Chapter Text
He tried to focus on the images in front of him, the tattoo he was working on, not the man himself, to be clear. The large body reclined on his chair was a piece of art in and of itself. The vast ridges and valleys that made up the man's torso, cast amazing images of what lay beneath that shirt. Arms that were layered and packed with muscles, making the shirt stretch to fit just a slight bit. Jeans fit snugly around thick powerful thighs. The only disruption to the ensemble was the black fabric medical mask that covered half the man’s face, the lower half of a skeletal jaw printed on it.
Focus Soap, Focus! He closed his eyes and took a breath. Opening them he then focused on the buzz of the machine in his hand, following lines that dotted the flesh he was working on. He focused on the faded tattoos on the pale scared skin that he was bringing back to life. The feel of the thick muscles underneath his hands- Steaming Jesus! This man tested him and he wasn't even doing anything. He sighed and rolled his shoulders.
“Alright?”
“Aye, Just tight shoulders, went too hard in the gym today A suppose,”
The man, Ghost just grunted, that’s about the max amount of communication he would get out of the man. Simple questions, simple answers, and non committal sounds. The man was probably the most non problematic customer he had. Never complained about pain, never fussed, was still as a statue, and he didn't need to talk Soap’s ear off. Soap snorted at the thought, causing Ghost to lift a blond brow in question. Soap shook his head. Ghost barely shrugged a shoulder before closing his eyes again resting back in the chair. Soap usually was the one to talk someone's ear off. He was the friendly chatter box out of his friends. 'Soap, shut up!' wasn't an uncommon thing for him to hear. Usually ribbing and joking with his friends from the tattoo parlor was one of his favorite things. His friends even joked that it was his super power or special ability to never shut up, always ready to crack jokes or make smart remarks constantly. He just figured his quick wit and shining personality should be shared with all that could enjoy it.
However, Ghost here seemed to like the quiet, barely talked as he sat in the chair and saw no reason to fill the space with useless chatter. So being the consistent, well tipping customer he was, Soap was willing to shut up and keep quiet to keep the good looking man coming back. The consistent buzzing filled the room as he remembered the first time he saw the man, it hadn't been the best first impressions, he thought. Honestly he was surprised that the man actually came back to have Soap do another tattoo. He focused on the linework as he fell into that memory.
-----
It had been a normal dreary day. Soap didn't have a client until the evening, so to pass the time he sat at the front counter with his sketchbook laying out the basic outline for a new tattoo, it was actually something one of the others in the shop had requested he draw. Horangi had somewhat of an obsession with tigers, there was some significance about his previous gang experiences, going so far as having some stripes tattooed along his back. He was losing himself in the drawing, not really focusing on what was going on around him. He started to sketch out the rough details. The tiger in the image was walking towards the viewer, one paw lifted, he wanted the eyes the focal point, he slowly added more and more prominent lines as he worked making the lines he wanted to stay darker and while the rest stayed lighter until everything came to life, he had the basic image when he started to sketch out small details that completed the image. The stripes, the eyes, whiskers, the details that made the image come alive were his favorite parts to sketch, seeing the work basically come together into the completed piece. He smiled and reached for his eraser. Looking out of the corner of his eye he noticed a gloved hand on the counter next to the eraser, looking up he jumped.
A mountain of a man stood in front of him, his eyes downcast surveying the tiger drawing. The hooded jacket he wore covered his head and was zipped up to his neck, a fabric skull printed medical mask covered the bottom half of his face, black gloves covered his hands. The only part of the man Soap could actually see was a few wisps of blonde hair that peeked out from under the hood of the jacket and his eyes, downcast towards the sketch so he couldn't tell the color. The bridge of his nose looked like it had been broken more than a few times, the sharp line down to the tip the only other thing the face mask revealed.
His head was cocked slightly as he looked over the image before his eyes darted to where Soap’s fingers had reached out for the eraser. He couldn't take his eyes off the man's eyes as they followed up his arm to land on Soap’s own eyes. “Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap softly muttered. Did he really just say that?! “A-a’m sorry mate, A didnae ‘ear yeh come in,” Soap scratched at the back of his head hoping the guy didn't catch the blatant way he had been checking him out.
