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Soap wasn’t offended, per se… but he was frustrated. It seemed like everywhere he turned, someone had something to say about his features, his tail, and how his ears swiveled. The recruits wouldn’t dare say anything within earshot, or at least, what they believed earshot was. But they seemed to forget that with canine ears comes canine hearing, so he heard it all anyway.
There were some other hybrids, too, but they were still relatively rare. One of the recruits was a bird hybrid and had special training outside of her regular regimen to learn to use and protect her wings in combat.
If anyone said anything about it, they would be swiftly and carefully handled. Hybrid bias was not to be tolerated.
But Soap was a sergeant. He was a leader. He had to set an example and couldn’t show weakness or upset; he had to handle everything with a level head and dignity, and he did.
It still hurts sometimes.
His tail was tender where it was belted to his waist for yesterday's mission. It was a simple mission for intel, not anything really serious, by 141 standards, and there were no injuries. Well, no real injuries. His tail may hurt, but it’s not like he could go to medical for that.
He leaves it out today, as he usually does when he’s around the base, and heads for the commons. A slow morning for a day off after getting home at about two am.
Ghost is at the counter already, scrolling on the phone, mask secure, drinking some herbal tea. Johnny has no idea how he functions on nothing but leaf water this early in the morning, but he does.
Soap heads for the coffee machine.
He settles across the counter, not wanting to press Ghost's personal space this early, being careful to keep his tail to himself.
He likes to annoy Ghost sometimes. Okay, a lot of the time. But not this early. And when he tried to annoy him on purpose, it was usually with dumb shit like comments about his tea or mask, or getting just a little too close while looking at something on his computer. Kid stuff, stuff to get his attention. To play.
If he was being honest with himself, and he’s just had his first sip of coffee, so a little honesty is okay now, he doesn’t want Ghost to be annoyed by him. Just his actions, things he can control. He can gauge his reactions and back off or be more comforting as needed for his friend. He can’t always control the swiveling of his ears or the twitching or even wagging of his tail.
He doesn’t want to annoy Ghost with something he can’t control, because what if he becomes too annoyed? What if he decides he just… doesn’t want Johnny around anymore?
He sips his coffee and watches the news that’s playing softly on the television behind him. He pulls his tail into his lap to try to untangle some of the long, border collie fur. He winces a bit at a particularly tender spot where the compression of the belt made it ache. Tries to ignore when Ghost's eyes dart to him, clearly not missing the expression.
He’s in the cafeteria when the first comments come for the day. Not whispered, this time, or mumbled.
His tail hit Captain Stint's leg when he’d turned, and he hadn’t liked that much.
“Would you keep that damn thing under control?” the old man bitched, “Can’t believe they keep fuckin’ untrained dogs around here,” he mutters, turning away, “Keep it put away, Jesus,” he’s still mumbling as he walks off.
Soap pretends it doesn’t hurt.
Maybe he should be more insulted, even try to stand up for himself, and tell the captain to mind his own business. But even with his recruits watching him across the room, he just keeps a straight face and continues with what he’s doing.
Maybe he should be more insulted, but he’s just sad. He feels like a nuisance.
Ghost, also watching, makes a mental note to talk with captain dipshit later as he watches Soap's tail fall limp, moving closer to his body, the fur at the tip dragging on the floor, at a risk of being dirtied, tangled, or even stepped on.
They’re training now. Sparring.
It’s one of Soap’s favorite things to do.
He’s training with the regular recruits, not other hybrids, so he keeps his tail tucked. His ears, thankfully, are less likely to get in the way in a fight, to be tugged on. Later in their training, the recruits will train with the hybrids without them concealing their advantages so they and the hybrids can learn to fight with the additional capabilities, but today they’re keeping it simple.
Ghost is down the hall in his office, working on paperwork, and Soap has the others in the gym on the mats.
It’s going well. They’ve learned a few new defensive maneuvers today, and it’s nearing the end of the session, so he’s sparing them one-on-one now, looking to see how they put the maneuvers into action.
“Who’s next?” he calls. He’s sweaty and hot, and his tail hurts, but overall, he’s enjoying himself. He may be a bomb dog, so to speak, but next to explosives, he loves sparring. A great way to expend extra energy, it feels productive, and it’s fun.
Or, it was fun. Until one of the recruits went off script.
Soap could tell the moment it was going to happen. Something in the air shifted, the recruit got a little smirk on his red face, and someone in the row waiting off the mat let out a little giggle.
