Chapter Text
Ghost watches the new guy through his scope. Price threw them together for this mission, telling Ghost he ‘needs a partner’ and that he ‘can’t work alone all the time’. Bullshit, if you ask Ghost; he’s managed perfectly fine on his own until now.
He is still apprehensive about this new Sergeant, even though he was apparently deemed worthy enough to be included in the 141. Ghost generally trusts Price’s judgement, so he gritted his teeth and accepted this inconvenient development. He still doesn’t like to be stuck with this rookie, though. He’s going to have to play babysitter and coach him through this mission the best he can.
Ghost is stationed on top of a roof facing a compound of worn-down buildings that are currently hiding some intel in the form of a flash drive as well as a whole gaggle of supposed terrorists. The new guy, John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, is waiting in the shadows for Ghost to give him the clear to break and enter. Please , what kind of callsign is ‘Soap ’?
“All good, Lt.?” Soap's voice comes in via comms.
Ghost scoffs internally. As if he wouldn’t have notified Soap if there had been a change of plans. “Guards are on their confirmed routes. Everything seems to be like our intel suggests. Five minutes until our time window opens.”
“Copy.”
Despite all of Ghost’s grumbling, Soap has been okay to work with so far. They haven’t spent a lot of time together outside of some Ops meetings and training sessions, so Ghost still reserves his right to change his opinion later on. This mission will help him figure out if he’ll be able to keep working with Soap, or if he needs to put more pressure on Price so he can be left alone. The way he prefers it.
Soap threatens to invade his self-inflicted solitude. True, he is eager, compliant, and well-trained. All good traits for a subordinate soldier. He might be a bit too enthusiastic; not unlike a puppy. Ghost almost smiles as he sweeps his gaze over the compound again, imagining Soap wagging his tail as he is waiting for Ghost’s command.
He checks his watch. “Okay, Sergeant. Time to go in. Agreed upon entry point still stands.”
“Copy.” Soap’s voice barely contains his excitement. He emerges from the shadows, crosses the street and half jumps, half climbs over the fence in one graceful motion.
Ghost alternates between watching his Sergeant and continuing to monitor the movement of the guards from afar. Making sure Soap stays undetected, he leads him through the maze of buildings until he finally enters the one where they suspect the flash drive to be in.
This will be the hard part. Ghost is looking forward to seeing how Soap is going to function under pressure, left alone.
“Alright, Sergeant, while you’re in there, you’re on your own. I don’t have eyes on you.”
“Ah, what a disappointment that must be, Lt. …”
Ghost huffs. He must have misheard. “Say again?”
“Never mind, Lt. Found an office. Searching through the desk.”
Ghost doesn’t reply. The new guy clearly needs some more experience. They are fairly lenient with proper communication protocols in the 141, but not honouring a ‘Say again’ order from your Lieutenant... If stuff like that keeps happening, he might need to tell Price.
He’s caught between wanting Soap to mess up, so he can have a valid excuse to get rid of him, and needing this mission to be successful.
“There’s a black flash drive here that fits our description, Sir.”
Ghost is begrudgingly impressed. Soap found the flash drive in record time. “Good job. Secure it and get out of there.”
“Wilco.”
Ghost's eyes roam over the nearest buildings one last time, then his gaze snaps back just in time to witness Soap slipping out of a window. Game time. It’s on Ghost now to get Soap and the flash drive back to safety.
“You seeing me again, Lt?”
“Affirmative.”
“Good. I feel so much better with your eyes on me.”
Ghost blinks. The words could be innocent, but he can clearly hear the smirk on Soap's lips. He ignores it.
“Two guards at your 3 o’clock. Halt until they pass.”
Soap stays tucked against a wall until Ghost gives him the go ahead.
Falling back into a working rhythm, they almost manage to get Soap off the premises without incident. As Soap walks past another building, a man slips around the corner behind him, aiming a gun at the back of Soap’s head.
Ghost’s adrenalin rises, trying to accelerate his heartbeat. Years of training help him to keep his aim steady as he locks on the enemy through his sniper's scope and fires, hitting directly between the man's eyes. It was a clean shot, but Ghost still berates himself for missing the man’s approach in the first place.
Soap doesn’t complain, though. “Phew, thanks Lt.! Close one.”
“No need to thank me. Hurry up and get your ass out of there. I’ll call for extraction.”
“Invested in my ass, are we?”
Ghost can practically hear Soap wiggle his brows. He stays silent again, chiding himself for giving Soap openings like that. He’ll have to watch himself around that one.
Ghost inexplicably didn’t end up requesting Price to partner Soap up with another soldier. Why? He has no idea. Maybe he still feels a bit guilty for how close to disaster Soap came on their first mission together.
Now, a week later, he finds himself on a simple stakeout assignment with Soap. They are watching a village near their base. It is supposed to be abandoned but has shown some suspicious signs of activity lately.
Soap is stationed on the other side of the supposed makeshift base camp, watching vehicles come and go.
They’ve only been on site for a couple hours, and Ghost's eyes are still sharp and calculating, watching everything, when his comms system crackles to life with Soap’s voice.
“This is boring.”
“Pull yourself together, Sergeant. This is only the first of many stakeout sessions out here.” Ghost hopes he won’t have to deal with a whiny stake out partner grating on his nerves.
“Ugh, yeah. I know. Still, I’m fucking bored. What do you usually do out here to stay awake, Lt.?”
Ghost huffs. “I just do my job. Stay alert. Gather intel.”
“You’re no fun. Might do you some good to loosen up a bit.”
“Hm.” How is he supposed to react to that? Stakeouts tend to get a bit tedious, but that’s to be expected. Usually, Ghost welcomes the time to himself, but he isn’t alone today, even though Soap hides half a kilometre away from him. He hasn’t decided if he likes it yet.
“I think you could need a friend. Someone to shoot the shit with.”
“Oh, do I now? Let me guess. You are offering yourself up for the job, huh?”
Ghost can barely believe what’s coming out of his mouth. He never humours people's attempts to get to know him, so why does he kind of want to do that with Soap? He knows something like this could get very dangerous very quickly. Especially with the fearless Scot.
“I’d offer myself up to be a lot more than that, but we can start with friends alright.”
So fearless. With the safety of his skull mask, laying alone under a camouflaged tarp and seen by no one, Ghost cracks half a smile and reveals an unspoken truth about himself. “I don’t have friends.”
“Aye, for now. But don’t hurt my feelings by pretending you don’t wanna have me as a friend, Lt.”
Ghost knows this isn’t meant seriously. His previous observation of Soap's puppy-like behaviour was spot on. The Sergeant talks like that to everyone, making fast friends with almost the entire 141. It still rattles Ghost, though; no one ever talks to him like that. He's ‘The Ghost’, after all. Price is probably the only person that isn’t afraid of him in some way, but they still aren’t friends. Ghost knows the Captain harbours some kind of fatherly feelings towards him, and he tries not to feel offended by that but to see the well-meaning concern behind it.
He still kind of wants to play along with Soap and pretend to have some capacity for normal emotions left in him. “Wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“HA, knew it!’ Soap laughs. ‘We’ll be best buddies in no time!”
“Why on earth would you try to be friends with me? I’m your commanding officer.”
Soap scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Yeah, sure, you’re my boss. You think I care? You are The Ghost. Of course, I’d try to befriend you! Do you know how cool that’d be? Being friends with you?”
“Heard those rumours, huh?”
Of course, he has. Everyone knows about The Ghost, the silent killing machine. Vicious. Stone-hearted. Cold. Once you see him step out of the shadows, you’re dead. All of that is true, Ghost thinks. Soap will see that soon, too.
“Aye. Good stuff. You’re a legend, Sir.”
“Hm.” Ghost has heard these whispers behind his back countless times. He supposes he does deserve this legend status in a way, but not because of the things everyone knows about him. His file consists of little facts and a lot of holes, and he intends to keep it that way. His past is his burden to carry alone.
“Back to the reasons I want to be your... friend. Have you seen yourself?”
Once again, Ghost is stunned into silence.
“You can’t see me right now, but I’m fanning myself with my hands. Cause you’re hot, in case you didn’t get that. Sir.”
Ghost blinks. Is this a test? It must be. He’s pretty sure Soap isn’t even into men; he overheard him talking to Gaz about some bird the other day. Maybe he is mocking Ghost?
He mentally smacks himself. Hard. There’s no reason to be concerned. Soap is only playing. He breathes deeply, careful he won’t be heard over comms. If he can be one thing, it is silent.
The pause has gone on for way too long, and Ghost still doesn't know how to answer. He is saved by a car coming closer on the nearby street, giving him the opportunity to slip his professional mask on and leave his rambling panic behind.
“Car coming in. White pick-up truck, one driver, male, no other passengers or cargo visible.”
“Copy, Lt.”
They fall silent again, until Soap confirms the car leaving the abandoned village on the other side.
After that, Soap keeps breaking their silence occasionally, chattering about random stuff. About the mediocre food in the barracks. His bar hopping plans for the next time they get an evening to themselves. How he still trains with the rookies sometimes, even though he has been moved to the 141. He must’ve noticed that he was about to push Ghost too far, so there are no more innuendos. At least for now.
Ghost is certain that this hasn’t been the last of it. He needs to be ready for the next time it’ll happen. So, he silently vows to just go along with the teasing. After all, offence is the best defence, right? He should be alright if he just matches Soaps energy, right?
He groans internally. If people knew of his insecurities, he'd lose his reputation in a heartbeat. Better not let that happen.
Ghost stays mostly silent, only offering the odd grunt or amused huff to let Soap know he’s still listening. He likes listening to Soap. The stories are lighthearted and fun, and even though Ghost doesn’t want to admit it, they help to pass the time.
