the 10 seconds Roach wasn't watching, so Roach moved out of the line so others could take their order and walked slowly to the other end of the cart where Makarov stood with the oasis in a cup. He stuck out his hand and gripped the plastic with just the tips of his fingers, careful to be sure that they had no awkward contact aside from the eye contact. Makarov watched him the entire time with his hard stare that was impossible for Roach to read, but it wasn't pleasant, not that Makarov ever gave a vibe of sincere kindness.

"Um, thanks..." Roach muttered as politely as he could manage and gulped down half the drink in one go, he did his best to contain a moan but couldn't stop himself from saying, "Fuck me, that's good..." He intended to whisper to himself, but Makarov must have heard, for the smallest of smirks fell on his mouth, Roach did his best to ignore the creepiness rolling off of it and continued drinking, his heated body finally getting some refreshment and a much needed cool down.

"It's no problem, you'll be needing all the help you can get soon enough. With money, I mean." Makarov said, adjusting buttons on the front of his suit jacket and crossing his arms.

Roach squinted his eyes and lowered the cup from his mouth, wiping it with the back of his hand. "What the hell are you talking about?" Roach questioned.

"I've said too much, you'll see soon. Or maybe later." Makarov shrugged as if he was pondering just when and leaned in closer to Roach, whispering right into his ear, Roach resisted socking the man right in the exact place Price had. "You and your friends' little dream will be coming to an end." He then patted Roach on the shoulder and began to walk past him. "See you around, baker boy."

Baker boy? Oh he was gonna kill him. Ghost definitely would want to after learning he was touched him. Or throw Roach into a decontamination shower.

Both sounded like reasonable options.

---

The rest of the way to the bookshop, Roach was confused, and quite frankly, pissed off. What the fuck did Makarov mean by their dream "coming to an end". The words were definitely ominous and threatening from an ominous and threatening person. Whatever Makarov hoped to achieve from saying that to him, he couldn't be sure. Probably was guessing that he'd pass along the message to Ghost and Soap, which he would. At some point. But right now, things needed to get fixed and as normal as things got with them before that bomb got dropped. As if things were strained enough, tossing Makarov back in the mix was the last thing they needed.

The outside of the bookshop was deceitful for its interior, the warn rusty colored bricks and vintage swing open door disguised what was actually a modern and well lit charming shop. Tall metal bookcases housed thousands of books from wall to ceiling, plush, brightly colored lounge chairs and tables were arranged at the center of the store in modern fashion. Roach didn't bother to remove the sunglasses while he made his way to the cooking section. The shop wasn't overly crowded and no one really paid much mind to him dressed fully in black as he walked past them with his hands shoved into Ghost's jean pockets. Roach knew he had the right idea coming in disguise.

Rounding the corner of the cook book aisle, Roach instantly spotted Price at the end and jogged over to him, letting out a disappointed sigh as he gave him a look over.

Price was dressed in a pale blue t-shirt and comfortable looking jeans, of course he still had headgear, but it was a dark blue beanie instead of a boonie hat. Basically he looked nothing he was on a top secret meeting as he glanced over the book titles with meager interest. Roach specifically told him to look casual, yet disguised, he had no idea how this outfit could be classified as that. The first part he nailed, the second? Not so much.

"Wow, dude, nice going with the stealth outfit, I'd never be able to guess it was you." Roach muttered sarcastically. "You didn't put any effort into this at all!"

Price turned away from the books to face Roach, at once, his eyebrows rose significantly high and his hand clamped over his mouth, suppressing laughter, his pointer finger popped up and rested on the side of his nose. Roach let out a huff of breath and planted his hands on his hips, his foot tapped on the wooden floor while Price tried to get his muted chuckles under control.

"And this is funny because...?" Roach asked, rolling his eyes and his head a bit. Price seemed to stop chuckling, but then he glanced over Roach again and shook his head, giving out a bark of laughter. "Price!" Roach said, shoving Price lightly on the shoulder to shut him up.

"Was this whole thing necessary? I mean disguises, Roach, honestly? You look like you're about to break into every house in the neighborhood...or go to a gay bar with those bloody ridiculous sunglasses." Price informed him with a wide smirk directed at the shades covering Roach's eyes. Roach let out a "hmph" and stood his ground, keeping the glasses in place.

"Come on, man, you have to admit this is pretty cool! I planned this stealth outfit for so long, been dying to get the chance to use it. " Roach boasted, rounding his shoulders.

"A gay bar stealth outfit...this is what you've been working on for so long?" Price asked dryly.

"What's so 'gay' about?" Roach asked defensively, patting down the front of the hoodie.

"The jeans, the extra tight hoodie, all in black and the sunglasses. And the fact that you're wearing it pushes it a tad in that direction."

"Says the fellow gay..." Roach offered with a wave of his hand.

Price put up his hands in a gesture of agreement. "I'm not denying that at all." Price flashed a grin and chuckled again, leaning back into the sturdy metal bookcase, his arms crossed in front of his chest. "I hate to break it to you, but think you're a little too enthusiastic about this, lad." It didn't look like Price was particularly pained at telling Roach the blunt truth with his ever-present smirk.

"Is it the sunglasses, are they too much?"

"For someone like Ghost who wears sunglasses like an ordinary pair of glasses? No. For a bright ball of sunshine like you? Yes. It's drawing more attention than it is reflecting it. There's my constructive criticism you." Price said as if Roach openly asked for such criticism, he didn't, but it still made Roach more self aware and doubt the whole outfit. Dammit Price.

"Fine, fine." Roach grumbled, removing the sunglasses from his face and tucking them on the front of his shirt. "This remind you of Soap?" He said nodding at the sunglasses. Soap was famous for placing sunglasses on the front of his henleys...but never actually putting them on his face. Everyone figured it was some sort of odd fashion statement, Roach and Ghost thought it was ridiculous, and Gaz thought it was an invitation to pluck them off Soap at any given chance and wear them himself while saying 'Free samples!'

The name drop of Soap sent a small, soft smile to Price's mouth "Only in style, lad."

"Well, duh, it's not like I said I was the spiting image of him or anything." Roach joked, mimicking Price and standing across him in the book aisle, leaning on the shelf.

"Little too American for me." Price leaned forward a bit with a wink directed at Roach.

"Little too serious for me...won't even go undercover the right way. Ghost totally would have went over the top with his stealth outfit if I asked. This was supposed to be fun and risky." Roach mumbled, not enjoying that his well thought out plan was now rendered useless and made fun of on top of it all.

"Lad, I am under cover, alright. Didn't even tell anyone where I'd be." Price promised.

"Not even Soap?" Roach asked with narrowed eyes.

"Not even him."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it, mate. Soap has no clue where I am now or who I'm with. What about you?" Price inquired, arching a brow and itching the opposite one with his index finger.

Roach sighed and avoided Price's eyes, setting on some French cook book and once again shoved his hands into his pockets. "I, uh, couldn't avoid Ghost. He was sitting right there in the living room when I tried to sneak out."

"Surely you had a good excuse for leaving." Price's faith in him made Roach feel completely embarrassed for what he had to say next.

"Oh, yeah, totally. I told him that it...was a surprise." Roach answered lamely, resisting the urge to bang his head against the book case, especially when he saw Price's jaw drop in bewilderment.