Those eyes connected with his and rattled Soap. They were dark. Not a rich brown, almost like they had been drained of all the brightness that they once had held, dull. They were harsh and meticulous, analyzing everything his gaze landed on. He ran his gaze over Soap rather quickly. Soap had never felt like he was under a microscope more than he did now.
"Whut brough' yeh in today?"
"A tattoo," The man had softly rasped. His voice sounded like it hadn't been used often almost like one sounds when the first wake up, raspy and sexy, the kind that just brings a chill down your-
"No fooling? Yeh mibbe in teh righ' spot," Soap couldn't help but be a smartass, but grinned to soften the effect.
The man grunted. Soap couldn't necessarily tell if that was a laugh or a grunt of disapproval.
"Ye know whut yer wantin'?" Soap tried to recover.
The man looked around at all the flash images and cringed, it was small but Soap noticed it. "Yeh wantin' som'ton more original?"
At the man's nod, Soap smiled "We got portfolios over 'ere of each artist, yeh can have a seat and look through them," Soap walked over to the sitting area in the lobby where multiple photo albums laid on a coffee table. The man followed silently behind him, sitting when Soap motioned to a sofa before he went to go through some of the books. He quickly put down one and looked through another before putting it down as well, clearly unsatisfied. Soap felt rather nervous when the man grabbed his own and started to flip through it. The man slowly flipped through the book lingering on some of the images. He stopped and looked up at Soap.
"This one’s yours,” Soap wasn’t sure if the man had meant it as a question or not.
"Aye, that's all ma finished work… no sketches in there," Soap said softly. "I dunt always finish ma sketches, so I keep them oot of there,"
The man hummed before closing the book. "I just need some words,"
"Bloody hell anyone can letter,"
The man shook his head, "Want you to do it,"
Soap looked the man up and down, granted seeing someone with a hood up isnt unusual but the way this guy is going about things just felt a little off… add in the mask like he’s trying to hide his face and it seem just completely sketchy… "This some kinda ploy? Get me unawares so yeh can rob me?"
"Think I'd tell you if I were?"
"Hmm,” Soap looked the man up and down again. “Alrigh', A’ll bite, whut words?" Soap said crossing his arms over his chest.
"Hell's coming," The Brit was unfazed and just answered the question asked, nothing more.
"That's it?"
"ten to fifteen centimeters tall," He shrugged so slight if Soap wasn’t staring at him he wouldn’t have noticed it.
"Where?"
"Upper back," The man stood slowly, rising to his full height.
"Why me?" Soap narrowed his eyes at the taller man.
"Clean line work, good shading, no fuck ups," The answer was quick, and kinda threw soap off. Horangi’s and Gaz’s work were both pretty good as well… but he hadn’t seemed interested in their portfolios tossing them to the side rather quickly.
When Soap just looks at the man with wide eyes, he's not sure if he was supposed to take that as a compliment or if this guy just thought he was the bloody Queen of England and deserved the best, not that Soap really thought he was the best. Honestly Soap still felt like his work was subpar, he always strived to get better. The man shrugs "It's my job to have an eye for detail…"
"A guess A'll take tha' as a compliment then," Soaps arms loosened slightly, the tenseness leaving him as he looked up at the man.
The man nodded.
"Alright when do yeh want yer appointment scheduled fer?" Soap turned to head back to the counter where his appointment book sat at the moment.
"You aren't busy now,"
Soap sighed, "Fuckin brits," he muttered as he stopped and turned back towards the man. "Always thinkin' 'boot themselves, D'yeh have cash?"
"Naturally,"
"Come on' let's get yeh a font yeh like ‘n A'll draw it up, don't know if we getting it done in one go, will be able to do the line work at least,"
He heard a grunt from behind him, and felt more than heard the man follow him. Soap still couldn't shake the feeling that something was odd about the man, other than being a uppity Brit. The bastard was too bloody big to move so silently. What was he, part fucking ninja? He was more silent than Horangi, whose favorite pastime has been to sneak up on people and scare the shit out of them. Soap sighed and opened up a book of fonts, the man quickly pointed out a font he approved of. Soap nodded and then guided him back to his booth. “How yeh want this placed,” he asked as he plopped down on his stool and wrote down some notes on his sketchbook.
“Just across my shoulder blades,”
Soap looked down at his sketch pad and started to roughly sketch the letters. The man still stood taking in the painting along the walls.“Yeh can sit… A’ll sketch this up real quick and see if yeh like how it will sit then A'll get a final drawing of it,”
“You painted all this,” The man said in a rhetorical air as he surveyed the new style pinup paintings that decorated one wall.