An hour or two after nightfall, Soap starts complaining about the dropping temperatures.
“Didn’t think the desert could be this cold at night, damn! How much longer do we need to stay holed up out here?”
“Extraction will be soon.”
“How soon? I’m freezing my balls off!”
Ghost huffs again. Time for a bit of offence. “How can you be cold, Sergeant? I thought you said I’m hot enough to keep you warm, right?”
Before Ghost can be proud of his monumental comeback, Soap bursts out laughing and is interrupted by Price talking over comms.
“Ghost, Soap. Price speaking. Having fun on duty, MacTavish?”
Ghost cringes. Hopefully, Price hadn’t heard his last quip.
“Ah, don’t worry, Captain! We’ve been very diligent. But Ghost just agreed with me that he’s hot stuff. Tell me you wouldn’t have reacted to that!”
Fucking Soap. How can he just blurt out something like that? He’s too friendly and open with his superiors. Or with anyone, for that matter. And now, Ghost has to deal with... whatever this situation is.
Price doesn't answer Soap, probably just as stunned by his happy-go-lucky attitude as Ghost is.
“Captain, Ghost speaking. Everything has been quiet. Only a couple vehicles passing through. I’ll deliver the protocol after extraction.”
Price clears his throat. “Very good, Lieutenant. Extraction is on its way, getting you to base and dropping off the next shift. Five minutes until arrival.”
“Copy.”
They ride back to base in the back of their extraction truck. Soap wears a wide grin, chatting away with their driver. Ghost stares straight ahead and vanishes into his office as soon as they get back.
“Mornin’, Hot Stuff!”
Ghost's gaze snaps to the right. Soap is sitting at a table with a bunch of recruits, smiling and waving obnoxiously in his direction.
Caught off guard, a- freakin -gain, Ghost gives a single nod in return before sitting down with his tea a few tables away. He’s never been so grateful to be able to hide his face behind his mask. Soap has been driving him mad while doing nothing more than existing, Ghost thinks. He doesn’t need this extra level of fake flirting on top of that, thanks.
He doesn’t want to admit it, but Soap has caught his eye the very first time he saw him strutting through the barracks a couple weeks ago. Shorter than the average soldier, but with more than enough muscle to balance that; sunshine attitude, booming laughter, a face made for smiling, head topped by that stupid mohawk, hair just long enough that Ghost could slide his fingers in and grab- Ghost stops himself.
He’s basically everything that Ghost could never be. Perfect.
Just as he is gulping down the last of his tea, a heavy body plops down next to him on the bench. It’s Soap. Of course, it’s fucking Soap.
“Sooo, Lt. Whatcha doin today?”
Soap angles his upper body towards him, propping one elbow up on the table and resting his chin on his palm. He beams up at his face. Ghost says nothing, slowly raising one eyebrow.
“I’m just asking because, you know, we established you needed some fun. Preferably with friends. So, why don’t you come with me for a while?”
Hidden behind the mask, Ghost’s eyebrow rises even higher. He turns toward Soap a bit, accidentally causing his knee to bump against the other's thigh. It’s only a fleeting brush of limbs, but the contact sears itself onto his skin.
Soap's grin spreads even wider before he continues, “To the gym of course. Gotta teach me some of those tricks of yours, huh? A bit of sparring?”
Relief lowers Ghost’s brow right back down, and he gives a clipped nod.
“Sure, MacTavish. I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Awesome, Sir!”
Soap jumps up and slaps a hand on Ghost's shoulder before he practically bounces out of the hall with his recruit friends.
Ghost barely manages not to cringe visibly. What has he gotten himself into this time?
By the time he arrives at the gym, the rookies are already causing a ruckus. There are other soldiers training here as well, taking advantage of a mission free day, but no one is as loud as the newbies, John MacTavish in their midst.
Ghost doesn’t mind the chaos as long as there is some serious training mixed into the banter and catcalling. It doesn’t stay that way for long, though. Ghost’s mere presence is enough to send a wave of shushing through the crowd of rookies, trying to appease and impress the legend stalking through them.
As soon as Soap sees him, he bounds over to Ghost, completely unaware of the reverence of his peers.
“There you are, Sir! Ready to go down?”
Ghost huffs. “In your dreams, MacTavish.”
“Nah, Lt. In my dreams, I’m the one going down. Come on!”
He winks and walks away to an empty sparring mat. His loose shorts and muscle shirt make it hard for Ghost to look anywhere else than his shoulders smoothly shifting under the fabric while following him. He tries not to think too hard about Soap's last comment.
To distract himself, he focuses on warming up. It helps for a while, rolling and stretching every limb and muscle group, flexing and extending...
Soap’s voice bursts his little bubble of concentration. “Damn, Lt. Not fighting fair.”
“We haven’t even started yet. Just warming up.”
“Uh-huh. Not what I meant.”
He looks straight at Ghost- and takes off his shirt.
Ghost hopes the mask hides his blush. When was the last time he blushed ? “What are you doing, Sergeant?”
“Just levelling the playing field. Look at you! Couldn’t find a tighter shirt? I can see every muscle through that thing.”
Ghost’s brows draw together in a frown. “That’s just a regular gym shirt.”
“Whatever you say, Sir.” Soap nods and gives him a mock salute, grinning smugly.
Ghost should really order Soap to put his shirt back on. Going topless isn’t proper sparring etiquette. But... he tries hard not to stare at the delicious planes of Soap's body, shamelessly on display. Torn between viewing pleasure and torture, he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he positions himself on the mat, stretching out his arms one last time and resigning himself to a morning of steely self-restraint. He’ll be professional. Unruffled. The Ghost. This cub doesn’t have any power over him. Soap can play his game if he likes. Ghost will not break down- no matter how much he might want to.
“We’ll go light contact at first. I want to see your techniques.”
“Hope I’ll be able to please you, Sir.” Soap wears an innocent smile that doesn’t match his tone.
Thankfully, the sparring pulls Ghost back into his comfort zone. He’s good at his job and tests out Soap's abilities with quick jabs and light hits, correcting his form ever so slightly. It also helps that he is still wearing his tactical gloves. Without them, he is sure his concentration would have gone AWOL the second his skin touched Soap’s magnificently bare chest.
The Sergeant is in good shape, quick and agile, but not as precise as Ghost. His bubbly personality hides a fierce competitiveness, the urge to win.
Light contact quickly evolves to full contact, and soon both men are sweating and exchanging hard blows, Ghost’s fists and kicks finding their target a lot more often than Soap’s.
“Getting sloppy, MacTavish. Focus.”
Out of breath, Soap quips back, “Never had a guy complain about me being too sloppy. There are firsts for everything, huh?”
Ghost sends a vicious kick against Soap's ribcage in retaliation. The looks they are getting from the other soldiers in the gym haven’t escaped his notice. Sure, some are watching for the educational factor of seeing Ghost spar, but most are watching for entertainment. Ghost can see it in their eyes each time Soap runs his mouth at him and he doesn’t have it in him to correct the Scot. He can sense the whispers rising around them. He’ll bet anything the whole base will be well-informed by lunch.
Still, he doesn’t stop the sparring. He is having way too much fun, ignoring the confused looks and enjoying Soap’s fearlessness. It has been a long time since anyone has treated him without prejudice- and it feels damn nice.
Notes:
Hope you guys liked the first chapter! If so, please feed me with kudos/comments :D
Lots of love and my eternal gratefulness goes out to my amazing beta ChildOfPoseidon!
Chapter Text
There is no place on this base that is safe from John ‘Soap’ MacTavish. He is everywhere. Or maybe Ghost’s gaze is just drawn to him.
He notices him standing next to the coffee machine, blowing into his steaming cup. He spots him sitting outside the barracks talking to Gaz, who seems to have become Soap's new best friend. They meet when they are both collecting freshly laundered towels. He sees him in the common rooms, polishing his boots and laughing with some rookies.
And each time Soap notices him too, he’ll interact in some way. He particularly likes waving at Ghost like a lunatic, looking very out of place in a military base. There are shoulder claps and fist bumps- Ghost rejects those, but that doesn’t stop Soap from offering them. Most devastating are the blinding smiles Soap likes to throw his way. He can’t think straight whenever he gets treated to one, which is basically all the time. They never fail to make him feel a tiny burst of warmth in his chest.
One time, Ghost watches Soap run laps outside in the rain. He was just passing by after an Ops meeting with Price when Soap sprints by the open door. Deciding that a cigarette can’t hurt, Ghost steps outside under the canopy.
He’s just checking the fitness of one of his subordinates. Soaked through workout clothes clinging to powerful muscles have nothing to do with it.
After a few more laps, Soap trots over and shakes his head at him like a dog. Ghost freezes, so he doesn’t flinch while being showered in cold droplets flung onto him from the grown out mohawk. He should work on his composure around MacTavish; no one can ruffle ‘The Ghost’. Usually.
“Fucking mutt”, he grunts.
Soap just laughs. “Sorry, Lt. It’s getting a bit long. Need to get it cut when I get the chance.”
Ghost’s stomach drops. Soap’s hair looks soft, even though it is soaked through. It would be a shame if Soap would be forced to buzz it off. Ghost knows that shouldn’t bother him, not even a little bit, but he can’t stop himself from muttering “I don’t see an issue with it.”
“Um, even I know it’s longer than regulations allow.”
“I don’t see you letting regulations keep you from anything else you want to do.”
Soap grins widely. “Fine. I’ll keep it if you like it so much, Sir.” He even throws in a wink.
Ghost rolls his eyes and puts out his cigarette. Before he can dump it in the trash can, Soap grabs him by the shoulders and smushes his dripping hair against Ghost’s chest, leaving a wet spot behind.