"A surprise..that's honestly the best thing you could come up with?" Price asked rhetorically in a flat voice, rolling his eyes, mirroring a move done by his boyfriend many times. They were so alike, it was scary. Just like Soap had said about him and Ghost.

"Says the man who thinks jeans and shirt is stealth..." Roach said under his breath. "Dammit, it was the fastest way I could get out of there with the least amount of questions, OK? What was your great excuse, oh wise Captain Price? I doubt it was any better than mine." Roach scoffed and pushed off the book case, raising his brows with interest at Price before turning around and skimming over the titles.

"Told Soap I'd be busy today, just like he is with helping Yuri and Nikolai move boxes."

"You're kidding me, that's it? You said you'd be busy? Only?"

"Yes." Price answered simply.

"How the hell did you get out of explaining that?" Roach had a hard time believing that could be the truth, there must be more to it.

"Well..."

---

Soap was particularly needy in the evening hours, after the two of them had long days of work and no communication with each other. The moment they'd walk into the door at their place together (very literally together, their arms slung over the other, holding them close), Soap took Price by the hands and pulled his arms around him, the scent of coffee beans and cigar smoke heavy on Soap's skin. Price pushed his face further into Soap's neck just to pull it in deeper. His hands played down lower at the hem of his shirt, teasing fingers felt under, grazing on the skin of Soap's lower back.

Soap let out a low hum and pressed a kiss to Price's mouth, his own hands running up Price's back, digging in deep. "Planning on turning in early tonight, Price?" Soap asked when he pulled away, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"Depends what you mean by turning in...turning in, taking off, going down. Sounds more like it." Price replied, his lip quirking higher with each idea.

"Works for me." Soap kissed Price one more time before pulling him further into the house, right into the kitchen. "But first..." Their hands slowly slid apart as Soap walked over to the cupboard and fished out two glasses, setting them on the granite counter before examining the pint bottle of liqueur that was tucked inside his coat. "Don't know why in God's name some customer gave me this Irish Cream shite." Soap said with a laugh, twisting off the top.

"Must have foolishly assumed you were Irish." Price guessed, slinking behind Soap and nudging his face against Soap's just for the contact.

"If I had a pound for every time someone thought I was Irish, Price, we'd be living in our Majesty's castle. But instead, I have to serve these complete muppets who can't tell the difference between two distinct accents. Ah, well, at least they gave me booze. Even if it is coffee flavored...the same shite I'm around all day. Insulting knock off of my mum's Scottish Creme..." Soap shook his head with a frown, then looked to the ceiling as if apologizing to his late mother. "But I need all the drinks I can after dealing with fucking Ghost all day. God, it's nice to just be..home." Soap reached up and brushed his fingers over the side of Price's face, feeling his beard, and shrugged, lifting the bottle and filling up the two glasses. He took one and spun it around, lifting it for Price to take, he did with a soft smile, his other hand lifted the hat from his head and left it on the counter next to the bottle.

"I bloody hate coffee..." Price muttered, bringing the cup to his nose and sniffing the liquid.

"It's not like we'll have much time to enjoy this rubbish anyways, I have to be up bright and early to help Yuri and Nikolai move shite into that new branch they got for their homeless shelter. I still don't get how they were able to afford that."

"Weren't they barely able to make rent on their old shelter last month?"

Soap took a long sip of the coffee liqueur and tried to keep his grimace under control. Nothing like how mum made it. "Aye, that's what I don't get...they either got a huge donation or Yuri finally took Ghost's drunken advice and became a male escort." A deep laughter almost bubbled up in Soap's throat at the joke made by his estranged best mate, but just the thought of the Brit made a rush of irritation hit Soap, he took a longer swig of the booze, meeting Price's eyes over the edge of the glass.

Price reached up and clamped a hand on Soap's shoulder, knowing exactly what he was feeling at that moment, and rubbed in deep, watching as Soap's eyes all but roll back in his head at the rough pleasure the move brought. Enough to distract the Scot from all thoughts of his current fight with his friend, it did the opposite for Price. Everyday there was more evidence that Ghost and Soap needed to make up already. Not only was everyone else around them suffering from the scuffle, the two people in the center of it were feeling it the most. Roach told him about the secret meeting that they would have tomorrow afternoon. Just as if it were planned out perfectly, Yuri and Nikolai asked for Soap's help to move boxes and make coffee for the volunteers. The kind of help you brought on yourself when you have a set of biceps like Soap and can make a killer cup of coffee, and now Price could easily meet up with Roach with no questions from Soap. But it wasn't like he couldn't tell him anything.

"So, love..." Price started, taking in a slow breath and locking eyes with Soap.

"Hmm?" Soap answered in a low hum, his eyes half lidded, more than ready to be pushed into bed as he finished off the rest of his drink. But first things first.

"I'll be busy tomorrow too." With the statement, Price took Soap's glass from his hand and clasped their hands together, yanking him forward enough that his lips rimmed on the side of Soap's face.

"Oh? With what?"

"This and that..nothing of importance. Or more important than what's going on right here...right now." Price murmured into Soap's ear, nibbling it once, twice, and licking down the underside, all the way to his lips, capturing them in a hard kiss. Price knew that would only keep Soap distracted for a few more minuets, he needed a long term solution, and why not the thing that's been on his mind all day? Price removed his hands from Soap's and ran them up Soap's stomach, catching the shallow breaths the younger man left in his mouth and found his way to the button on the front of Soap's pants, popping it open slowly, letting his tongue work against Soap's all while pulling down the zipper. Now that he had Soap in a full aroused daze, he dropped to his knees and pulled the pants with him, pushing Soap's ass into the counter behind him. Soap licked his bottom lip and caught it between his teeth, watching Price tug down his boxers down his thighs till they hit the top of his boots.

"Might be busy tomorrow, but tonight I have all the time in the world for you..."

Soap's attention was fully focused on other things for the remainder of the evening, like blow jobs on a kitchen floor done by a man that's probably just on the verge of being too old to be knelled down on hard tile for long periods of time. And they didn't make it to the bedroom that night. The dining table would just have to do, until one of the legs broke off. Good thing Price was handy with more than dicks. Quoted directly from the mouth of Soap MacTavish, right before he lost all coherent speech when Price snapped his hips forward.

---

Price cleared his throat and shook his head to regain awareness of where he really was right now. "I told him I'd be busy...then distracted him." Price's voice sounded strangled, as if his thoughts were a million miles away in a place that was way beyond anything Roach should be aware of. And he had a good idea. Sadly.

Roach's lip curled up in disgust, he was one second from covering his ears. "Do I even want to know...?"

"Probably not, lad." Price closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slowly, letting out a breath through his nose, allowing himself to get lost in the previous night for a little while longer. Soap MacTavish did make it hard for a man to focus on anything other than wanting to do absolutely filthy things with him.

"You know, it's a little worrying how good you are at distracting people with...sexual acts...you have a lot of experience with that or something?" Roach couldn't stop the words from leaving his mouth, even if he regret them instantly.

Price's eyes opened slowly, he peered over at Roach, amused. "Thought you didn't want to know."

"I meant, I don't want to know the details of your sex life, per say, but the way you get out of explaining shit with sex is impressive...and a little scary. You haven't done that to Soap often, have you?" Roach asked skeptically, eyeing Price warily.