“Yeh can tell?”
“Your line work is clean, crisp lines, same attention to detail,”
“Ach, didnae get teh name Soap for no reason,” Soap laughed as he sketched.
He heard the man hum “Ghost,”
“Wassit?”
“Name’s Ghost,”
“Well guess we did miss the formalities, aye?” Soap lifted the drawing up looking at it before making a few quick adjustments. He saw a shadow block the overhead light in the booth as he was finishing up. “What d’yeh think?”
Ghost didn’t say anything, a blond brow just lifted in question.
“Ach ‘s no’ finished just teh give us both an idea so A can make adjustments…” He looked over his shoulder at the man with a mock pout. Ghost grunted. “Go’wan then take yer shirt off,”
Ghost said nothing as he unzipped his jacket and pulled his shirt off over his head. Soap turned around when he heard the rustle of fabric stop.
“Alright, let see how-” Soap knows his mouth dropped open. Ghost was pure male perfection, not some bonnie lad. The blond hair that covered his head was longer on the top and cut into a fade on the sides with a couple weeks if growth. He was widely built which had been obvious before but now with his naked torso on display it was just so much easier to appreciate the width of the man. Muscles piled upon muscles, the man was a fucking tank, his body looked as if it had been sculpted from marble. Tattoos covered his left forearm, which he hadn't spotted before, skulls, guns, fire and smoke all grayscale. The scars that crossed his body only accentuated the curves and dips of his body. Probably one of the most alluring parts of his whole body was the dark blond hair that lightly dusted his chest and trailed down his stomach to disappear under the waistband of his jeans, pointing directly to a very enticing blu- ’No Mactavish’ Soap berated himself and quickly snapped his eyes up to Ghost's face, that damn eyebrow was lifted again.
“Back to the mirror,” He muttered pointing to the full length mirror. ‘Steamin’ Jesus he was making ‘imself oot to be an idjit,’ He thought to himself. Soap grabbed the smaller mirror he had and handed it over. He then went towards the larger man’s back, to hold up the two sections of lettering to find the best placement. “Wha’ yeh think?” When Ghost says nothing, Soap starts to mutter to himself. “Little bigger maybe… needs to curve a little more… yer fawken stacked…”
There’s a small huff from the man in front of him that Soap interprets as a laugh? “Think you got it right,”
Soap blushes, he hadn't meant to verbalize that out loud. He nods to the chair, “Yeh can sit doon… A’ll fix this ‘n we can get going,”
Soap quickly sketched the final copy and showed it again to Ghost, a curt head nod of agreement and Soap copied it to the transfer paper. “Yeh can lay doon.”
“Rather sit if it's ok with you,” Ghost sat facing towards the door.
“Can yeh face the other way?” Soap asked, the way the large man sat put Soap into a smaller more cramped space.
“Negative,”
Soap sighs, but transferred the final copy across Ghost’s wide shoulders. After placing the transfer image Soap started to get his equipment and stool set up on the other side of the chair than he normally would work. “Yeh gonna be able teh handle sitting still tha' long?” Soap slightly snarked.
Ghost scoffed and nodded. “You wanna bet on it Soap?”
“Aw bile yer heid!” Soap turned and started to get the gun and ink set up.
“Was that English?”
“Yer a damn bampot, yeh ken?” Soap grumbled as he lowered Ghost’s chair.
Ghost just cocked an eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder at Soap.
“Fine! Dunt say A didnae warn yeh,” Soap again sighed and sat down in his chair. Grabbing his tattoo gun and turning it on. “Ready?”
“Affirmative,”
As Soap traced the outlines he noticed that Ghost seemed to relax more under the consistent buzz of the machine. They sat in silence for a while before Soap started to ask the larger man some questions.
“What kinda name is Ghost?”
“Ever hear of a nickname, Soap?”
‘He definitely emphasized his name. Ok questions about the name where a no go.’ Soap ducked his head slightly admonished. “Aye tha' was a dumb question, What do yeh do fer work?”
“Classified,”
‘Ok questions about the job where a no go.’ Soap decided to change subjects again. ”Whats with this tattoo, why did yeh want it?”