“That’s what you get for encouraging my rebellious nature!” Soap is all smiles, playful even.
The action is so unexpected, so unassuming, that Ghost’s breath hitches in surprise. It makes Ghost want to be playful, too- just once in his life. Shame he doesn’t know how to.
He huffs. “I think you mean naughty.”
“I can be that too, Sir.” After gifting Ghost with another blinding smile, Soap turns around and leaves.
There’s a knock on Ghost’s office door right as he wants to leave. He opens it and comes face to face with a startled Soap, fist still raised from knocking.
“Hey, Lt.! That was fast. Couldn’t wait to see me, huh?”
Ghost wants to say yes, but instead he rolls his eyes in pretend annoyance. He pushes Soap out of the way and turns to lock the door. Naturally, Soap doesn’t step away, so they end up standing entirely too close. All Ghost needs to do is tilt his hips forwards a tiny bit, and he’d push his-
He resolutely turns the key, cutting off his inappropriate thoughts.
“Did you want something, MacTavish? I need to get these to Price.” He waves a stack of papers in Soap's face, finally getting him to back off a bit.
“Well, actually, yes… Are those the new schedules?”
Ghost nods as he walks off towards Price's office. As rewarding as the rank of Lieutenant is, it comes with a lot of paperwork. He now has to balance missions with filling out field reports, filing protocols and arranging schedules. He only hates it a tiny bit.
“Ah, well, you see…” Soap sidles up to him, putting his arm around Ghost’s shoulders. He tries to, at least. They must look a bit ridiculous. Soap, being noticeably shorter than Ghost, has to stretch and almost walk on tiptoes to reach up high enough, and his arm still threatens to fall off.
The close contact makes Ghost’s skin tingle, so he slows down and angles his torso downwards. He desperately wants Soap’s arm to stay right where it is. It is heavy, and warm, and- is Soap’s thumb actually drawing circles over his shoulder blade? He tries to suppress a shiver.
Ghost almost misses Soap’s next words.
“Do we happen to be on stakeout duty, like, tonight?” He grins sheepishly up at Ghost.
“As a matter of fact, we are, Sergeant.”
Soap groans. “Is there, um, well, is there a way you could change that fact?”
That makes Ghost stop in his tracks. “What’s this about?”
Soap raises his hands in a placating matter, like he’s trying to calm down a wild animal. Ghost can already feel the cold seeping into his now Soap-less shoulders.
“It’s nothing! Not important at all. Really. But Gaz and a couple of others are planning to visit the bar in town tonight, sooo…” he trails off, looking at the floor.
Ghost squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
“You are aware I just finished these schedules, right?”
“Please, Lt.?”
He knows that if he looks up right now, Soap will be looking at him with the most pathetic puppy dog eyes he can manage. Ghost won’t be able to resist- he can admit that much to himself.
“You should come too, you know?”
Ghost opens his eyes. He was right. Soap’s lips are curved in a guilty half-smile, eyes blinking up at him in a way that can only be described as bashful.
He groans. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”
Soap beams at him, sunlight pouring from him as if Ghost’s words just flipped a switch. “Really? Thank you, Sir!”
Still reeling from the bright smile thrown at him, Ghost staggers slightly as Soap draws him into a quick, but tight hug. He’s so off balance that he doesn’t even react as Soap snatches his phone out of his jeans’ back pocket.
“Now, gimme that so I can put my number in. I’ll keep you updated on the plans for tonight so you know when we’ll leave, aye?”
Ghost can do nothing but watch as Soap does exactly that, saving his number under ‘Johnny’ and proceeding to call himself. One thought finally manages to break through his haze when Soap hands back the device.
“How do you even have a phone? Mine is military issued. You’re not supposed to have a personal one!”
“Oh, calm down, Lt. It’s untraceable. I’m not endangering this base. And I never take it with me on missions.”
“You do remember I am your commanding officer, yes?” Soap has to be able to hear the exasperation in his voice.
“Aye. Why?” Well. Apparently, he doesn’t.
Before he can do something responsible, like report a Sergeant using unapproved technology to coordinate his next drunken antics, Ghost turns around and walks back in the direction of his office.
“See you later, Ghost!”
Ghost doesn’t end up at the bar. Soap tried to coax him out of his room, sending lots of crying emojis when Ghost refused.
Thank God he didn’t work up the courage to come knocking at Ghost’s door. Judging by his current track record concerning denying Soap anything, Ghost would be miserably sipping beer right now.
He imagines sitting in a crowded bar with the other soldiers.
He’d be sitting in the back, at the darkest spot he could find. He’d be watching the others silently, not included in the conversation, making them uncomfortable with his presence. None of them would talk to him like he’s just a regular person.
He knows it’s largely his own fault, keeping everyone at arm's length at all times, but it still hurts. He’ll never be part of a group, forever damned to watch from the sidelines.
Soap would be there, of course, the life of the party. He’d talk to anyone and everyone, making jokes and effortless conversation. He’d be like a fish in water, drawing all of them in with his easy charm. Someone might even flirt with him- scratch that. Everyone with eyes and half a brain would flirt with him, and Soap would take his pick out of the many invitations, Ghost forgotten in the shadows.
His heart clenches. Those thoughts are dangerous. He has no business feeling even the tiniest bit of possessiveness over Soap. Yes, the camaraderie has been nice, but that’s all this is to Soap. He can’t help but be friendly to everyone. And hasn’t playing nice with his Lieutenant already earned him privileged treatment? Tonight is proof of it.
He sighs. It’s obvious Soap's attention serves his own purposes, nothing more. Still, Ghost can’t help but crave more of it.
So, he’d much rather sit alone in his room and fix the fraying seams on his tactical clothes than be reminded of what can never be, all night long.
His phone buzzes. He swears and immediately drops his sewing kit. If Price needs him this late in the evening, there has to be a problem.
It’s not Price. Or any of his other superiors. Right there, blinking up at him from the display, is Soap’s name. ‘Johnny’.
He has sent a selfie. He is holding up his phone, a friend standing on each side. Ghost has no idea what the rookies’ names might be. Behind the trio, a handful of young women all try to fit into the picture, happily waving at the camera. They look like nice girls, wide smiles, big eyes, pretty hair.
Ghost hates them.
The caption reads ‘Look what you’re missing! Should have been here, Lt.!’
He can see what he’s missing quite clearly. It’s smiling at him from the middle of the picture.
A couple hours later, his phone buzzes again. He reaches for it even quicker than when he assumed Price was calling about an emergency.
It’s a text this time.
‘Gonna play poker! I’m telling you, you should’ve come. Could be making a fortune here with your mask advantage!’
Ghost chuckles. Mentions of the mask usually make his chest constrict a bit, causing a slight choking feeling that he suppresses with sheer will.
It’s different with Soap, though. No one has ever accepted the skull covering his face so readily, even to the point of feeling comfortable enough to joke about it. With him, Ghost’s next breath comes as easy as ever.
The display turns off while he’s still staring at Soap’s text. Ah, fuck it. He’ll reply. What could be the harm in that?
‘You sure you want to lose all your savings playing cards? Your poker face is shit, MacTavish.’
It takes at least 20 minutes for the next text to come through. A picture of Soap holding his leather jacket in front of himself like some kind of prize greats him.
‘You know me so well, Lt. Spectacularly lost the first game… Good news though: we decided on strip poker, so my wallet is safe. Even better news: Loser gets to down a drink. I’m in for a fun night!’
Strip? Poker?
Ghost very carefully sets down his phone. Soap can’t be serious. How old does he think he is? 16? And why the hell is Ghost being included in this game anyway?
He watches his phone like a hawk. The next time the screen lights up, Ghost scrambles for the phone so hastily, he almost flings it across his room.
‘Lost another round! Huh, guess I’m really bad at this’
Attached is another picture of Soap downing a glass of amber liquid, sans his sweater. Blessedly, he’s still wearing a T-shirt.
Ghost doesn’t put the phone down while waiting for the next messages. In quick succession, Soap loses his watch, belt and a shoe, sending a picture each time. His hair gets progressively more ruffled, and his cheeks redden adorably. Ghost flicks through the pictures while waiting for the next one, excitement and worry mixing in his stomach. Soap is starting to move from tipsy territory to being properly drunk.
‘ey, Lt! you bored? hvn’t replied in a while. Wanna choose? Shirt or shoo? ’
Ghost's fingers fly over the keys.
‘Fucking hell, Johnny. You’re going to regret this.’
‘Chooose already :D’
‘Shoe.’
‘Your no fun, Lt’
Soap sends a picture of himself sitting at the poker table, grinning into the camera, eyes twinkling with mischief. He’s topless. In a crowded bar. For everyone to see. Ghost’s hands start shaking, making it very hard to type.
‘You’re too much fun, Johnny.’
The next message takes ages to load. It’s a video, titled ‘you hvnt seen nithing yet sir check ths outttt’
The video is shaky, capturing glimpses of Soap standing on the poker table, hands at his waistband. Overtly suggestive music is playing, obviously chosen for this moment. The crowd screams encouragements at Soap, and a voice close to the camera says, “And here we have MacTavish, losing his pants!”
That might have been Gaz. Ghost isn’t sure.
Soap begins to move his hips to the beat, smoothly rolling them from side to side. His hands are busy opening his button and zipper while he slowly turns on the spot, never ceasing his sinful swaying. He grins widely, basking in the attention. Is he actually enjoying this?
Taking off pants in a sexy way isn’t easy, but Ghost's luck dictates that a shitfaced Soap is the one to manage it. On top of the table, he bends over with an arched back and slides the pants down his butt. Catcalls and whistles fill the room while the pants travel south, slowly making their way downwards, revealing thick thighs, twisting with powerful cords of muscle…
Ghost turns off his phone. Enough is enough. He hasn’t even decided what he’s going to do, but his body is already moving. His only thought is that he’s lucky to be a Lieutenant so he won’t face any trouble requesting a vehicle in the middle of the night, even though he hates driving.