"What? No, of course not. Soap knows everything, except for this arrangement, of course. But with my ex-partner, sure. I learned it all from him in the first place. Hmm..do you think the middle of a book shop is the best place to talk about this bollocks?" Price adjusted the beanie on his head, his eyes wandered around the book shelves, clearly hoping that Roach would drop the subject.

"Aahh — yeah, you've got a point there." Roach felt a bit awkward for a moment, and started a mini pace in the small book aisle. "Pff, you're just lucky because your boyfriend was busy today, mine was sitting on the couch, extra sulky. And 'extra sulky Simon' is almost worst than 'bottomless pit stomach Simon'. No — wait, scratch that, sulky is so much worse. He makes me feel guilty about everything." Roach muttered, feeling the pang of guilt for leaving Ghost all alone just as strongly as earlier.

"Sorry, lad. Maybe you should have taken my route. Next time, phone me for advice." Price said, walking over and patting Roach on the shoulder. It was identical to the touch Makarov did to him earlier, but felt much different coming from Price. Where Makarov was curt and rough, Price was warm and friendly. Regardless, it did nothing but remind him of the very moment he was trying (and failing, mostly) to forget.

"I'll keep that in mind next time we're planning a behind the scenes intervention on our boyfriends..." Roach said with a half-hearted eye roll. "Maybe I would've if I wasn't already running late. Running into Makarov didn't help..." He blurted out, if he had any less self-control, Roach would have slapped his hand over his mouth and groaned. Well, he had enough restraint to suppress the former, not enough for the latter. A long, deep groan that held within it enough negative emotion, that it caused Price's head jerked back in shock, a look of anger crossed his features.

"Makarov. What'd the bastard do to you?" Price asked through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes, his shoulders bunched up in a defensive stance. If Makarov were here right now, Roach was certain there'd be monumental damage to the entire book collection and Makarov's face by Price's lead fist punches.

"He didn't do anything, exactly. Actually, he bought me a lemonade." Roach scratched the back of his head and watched as Price's face drastically changed from pissed to totally and completely lost, he looked like a gaping fish, but he promptly snapped his mouth shut.

"I can safely say I was not expecting that."

Roach sighed and shrugged. "That's not even the weirdest thing...he uh, said this; 'you and your friends' little dream is coming to an end'. It was seriously pretty creepy, I was surprised there wasn't thunder clapping in the background and some low D note piano music playing...the dude's a walking movie villain. He should consider growing one of those long, curly mustaches to twist when he's doing something evil.."

"'Dream coming to an end...'" Price repeated lowly, ignoring Roach's attempts at jokes and playing with Makarov's words in his head, it didn't take long for him to come to a conclusion. "Obviously he was talking about the coffee shop. He wants to shut it down," Price remarked way too breezily for Roach's liking.

The younger man shoved off the bookcase in a burst of movement and his eyes bulged from his skull. "What?! No, he can't take away our coffee shop! If I can't bake, I can't function properly! And we have no other ways to make money! How the hell do I make sure Ghost and me keep our place with a half completed degree in Fermentation Sciences, huh? And he's banned from working at every other place in Hereford for...poor choices!"

"Fermentation, what?"

"Beer making, basically."

"It all makes sense."

"Price, your sarcasm is not appreciated here! This is my life we're talking about here! And your boyfriend's too, in case you forgot. You know how much Soap loves his job."

"Calm down, calm down. I haven't forgotten, alright? Everything will be fine, lad. Makarov is a walking empty threat, he'd never actually do anything, no matter what he said."

"That's such bullshit. You nearly knocked him on his ass after he harassed Soap for months because you said you were worried he might be serious."

"Fair enough." Price couldn't deny it.

"So how can you tell me to stay calm, when he made a clear threat to me? To all of us?" Roach began pacing again and ran his hands through his hair.

"We can't do much about it right now...we'll just have to keep a close eye on what the slippery bastard is planning and hope we can put the stopper on whatever it is before it goes into motion. Unless it already has..."

Roach stopped and stared at Price, trying to convey his disappointment at his friend's reassuring attitude through his eyebrows, but he probably just looked constipated. "Thank you for the positive words, dude."

Price stared blankly right back at him. "What else do you want me to do, Roach? Go find him and punch him again?" Honestly, Price appeared happy at his own suggestion.

Roach crossed his arms and lifted his brows. "I wouldn't object, bet Soap and Ghost wouldn't either."

"You know who would object? My bosses at the college, I'm lucky enough I haven't faced any retributions for the last...incident. I shouldn't tempt fate by doing it again."

"Good thinking, but if he bumps into you too hard at the grocery store and you retaliate, I'm sure you could pass it off as self defense." Roach persuaded with a innocent smile.

Price chuckled, the two of them remarkably less stressed. "We'll see..better have my speech for that prepared well ahead of time just in case."

"Should we tell Ghost and Soap about Makarov now or later?"

"Later would be ideal, first we need to have them on speaking terms again. And not ones that end in school yard name calling." Price's eyes were dark with the memories of Soap complaining about Ghost for the 8th day in a row, Roach knew his pain.

"You're right. But hey — this could be one more thing to add to the list of why they need to make up! We could tell them about it the same night as the intervention." Roach suggested with a snap of his fingers.

"We are going to need all the motivation we can. I say that would be as good of a time as any to tell them. Now, lad, You'll have to tell me what this whole master plan is now, and what the bloody hell it has to do with the cook book section."

"Oh, right. Back on track. We're gonna have a get together. At Gaz's." Roach stated with a huge grin.

"What? This is your ingenious plan? How are we going to convince Soap and Ghost to be in the same room for extended periods of time?" Price asked with a heavy ring of doubt.

"I never said it was ingenious.." Roach mumbled, his enthusiasm taking a hit thanks to Price's dry negativity, but the positive younger man pushed on, trying to regain his former zealous. "Just think about it carefully. This is easy. What is the one thing that Soap and Ghost love besides us?" He paused and waited for Price to answer, his head lowered with each passing second, with a sigh and a wave of his hand that said "Really?", Roach filled in the blank for him. "Food. We'll lure them there with food, Price, with food. And we're not going to tell them that the other will be there. That's the most important part."

"We lie." Price concluded.

"Not much different than what we did today."

"Technically only you lied, I made Soap's thoughts travel else-where." Price countered, with a twist of a smile.

"Yes we all get that you two are huge sex freaks, but anyways, it's more of 'persuasive distraction', you're good at that, remember? Just tell Soap that Gaz invited the two of you to dinner, show up at his house and — Ghost and me will be there. Before one of them can run out, we shove them into the living room together and tell them we're not leaving until they talk it out!"

"Simple. But sometimes simple works best. Perhaps we could try to get others to come along as well, make it seem more..solid, less suspicious?"

Roach nodded along. "Couldn't hurt. I'll try to get Yuri and Nikolai to come too. If I say there's free booze and the chance for an entertaining show, there's no way they could turn it down."

Price brought a hand up to the side of his face and shook his head slowly. "Is everyone in our friend circle a borderline alcoholic?"

"I think so, Price, I think so."

"Then we use it to our advantage. Tomorrow night?"

"Works for me. Now back to the cook book thing, I need some fresh ideas for what to make, what about you?"

"Lad, all of my recipes are up here." Price pointed to his head. "Never had use for a cook book before, why start now?"

"Because you've probably made Soap the same dishes ever since you got together, right?"

Price was silent long enough for Roach's question to answer itself.

