Mav is the type of person who, after turning 40, starts responding to everyone younger than him with phrases like "Yeah, when I was younger, it wasn't done like that," "during my times, you," or "kid, after all the life I lived." To which Ice swiftly responds with something like to a christ's sake: "Your times? "Do you mean last week?"
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Ok this is the little fae!Soap/fae!Ghost/Love piece I was working on that was getting away from me. Disaster throuple, but in a wholesome sort of way.
Soap is good with the baby. Of course Ghost knew he would be, trusted Soap with his life, but it was still reassuring to see him so gentle with the little flower. Bouncing the baby in his arms with a grin, wiggling his fingers until she grabs at them. It’s sort of domestic. Ghost hasn’t had a house this full in, well, not since Tommy was alive.
“When dae ya think her petals are gonna come in?” Soap asks. You shrug, run your fingers along the baby’s brow. It’s not exactly strange, but- Ghost doesn’t know, can’t put a name to the feeling. Soap fits into life with you both so easily. He’s never seen the man trade ties so easily with anyone outside of their circle. Even you had commented on how quickly he was able to cross the flat's threshold.
“Who knows. She’s just a bud, she’s got plenty of time,” You lean to kiss the baby’s forehead, hardly bothered by Soap holding her. That’s another thing that’s surprised Ghost. You’re not standoffish by any stretch of the word, in fact he’s used the phrase “overly friendly” to describe you too many times, but you’re not this touchy with everyone. Your personal space bubble seems to include Soap the same way it includes him.
“Aye, suppose that’s right,” Soap hums. You tickle Karma's tummy, kissing her little fingers when they grab for you. You look up at Soap, then over his shoulder to meet Ghost's eye, Ghost feels a strange spark of... something in his chest. Not jealousy exactly, but something cousin to it.
It's enough to make Ghost step towards the couch, to settle his hand on Soap's head before leaning in to kiss you. You tip your head back for him and Ghost feels you smile against his lips. Nothing to worry about, you're as sweet and pliant as always. Your lips move against his with a softness Ghost has only ever had in his dreams, pulling back to murmur a quick "love you" against his mouth before your attention is turned back to the baby.
Ghost ruffles Soap's hair, tipping his head back with a gentle tug to get the Scot smiling. “‘Bout time you learned how to change a diaper Johnny,” Ghost tells him, scooping the baby out of his arms. You giggle and wave Soap off to follow him as he stands from the couch.
“Anno how to change a diaper,” Soap rumbles, following despite his insistence.
-
"Cannae believe such a little thing makes so much shite," Soap grumbles, snapping the onesie back together, echoing Ghost's thoughts back to him. That's one thing he certainly wasn't prepared for in this entirely unprepared for surprise of an infant.
"Swear we almost took 'er to the 'ospital once, thought she'd shat half her body weight." Ghost smiles cleaning his hands off with a fresh baby wipe. He tosses it in the little bin next to the changing table, and gives Soap a firm pat on the ass as he turns away. A thoughtless affectionate gesture, one Ghost has done countless times on you, much fewer on any of the 141.
Both men freeze.
“Johnny,” Ghost warns.
“Simon,” Soap grins.
The baby on the changing table wiggles, kicks her little bootied feet. Ghost glances at her, and in an instant Soap takes off running. Ghost makes a strangling motion after him and points a finger at his daughter.
“Stay,” He tells her seriously, before turning to go after Soap.
Soap skids past you as you exit the bathroom. You turn to watch him vault over the living room couch before Simon races after him. It’s not the strangest thing that’s happened, you suppose. Weren't they supposed to be changing Karma? You make eye contact with Soap as he ducks out of Simon’s reach and decide it’s not your business. You’re going to check on the baby you’re sure they left somewhere they shouldn’t have. Soap beats you to the nursery door and scoops you up before you can reach turn the knob, holding you in front of him like a shield.
“Ghost spanked me,” He tells you quickly. You give Simon a confused look.
“It wasn’t a spank, it was a pat,” Simon clarifies, and you think that doesn’t actually help your confusion at all.
“Is it open season on Soap now? Where’s the baby?” You’re undecided on which of those is more important. You haven't heard crashing or crying, you assume the baby is safe for the moment.
“Open what?” Soap asks behind you.
“She’s fine,” Simon stresses at the same time. You roll your eyes, not entirely convinced. Soap kicks the door behind him open and peaks into the nursery, you twist to look over your shoulder, pleased to see your baby kicking her feet on the changing table. Thank God she hasn't learned how to roll over yet.
You swat at Soap's arms to be released, at the same moment Ghost scruffs him. Two firm hands leave you to grab at another. You scurry to pick up the baby while the boys are having it out. Soap scuffles, grabbing Ghost's wrist to try and get his hand off his neck, Ghost growls a warning loud enough that Karma sniffles. The baby's eyes growing watery as she scrunches her tiny nose and prepares to make her displeasure known. You shush her, bouncing her gently as you lay her head against your shoulder.
"Non, non, mon petit chou," You gentle, "Daddy's not mad at you." You glare at the grown ass men wrestling like children. Ghost has Soap in a head lock, and is looking at you like you're supposed to solve that.
"What'd ya mean open season?" Soap asks, his voice muffled by Ghost's grip.
"We're gonna hunt you for sport," Ghost deadpans.
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