Instead of one of the three maneuvers they were supposed to demonstrate, Soap was caught off guard when the man cuffed his ear. Then his feet were out from under him, and he was crashing down, which would have been fine, were his tail not tucked right where he landed.
A loud yelp echoes off the gym walls when he lands.
Soap rolls onto his side with a little whimper, waiting for the sharp pain to ease before trying to move again. Hoping the throbbing in his ear will let up as well.
“Wha’ the ell’ was tha’?!” he growls up at the recruit who’s staring down at him with wide eyes. “Tha’s not wha’ we practiced!”
“What did you do?” A firmer voice makes the whole room freeze, and the recruit's eyes widen more, somehow. Soap looks over to see Ghost standing in the doorway, posture stiff and arms crossed.
“I-I didn’t- I mean, we-”
“Are you okay?” he addresses Soap this time, but doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to embarrass him in front of the recruits more than he’s already feeling.
“‘M fine,” he huffs. Ghost doesn’t miss the wince as he stands, “Jus’ landed on meh tail.”
“What happened?”
“Cuffed me’ fuckin’ ear!” Soap growls again, almost indignant. “Tha’s not wha’ we practiced! Ya’ can nae jus’ do tha’ to someone in tranin’! This ain’ hybrid trainin’!” Soap scolds. Ghost is glad to see he’s got fight left in him, at least enough to scold them. He knows they’ve been at it for a few hours; even Soap would be tired by now.
“I-I’m sorry, I just thought-”
“No! You didnae think!” Soap interrupts, “In the field, I’m always ready ta defend my ears or tail! I’m aware of em’, I use em’, jus’ as anyone else should be aware of em’! But we ‘ave trainin’ for tha’ specifically! If you’d pull tha’ in the field, then good on ya, your enemy shoulda been payin’ more attention, but this is not the field, and tha’s not what we’re trainin’ righ’ now! Tha’s how ya seriously hurt one of yer team mates!”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant.”
“Ey’, I know ye are. I also know ye won’t do it again. None of ye will,” he glares at the others in line, too, just to make a point. “Clean up the mats, mop, then you’ll be doin’ laps. Ten of em’,” Soap instructs. With a wave of his hand, they’re rushing to do as he’d instructed, and he’s walking to the door of the gym.
Ghost waits till they’re back down the hall, pulling Soap into his office and closing the door, before saying anything.
“You alright, Johnny?”
“Aye, I’m fine, LT. Jus’ a little sore.”
“Your accent's awful thick. Only gets that way when you're really stressed or relaxed, and it ain’t the latter,” Ghost crosses his arms again.
“Ah, just a bit frustratin’, it’s fine,” but his tail still hasn’t stopped throbbing, and he’s starting to worry it’s a little more serious than he’d originally thought.
Ghost has noticed that Johnny seems to forget he has ears, at times. Forgets how expressive they are. He and Ghost have worked together long enough that Ghost can read those ears.
“Go to medical, then grab some food, Johnny,” he says, settling back in his chair, a bit of paperwork to finish. He’d been in the middle of it when Johnny’s yelp had caught his attention, followed by a sudden lack of sparring sounds. Sounds that had been like white noise for most of his afternoon.
“Ah, yeah, alright,” Johnny sighs. Hearing Ghost say it, recognizing the pain as a valid issue, was the push he needed to go. Otherwise, he would have convinced himself he was just overreacting.
Medical isn’t far, but something in his back pinches with every step. It’s easy to forget that Soap’s tail is an extension of his spine, especially for regular humans or those who haven’t learned about hybrid anatomy for training.
His ear still hurts.
When he arrives at the infirmary, he heads to the desk first. He’s tired and hurting and should have looked around, but he didn’t.
“Sergeant, what can I do for you?” the man behind the counter asks.
“Training incident, hurt my tail,” he huffs.
“Oh, what happened?!”
“Over-eager recruit, that’s all. It’s probably fine, but…” It really hurt. But he didn’t want to say that, seem over dramatic or anything. It really was probably fine!
“Okay, have a seat, we’ll get you back soon,” the man hums, typing at his computer.
“Thank you,” he says, moving to sit, feeling a bit bad for not remembering the man’s name. He’s sure he’s seen him before.
He’s looking at the chairs, all but one empty, when he realizes who the other man is. And he’s staring at him.