"Exactly, so come on, let's both try something new." Roach said, elbowing Price lightly in the side.

"Fine. But I'm staying as far away from Haggis as I can, I don't bloody care how much Soap says it reminds him of his childhood, I'm not touching goat intestines." Price said with a shudder.

"Couldn't agree more."

---

Roach made sure that everything was set in motion, then double checked, then triple checked, and, just to be safe, he made the call one final time to Price with the same question.

"You're totally sure that you and Soap will be there, right?" Roach asked, whispering into his cell phone as he glanced behind him, paranoid that Ghost had already come out of the house. On the other end of the line, Roach could make out a sigh and slapping noise, most likely Price smacking his own forehead in disbelief at the younger man's...worried nature.

"Lad, I told you not even 10 minutes ago that the plan is in motion. I've got that roasted fingerling potatoes rubbish dish you suggested I should make and Soap is with me, I repeat ScotHawk is in tow."

Roach nodded along and let out a breath of relief in the brisk, night air, his eyes snapped up to the streetlamp, somehow thanking it for things following the plan...so far. "Roger that, Captain P. Sorry to keep calling, fuck, I want this to go well, that's all. And Ghost loves potatoes, so he'll stay at least long enough to eat that."

"Ghost?"

"I mean...BooBoo. He loves potatoes." Roach corrected himself, once again shooting a look to the front door window to see if Ghost's shadow was visible.

"You're the one that insisted on call names for our own bloody boyfriends."

"We've all got call names, this is important."

"Except for you, funny how you seemed to avoid getting a ridiculous nickname."

"Like Roach isn't bad enough! Plus, I'm the one who came up with this whole mission, so I get to make the rules." Roach said in a rush, regretting the words when they left his mouth, he could almost perfectly picture Price glaring at him with a look of murder. "Oops. Never mind. But hey! I've got the food you said Soap would love, that strawberry chocolate dipped cheesecake and do you know how stressed I am that it won't even make it to halfway to our destination because Gho—BooBoo is a freakin' walking eating machine."

"Breath, Roach, breath. It's all going to work out, you'll see." Price told Roach in his most reassuring tone he could pull together, which wasn't nearly enough for the ever-fretting younger man. "Look, I've got to go, ScotHawk is finally done fixing his hair, so we're on our way to MelonCap's house now. See you soon. And Roach?"

"Yeah?"

"Relax, lad."

With that, the line went dead and Roach had to swallow down the literal ball of nerves that rose up in his throat when Ghost opened the door and stepped outside in the same moment, sending a grin over to Roach. His face was mask-less and Roach didn't have to resort to sexual bribes to get him that way. Apparently Ghost thought his hair, "looks like a sodding rock star, guess that makes you my groupie, Bug." Not that Roach was too fond of being refereed to as a groupie. Oh well. The jet black hair on the Brit's head stuck up perfectly in the middle, spiked and effortlessly angled just a touch to the left. If Roach wanted to start a mini argument, he'd inform Ghost that it was his handy work from that morning that made his hair look that damn good. But he held his tongue...for now and slipped his phone into the pocket on his jeans.

"Smells bloody amazing, LoveBug. Sure I can't have just one piece?" Ghost slunk up behind Roach and wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss to the side of his face before sniffing loudly at the covered glass dish in Roach's hand.

Roach grunted and narrowed his eyes at Ghost, lifting the dish away from his body, far enough that the scent of strawberries wasn't nearly as strong. Was this really a dish meant for Soap? It seemed like Ghost was driven more crazy about the idea of eating it than Soap ever could. "You and me both know that 'one piece' in your world means this entire thing. And for the millionth time, this desert has to make it to Gaz's place...then you can have at it all you want, BooBoo." Roach instantly went from rolling his eyes to them almost bulging out of his head, dropping the mission call name was not on his list of things to do tonight.

"What did you just call me? BooBoo? And I thought I was the one with the sappy nicknames. I hope I hear that one often, kinda adorable, not unlike you." Ghost chuckled and pulled out from behind Roach, practically beaming at the younger man.

Oh great. It all started as a joke, now Ghost was expecting him to call him that? But with the way Ghost's expression was softened and how his fingers brushed on the side of Roach's face made his any negative thoughts melt away. "Heh, OK, BooBoo, we should probably get on our way."

Ghost's thumb grazed down to the slight dip in Roach's chin, settling it there and pulling his face up gently, bending down himself, and kissed Roach firmly for a couple seconds. Roach remembered the first night the two of them spent together, Ghost told him he always wondered what a butt chin felt like. Thinking back on it now, that should have been his first sign to how much of an oddball this guy was, but at the time, he was a little more focused on how amazing it felt when Ghost touched and kissed him. "Sure thing, LoveBug, let's go." Ghost sure didn't look like he wanted to leave, his eyes still made contact with Roach's lips, his own bottom lip was currently being chewed between his teeth like all he wanted to do was take Roach and that cheesecake to the bedroom, once again tempting Roach when he was trying to not be late.

"Let's go." Roach affirmed, taking Ghost's hand from his face and lacing it with his own. Maybe this evening wouldn't be a total disaster after all.

---

15 minutes later, Roach discovered just how wrong he was.

Price texted him to say that Nikolai showed up at Melon—Gaz's place right after he and Soap had. However, Yuri hadn't tagged along...which was unusual to say the least. Nikolai and Yuri were attached at the hip for the most part, so Roach couldn't wait to hear what could have possibly separated them that night. As long as they weren't fighting, then it'd be fine. He wasn't sure if him or Price was up for planning another 'bro-vention'. One in a week is quite enough, thank you very much.

Walking up the steps to Gaz's place, Roach removed his hand from Ghost's and wiped his palm on the front of his jeans from the nerves. He contemplated praying to the almighty street light again that this night wouldn't end in homicide. Roach hesitated at the front door, his clenched fist rose up to rap on the wood, but he couldn't make his hand move, he froze.

Ghost stepped up next to him and waved his hand in front of Roach's face, a concerned look crossed his features. "Um, Bug, you gonna...knock?" Ghost asked, his eyes flicking from the covered cheesecake and back to Roach.

"What? Oh. Um. Yeah, I...just give me a minute." Roach took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he tapped his knuckle on the door three times and thought good and hard about grabbing Ghost's hand and running back home. But he stayed put and kept his eyes closed, not opening them or breathing until a whoosh of air was felt and the scent of cooked steak filled his nose.

It was weird not to hear Gaz's typical greeting to Ghost, the loud and obnoxious yelling of his full name, but Gaz knew that tonight called for carefulness, so he kept his welcome quiet. Or as quiet as it was possible for him.

"Hey mates! Come on in, now the party can really start." Gaz winked at Roach and waved a hand for them to enter through the front door. Ghost was oblivious to the entire display and appeared to be lured inside by the scent of potatoes and grilled meat.

Roach leaned in close to Gaz as Ghost brushed past them both and lifted his brows, a nagging concern filling his gut. "Soap?"

"Don't worry, mate, he's already downed two shots and is working on a lager, he's relaxed." Gaz gave Roach the 'OK' symbol with his fingers and once again winked as if that news wasn't troubling in the lease.

Roach's eyes all but bulged out of his skull. "Um, since when it is it a good idea for alcohol to be involved in these sort of interventions?"