“Coming for all of us, aint it?”
‘Did he ever answer a fawken question?!’ Soap sighed to himself, slightly put out that he kept striking out in this conversation. "Suppose it depends on what ya believe in," He mumbled.
Ghost doesn't respond.
“Yeh must just charm all the ladies, so eloquent,” Soap said, trying to get the man to talk again.
Ghost just grunts.
Soap took the silence and stalemate conversation as the sign that it was. The man obviously didn't want to talk. Soap couldn't help but feel a little bummed by it though. ‘O’ course the man didnae want to be hit on at his tattoo appointment,’ Soap thought. He focused back on the tattoo, definitely not the man’s body. No… maybe just when he took a minute to get some more ink on the needles… Scars covered his body, not natural, or common ones at that… Firemen had burns, they all did, part of the job of fighting fires. Police men may have an occasional gunshot scar, again part of the job as it were… This man looked… looked like he was drug from, well, hell and back. Thinking that way put the tattoo in a bit of perspective… there was burn marks here and there, a wide scar around one wrist… he was willing to bet if he looked closely under the tattoos another would match on the left. A couple long slashes here and there also some smaller fat ones ran along his lower sides. ‘Stab wounds’ Soap thought. Ghost’s neck sported a couple scars and even a few in his hairline. A wide one, poorly healed, slightly raised, ran across the back of his neck. If Ghost's other tattoos were any indication he had realistically been through combat and possibly more. Soap was sure that was its own form of hell. He literally had been through hell… ‘hell’s coming,’ Soap shook his head slightly, with as many… battle scars as this man had he could see why the man was a little more on the morbid side of life.
“Like to face the door,”
“Whassit?”
“I like to see what's coming, that’s why I wanted to sit this way,” Ghost mutters nodding towards the door. The admission shocked Soap, the stoic man had voluntarily made conversation. Looking at the scars that ran across the man’s body he could understand his paranoia.
“Aye cannae say A blame yeh with whut yeh look like yeh been through,”
“A lot,” Ghost agreed softly.
“A see… Do yeh need to change positions?”
There was that small huff again, “No, I’ve sat still longer than this,”
“Ach, you have nae budged!” Soap exclaimed… not many people can really sit that still for long periods, without resting against something, like Ghost had. Soap wondered what he had been though to allow him that ability.
“Would’ve lost that bet,”
“Aye, A would’ve, good thing A’m a smart man, didnae take yer bet,”
Ghost just hummed, holding onto his clothes on his lap.
“Ah can put yer stuff on the desk o'r there,” Soap said after a while. Ghost gripped the bundle tighter and shook his head. “Ok, no big deal, yeh sit still so does noh bother me none,” Ghost was kind of odd, he had to see the door, didn't let go of his stuff and really wasn't talkative. Soap couldn’t complain though, with Ghost being so still and not taking breaks the tattoo was coming along pretty quickly. He sat back and surveyed the tattoo so far. It was turning out pretty good. Ghost had been only sitting in the chair a little over an hour but Soap does have another appointment scheduled in a hour. “Other clients fidget too much when they have stuff in their hands, yeh turn into a statue,” Ghost just hummed softly. Soap figured he would give the reserved man a break from his mouth for a bit, and focused on completing the tattoo.
He had just finished outlining the last letter. Soap sat back and cleaned the area, proud of the outcome thus far. He looked up at the clock in the room. "Well Ghost… A have an hour 'fore ma next appointment, want teh schedule another session later and we can shade it all in?"
"Sounds good," Ghost grunts.
"Alrigh', A'll bandage yeh up and yeh'll be good t’go," Soap bandaged Ghost's back up and snagged his appointment book "When yeh wanting teh come back?"
"Thursday?"
"A’ve got a spot 2 weeks out 12pm?"
"That will work."
"How long yeh think yeh can sit for?"
"How long it gonna take you?" Ghost asks impassively, slowly putting on his shirt and jacket.
"3 to 4 hours?"
"I can sit through it," He softly hums back.
"Bet yeh can, yeh bloody bastard," Soap shakes his head with a smile.
"How much I owe you soap,"
"60 pounds,"
Ghost turns and looks at Soap, a frown marring his features.
"Just an hour, A'm a bloody perfectionist and A take forever when A sketch something,"
Ghost grunts but counts out some money and hands it over, he stands and heads out. "See you in two weeks Soap," He's striding out of the booth quickly.