Halfway down the hall, he turns back around again. He forgot his mask.
Ghost’s fury carries him right to the bar without wasting a single thought about the reasons behind his actions. He only knows he has to get Soap before he does something even more stupid.
It doesn’t take long to arrive at the chosen shithole for the evening. Ghost leaves the car carelessly parked across two spots and makes his way over to the bar’s entrance.
He bursts into the dimly lit room. Spotting Soap is easy. There are a few other people in various stages of undress, but none of them are sitting around in only a pair of black, tight fitting boxer shorts and a single sock.
Soap is sitting at the bloody poker table that started the whole mess, talking to an objectively gorgeous woman. She is perched on the table’s edge right in front of him, wearing only a lacy bra and jeans, leaning into his space. An iron fist closes around Ghost’s lungs.
He bulldozes through the crowd, accidentally shoving people aside on his way. One guy in his path lets out a shocked yelp. “Lieutenant Riley?”
That stops Ghost dead in his tracks. Gaz looks up at him, eyes wide with shock. “I, um, didn’t expect to see y-”
Ghost doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. “Did you put him up to this?”
“Put who up to what?” Gaz looks genuinely confused.
Ghost wordlessly waves his phone at him, showing the paused video of Soap taking off his pants.
“No, he didn’t! You’re kidding me!” Gaz blushes a deep red. He looks like he can’t decide if this situation is hilarious or mortifying. “I’ll admit I filmed that, but I had no idea… he didn’t tell me he’d send… uhhh… well, the idiot’s over there.” He points to the poker table.
Ghost growls. “I know.”
Other soldiers have started to notice his presence. They all congregate around the poker table while Ghost approaches, watching him in apprehension. Just as he imagined, there are no casual greetings or even smiles directed at him. They are watching him with growing concern, probably wondering what got him to show up. He can’t even blame them. Who wouldn’t recoil when facing their obviously incensed boss showing up unannounced?
Alerted by his friends' worried expressions, Soap turns around. Ghost steels himself for the same apprehension to appear on his face, but it never comes. Instead, Soap gives another one of his trademark blinding smiles.
“Holy shit, Lt.! You’re heeeeeere!” He leaps up from his chair, takes one hasty, drunken step, and stumbles right into Ghost’s arms.
Ghost grabs him instinctively, holding him upright. The feeling of an armful of Soap untangles something in his chest. He still wants to grab him by his dog tags and shake some sense into him, but the unfamiliar sensation helps him draw a few calming breaths.
Soap lets out a startled laugh. “Aye, falling into your arms half-naked like some damsel in distress is a bit forward, even for me, huh?”
Ghost pushes him off and fixes him with a firm stare. “You, get dressed. Now, as for the rest of you-” he exhales, trying and failing to keep himself from unleashing the full extent of his wrath onto his soldiers.
His glare finds all of them in turn, eyes piercing them from under his mask. His irritation grows even more when he realises the group doesn’t only consist of rookies but even seasoned soldiers, like Parra and Vargas. He should have expected that. He always forgets Gaz and Soap aren’t green anymore when they behave like schoolboys. “Fine friends you are, the lot of you. I expect my soldiers to take better care of one another.”
Soap tries to interrupt him, pants already pulled halfway up his thighs. “Hey! I can take care of myself!”
Ghost wordlessly plucks a sweater that vaguely looks like it could be Soaps from the pile of clothes on the table and shoves it at the man.
“You should be ashamed of yourselves. Letting your teammate lose his composure like that. If any of you want to serve under me ever again-”
In his periphery, he sees Soap opening his mouth at this. He throws a deadly look at the Sergeant, warning him to better not have the fucking nerve to make a suggestive joke out of this.
“-I expect you to do better. What kind of example are you setting here, for fucks sake? You need to be able to depend on your team. I need to be able to depend on you. This little display here doesn’t give me much hope for your survival rates!”
“Ghost, it’s not their fault, I’m the one that-”
“I’m not done talking, Soap.”
“Aye, back to Soap, are we? What happened to Johnny?”
“Just shut up, MacTavish!” Ghost’s voice thunders across the bar, even louder than the booming music.
Soap blinks at him, frozen like a deer in headlights. His drunken flush deepens prettily, and a strange twinkle appears in his eyes.
Ghost takes some deep breaths. The whole bar is staring at him, including the pretty girl Soap was talking too. Time to wrap this up.
“All of you are going to run laps for me tomorrow at first light. Hungover or not. No exceptions.” That last bit was directed at Soap.
One soldier is drunk enough to have the guts to speak up. “So, you want us to leave for the base now, Sir?”
“I don’t fucking care. It’s up to you how much sleep you think you need. I’m your Lieutenant, not your bloody dad!”
“More like daddy…” Soap mutters next to Ghost, hopefully too low for anyone else to hear.
Ghost grabs him by the elbow and starts dragging him towards the exit. Soap is only wearing one shoe, but Ghost couldn’t care any less. “You are coming with me. I don’t want to hear a single complaint.”
The second the car doors close behind them, Soap ignores that command. “What the fuck, Lt.? What was that about?”
“I could ask you the same! What were you thinking? Aren’t you worried about your reputation?” Ghost starts the car. “Please fasten your seatbelt so we can leave.”
Soap laughs. “My reputation? Those are my friends in there!”
“Seat. Belt.” There’s no way Ghost is risking Soap’s security while he is driving.
“Ghost! Just tell me why you’ve come storming in like some angry momma bear!”
Now that’s a good question. Ghost wishes he had an answer. Impatient, he leans over to grab the other’s seatbelt himself. Soap’s scent fills his nose, mingled together with the sweet smokiness of scotch. An intoxicating mixture.
He pulls back and pushes the seatbelt into its place. Then he clears his throat. “You are entirely too drunk for this conversation.”
Soap scoffs but doesn’t argue anymore.
The alcohol seems to finally catch up with him. He stays silent for most of the ride back, eyes sliding shut. When they are almost back to base, he turns his sleepy gaze towards Ghost.
“You know, letting go isn’t always a bad thing if you are in the right company. I’m not worried about my reputation. But it’s cute that you are.”
Notes:
Thank you for all the support so far, fellow ghoap gremlins! Vibrating off my seat in excitement because I can't really believe it haha
Hope you like chapter 2 as well! :D
Chapter Text
Soap stands on the edge of the training grounds, breathing hard, sweat running down his back. They have been running laps at a brutal pace for at least an hour, just as Ghost had promised the night before.
The Lieutenant seems set on keeping this lesson going for a while. He has split the group in two and is giving half of them the opportunity to catch their breaths while he keeps on torturing the second group. He has them doing push-ups, walking between the neat rows of soldiers, kicking at their legs to get them to crumble down. Whenever someone can't hold themselves up, he grunts at them and restarts his counting.
He really wants to prove a point. Whatever that point is. Soap doesn’t completely believe it’s solely about improving their teamwork skills. Anyway, he thinks to himself. He’s not gonna question his Lt.
Right now, it is Soap’s group’s turn to rest. He starts on a set of stretches to keep his tired muscles limber. Working out while hungover isn’t fun, and he doesn’t need sore muscles on top of that, thank you very much.
Gaz sidles up to him, moving through some stretches as well.
“Sooo, MacTavish. Spill. What happened after Ghost carried you off to his cave? Did he rip you a new one, or did he just fuck you?”
Soap snorts. There’s some distance between them and the other soldiers. With everyone still gasping for air, they aren’t likely to be overheard, so Soap answers truthfully. “I wish . To be honest, last night’s memories are a bit fuzzy, but I think I’d remember getting it on with him . No way I wouldn’t still feel whatever he’d done to me.”
It’s true, he doesn’t remember every single thing. But some moments stand out crystal clear from his jumbled thoughts. Like Ghost actually showing up at the bar, moving through the faceless crowd like some all-powerful god, heading straight for Soap. His voice, gravely and strong as he shouted at him. It had made Soap imagine all the different ways he might be able to coax out Ghost’s rougher side. He remembers Ghost leaning over him in the car, close enough that he could have pushed his nose into the Lieutenant's neck to memorise his clean, masculine scent.
He also recalls Ghost shoving Soap back into his room. Soap is almost sure he said something along the lines of ‘Now that you’ve dragged me all the way back here, want to take advantage of a mostly empty base and come inside for a bit, Sir?’ Ghost had just stared at him intensely, fists tightly gripping the doorframe, before shutting the door straight into Soap’s face.
Gaz blinks slowly, undoubtedly taken by surprise. “Wasn’t serious about the fucking part, but okay. Good to know. You’ve really got a questionable taste in men, dude. But I suppose you picked someone you have a chance with, at least.”
Soap swipes some sweat off his temples. “I’m not kidding, but you clearly are. I couldn’t have made it any easier for him, and he still wouldn’t touch me last night.”
“Baby steps, Soap. I think he has forgotten how to be human- if there even is a man of flesh and blood hiding underneath that mask. Could turn out to be an actual demon, for all I know.”
Soap actually gasps out loud. “Gaz! That’s a fucked-up thing to say!”
“Is it really? Just look at him!”
They both watch as Ghost continues to oversee their sweating comrades. He towers over them, a huge hulking form packed with muscle. His bulging arms are crossed in front of his chest, his boots firmly planted on the ground, immovable. The mask covers his face completely, and the still dim morning light doesn’t reach his eyes, so all that is visible are two pitch-black holes leading into nothing.
Whenever an exercise isn’t executed to his satisfaction, a nod or lifted finger is enough to send the offending soldier scrambling to correct himself.
