happiness is in you

-Wake up, Soap, practice. - MacTavish? - A man in a balaclava with a skull-shaped bone mask over it called out. It was Ghost, more concerned than anyone about his partner, who had once again injured himself during the morning training. John made a quick move to get right in front of the other soldier, and apparently realizing what was going on, hid his hands in his pockets. MacTavish never told Simon about his problems; it wasn't his style, the man liked to keep things to himself, though Riley had discussed the subject with him on several occasions, always saying: "Johnny, you can always count on me." But Sope didn't give a fuck, though he trusted everyone, including LT of course, because they'd been through too much shit together, and over the long 6 or 7 years, they'd managed to bond like no one else, literally. The Sarge's level of trust was enviable, trust was a tricky thing to figure out for yourself first, and people after that. John blinked rapidly, and straightened his back to look more serious (no, he wasn't serious, he was a fucker.) The sight of Sniper made it a little harder to breathe and his heart beat a thousand miles a second, but you had to stay calm in any situation, even this one. - What? - John asked, squinting and literally sawing LT with his gaze. Fuck no, he hated looking into other people's eyes, he always ended up wanting to laugh like an idiot. A slight smirk, followed by a chuckle, and by now Sope was practically bursting into atoms with laughter, embarrassingly covering his mouth with his hand. Simon stood still, scrutinizing the back of John's hand, which had a fucking fresh cut on it. "Bastard's hiding it again." - LT thought to himself, and in a split second he was able to grab the Sergeant's wrist, pulling him to him and growling irritably. John's laughter stopped as abruptly as it had started, the man froze and swallowed, sharply shifting his gaze to Simon. - Uh...LT, let go. - He mumbled, stammered, and snapped his teeth when he felt the lieutenant's dead stare on him. Finally realizing that pleas were powerless against that fucking tank, Soap shut up and sighed, obediently allowing Simon to examine the cut on his arm. After what seemed like an eternity, Riley finally gave signs of life and asked a rhetorical question. - John, are you an idiot? Why didn't you let me know? - Cy looks straight into his soul, like he's getting ready to kill MacTavish right now. - I told you before, I don't like to be coddled, - Sope replies, snorting and rolling his eyes in frustration. - I care about you, Sarge, and you know it. - Riley gently covers John's wounded hand with her own and continues to look him in the eye. - Come on, I'm all grown up and on my own, besides, it's just a little scratch. - A scratch? A cut at least nine millimeters deep, and you call that a scratch? - Cy, come on, I'm not a little boy, it's okay. - John spits out and looks away. Riley narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth hard, exhaling. He was fucking pissed off at Sarge's behavior, even too much. - Johnny, just let me help you, I'm not asking for anything more. MacTavish grinned and then gave a curt "go ahead," because there was no point in arguing with him, Simon was right anyway, friends should take care of each other if need be. *** The wound stung unpleasantly, the hydrogen peroxide doing its job. Riley tried to treat Soap's cut as gently as possible, trying not to cause pain, blowing on the wound if MacTavish hissed at the unpleasant and stabbing pain in his arm, stroking his head soothingly and whispering tendrils of affection. It wasn't his style, but he was always different with Sope, not like he was in public. - Cy, don't even fucking think about it! - Shouts John as LT picks up a small vial of iodine. - Soap, I need to put iodine on the cut or you'll get tissue and blood poisoning, worst case scenario you'll need to cut your arm off. - Riley answered, quickly opening the vial and raising a sharp look straight into his partner's eyes. After a few seconds of silence, Soap hummed thoughtfully and dutif - John, what do you think happiness is? - It was an inappropriate question that stumped MacTavish, but he had to answer quickly and without even thinking. - Happiness? - John grinned, tilting his head to the side, giving in to the Brit's caresses. - Happiness is in you.