Soap counts the notes, the man had given him 200 pounds! "Ghost this is too much!" Soap jumps up but stumbles and falls in his haste. He hears the front door close as he's getting back up. He reaches the lobby and of course the man's gone… Now he's going to have to put this towards Ghost's next appointment.
-----
The next time the appointment hadn’t been as bad… Ghost had seemed to open up a little bit more than the first appointment. Soap still cringed when he thought back at the knee jerk reaction to question Ghost’s sincerity about paying at the first session. Ghost hadn’t seemed to take any offense to it. Overall the man seemed pretty laid back, he seemed to relax in the chair, almost like it was a spa instead of getting stabbed repetitively by tiny needles. Soap looked down at the tattoos he was touching up, the older tattoos on the Brit’s arm… Soap thought back to that 2nd appointment.
-----
Two weeks later Soap was in his booth sketching in his personal sketchbook when Gaz popped into his booth “Hey Soap, your 12 o’clock is here,”
“Ach, dinnae think he would really come back…” Soap muttered to himself. He didn't really feel like Ghost was happy with the overall outcome or the appointment, or Soap for that matter. Not that the man had said anything about the appointment being bad, Soap had just felt like he had annoyed the man more than anything. Soap stood up and walked to the lobby. Ghost stood there hip resting against the counter watching the passerbys on the street out the front window, seemingly relaxed. He wore the same ensemble as before, Black hooded jacket, fabric medical face mask, and jeans. He turned, spotting Soap and fluidly pulled himself off the counter and turned towards Soap and Gaz coming down the hallway.
“Ghost! Glad yeh came back, yeh overpaid me last time!”
“I don’t overpay,” Ghost grumbled.
“Ach, yeh did so, A said an hour yeh paid me fer three! Guess yeh Brits just dunt know how teh count,”
Ghost grunted. Folding his arms over his chest.
“Come on, think yer scarin’ Gaz,” Soap said with a grin as he bumped Ghost's arm. He spun and headed back towards his booth. Ghost lazily rolled his eyes towards Gaz with a bored look. Intimidated, the smaller man took a step back at the menacing aura, Ghost sighed and followed Soap into the booth.
“That's the usual reaction I get,” He muttered as he closed the door.
Soap’s still got a grin plastered across his face. “Aye? Yer a big fawken bastard, think most would be afraid of yeh for that reasoning alone,”
“Thanks Soap,” Ghost said, rolling his eyes.
“Still doing teh same shading?” Soap turned away as he started to get things ready.
Ghost grunted an affirmative as he started to undress.
“Bloody fawken hell what happened teh yeh?!” Soap gasped after he had turned back towards the man. He had expected the scars and the muscles what he hadn't expected was the bruises that spotted the larger man’s body. Large nasty purple and yellow bruises littered his body, making Soap cringe just thinking about the pain the man must be in. “Yeh look like yeh been hit by a truck!”
Ghost looked down at his body running a hand over a particularly nasty bruise dead center on his stomach. “Training…”
“Fawk, hate to see the other guy if this is whut yeh walked away with,” Soap shook his head, and started to set up his stuff, just like he had the last time Ghost was in. He already knew Ghost would want to sit and he would want to face the door with his personal items in his hands. Ghost stood and watched Soap as he got set up, taking note that the tattoo artist had remembered from the last appointment his specifics. He sat down with his back to Soap… not something that he often did to anyone.
“Little worse off than me,” The stoic man muttered.
“Just a little?” Soap laughed.
Ghost just hummed.
"Doing 3 or 4 hours aye?"
"Long as it takes,"
Soap quickly gets started “Ready?”
Ghost just nods.
Soap starts up the machine and begins shading. He tries to pick back up on the conversation from before. "Boxing?"
"Sparring,"
"Bet yeh ken a lot,"
"I do alright,"
"But teh other guy is worse off… doesnae sound like yeh do alright,"
Ghost huffs a small laugh… “It may have been a few of ‘em,”
“Whut yeh teh one trainin’ them?”
Ghost doesn't say anything, just shrugs his shoulders when Soap pulls away to get more ink.
“Aye, A could see that… yeh have teh patience of a trainer…”
“Know that after one appointment?”