Soap goes to sit on the opposite side of the small room, trying to avoid Captain Stint, but the man doesn’t appear to be interested in avoiding him. He scoots a seat closer as Soap pulls out his phone, intent on scrolling and trying to ignore the tension and sharp pain shooting through his hip.
“Training incident, huh?” Stint hums, “That sucks.”
“Yep.”
“No, for your recruits. Got a fuckin’ dog as a trainer,” he snarks, “Can’t even train them without getting yourself hurt.”
“What is your problem, man?” Soap finally asks. He doesn’t snap, doesn’t raise his voice; he really wants to know. What did he do to upset this man so much?
“Don’t talk to me that way! I’m your Captain!” the man snaps. “I’ll have your rank for insubordination!”
“Sorry, sir,” Soap sighs. He’s not technically his captain, but he is a captain, and he is ranked above Soap.
“You’re gonna be. You’re a bad dog!” he hisses. The man behind the counter is looking between them now, considering something. The threat, perhaps, of their argument. “God damned dogs, don’t know when to stop fuckin’ barking,” Captain is on his phone now, “Oughta have you fuckin’ muzzled.”
“Uh, should I come back, or…” A young woman, holding her arm close to her chest and red-faced, is standing in the doorway looking between Soap and Stint.
“No, sorry,” Soap stands. “I was just leaving.”
“Sergeant-”
“‘S okay, probably nah da serious anyway,” he trots out of the infirmary and heads back to his room. He’s not hungry.
The damn breaks when the door closes behind him.
He wants to hit something, but knows better. He wants to bite something, too, can’t do that either. He’s got a lot of frustrated energy he doesn’t know what to do with, so he just cries instead. It feels good.
He doesn’t know why that Captain hates him so much, but… well, he does, doesn’t he? He’s heard it all. The snide comments about his tail in the way, his ears being distracting. People whine about how they have to repeat themselves when they talk to him. He can hear them, but he can also hear all the shoes in the hallway, the person being scolded three doors down, the whirring of the fan and air conditioner. Makes it hard to focus sometimes.
Maybe he is a bad dog.
He curls up at the top of his bed in a little ball. He wants to put on his soundproof headphones, but doesn’t feel safe enough to. Simon isn’t here to alert him if something happens, and what if something does happen and he doesn’t hear it? So he buries himself in the blankets instead, trying to muffle the noise instead of blocking it out, and cries harder.
Ghost, after finishing with his paperwork, goes to the infirmary. He didn’t have much to do today, and now it’s done. He’s going to check on Soap and then have a discussion with Captain dipshit, and go from there.
When he enters the infirmary, the tension is palpable. Captain dipshit is actually sitting in the infirmary, the man behind the counter eyeing him warily.
“Lieutenant, I’m afraid there’s a line. Captain Stint was next, but we had a woman with a broken arm come in, so the queue has been pushed back,” he explains.
“Not here for me. Where’s Sergeant MacTavish?”
“Oh, he left, sir. Didn’t even get checked out first.”
“The dog?” Stint looks up, “Good riddance. Can’t even train without his tail getting in the way,” he goes back to his phone.
“Um,” the man behind the counter eyes Ghost, wondering if he’ll say anything. He would, but doesn’t want to speak back to a CO, being so new.
“You have a problem with my sergeant?” Ghost growls. Stint stiffens.
“He’s yours?”
“Yes. Part of the 141.”
“They let a dog on-”
“They didn’t let him do anything,” Ghost snarls, “He’s earned his place among us, unlike you, and you will show some damn respect. If I find out he left here injured because of you, you will discover just how wrathful the 141 can be,” his voice becomes quieter but more threatening as he speaks.
When he leaves, he leaves the Captain paranoid. Maybe shaking a little.
Soap curls up a little tighter under the blankets as the door opens and wipes at his face. He stopped crying several minutes ago, but doesn’t doubt that there are tear streaks.
He can smell Ghost as he comes in. Sweat, a bit of cologne, stress.
“Johnny?” he calls. Soap doesn’t reply. Maybe he’ll go away. “Johnny, where are ya?” The steps come into the room and pause. Soap still doesn’t speak up.
The bed dips as Ghost sits on the foot of it.
They sit like that for a while. Ghost on the edge of the bed, waiting, and Soap under the covers, still in a little ball, ears and tail still tucked. It’s at least a few minutes before either of them speaks.
“Brandon said you left before you got checked out,” Ghost starts.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Dinnae matter,” his voice is low and hoarse.