"Soap is a happy drunk!" Gaz reminded him, memories of Soap slurring sexual remarks to Price while straddling the man filled the brunt of Roach's thoughts...unfortunately.

"But not when he sees Ghost. Oh God, this is gonna be a disaster. Let's just get this over with." Roach sighed and covered his face, pushing past a confused looking Gaz.

Gaz's quaint but comfortable house was filled with a mouth watering aroma that almost distracted Roach from the task at hand, but the sound a deep Scottish voice in the distance evaporated all those more pleasant and savory thoughts. Roach jogged down the entrance hall and entered the kitchen where Ghost already helped himself to a beer from Gaz's fridge, opening the can with one hand. A familiar, rumbling laughter from a familiar source caught his attention and stopped him mid-drink, he lowered the can slowly and turned his head in the direction of the living room. Before Roach could stop his boyfriend, he was already out of the kitchen and in the living room. Dammit, why did Gaz's house have to be so damn small coupled with Soap's broguish laughter that could be heard from miles away.

The yelling started right when Roach reached the doorway.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Ghost shouted, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at Soap who returned the gesture and sneer perfectly. Roach and Price exchanged a look of unease, though it was harder to read on Price's carefully molded expression. How could he possibly remain calm right now?

"Alright, who's fucking idea was all this, eh?" Soap shot a harsh look to Gaz, Roach, and settled on Price, waiting expectantly for there to be an explanation, his mouth pressed in a hard line, Ghost followed suit and glared at Price. Roach sucked in a breath, waiting for the moment that Price would throw him under the bus and pin the entire plan on him, which, to be fair, it was his idea from the start, but he wasn't looking forward to the moment Soap and Ghost found out. In his mind, Roach started to think of a laundry list of excuses to get himself out of the potentially unpleasant experience of being questioned ruthlessly by the infamous duo..Roach would never forget when they considered hiring on more help for 'RSASS and Shine' and the two of them escorted all the "F.N.B' (fucking new baristas) to the backroom (turned into a make-shift interrogation room) for hours...only to never follow through on hiring any of the twenty people that showed up. The only one they considered was a nice young lady who they said reminded them of Roach's little sister, the only problem was that she was one of the group of girls (and one guy) that ogled at Roach and Ghost making out daily (that's what Soap said anyways). Not really employment material at their fine establishment.

Price adjusted the hat on his head and shrugged, he didn't falter, instead he sent Soap a smile sweetened just enough for the younger man to relax his clenched fist. Holding his ground, Price cleared his throat. "Roach...and I discussed the plan last night. We're worried about you two being at each other's throats all the time, on edge. There's something wrong here and you and Ghost obviously need to sit down and have a heart to heart." Price's calm voice almost was enough to relax the blue what sized ball of tension in the room. Almost.

As if on cue, Gaz entered the room and stood next to Soap, clapping a hand his shoulder and looking about two seconds from laughing with the best sympathetic face a guy like him could pull off. "Mm, yeah, this is a 'inter-bro-vention'." Gaz added with a nod. So that was what this whole thing was called, Roach jotted the term down in his memory, hopefully he'd never have to bring it up again, but if he did, at least he knew what to call it.

Everything was turning into some kind of awful sitcom when Nikolai appeared from the bathroom resembling a miserable cat as he gazed around at everyone in the room, and asked with a confused tone. "Inter-bro..what? Da, I just came here for the alcohol and Roach told me there'd be an endless supply. God knows I need it right now." Nikolai said with a sad sigh, his shoulders slumped down, the frown on his face deepened. What was getting him so down? There wasn't time to ask at the moment, not with Soap and Ghost about to charge at each other's throats with deadly intentions.

"This is insane! We'd don't need a sodding intervention. We can go on with how things are." Ghost scoffed, regaining his defensive posture and avoiding staring at Soap.

No one bought Ghost's words for a second. Roach eyed Ghost closely. "Oh, so you're fine with never hanging out with your best friend again, Simon? You're ok with the fact that you two can barely be in the same room without being complete assholes to each other? You want that to keep going on forever? Hm?" Roach snapped, the past few weeks and the tension that surrounded the group of friends thanks to their arguing was exhausting at this point.

Ghost worked his bottom lip between his teeth, his face contorted in several different expressions ranging from annoyed to pained to perplexed and ready to walk out of the room. With a hand rubbing over his face and settled on his chin, he answered reluctantly. "I didn't say that exactly...I..."

That was all Roach needed to hear, his head turned to Soap's direction where Price stood directly beside him, a hand rested on the Scot's lower back. "And you Soap? You can't honestly tell me you wanna throw away an eight year friendship over a bunch of stupid shit?"

Soap ran his hand through his mohawk and shifted closer to Price, his words didn't come without a struggle. "...No."

Roach and Price gave each other a firm nod. "Then the two of you need to fix this. However long it takes, that's why there's food." Price informed everyone in the room of Roach's brilliant (once again, he never claimed that) plan while evading Soap's frustrated glare.

"And booze?" Nikolai chimed in hopefully, a finger raised in the air, his eyes shining in the florescent light of the ceiling fan's lamp. Never before had a person looked so eager to get wasted.

"No, Nikolai, that was for you." Price told him with a trademark soft smirk that appeared to be in attempt to comfort the obviously upset Russian.

Gaz stared longingly at the bottle of watermelon schnapps sitting on the coffee table, if you didn't know better you'd think he was gazing at his long lost love departing for some war, Price pursed his lips and breathed loudly out of his nose, clearly not shocked at the man's action.

"And for you, Gaz, for so kindly letting us use your house for this...inter-whatever-that-bloody-name-was." Price muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Gaz's demeanor dramatically changed from lost puppy to the happiest man on Earth. "Ah, thank you very much. Think I'll take this fine lady into the telly room. You coming, Nikolai? I heard there's a football game going on tonight. And I'm pulling for Scotland just for you, mate." Gaz grinned over at Soap while he retrieved the alcohol from the table and trotted to Nikolai, resting an arm around the sullen man's shoulders and leading him out of the room.

"Why not, let's go, my friend." Nikolai was heard as the pair made their exit, Gaz's enthusiastic voice echoing in the hallway as was the slapping noise, obviously he was attempting to comfort the man...or knock him out.

With the light heartedness of Gaz gone, the atmosphere was heavy with a heavy fog of awkward and nobody was willing to break the silence, shifting on their feet and avoiding Ghost walked over to Roach and leaned in close, speaking in a failed attempt of a hushed whisper.

"I'm not fucking talkin' to him, Bug, he's a complete git! I can't have a simple conversation without him getting pissy with me." Ghost breath hit Roach's face smelling strongly like beer and potatoes...when the hell did he find time to dig into food in the 5 seconds Roach wasn't in the kitchen? Then again, with Ghost, nothing should be surprising. When the man smelt food, he was motivated and would stop at nothing to get it.

"Yeah, I'm standing right here, Ghost." Soap mumbled, face blank, his blinking exaggerated.

Ghost's eyes widened as if he had a brilliant idea, he spun around and jabbed out a finger in Soap's direction.

"You know how we're gonna handle this?" Ghost snapped his fingers. "Arm wrestling. Bring it on, mate." Ghost moved to the kitchen table that looked wobbly and unstable at best, and sat down. He pushed the sleeve of his black shirt up above his bicep and rested his elbow in the surface, closing and opening his fist.