Soap tries to swallow around his drying throat. He has never seen a hotter man in his entire life. Okay, maybe he is menacing. Dangerous, even. But…
“Aye, maybe he’s a bit guarded,” Soap says. “But he’s actually really nice to me. He doesn’t have to humour my stupid remarks, but he does. I think he even finds them kinda funny. It’s fun to poke at him, try to get him out of his shell, like last night. And then he came running to protect me… Ugh, I bet he’d be so caring once he opens up a bit.”
Gaz groans and rubs a hand over his face. “No, Soap, you don’t understand. Listen to me. You haven’t known him for as long as I have. The fact that you even like to provoke him…” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “By the way, the nerve you had sending your commanding officer those pictures, what the fuck!”
“Don’t judge me! You even filmed the video!”
“Honestly, I can’t figure out if you are brave or stupid.”
Soap laughs. “Aye, a bit of both, probably.”
“Anyway, what I wanted to say is…” Gaz takes a deep breath. “The fact he didn’t rip your head off straight away is a miracle. I don’t know a single person who would be reckless enough to even think about goading Ghost like that. That man is scary. I mean- He’s a perfect leader during missions. Capable, deadly, perfectly prepared for anything. He always looks out for his team. No one brings as many soldiers back home as he does. All that is true and very impressive. But, Soap, the things I’ve seen him do… He does what needs to be done, stuff that would crush a normal man, without hesitation. Without remorse. Maybe he even likes it.”
“You’re not being fair. We’re all a bit like that. We wouldn’t be able to do our job otherwise.”
“True, to an extent. But there are reasons he’s a legend, believe me. And not all of them are good.”
Soap sinks down onto the grass, crossing his legs. “Maybe, Gaz, but…”
“That’s not everything.” Gaz leans down, speaking quietly. “You must have noticed he keeps himself secluded. He doesn’t spend time with any of us. It’s as if he doesn’t even want to belong to us, or to anyone at all for that matter. He's cold.”
“He’s anything but cold, Gaz. I’m fucking sure about that. You might have known him longer, but I know him better.” A fierce, fiery feeling lights up in Soap’s chest, making him want to protect his Lieutenant. No wonder Ghost is always alone when even Gaz talks about him like that. “There’s more to him than his Ghost persona.”
“Maybe you are right. He’s softer around you. Curious, don’t you think?” He winks. “Hence, my previous comment about you having a chance with him.”
Soap stares wide-eyed at his friend. He can’t be serious. Yes, he has been flirting with Ghost all this time, hoping for… a fling. Some hot and heavy fun. But Gaz is implying that there might be a chance for not only that, but more ?
The world around him blurs as Soap thinks about it. Really thinks about it. He remembers the half-smiles he can glimpse in the crinkling around the dark eyes underneath the mask. The stunned silences followed by unbelieving looks. The willingness to humour him. The intense protectiveness directed towards him yesterday.
He’s beginning to puzzle together the man that might be hidden behind The Ghost, minute pieces of a yet unknown personality slowly slotting into place.
If there is even the tiniest possibility to have something real with Ghost, he wants to try.
“MacTavish! If keeping yourself warmed up and limber is so exhausting you need to have a bit of a sit-down, it’s time to work you again, huh?”
Soap had been so absorbed in his mini-revelation he didn’t notice Ghost approaching.
He jumps up. “Aye, Sir! Always ready for you, Sir!”
Ghost puts them through the same routine as he did with the others. During their next break, Soap wheezes at Gaz, “You sure I have a shot with him? He’s merciless!”
Panting, Gaz shakes his head at him. “If you’re fool enough to actually want this, I think so, yeah.”
Soap’s stomach does a little flip. “Holy shit. Okay. So, what do I do? Up my game? I can do that. Shameless flirting is my speciality.”
Gaz groans. “I don't know about ‘upping your game’. I honestly don’t have a clue how you’d step up this blatantly ridiculous flirting, which hasn’t been working too well anyways, has it? But... if you actually want to pursue him, maybe try a different approach? Try to get to know him?”
“Aye. You’re right.” Soap nods slowly, lost in thought again. “Gaz? You don’t happen to know his first name, do you?”
Notes:
Soooo. What do we think about getting a glimpse into Soap's mind? :D
Chapter Text
Ghost tilts his head from left to right to stretch out his tired neck muscles. He has been sitting at his godforsaken desk for most of the day, going over stakeout protocols.
They have to be digitised by hand, which turns out to be quite a tedious task. Due to data sensitivity issues, he’s not supposed to hand the busywork over to someone else. The fact that there have been literally no remarkable observations during the entire operation irritates him to no end. Sensitivity issues his ass.
Today can go fuck itself.
Although, if he’s being honest with himself, paperwork isn’t even the reason he is this unreasonably annoyed.
Ever since the bar incident, Soap has been looking at him weirdly, and Ghost worries that his actions destroyed their friendship before it even had a chance to begin. It’s only been a couple days, but the changed atmosphere has been grating on his nerves.
He can’t even put a finger on what’s different exactly. Soap is still friendly, still smiles at him with the force of a thousand suns, and still tries to force him into accepting fist bumps any chance he gets.
But he hasn’t been as… bubbly. Flirty. It shouldn’t bother Ghost. He should be grateful he doesn’t get ambushed by innuendos left and right anymore. It has been increasingly hard to hide how much they’ve thrown him off balance, after all.
Yet, he can’t help but worry that Soap realised his Lieutenant read more into those carelessly uttered remarks than was likely intended. And now, surely Soap is worried he’ll have to step back so his commanding officer won’t actually follow through on any of those invitations made in jest.
Of course, Ghost would never act on his desires. He hasn’t even decided if there even are any desires that could be acted on. But Soap doesn’t know that, so he must have been reeling back to protect himself…
Ghost groans and hides his face in his palms. Even though he knows his thoughts are all jumbled up and probably don’t make any sense, he hasn’t been able to stop obsessing over Soap.
Today has been made even worse by the fact that he hasn’t seen Soap at all yet. He’s had a rare morning off duty and promptly decided to fuck off from base, probably to get some distance between him and Ghost.
Enough. Ghost wants to knock some sense into his own brain. What the hell is happening to him?
He sighs and looks at his watch. It’s 4 pm, the perfect time for a nice hot cuppa. He’s not going to get any more work done today anyway, so he grabs his mask and leaves for the canteen.
Ghost hasn’t even entered the big room functioning as their dining hall when he hears some very angry, very loud and very Scottish swearing.
“Steamin’ bloody Jesus!”
As he rounds the corner to the little kitchen nook, he spots Soap wildly flapping his right hand through the air and comically hopping from foot to foot. “Hells fuckin’ bells! That’s hot!”
“You alright, MacTavish?”
Soap looks up at him, quickly stopping his little dance. He promptly turns on his megawatt smile, but a second later, a bit of panic seeps into his eyes.
“Oh, hi Lt.! Nice to see you. I mean, it’s your tea time, right, so, kinda typical for you to show up now, uh…” He squirms nervously.
Ghost struggles to keep himself breathing smoothly. So, Soap can’t even stand to be in the same room as him now?
“Why don’t you go and sit down, Sir? I’ll, um, I’ll be out right away!”
Is he actually sending him out of the kitchen? Does he need his space so badly? Ghost’s whole body goes a bit numb, but he nods and leaves the kitchen corner, finds an empty table and waits for his turn. He shouldn’t have left his office.
Then, a miracle happens: Soap sits down right next to him, armed with two steaming mugs of… milk?
“Got something for you, Sir!” Soap’s grin looks a bit sheepish as if he’s unsure about his offering.
Ghost inspects the dubious concoction, uncertain what the fuck it’s supposed to be. In any case, he doesn’t care. All that is important right now is Soap being here, sitting as close as always, only a hair’s breadth separating their thighs. Suddenly, Ghost’s day doesn’t seem so bad anymore. He didn’t realise how much stock he’s been putting into their budding friendship.
“Thank you?” he says, making it sound like a question.
“It’s tea! Made it myself just now, was expecting you to come around. It was more complicated than I thought, though, so it took me some time.” Soap laughs nervously.
Now that he knows what he’s looking at, Ghost notices the tea bags still bobbing around in the milky water.
“Ah, I see. And what had you screaming bloody murder in there?”
Soap blushes. “Didn’t expect the mug’s handles to get so hot in the microwave.”
Ghost’s eyelid twitches. Using a microwave to make tea? He reminds himself that Soap wanted to do something nice for him, so he swallows down his disdain for the poor excuse for a mug of tea.
“Go on. Try it before it gets cold.”
Ghost lifts his mask, a perfectly practised gesture that only reveals as much of his mouth as is strictly necessary, and takes a sip. It takes all his military training not to spew it over half the table.
“Hm.” He chokes out a hum that sounds vaguely appreciative.
It doesn’t fool Soap.
A deep crease appears between his brows. “Shit. You don’t like it?” Before Ghost can think of an answer, Soap tastes the ‘tea’ himself. He spits it right back into his cup. “Ugh! That’s vile! Do you really drink this stuff every day?”
Ghost chuckles, an actual grin spreading underneath his mask. “I drink tea every day. Whatever you managed to serve here is everything but tea.”
Soap lets his forehead thud on top of the table. “Ugh, I’m so sorry. I just wanted to do something nice for you, and I totally botched it.”
Ghost’s chest expands, a warm, fluttery feeling taking over. He doesn’t remember the last time someone did something for him just to be nice, without any ulterior motive.
“Want me to teach you?”
“Would you?” In no time at all, Soap is back to his usual, cheery self.
They make their way to the kitchen nook. It only houses a few essentials, and Ghost will be eternally grateful for whoever decided to buy a proper kettle.