“Was it Stint?”
“Ghost-”
“Don’t bullshit me, Johnny,” he’s careful as he pulls the blankets off the smaller man, but firm so as not to let him keep them, as he’s trying to. Johnny’s ears are tucked tightly against his head, and his tail is still belted around his waist. It can’t be comfortable. “What happened?”
More silence. Ghost is patient. He waits. He’ll wait for Johnny to tell him. It doesn’t take long.
“Am I a ba’ dog?” he asks. The question startles Ghost more than anything. It was far from what he was expecting.
“No,” Ghost's voice was firm with conviction, “You’re a great teammate. And I’d like to think you’d make a good dog.”
“Ghost-”
“You’re more than a dog, Johnny, and anyone that says otherwise is a fuckin’ idiot.”
“But… am I a ba’ dog? My tail’s always gettin’ in da way, and my ears annoy people, and I can’t always listen real good cuz all the other noise-”
“You’re a very good dog, Johnny,” Ghost cuts him off. “Extremely helpful. You’re extremely helpful in the field, with that nose and those ears, and I’ve seen you use that tail to balance and get places none of us could ever get to. You’ve saved our arses many times.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it,” Ghost sighs, “And Captain Stint and I actually just had a conversation about it.” That gets the collie’s attention.
“Wha’ did ye’ do?” he asks, voice laced with concern.
“I just talked with him, I promise.”
“Si, I don’ wan’ any backlash! I get enough commen’s from da recruits an others as is!”
“There will be no backlash. You are a huge asset here, and if anyone has something to say about your tail or ears, they can come talk to me. Understand?”
“Ye’.”
“I mean it, Johnny. You mean a lot to this team. To me. You’re incredibly valuable as a person and a dog, and don’t you ever doubt it again.” Ghost reaches out and gently scratches at Soap's ear, but pulls back like he’s been bitten when Soap whines, curling up a little more. “You are hurt.”
“Is fi-”
“Johnny, I swear to God-”
“Si-
“Medical. Now. I’m coming with you,” Ghost drops into his lieutenant's voice, an order Johnny can’t refuse. He sits up and wipes at his eyes again, though they’re dry now; he looks exhausted in more ways than one. “And untuck your tail. I know that’s not comfortable.”
Johnny doesn’t argue, just pulls his pants down a bit to unfasten the tail-belt clip and pull it out. The tail comes out next, with a wince and a bit back whine.
“Fuckin’ ell’, go’ dam’ recruit don’ know the feck’ he’s doin’,” he runs a hand along his tail gently. It hurts a lot at the base and then at the middle. The fur is ruffled and tangled, and it’s gonna take him ages to get it clean tonight, but at least there’s no blood in it this time.
Captain Stint is no longer in the waiting room when they arrive. It’s empty, actually, aside from the young man behind the counter.
“Sergeant, glad you’re back!” he smiles. “We can actually bring you straight back,” he says, moving to lead them through the door. “Sam will help you get some X-rays first.”
“Okay, thank ye.”
It’s strained at the base but fractured towards the middle where he’d landed on it. Unfortunately, there’s not much to do for that but rest it. His ear is tender, but there’s no serious damage, so it should be fine in a few days.
Ghost, to his credit, is doing a great job at hiding the murderous look in his eyes. Doc doesn’t seem to notice at all.
They give him what’s essentially prescription Tylenol and a handful of instant ice packs and tell him not to touch it for at least a month.
Great.
Ghost is actively contemplating how to make Stint’s death look like an accident. He’d considered the recruit as well, but he’d just been over-eager to show off. He didn’t mean anything with malicious intent, and he would have his share of laps.
Stint, on the other hand… he’ll learn to keep his mouth shut and his hybridist ideas to himself.
“Come on, Soap,” Ghost coaxes, “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”
Ghost is standing very close in the cafeteria. Soap thinks he may hear the start of snickers from some people walking by, but it quickly stops. He turns to see what happened to find Ghost staring daggers at a couple of guys who have suddenly found the floor very interesting.
Soap wants to feel indignant at this, upset that Ghost thinks he can’t stand up for himself… but he doesn’t. He can stand up to himself fine; he chooses not to in this context. But he’s grateful that Ghost will be where he can’t.
Ghost doesn’t miss the way his tail perks up a bit. His fur is really soft, the couple times he’s touched it… he wonders if Johnny might let him help groom it tonight, if he’s careful.