"Are you kidding me, Ghost, I bench double of what you do." Soap boasted, not impressed with the muscle on display.

"Keep talking MacTavish, you're going down.." Ghost clicked his tongue and wiggled his brows at Roach with a huge aura of confidence.

Price and Roach turned to stare wordlessly at each other, their mouths gaped open at the display and turn of events. How did this plan go from talking to arm wrestling? Blame it on the alcohol. Soap let out a humorless huff of laughter and brushed past Price, joining Ghost at the table. He pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it over to Price, who somehow caught it mid-shock. Removing the jacket revealed Soap in a white t-shirt, tight on his biceps that were visibly larger than Ghost's, but the dark haired Brit simply puffed his chest up and flexed, as if to make his toned arm bulge up higher. Needless to say, it still was dwarfed compared to Soap's. They didn't call him Mr. Muscles for nothing. Or that's what Gaz called him. If he wanted to get punched and feel the effects of said muscles.

"You're gonna regret this, Riley." Soap taunted, placing his own elbow on the table and lifting his forearm up, flexing the muscle, the veins protruded out. Roach could swear he saw Price giving Soap bedroom eyes at the movement. Great.

"Words are pointless when I'm here to bring the pain and humiliation with my fists."

"You just fucking make that up?"

"So what?"

"Such a bloody numpty, I swear..."

Price and Roach moved closer to the two men in order to get a better look. "This isn't exactly what we planned to happen.." Price said, crossing his arms and shooting Roach a apprehensive look crossed with arousal, reading; 'I don't know whether to fear that Soap will break Ghost's arm and Gaz's table, or throw him over the table and rip his pants off.' Roach really hated his mind sometimes.

Roach shrugged lightly. "Er, maybe it's just how they need to work it out?"

"Right...a trip to the hospital is exactly what will fix this." Price muttered sarcastically, adding something about 'amateur wrestling' under his breath.

"They both were really drunk that night, come on, Price, that was one time! And Ghost only had a minor concussion."

"He claimed that he saw the pearly gates." Price said as if it explained everything.

"That's the name of the restaurant we went to for our first date."

Price was silent for a long period of time, long enough that Roach began to doubt his own words. "...Right."

Dropping the conversation that they'd clearly never reach an agreement on, they turned their attention back to Ghost and Soap. The two were already locked in a vice grip grasp, their arms trembling with effort as they tried to one up the other, not above name calling.

"Come on, Riley, you...know..you can't win this..." Soap grunted.

"Pft, 'ell I can't, ya wanker...Roach's kid sister could...kick your arse." Ghost gritted his teeth and put all effort into putting all his strength into shoving Soap's hand down, it only lowered a few minor centimeters.

"She actually might be able to, she told me she's taking MMA now last time we talked, top of her class." Roach announced proudly with a goofy smile. No one paid him any mind besides Price, who's head turned slowly over to Roach, raising a serious eyebrow and breaking the younger man out of his moment.

The quiet took over again, no more smack talking, no more backhanded comments, just the sound of the wood dangerously creaking and the struggled grunts both men made with the effort to get the other man's hand down. With a final hard push, Soap slammed Ghost's hand to the table with a loud thwack, making Roach jump and Price's other brow raise up to meet the other one.

"How in the hell?!" Ghost shouted, shaking his hand in front of him and grimacing.

"Remember that time your boyfriend almost fell out of that second story window when he was pissed out of his mind? Who caught him? That's right, I did. Can't help I'm blessed in the bicep department, unlike you." Soap bragged with a grin, pushing off the table and standing up. Price couldn't stop himself from smirking at Soap, and moving in to kiss the side of his face. Soap playfully flexed his muscle and gave Price a look that was far too dirty for Roach to stare too long at.

"Brag all you want, this didn't fix any bloody thing...I'm all out of ideas." Ghost said with a slight pout, his brows pulled down in miserable defeat. Roach moved behind him and brought his hands up to Ghost's shoulders, massaging them to ease him of the agony of defeat, he gave him his best boyish smile, the one that always ended up making Ghost crack his own smile. The edges of Ghost's mouth turned up mildly. A slight success.

"You two are going to do the one thing that got you into this mess in the first place. Talk. But this time, instead of it being a bunch of bollocks, you're going to work through whatever the actual issue is. Roach and I will leave you two to that." Price announced, pecking Soap quickly on the lips and nodding in the direction of the exit to Roach, who responded by pointing a finger at his own chest and raising his brows, mouthing the word 'Me?'. Price sighed and nodded. "Yes, lad, they need to work this out on their own. Clearly when we're around it becomes all about impressing us and seeing who's the 'alpha male'. Not the healthiest of resolutions."

"What?!" Soap and Ghost yelled in unison, Ghost's hands slapped on the table.

He had a point, Roach couldn't avoid that fact. "Price is right. Nothing is going to get better if you guys don't talk about it. We'll be back later." Roach affirmed, squeezing Ghost's shoulders one last time and bending down to give him a parting kiss before joining Price in the doorway, shooting Ghost a look of reassurance.

"And please, let's have this end as peacefully as possible. Soap, try not make Ghost almost die this time." Price urged with deadpan expression, just on the verge of pleading. With that, Price and Roach left the room, leaving Soap and Ghost staring at anything but the other.

The air wasn't as tense as before, perhaps Ghost's idea of an arm wrestling match wasn't the worst, it did muffle the tension...slightly. Soap picked at his scarred eyebrow and let out a woosh of air, settling back down in the chair across the still pouting Brit tapping his fingers on the mahogany table top.

"Are we actually gonna talk or just sit here in silence admiring Gaz's antiques?" Soap asked, fiddling with his dog tag. When his question was met with only more silence, his fist came down lightly on the table. "Never thought I'd see the day when you'd shut the hell up."

"There you go trying to bring me down again..." Ghost furrowed his brows and rolled his eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Soap shot back defensively.

"You're always getting angry with me, never letting me have any fun, and you're way too uptight like something's bothering you lately and you're taking out on me instead of dealing with your own bollocks. You can't be my brother and my mother at the same time, mate." Ghost told Soap, brash and honest.

Now things became more clear to Soap. He certainly never expected Ghost to come out and say exactly what was wrong that damn fast. The quiet washed over them again as Soap mulled the words over in his head.

"So this is all my bloody fault? The way you're so intrusive with my personal life making your comments and smoking in the house when you know it's bad for Hellraiser's asthma?"

"Ok, that last one was a mistake. Happened once. Once. And the first? Please, mate, I've always been like this! You've just never been in a serious relationship since we've been friends so you haven't seen this side of me in the extreme."

"It's fucking irritating."

"Well so is your consistent grouchyness."

Soap sighed, frustrated and rubbed his forehead. "This is helping, spiting words back and forth at each other like this."

"Yeah, but I gave my reason, you haven't explained why you have a stick up your arse every time you're around me."

The procrastination may have reached its expiration date now. Days upon days of delaying telling Roach and Ghost about his plans to move in with Price were stressing him out, but the more he thought about it...there was something else behind it.

"I - I should be telling you and Roach this at the same time. But. I'm...moving out."

"...What? You're moving? Where?"

"Yes. You see, on our anniversary, Price asked me to move in with him. I said yes."

"Wait. You've been keeping this a secret for nearly two and half weeks? Are you shitting me? How does that explain the exceptional prick you've become? Shouldn't moving in with Price make you happier than Gaz after Yuri gave him that watermelon tattoo shaped like boobs on his arse?"