“First of all, you use this to boil your water, not the microwave. If you’re making black tea, the water has to be boiling when you pour it, not boiled a minute ago.”
He walks Soap through the simple process.
“This is goddamn embarrassing. It’s so easy, an ape would be able to do this.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Johnny.” Ghost takes a risk and lightly touches Soap’s shoulder. “You’ll be able to make me a perfect cuppa next time.”
The corners of Soap’s mouth curl up beautifully. “Next time, aye?” he says softly.
They’re standing close enough to feel each other's body heat, Ghost’s hand now resting on the junction between Soap’s neck and shoulder. It feels like it belongs there, and Ghost wants to glue it in place. He clears his throat.
“Okay, since you’re still a tea novice, we’ll make you a classic builder’s brew. Steeped extra long, milky with sugar."
“Um, what about lemon juice? Don’t you put that in as well?”
Ghost shudders. “Can’t stand the stuff. I take my tea white without, meaning only with milk. Is that why your, uh, creation tasted so sour? Where did you even get lemon juice from?”
“Ah, well…” Soap stares at the steeping tea like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “Might’ve driven into town to get some fresh lemons this morning.”
The fluttery feeling in Ghost's chest travels all the way to his stomach. That’s where Soap has been today?
He doesn’t know what to say, so he just continues with his instructions. “Okay, you can fish the tea bags out now. Put the sugar and milk in afterwards.”
Soap does as he says. When he goes to pour in the milk with a big flourish, Ghost barely manages to stop him. “Careful, Johnny! Not so much!”
“Oh, sorry! Figured more is more, you know?”
Ghost huffs. He is having way more fun than one should have when watching a Scot commit war crimes against tea. “A dollop will be plenty.”
“A ‘dollop’, aye? Fucking Brits.”
With the proper preparation and ingredients, they end up with two lovely cups of tea this time. They are drinking them standing next to each other in the dingy kitchen corner, shoulders occasionally brushing together. Ghost thinks Soap might be his secret ingredient for a lovely day.
It’s funny how much preparation is needed in order to get an operations meeting running. Ghost boots up his laptop and turns on the projector. The old piece of technology is notoriously unreliable, so Ghost tests if it deigns to be in working order each time he needs it. He hates when his meetings don’t run smoothly.
While he is still fiddling with cables and data files, people attending the meeting start to trickle in.
A smile sneaks onto his lips as he recognizes a loud voice coming closer. That has to be Soap, probably complaining about something. His words get easier to distinguish as he enters with Gaz in tow.
“...been killing me,” he admonishes. Halfway through the room, he notices Ghost and waves as enthusiastically at him as usual, sending a brief jolt of happiness through Ghost's veins.
Gaz rolls his eyes at Soap’s waving but nods respectfully in Ghost's direction before taking a seat next to his friend and continuing their conversation. “You should be taking better care of your body, Soap. Our job is no joke, you need to be prepared.”
“Ah, I’ve been exaggerating. I’ve just been running too much, that’s all. A little case of sore feet can’t keep me down.”
Ghost’s ears perk up, his protective instincts kicking in instantly. He makes a mental note to look into that. Can’t have Soap hurting in any way if he can help it. Well, and he needs his soldiers in working order, of course.
The meeting is over quickly, just a status update. They’re still discussing that bloody stakeout situation regarding the abandoned village. They’ll keep observing it for a while longer, but since it doesn’t seem to lead anywhere, they’ll probably let it go soon and await new orders.
Afterwards, Ghost dumps his laptop in his office and makes his way over to medical.
The military nurses on staff don’t seem to be particularly busy, so Ghost walks right up to one. “Excuse me…” he glances at her name tag, “Corporal Phillips? Who would I need to talk to in order to get some medical shoe inlays?”
She nods at him in greeting. “Hello, Lieutenant Riley. You’re talking to the right person, already. Would you like to sit down and tell me why you need them? Are your feet hurting, Sir?”
“They wouldn’t be for me. Sergeant MacTavish has been suffering from sore feet, and I thought inlays might help.”
She laughs. “Yes, they probably would. Nice of you to come down here on behalf of your Sergeant, Sir. Well, do you know his shoe size so I can see if we have some that would fit him in stock?”
Ghost huffs. “I’m no expert, Corporal, but isn’t there a bit of measuring involved, usually?”
“Oh, you want proper orthopaedic ones? I’ll need approval from higher up for those, they need to be customised and are quite expensive.”
“I approve.”
She squints at him. “Do you have the clearance for that?”
“He’s one of my subordinates, so I’m responsible for him. He needs the best care we can provide, so he’ll get proper inlays.” Getting irritated, he puffs out his chest and crosses his arms. He knows how to look intimidating when he has to.
The nurse swallows. “Sure, Lieutenant. You’re right, of course. Would you please sign this, so I can get the process started?” She hands him an official looking piece of paper titled ‘Treatment Approval’. While he is at it, he requests inlays for not only Soap’s workout trainers, but also for his everyday footwear and combat boots.
When all is said and done, Ghost feels a bit lighter. It feels good to be looking out for somebody.
It has been a couple of days since Ghost granted himself a proper conversation with Soap. The tea lesson seems to have reassured Soap a bit, but Ghost wants to give their possible friendship more room to breathe and convince Soap that he isn’t going to misinterpret the lighthearted flirting as genuine.
It’s fine though. Ghost’s world doesn’t revolve around sunny smiles and outgrown mohawks. He has more than enough work to do to occupy his time.
Regardless, one night he inexplicably finds himself standing in front of the doors of the common room. They are wide open, revealing a big space with tables and chairs on one side and some mismatched, grungy couches on the other.
Most soldiers like to socialise here in their free time, enjoying the companionship and relaxed atmosphere. Ghost hasn’t stopped by often.
He strolls right up to a table that’s tucked against a wall, as far away from the louder conversations on the couches as he can get. Some rookies are occupying it. He nods at the one sitting in the corner chair. “Private.”
The poor sod looks like he’s going to have a heart attack. “L-Lieutenant Riley,” he stammers. He seems a bit paralyzed, but as his friends get the message and start to leave the table, he quickly scrambles to follow their example.
Ghost sits down and starts shuffling through the stack of papers he brought with him. There isn’t any real work to do, but he knows people find his presence uncomfortable. The least he can do is ease their suffering a bit by pretending he won’t watch them too closely.
He keeps rearranging his papers, listening in on the conversations around him. Whenever he notices someone’s eyes on him, he sends them a withering glare. Soon, no one dares to even breathe in his direction anymore.
He doesn’t have to sit there for long before another group of soldiers enters the room, featuring a certain Scottish Sergeant.
Ghost doesn’t watch as they make their way over towards the couches and settle in. He doesn’t notice how Soap's eyes have a mischievous glint to them, even in the artificial light emanating from the dingy neon tubes. He doesn’t .
Soap sits right in the centre of activity, livening up the conversation with wide hand gestures and loud jokes. His friends join him in his laughter, hands clapping on his shoulders, exchanging some good-natured shoves. He is so obviously enjoying himself that Ghost's heart swells with warmth- right before bitter frost sets in.
Soap is in the same room as him, but they might as well be existing in two different worlds right now. Soap has surrounded himself with this bubble of friendship, making himself part of this group of men so effortlessly as if it’s second nature.
Ghost, on the other hand, has surrounded himself with nothing but loneliness. Soldiers are sitting at the tables around him, but he has pushed them all off. He wields the respect they have for him with the precision of a surgical blade, cutting deep trenches around himself.
It has never bothered him before, but now the sharp contrast between his and Soap’s situation is so striking that Ghost wishes he could behave differently. Wishes he could just walk over, offer Soap a fucking fist bump and immerse himself in carefree laughter.
But he can’t. There are reasons why he has kept to himself all those years, and he’s not sure if gaining friends is worth revealing those dark parts of his soul, to trust someone with his broken bits. Before he can’t do that, there is simply no room for him in Soap’s world.
He’d accomplish nothing but to pull that bubbly, wonderful person into his pit of despair. And then what? There is nothing to find down here for Soap. Ghost cannot be this selfish. MacTavish is better off with his other friends, people that can actually share his joy.
His heart freezes over completely. Why has he even come here in the first place?
He gathers up his papers and gets up to leave. Halfway to the door, he hears a surprised “Lt?”
Pretending not to have heard Soap calling out to him, he continues on his way out of the common room. Ghost doesn’t want to ruin his evening, so he hurries up and quickens his pace once he is out of sight.
“Sir!” Of fucking course, Soap is hot on his heels. It’s probably ridiculous at this point, but Ghost just keeps on walking.
“Bloody hell, Riley! Wait up!”
That finally gets Ghost to hesitate a bit, and Soap catches up to him. Ghost grunts at him and keeps walking towards his room. “Evening, MacTavish,” he says.
“Didn’t see you back there at first. Why didn’t you say hi?”
“Had work to do.” His curt attitude doesn’t seem to deter Soap.
“Aye, you seem to be working a lot these days. Are you tired of seeing my face already? Because I’m not tired of imagining yours.” He winks, his typical smile blooming on his face.
Ghost releases another noncommittal grunt, but his heart starts to thaw a bit. Has his distance over the last week worked? Has he managed to get Soap comfortable enough to be his unguarded self again?
“Oh, come on Lt. You can admit that you’ve missed me too.” He bumps his shoulder against Ghost’s while keeping in step with him.
They’ve reached Ghost’s room in the officer barracks, and he punches his code into the door's keypad. “I’ll have to admit that your presence isn’t entirely unpleasant. Sometimes.”
Soap seems to take this as an invitation and saunters right over Ghost’s door step, where he takes in the room and then lets out a loud whistle. “Wow, Lt! It really pays off to be an officer, huh? Is that a private bathroom over there?”