“A can tell… and yeh have nae told me teh shuddup yet either. Gaz has already gotten tired o’ hearing ma mouth this mornin’,
told me teh shuddup three times already, A think,” Soap says with a mischievous grin.
“Sounds like you’re proud of that,”
“Ach, ‘s a game… records nine,”
“Only nine?”
“Aye, Bastard socked me across teh face when A dinnae listen, we were fawken’ smashed, wasnae gonna try for more after that… he’s thinner but still packs a punch,” Soap laughs.
Ghost huffs again. “Sounds like you’re a troublemaker, Soap,”
“Mibbe a wee bit,” Soap grunted before, “Isnae fun teh always follow teh rules,”
“That’s for sure,” Ghost sighed
“This teh first tattoo yeh've gotten in some time?”
“Is that a question?” Ghost looked over his shoulder cocking that eyebrow.
“An observation more like,” Soap ducked his head.
“Do they look that bad?” The Brit looked down at the faded lines.
“Nae, it could use some touch ups… mibbe,” Soap said softly, not wanting to offend the man.
“You any good at it?”
“Done ma fair share…”
“Guess that's what I'll have you do next appointment then,”
Soap was shocked he kinda figured the big Brit would run after the tattoo was finished, tired of Soap being obnoxious and loud. Soap cheered internally happy that he had somehow gained a little bit of trust from the brit. “A-A can do that,”
Ghost hummed softly.
“Do they have meaning behind them,”
“What?”
“Yer old tattoos, did yeh get them for a reason?”
“...” Ghost pulled his arm from the bundle of his clothes, and turned it one way and back. Thinking back on when the faded lines had once been crisp and clean. He thought about each one and why he had gotten it. They might not have been the best work but that hadn't been necessary at the time. Now they were faded and dull, some had even been damaged by wounds and now disrupted by scars..
“Sorry, A- Yeh dunt have teh say… A- uh didnae mean teh-”
“It was the blind enthusiasm of a wide-eyed private,”
Soap hesitated for a moment, “... dunt sound too fond o’ them now?” He glanced around Ghost’s body at the arm, before refocusing on shading the letters he was working on.
Ghost grunts and pulls his arm back into the bundle of his clothes covering up what little he can.
“We mibbe able teh cover some up?”
Soap watches the side of Ghost's face scrunch, "Part of me now… tells a bit of a story."
"A can understand tha'... most of mine do as well,"
"Such as?"
"Oh, A got rampant lion for Scotland on one arm… didnae ken if yeh notice but A'm Scottish through ‘n through "
"Jesus," Soap could hear the larger man's eyes roll from the way the man had scoffed.
"A know, A know, A blend in so well," Soap hears a snort from the man before continuing on, "A got teh clan crest, a flower for each of teh women in ma family… A've got a sayin' priest all have a past, sinners have a future… was in a vera bad place at one time… doesnae mean A'm a bad man or cannae grow from it…" Soap could feel the energy dropping, "A also lost a bet and had teh get juicy tatted on me…" He admitted trying to lighten the mood, it did bring forth another snort from Ghost.
“Lost a bet?”
“Aye, it was stupid… A was being too cocky,”
“Didnt cry it off?”
“A made a bet, stood by ma word…,”
Ghost hummed.
“Dunt ask,”
“Ask what?”
“Dunt ask where it is…”
“Now why would I do that?”
“That’s whut erybo’y asks after A tell ‘em ‘bout it,”
“I can take a shot in the dark,”
“Oh, yeh think so?”
Ghost looked over his shoulder that damn brow raised again. “I’m an excellent shot, even in the dark,”
Soap pouted, Juicy could describe a lot of Soap’s body… right?! He was fit and muscular, hell his arms could be described as juicy. A shot in the dark… Soap could think of a few things he would like to shoot in the dark. Then Soap could feel the heat that raced to his cheeks as he blushed… Ghost couldn't … he can't be flirting with him right? The man was too stoic… he barely said anything… Hell, Soap figured the man barely tolerated him. Soap fidgeted in his seat slightly.
Ghost took pity on him apparently. “Why did you get into tattooing Soap?”