"I am happy. I am. Moving in with Price is all I've wanted for months. But...I feel guilty." Soap confessed with difficultly, simultaneously suppressing laughter at the thought of Gaz's ink.

"Guilty? About what?" Ghost asked, confused, his head twisted to the side.

"You don't have any family and I've always felt like your older brother, protective, I don't want you to think I'm..abandoning you like they did." Soap said softly.

Ghost's eyes flicked back to the table, his face neutral and impossible for Soap to read. Patience was never Soap's best trait so waiting for Ghost's response was edging on impossible.

Finally Ghost looked back up at Soap. "That's why you've been a sodding prick to me? Because you didn't want to hurt my feelings? Bloody hell that makes no sense..." Ghost asked, his face twisted into the wildest look of perplexity, his eyes flashed with amusement. The more Soap thought about it, the crazier it sounded.

"Ok, ya got me there, mate. It does sound a little weird." The two of them shared a hearty laugh; Soap's deep and rooted in his chest, rattling his ribs, Ghost's loud and boisterous in the previously silent room, his head thrown back. It was the first time in what seemed like forever that they were laughing together, not at the expense of the other person. It was just like old times. After the laughter died down, Soap shrugged and pursed his lips. "Guess I was so worried about how you'd react that I ended up acting like this so you'd maybe be happy I'm moving out instead of thinking I was leaving you and Roach behind for a new life. I don't know, it doesn't sound reasonable now that I say it out loud."

"You bloody git, when the hell do you ever make sense? It's like that time when we worked at that flower delivery shop and we mixed up the funeral arrangement and baby shower bouquet, then you had the brilliant idea of telling me to put on my skull mask and deliver it like I was the Grim Reaper and it was impending doom. Fuck...was that job number 20 we got fired from?"

"22, actually. And I think I was still drunk when I told you to do that. Lesson learned. Never deliver flowers under the influence of alcohol."

"Or work at an office."

"Ghost...that job failed because you ended up fucking every single one of our co-workers or their boyfriends and husbands...including the boss. Then, they somehow got the idea in their head that you and I were male prostitutes and another sodding job.,.gone like that."

"That job was terrible anyways, I couldn't wear my mask with a damn suit. But, hey! It all worked out in the end! We got to follow our dreams and open a badass coffee shop, we both meet the loves of our lives, and we're rolling in money and adoring fans. Life's pretty damn good." Ghost said with a wide, genuine grin that was infectious, Soap chuckled and smiled himself. Who would've guessed, Ghost was right...life was fucking fantastic.

"Yeah, you're right. Look, I'm sorry for being such a prick. But, uh, you're really not upset about me moving out?" Soap needed the confirmation to move on.

"Apology accepted, mate. And hell no, I'm not upset that you're moving out! You and Price need your private time and so do me and Bug. Besides, Mama MacTavish will never be too far from his children." Ghost teased, putting up his fist and waited for Soap to bump his own against it. Soap's mouth turned into a sideways grin as he lifted his fist and nudged it right into Ghost's. "Bros?"

"Bros for life, mate. Fucking hell, you're never gonna let me live down the fanny pack thing making me 'mama MacTavish', are you?" The deep seeded regret Soap felt for wearing that fanny pack to the amusement park one time haunted him to this day. He'd defend that he still got laid when he wore it, but that argument seemed pointless at the moment.

"Ha! Not a bloody chance, you wanker."

"Oh for fuck's sake..." Soap groaned, rubbing his palm over his face. "I want things to go back to the way they were before. You were always intrusive, sloppy, and a bit of a numpty arse, but maybe just cut it back a little bit when it comes to me and Price's love life, particularly on announcing it in public, at work, and I promise not to jump on your arse about every little thing?"

"You got yourself a deal. But...?" Ghost lifted his hand, waiting for more.

"And I promise to chill the fuck out now that I know you aren't absolutely heart broken and totally helpless around the house since I'm moving."

"Wait, what about Roach?"

"Roach, nah, I knew he'd be fine. It was just you I was worried about, what would you do without 'Mama MacTavish'?"

"Ok, it started as a joke, but now I think you're really enjoying that title a little too much, mate, it's creeping me out.." Ghost backed up in his chair and frowned bit.

Soap laughed at the outrageous face Ghost was making. "There is a thing called 'a sense of humor, Ghost..."

"Woah, hold the sodding phone, you found yours again? This is spectacular news! Shall we get our sexy bloody boyfriends and drink on it?" Ghost asked, moving his elbows back on the table.

"Hah, sounds good. Numpty." Soap said, stretching his arms above his head and placing his hands behind it.

"Love you too, Fuck twat."

"You too, ginky eejit."

"Barmy nutter."

"Scabby twally."

"What in bloomin' hell does that even mean?"

"It's what you are, you tosser. Look it up and your face will be right next to the words. Exact picture would be the morning after that wicked hangover when you realized you once again posted pictures of your arse on twitter." Soap's face started out grouchy, his brows pulled down as low as possible, but they quickly rose to near the middle of his forehead, a cheeky, all teeth smile on his face.

The opposite reaction happened with Ghost, his face turned white at the dreaded memory he'd never live down. Another reason Ghost would never be able to get another job. People don't exactly jump at the chance to hire a man that has his ass posted all over the internet...well, there was that strip club that sent him an offer. Roach flipped about that one though.

Ghost nodded his head with a grin, laughing at the insult and unpleasant memory, which was basically their way of speaking kindly to each other, then cupped his hands around his mouth. As a precaution, Soap plugged his ears and gave Ghost a nod. "Oi!" Ghost yelled loud enough to nearly shake the walls of the house. Soap shot a worried glance to the table that was already on the verge of collapsing.

From just outside the dining room, little to Ghost and Soap's knowledge, Price and Roach were already peeking in on their conversation. Roach didn't flinch when Ghost yelled for he was more than used to Ghost's loud and sometimes obnoxious tone. Price, surprisingly, jumped just a tad. Not that he'd admit it.

"See, I told you everything would get worked out..they're back to insulting each other like siblings again. Just like old times." Price said, patting Roach on the shoulder and smiling with a closed mouth at Soap, practically glowing. If Price was even capable of that sort of thing. He was.

Roach literally felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders, suddenly he felt so light that he nearly tripped while standing still. Or that could have been the four shots of Gaz's watermelon booze and chugged beers. Whatever it was, Price steadied him and set him up right. Somehow, Price kept himself from drinking anything more than half a glass of whiskey. Which meant he had to be more nervous than he was letting on.

"We did good, huh, Price? We're fucking brilliant. Like, if we didn't do this, man, they'd never would have shut the fuck up and made up. We did good." Roach slurred despite his best effort to sound like a normal human being.

Price chuckled and tore his eyes away from scene of Soap and Ghost having an arm wrestling re-match, albeit a more friendly one, and nodded firmly. "Yep, lad, we did good."

Not even two heartbeats later, Roach, Price, Gaz, and Nikolai were in the dining room, the latter half wide eyed and concerned. Price appeared to be over looking Soap for any types of injuries, Soap gave him a serene smile to assure him that everything was OK. The smile was enough to lighten the load on Price's shoulders. He walked up behind Soap's chair and offered a hand to help him up, Soap felt that warmth in his chest at the sight. The hand that was his to hold when times were tough, when things were uncertain, or when you were just happy as you could possibly be. He clasped his hand in Price's and was lifted up and brought into an embrace, Price's face rested in the nook of Soap's neck, his mouth right by his ear.