He turns on the light in the smaller adjoining room. “Holy shit, it is! And look at this bed!” He flops onto Ghost’s bed, arms crossed behind his head and glancing up at Ghost. “Do all officers get upsized beds, or are you a special case? Were they worried standard issue beds would be crushed by all of your glorious hunkiness?”
Ghost hasn’t moved all this time, the novelty of someone else in his room freezing him in place. No one has dared to visit The Ghost’s lair yet, but Soap just acts as if he belongs here. Ghost slowly closes the door, unsure how to behave now. “It's a standard officer’s bed. Sorry to disappoint.”
Soap bounces up and down on the mattress. “Huh. In any case, it seems sturdy. Want to test how much it can take?”
Ghost snorts and sits down on his desk chair. The room is still small, no matter what Soap claims, so he ends up sitting right next to the soldier sprawled on his bed. “It’s solid metal. If we’re not taking your explosives into account, I doubt you could put a dent in it.”
“Have a little faith, Lt.! This thing couldn’t handle the force of us two.” Soap wiggles his brows but relents and rightens himself, now sitting cross-legged on Ghost’s bed. “Anyway. Something weird happened. Got called in to medical a few days ago.”
Ghost watches Soap fiddle with his shoelaces.
“They wanted to measure me for some shoe inlays. Do you know anything about that?”
Ghost sighs. “I might have approved that you get them.”
“What? Did Gaz blab to you? I swear, I’m going to kill that snitching little-”
“Calm down, Sergeant. I heard you complaining about sore feet and wanted to help.” Ghost swallows, still not looking at Soap’s face. “Um, and I need my soldiers in top condition. Can’t have you whining and limping in the field.”
Soap has gone very quiet. Ghost finally glances at him and is met with a slack-jawed expression. “Did you get them yet? Are they helping?”
“It was… you heard me complaining and just… oh.”
Ghost feels very smug. Shocking Soap into speechlessness isn’t easily done. He grins underneath his mask. “Yeah. So, do they help?”
Soap is still trying to pull himself back together. “I um. I only got them today. They are comfortable.”
Ghost nods. “It will take some time for the soreness to pass.” He studies Soap, trying to decide whether or not to go with his gut instinct. Fuck it. Soap can handle it. “Actually, you know what. Give them here.”
Soap looks even more confused than he was a moment ago. “What? What do you mean?”
“Your feet, Soap.” He doesn’t move, so Ghost grabs one of his legs and pulls it into his lap. This time Soap is the one caught off guard, and Ghost is definitely starting to see the appeal of the relentless teasing Soap subjects him to. He unties Soap’s laces and pulls off the boot, letting it drop to the ground unceremoniously.
“What are you doing, Lt.?” Soap’s voice wavers slightly. Ghost starts applying pressure to his sole, slowly moving his thumbs. Soap’s breath escapes him in a loud exhale.
“Ever heard of a foot massage? It’ll help until your feet get used to the new inlays.”
A devastating smile appears on Soap’s face. “Aw, you’re making me feel all special, Lt.”
Ghost’s fingers falter for half a second before he resumes their movements. “Nonsense. Just looking out for one of my soldiers.”
Ghost can feel Soap’s repressed laughter shaking him all the way down to his toes. “Yeah sure. So, you’d do this for everyone? I could help you spread the word. Hang up some flyers.” He leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “Or is this some foot fetish thing you’d rather keep quiet?” His grin grows even wider. “Don’t worry, Sir. It can be our little secret.”
Suddenly, Ghost feels a little silly. What is he doing, rubbing the feet of his soldier? He fights a deep blush as he keeps working his fingers over Soap’s foot. “You’d rather have me stop?”
Soap sits up straighter at once. “No! No. Sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to mock you. You know me, I just like teasing you.”
Ghost pinches Soap’s Achilles tendon, working it between thumb and pointer finger. Soap winces, so he lightens the pressure a bit. “Sorry. But yeah, I suppose I’m starting to get to know you. Teasing included.”
He keeps massaging, following the thick tendon upwards until he reaches the end of Soap’s sock, the pant leg bunching up against his knuckles. Ghost’s fingers grace over hot skin, covered by surprisingly soft leg hair. His fingertips burn with the touch, but he lingers for a couple seconds anyway and kneads the strong calf muscle. His heart races, so he returns back down and rubs along the foot’s arch.
“This-” Soap clears his throat. “This is actually quite nice. Reminds me of my home.” Ghost glances up at that and raises an eyebrow. Soap has to be able to tell despite the mask, because he just laughs. “Aye, sounds weird, you’re right. It’s not like my mum gave me foot massages all the time. I mean the being pampered part. Feels nice.” He pauses, then quietly adds, “I miss my family.”
His voice sounds very thin, so Ghost soothingly works his fingers over the ball of Soap’s foot, all the way to the heel, then back again. He nods at Soap. “Tell me about them.”
“Well, they are my family, so they tend to be a little loud and like to joke around a lot. You should hear my dad, always has a funny story to tell. Annoys my mum to hell and back.” Soap takes a deep breath. “My sisters don’t live at home anymore, but they visit a lot, so the house is never empty. They all spoil me when I’m on leave, so I spend almost all of my time there, too. It’s nice.”
Ghost tenderly puts the foot down that he’s been working on and picks up the other, freeing it of its boot. “Of course, they spoil you. They don’t get to see you very often.”
Soap shifts his weight, resting his foot more comfortably on Ghost’s lap. “Aye. Mum always cooks a huge dinner when I get home. Love her scones with homemade strawberry jam for dessert. All my sisters come over with their families, and I get to cuddle all my nieces and nephews. It’s awesome.”
Ghost mirrors what he did to Soap’s other foot, slowly putting pressure on each muscle and tendon. He takes his time, loving the way Soap shares pieces of his life with him.
“But you know what the best part is?”
“Tell me.”
Soap relaxes back onto his elbows, halfway lying on Ghost’s bed again. “I get to be myself around them. I don’t feel like I have to be ‘on’ all the time, you know? Making jokes and stuff. I can just be Johnny.” He shrugs and looks at Ghost. “Do you ever get to do that with your family? Take off the mask and be Simon?”
Ghost barely keeps himself from squeezing Soap’s foot too harshly. He didn’t even know Soap knew his first name. He’s even more surprised that he likes how it sounds coming out of Soap’s mouth so much. But all of that is overshadowed by the mention of his family. His throat constricts.
“Simon Riley is dead.”
He tries to resume the massage, but his fingers tremble. Can Soap feel it?
“I don’t think so. He’s just buried down deep.” Soap sounds surprisingly tender, but Ghost can’t help but laugh.
“Yes, he’s been buried once as well.” He picks up the boots and slips Soap’s feet back in, one after the other. “Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”
“I’d love to listen, Simon.”
He casts a brief look at Soap’s face, and the clear affection directed at him makes him want to share a piece of his soul. Give it to Soap for safekeeping. “My… my family was very different from yours.” He fumbles for words, so he busies his hands with lacing Soap’s boots back up, carefully pulling on different parts of the fastenings.
“There wasn’t much love lost between us. Especially between me and my father.” The boots are laced up again, but he keeps them in his lap. Soap doesn’t seem to mind, so Ghost tries to share a bit more. “He had this snake. Big bastard. Used to sneak it in my bed at night. He- He made me…” He struggles for breath.
“Hey. It’s fine.” Soap swings down his legs and scoots forward to the bed’s edge, knees bumping up against Ghost’s. He puts both his hands on top of Ghost's thighs. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”
They sit there, sharing each other's space, until Ghost starts to relax again. He still feels a bit unsettled, though. When has someone ever just been there for him, talking and listening, understanding him like Soap just did? Is this what it’s like to have a real friend? Maybe sharing his splintered soul is worth it after all, if this is what he can gain from it.
He nods and Soap straightens up again, taking his hands with him. He’s clearly unsure what to do now. “Um, see you tomorrow? We have stakeout duty together, right?”
Ghost is also lost on how to proceed, and he only nods helplessly.
“Alright, then.” Soap’s grin returns, a shy variety Ghost hasn’t seen before. He wants to imprint the image into his brain.
Soap rises and walks toward the door. He is almost outside already when Ghost blurts out, “Johnny…”
Soap hesitates and looks back over his shoulder, hand resting on the doorframe.
The skin around Ghost’s eyes crinkles in a smile. “Thank you.”
“Two goldfish are in a tank…”
A stifled snort comes through Ghost’s comms system, before Soap answers, “Go on.”
“One turns to the other and says… ‘You know how to drive this thing?’ “ This time Soap stays silent, probably wondering what he did to deserve to be on stakeout duty with this dad joke cracking Lieutenant. “Little army humour,” Ghost adds.
“Very little…” Soap tries hard to stay serious.
Ghost doesn’t know what’s different today, but he is in an unusually good mood. He and Soap have been in their typical stakeout positions for hours now, talking and laughing quietly. He keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him, but his body and mind are relaxed, more than they should be after laying under a tarp and squinting through a sniper scope for so long. He smirks and asks, “Another?”
“I got one for you.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Why was the strawberry crying?”
Ghost’s heart skips a beat as he is reminded about their conversation yesterday. Soap’s mum’s homemade strawberry jam is one of the details he has carefully filed away into a special folder labelled ‘Johnny’ in his brain. “Why?” he asks.
Soap barely manages to get his line out before he dissolves into laughter. “Because he was in a jam.”
Their jokes aren’t all that funny, but Ghost still chuckles. “Not bad. We could do this all day.” What he means to say is that he wants to do this all day.
Thankfully, Soap’s laughter calms down a notch, because Price’s voice comes in via comms.
“Captain speaking. How do you copy, Lieutenant?”