“Huh?! Uh, well A’ve always been good at drawing, When A was dumb… tattoos went along with teh lifestyle… someone saw me scribbling one day an' asked if A could tattoo it on them… A didnae know how teh, but someone there showed me… it wasnae teh best… took teh it quick though did a lot of small tattoos for free while A learned… met Gaz through some tattoo events, an' we've been friends since… 14 years now? A think. Put our heads together and got us our own shop ‘ere, an’ 'ere we are,”
“When you were dumb?”
“A- uh… was in a bad place, A was in teh drugs pretty bad… Did somethings A wasnae happy with… wound up not remembering my night one teh many times… waking up in places A didnae know how A got there, knew A had teh change things… that's why A got that saying tattooed on me,”
“What was it again?”
“Priests all have a past, sinners have a future,”
Ghost hummed softly.
“Figured even teh holiest people here had done some things they were no’ ‘appy bout… even though A’ve done bad, Doesnae mean A’m goin’ teh h-” Soap snapped his mouth shut realizing he was tattooing a man that has a proverbial apocalyptic announcement stamped in big bold letters across his back.
“Hell?” Ghost asked with a humorless chuckle.
“Sorry,” Soap mumbled.
Ghost grunted softly. “It’s not a proclamation that hell is coming for all… it actually means… something else,”
“Whut’s it mean then?”
Ghost was quiet for so long that Soap thought he wasn’t going to answer. He opened his mouth to try and change the conversation again but before he could Ghost answered.
“It means wherever I go, I bring Hell with me,”
“Yeh think yeh ruin ‘erythin’?”
“Not necessarily… I’m military, Soap… what do you think happens when I’m deployed in the field?”
“Ach,” Soap mumbles… he looks at the scars scattered across the body in front of him. “A understand… yeh dunt like it? Why stay?”
Ghost scoffed, “Not a lot of my skill set crosses over to the everyday workforce, I’m so used to it, and it's not all that bad… it has its ups and downs,”
They sit in silence for a while after that, Soap unsure how to bounce the conversation back from the downward turn. It was noticeably awkward and Soap wondered if the man had dealt with this often being so quiet. Soap felt like it was suffocating him. He opened his mouth trying to find something to say… but nothing came. How was his brain empty? He was always ready for a wise crack or smart remark. It was one hell of a time for his special power to elude him.
“Wish I never got a tattoo of fire on my arm…”
“Eh why is that?!” Soap jumped slightly eager to finally have something to talk about.
“Loads of places won’t let you in with fire arms,”
Soap turned off the machine, he was quiet for a minute before he snorted and laughed, “Teh fawk was that?”
He saw the corners or Ghost’s eyes wrinkle before the large man shook his head. “Little humor,”
“Aye, very little,”
“Made you laugh,”
“Aye and A regret it,” Soap snickered.
“Another?”
“Yeh have a dad joke book in that jacket pocket?!”
“Nah just terrible sense of humor,”
Soap snorted again, “At least yeh admit it!”
“It gets me out of sticky situations,”
“A guess A can see that… That teh only part of yer skillset that does transfer over?”
Ghost grunted again and nodded “One of a few,”
Soap snorted, shaking his head. “Other than sparring, what workout do yeh do? Can't tell me that’s all yeh do, A’m in teh gym everyday!”
They continue on in an easy conversation after that. One that had seemed to make the appointment like it was going better than the last appointment had. Soap had finished up the tattoo, had cleaned the area and applied a second skin. He had just sat back and looked at the finished product… not ogling the brits' wide shoulders and back, when Ghost spoke breaking him out of his non-appraisal.
“When can you get me in next, Soap?”
Soap blinked then stepped back over to his desk and looked at his schedule. Ghost watched over his shoulder as he tugged his shirt from the jacket in his hands and started to get dressed.
“A’ve got ‘nother Thursday in 2 weeks?”
“Anything sooner?”
“Sooner? Yeh sure?”
Ghost grunted an affirmative as he pulled his head through the shirt. Soap watched as he slowly moved those broad shoulders, careful of the tattoo, and pushed his arms through each hole carefully. Soap shook himself.
“Uh… this coming Thursday?”
“What is with your Thursdays being empty?” Ghost asked as he turned around to look at Soap.
“A used teh take 'em off, weekends are good for business… so A take ma weekends through teh week…”
“Am I just special then?”