"How is everything?" Price asked in his deep, raspy voice, making Soap shiver just the slightest.

"We're in the clear."

"Good." Price pressed a kiss to his ear lobe, then trailed it down his jaw and to his lips. "Knew you could patch things up. Always believed in you two. A little misunderstanding wouldn't break apart your friendship...or...brotherhood. Both."

When Price and Soap turned their glances to Ghost and Roach, they were met with Roach on Ghost's lap, full blown making out with him in plan view of everyone. Just like old times indeed.

Soap cleared his throat and turned in Price's arms, staying in the hold and resting his palm on the older man's back.

"Ah, little Sanderson there downed about half a bottle of watermelon schnapps back in the TV room, did his best cheerleader impersonation, then chugged about 3 beers. He's enter 'wild Roach' mode." Gaz explained almost scientifically. Booze and the affects of it are a science in his eyes.

"Da, and I thought I was the one who needed to get wasted tonight." Nikolai mumbled, swallowing down the remnants of his pint sized bottle of Vodka.

"What's wrong, mate?" Soap asked Nikolai, heavy concern lacing his voice.

"It's...Yuri..and why he isn't here tonight.. He had a date. More important than being here with me...or his friends. Вот дерьмо."

"Hold up, Yuri has a date? I thought that you two..." Soap started quietly, moving his hand to Price hip and rubbing gentle circles.

"So did I..." Price said under his breath.

Nikolai didn't hear anything and instead plopped on the couch with the bottle of vodka in his hands, frowning at the floor, his backwards cap fell down a touch and covered his eyes. He was a pathetic sight to say the least. Everyone, besides Ghost and Roach who were obviously more involved in other matters, stared at Nikolai until they heard loud, deep snoring coming from his mouth.

Roach tore his mouth away from Ghost and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and started breathlessly, "Glad you guys worked it all out, because we've got bigger problems heading our way..." A grimace flashed on his face as he stumbled off Ghost's lap. All attention was once on the young America who did his best to stand up without falling right back into Ghost's lap. Soap, Gaz, and Ghost look on questioningly, but Price already knew exactly where this was going and clenched his jaw. "It's Kingfish. The fucker's not finished with us." Roach's sentence was interrupted with a hiccup, Ghost patted firmly on his boyfriend's back to quell the twitch, though his hand stopped the moment the code-name 'Kingfish' was dropped.

"What?" A chorus of shouts filled the room, except from Nikolai, who despite the uproar, was still in deep sleep, his head resting again the back of the couch, his mouth wide open, loud grumbling snores falling from it. The bottle of vodka still in his hand dangling off the couch, somehow still held in a vice grip.

Almost as if the words finally hit his ears, Ghost spun Roach around and shook his shoulders lightly, his blue eyes boring deep into the younger man's bright green ones, wide and glossy. "Did that bastard hurt you, LoveBug? So help me I'll kick his fucking teeth in." Ghost asked urgently, his fingers prodded all along the side of Roach's face, feeling his noise, checking his eyes and under them, lifted his jaw up with a finger and examined. He was about to lift up Roach's shirt to check for injuries, but Roach stopped him with a hand. Apparently a part of him was still sober enough.

Soap clenched his own fist as well, the rising anger that was always brought on when Makarov's name was dropped bubbled to the surface. Price looked down at him, feeling the waves of tension rolling off Soap, and gave him a strangled smile, covering the tight fist with his hand.

"No, no. It was words. Only words. All I know is we need to all be getting along and sticking together, have each other's backs because Makarov sent a threat our way. One that tells me we're gonna need our friendships to make it through. Holy shit, are we living an episode of My Little Pony?" Roach snickered, losing all the seriousness in his voice.

"Roach, we're waiting, what did the muppet say?" Soap demanded, his jaw tightened and eyes blazing with a kind of fury only brought on by a certain man.

"He said, uh, that our little dream is coming to an end." Roach explained, feeling nauseated after the laughter died down.

"The coffee shop." Ghost said immediately, sharing a look with Soap, the two of them plotting violent things.

"...Goddamn I need some strawberry cheesecake. At least half of it." Soap grunted. Apparently planning revenge made Soap very hungry.

"Buggy, tell me everything that fucker did to you."

"Simon. I'll tell you later, I'm fine. Food first. I should eat or I'm gonna have the worst hangover ever." Roach batted Ghost's worried, searching hands away and craned his neck in the direction of the kitchen.

"Or fall out of a sodding window again with Soap being the only one strong and sober enough to catch you?" Ghost teased, distracting his own self from the mention of Makarov with the joke and the adorable pouty look Roach gave him in response. All the others in the room (apart from the passed out Nikolai) began chuckling at Roach's expense, Ghost and Soap being the loudest.

"Oh very funny, I'm still traumatized of two story windows, thank you very much." Roach grumbled, crossing his arms and shooting a glare at Ghost.

"Oh come on, LoveBug, it's just a joke. M'sorry." Ghost apologized sincerely, though still smirking slightly, and leaned over, kissing Roach on the cheek. "Now let's all go to the kitchen, I have a toast to make!" Ghost announced, all eyes in the room landed on Nikolai's loudly snoring form. "Er...all of us except for Nikolai." He corrected.

Gaz's small kitchen was cramped with everyone in it, but they managed to squeeze in nonetheless, a glass of whiskey (or watermelon schnapps) in their hands. Roach passed on the glass of booze and snatched up a bottle of beer instead, grinning sloppily at Gaz while he took it from his fridge. Soap pressed himself as close to Price as possible, a smile on his face that never left since his talk with Ghost, but it was different when directed at Price, softer, his eyes crinkling all the more on the edges, the warmth spread throughout and was infectious. Price couldn't keep his lips off of Soap's face, kissing his forehead, nose, each side of his mouth, then his lips, making it last a few sweet seconds...until was interrupted by both Ghost and Gaz clearing their throats.

"Can you two wait until after my toast before you go at it?" Ghost said, amusing him and Gaz...even Price. Soap rolled his eyes, but not with anger and waited for Ghost to continue, not before stealing one last kiss from Price, leaving him with a wide grin on his face, his hat almost flying off from the ferocity.

"Go on, Ghost." Soap said, he stopped himself from sticking out his tongue like a child, but did grin wickedly.

Ghost seemed to approve of the PDA display, grabbing Roach on the ass to signify this, Roach was too busy staring at the top of his beer can to notice. Gaz did, however as his face turned into a cringe as he downed half of his schnapps before the toast even began.

"To Soap and Price's new found privacy. Where they can fuck wherever they want without me and Buggy walking in on them! May they enjoy hours of kinky sex in their love nest. Congrats on moving in together, mates." Ghost walked over put an arm around both Soap and Price's shoulders, grinning at them and lifting his bottle of lager up and making effort not to laugh at the peeved face Soap was making. Price, on the other hand, was shaking his head and laughing.

"To Soap and Price!" Roach lifted his beer can in the air and brought it back down, taking a huge gulp of beer. Then the words made their way to his consciousness and the beer flew out of his mouth and all over his unfortunate victim, Gaz. "Wait. Soap is moving out!?"