“Hold yer wheesht! Nae, most ma clients schedule in advance, Thursdays are teh only day A have a large enough time block for yeh on short notice, yeh picky bastard,” Consequently he hung out in the tattoo shop in his time off so if someone was looking for an appointment with him then he wasn't one to say no. He may have been in the shop earlier than necessary for another appointment that very first time he had met Ghost… and maybe he would reserve Thursdays now for the braw man just to be able to bask in his presence.
“Do… Do you want me to schedule in advance instead?”
“Its ok, A’m ‘ere on ma day’s off too,”
“Thursday then,”
“Touch ups?”
“I’ll let you have free rein,”
“Whut?”
“Fix what you think needs to be fixed,” Ghost shrugged.
“Can A see?” Soap held out his hand and waited for Ghost’s permission.
Ghost seemed rather hesitant, having some inner battle with himself before he finally sighed and held out his arm. Soap slowly took Ghost's wrist in hand and twisted it one way looking at some of the faded lines and art and then rotated it back.
“Yeh got a few areas that's missing ink… should be able to fill them back in… maybe touch up teh outlines on those ones as well? How long do yeh wanna sit for?”
“Same 3 or 4? noon?”
Soap grunted focused on the tattoo in front of him. “We can slowly work on it if yeh like,” He traced one of the scars that took a good chunk of the ink out.
Ghost pulled his arm back and looked at the tattoos. Soap had watched sadly as Ghost’s arm retreated, before the bigger man sighed “Probably won’t recognize this arm once you’re done with it Soap,”
“Yeh adverse teh color?”
“Ive only done grayscale…”
“Some color may noh be so bad, eh?”
Ghost grunted and pulled on his jacket, again rather slowly careful of the tattoo. He zipped up the jacket as Soap went about cleaning up the space. Soap watched as the larger man pulled up the hood and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and his shoulders seemed to relax a moment before his body seemed to do an involuntary shudder.
“Yeh ok?”
“Hm? Yeah,” Ghost huffed out, looking slightly dazed, he squeezed his eyes shut once, seemingly recomposing himself. He opened them, then turned to look at Soap “How much?”
“Yeh paid me for over 3 hours last time, A only asked for one… A just need enough for two hours today,”
Ghost pulled out his wallet and flipped out some bills. Soap continued to clean up the area, disposing of the ink cups and cleaning his machine. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ghost place the money down on top of Soap’s appointment book.
“See you next week then, Soap,” Ghost waved as he walked out the door.
“Thanks Ghost!” Soap disinfected everything, taking his time and making sure that the space was clean before he sat down. Soap scooted back over to his appointment book and started to count out the cash. “That fawken bastard,” Soap sighs, he over paid him way too much again.
There's a soft knock at the door. Soap turns to see Gaz leaning against the doorframe. “So that one’s kinda scary, yeah?”
Soap chuckles. “Aye a wee bit, braw though,”
“Course you’d have a thing for the criminal type,” Gaz sighs coming into the room.
“He’s no’ a criminal Gaz, he’s military,” Soap writes down Ghost’s next appointment in the book, not looking up at Gaz.
Gaz scoffed, “Not sure if that’s better or not mate,”
“Sod off,” Soap grumbled “His body is fawken amazing..”
“I couldn’t tell, with all the baggy clothes…” Gaz says, baiting him.
“Ach, the Bastards fawken stacked, gorgeous body.”
“Gym rat?”
“He works out a lot for his job… he didnae go into a lot of details, bastard kept deflecting,”
“Man you are into him,”
Soap blushed. “Aye…” he sighed spinning around in his chair to look at the darker man. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck. “Dunt think that he likes me too much though, he is really quiet, does nae talk much… and well you know me A-”
“YOU! Don’t fuckin shut up. Yes I know that very well,” Gaz sighs leaning back against the wall.
“Yeah,” Soap shrugs and looks down to the floor, “He seem to no’ mind so much if he keeps coming back,”
“Got another appointment with strong and silent?”
“His name is Ghost an' aye, next Thursday…”
“Ghost… Ok cause that’s perfectly normal, Well tell Ghost to tell his buddies… with a military base not far we should be getting a lot of business from them, it would be a good boost if our name got passed around there,”
“Dunt think he’s much of a social butterfly Gaz,”
“Damn it, I want something good to look at too!!” Gaz said as he grabbed a hold of Soap and shook him, well he tried. Soap was so thick that Gaz couldn't move the man that much.
Soap laughed and shoved him away. “Bile yer heid,”