“Solid, Captain. Has been another quiet day. Only four vehicles came through, none of them exhibiting suspicious behaviour.”
“Copy. That sounds promising. I’ve got orders to wrap this situation up, so how do the two of you feel about taking a look at those buildings up close? Just to confirm they’re empty after all.”
Ghost knows this is an order, not a suggestion, but he appreciates Price’s casual leadership nonetheless.
“Fuck yes!” Soap blurts out. “Finally, something to do!”
Ghost sighs. “Affirmative, Captain.”
Price walks them through their orders while they pack up and move towards their rendezvous point. It’s a simple mission. Go through the dozen houses making up the abandoned village, clear them of any potential bodies, look for signs of activity, and return home. Done.
They meet up behind something that looks like a collapsed shed. After a quick check up of each other's gear, they are on their way towards the run-down buildings.
“This’ll be cake. You know they call me Soap because I can clean houses very efficiently, aye?”
Ghost huffs in amusement. “I didn’t, but thanks for that mental image.”
“What mental image exactly, huh? Do you want me in a maid's dress, Sir?” Soap wiggles both his eyebrows and his hips. “Do you want me to clean up real good for you, Simon?”
He should look ridiculous with the way he bats his eyelashes at Ghost. He really should, but Ghost has a hard time swallowing, throat suddenly dried out. “Focus, MacTavish. We have a job to do.”
They are almost at the first house, creeping closer using dried up bushes, rubble and left behind cars as their cover.
This village has been under observation for over a month now. It is almost impossible for anyone to be here, but both soldiers are on high alert. Their training is kicking in, and today's lighthearted mood fades into the background of Ghost’s mind.
Soap hasn’t been kidding when he said he was good at this sort of thing. They clear one house after the other, working in tandem like a well-oiled machine. They haven’t been on this type of mission yet where they are required to physically work together, but it feels like second nature.
Even Soap being Soap from time to time doesn’t bother Ghost.
The village is so small that most of the houses only have one story. When they clear one of the rare two-story buildings, Soap stops at the staircase.
“Watch my back while I go up, aye Lt.?”
Ghost gives a clipped nod before he notices what Soap is doing and groans. He is moving up the stairs, deliberately shifting his hips from side to side. His trousers stretch over the firm muscles of his ass, cloth tightening with each step. Ghost is hypnotised.
“Stop that,” he mutters. “You’re distracting me.”
Soap smirks down at him gleefully. “Oh? Am I? Whatever did I do?”
Ghost sighs.
They are still efficient, clearing each house, moving from building to building. But there is a different kind of tension now. Ghost keeps sneaking glances at Soap, at his broad shoulders underneath the tactical vest, at his floppy mohawk peeking out underneath his helmet, at the gear straps running across his thick thighs… Worse, he notices Soap watching him, too.
It doesn’t take them long to get to the final house. Soap walks down the short hallway, clearing each room while Ghost stands watch, weapon drawn.
“All clear, Lt.”
“Copy.” Ghost nods satisfied when he looks out of a shattered window and notices another half-collapsed tool shed. “Actually, we should check that one too.”
Soap calls for him from the last room. “Let's check this out first. It’s an office. Maybe there’s some intel.”
They search the little room. Ghost rifles through the desk while Soap vanishes into the small walk-in storage closet.
Soap’s voice sounds muffled in the small space. “Huh, sorry. False alarm. Nothing but dust here.”
Ghost is inclined to agree. The papers he has found are barely legible and crumbly - far too old to be of importance. He looks up and sees Soap leaning against the closet’s door frame.
“I was wondering, Sir. How long have we been sneaking through this shithole?”
He double checks his watch. “Just over an hour. We made good time.”
Soap smirks. “So… we do have a little while before the Captain would get suspicious, yes?”
“Um. I suppose so.” Ghost watches in confusion as Soap takes a step backwards. Then another step. His eyes have an intense look to them, burning Ghost to his core.
“You know… I’ve been thinking I could maybe reciprocate your foot massage. Sir.” He sinks to his knees, right there in the grubby closet. He smirks at Ghost. “Come closer.”
Ghost feels like he lost control over his body. He follows Soap’s order, pulled by his voice like a puppet on a string. His mind is blank as he stares down at his Sergeant waiting for him in the dirt. “Did I understand you correctly? You want to give me a foot massage?” His voice sounds embarrassingly growly.
“I could, Sir. But… I’m sure we can think of something else for me to do while I’m down here, too.”
Ghost freezes. He stares at Soap, not comprehending what is happening at all. Soap’s smirk wavers a bit. What does it mean? Is he excited? Nervous? Is he amused from teasing Ghost? Pleased at pushing his Lieutenant over yet another flirting threshold?
Soap tentatively raises one hand, placing it lightly on Ghost’s thigh. Neither of them moves, so he tightens his grip, raising his other hand-
And Ghost snaps. Desire and panic simultaneously overwhelm him, frying his brain. He stumbles back and slams the closet door into Soap’s face. Hard.
He wants to run; leave and never look back. He wants to pretend his resolve isn’t about to crumble. He wants to hide his desperate need for Soap’s flirting to be real.
“Ghost?”
He wants to open that door and take a risk.
The blood pumping through his veins sounds deafening to his ears, rushing through his body so fast it makes him dizzy. The doorknob rattles. He reaches out, fingers almost touching…
A bullet hits the wall right next to his head.
He gapes at the hole in the plaster, pieces of brick torn off, dust dancing through the air.
For a split second, he hesitates, still caught up in his feelings. Then he turns, a graceful movement that shifts his body out of line of the next shot and gives him a clear view of the doorway.
Two men are coming for him, weapons drawn. Ghost’s instincts kick in.
There’s no time to get his own gun out, so he launches himself at the closest man, grappling for purchase while using his enemy’s body as a shield against incoming bullets. The man struggles against him, but it’s no use. Ghost snakes his arm around his foe's neck, grabbing the side of his face, gloved fingers brutally digging into flesh. It only takes one practised flex of his arm and the man’s neck breaks with a satisfying crunch, like it wasn’t any different from snapping a twig.
Ghost tosses the limp body at the other man, making him lose his balance. He draws one of his knives, about to use the tall man’s stumbling as a chance to pounce, when he hears a third person enter through the window behind him.
He drops to the floor, narrowly escaping another round of gunshots.
Crouching behind the old desk, he takes a steadying breath and throws his knife at the new threat. The man is only halfway through the window when the blade finds its target, sinking hilt-deep into an eye socket.
The unknown mercenary makes a gurgling sound, blood spilling from his eye and nose before he drops onto the windowsill and lands in an uncoordinated pile of limbs.
Ghost’s body moves on honed instinct, avoiding the bullets fired at him by the tall man that’s still waiting for him in the doorway. They zip past Ghost, the calm centre inside this deathly storm of projectiles. Some come dangerously close to him, but they only hit the wall right next to the closet.
“Ghost! Shit!” Soap yells through the door, pounding on the wood trying to get through. “This fucking thing is stuck!”
“Johnny, get back from the door!” Ghost barks in his direction. It only takes this one second of distraction for the tall guy to cross the room and shove Ghost against the wall.
Ghost is very good at close contact fighting, but tall guy definitely knows what he is doing too. He has longer limbs than Ghost and uses them to his advantage.
They trade punches, grunting at each other, trying to overwhelm their opponent. Ghost lets go of him with one hand to free another one of his knives, but he misjudges his enemy's attentiveness. Tall guy uses the brief window of opportunity to push Ghost against the closet door and force his forearm against Ghost’s throat, attempting to crush his windpipe. Ghost gasps, losing air quickly.
“Ghost!” Soap is still calling out for him. He sounds frantic, helpless, his voice threatening to break. “Fucking hell, this door is stuck! Simon, what is happening?”
Ghost grunts. Tall guy knocks his head forward, trying to break Ghost’s nose, but he knows how to deflect attacks like that. His body is still fighting, even though black spots start to cloud his vision.
“Simon! Please, oh God…” Soap’s voice is right next to him, only the door separating them.
Ghost throws his whole body against his enemy, pushing with everything he has. Finally, his strength wins out.
They crash to the floor, and Ghost has his knife ready. He slashes at the man underneath him, cutting his throat in one swift move.
A fountain of hot blood gushes out, drenching Ghost’s gloves. Drops splatter everywhere as Ghost stabs into the chest in front of him, expertly finding the narrow spaces left open between ribs, once, twice, three times, making sure the threat is eliminated.
He jumps up immediately, scanning the room for movement. Gun drawn, he swiftly moves to the closet.
A latch had fallen down, locking it from the outside. He flicks it up and opens the door to find himself faced with the barrel of Soap’s gun.
Soap lowers it instantly. “Oh, thank God, it’s you! Are you alright?” His voice shakes, and his hand clamping down on Ghost’s shoulder trembles.
Ghost’s body feels like it’s thrumming with adrenalin, the remnants of battle still in the air. They have to check their surroundings for any other enemies, search the ramshackle shed outside, and report back to Price. But he allows himself to look at Soap, just for a few seconds.
The Sergeant's eyes are glistening suspiciously, and Ghost can’t help but gently swipe his thumbs over the moisture, leaving trails of blood behind. It looks strangely beautiful on Johnny’s cheeks.
“I’m alright, Johnny. I’m alright.” They stay like that for just another minute, catching their breaths, a sea of blood beneath them. “Good to go?” Ghost asks.
Soap nods and lets his hand drop from Ghost’s shoulder. He straightens and slips back into soldier mode, looking as strong and capable as ever. A thousand unsaid words linger between them, but they have work to do.
Notes:
pls forgive me for the canon dialogue snippet, but it just fit so well! :D
Chapter Text
Soap leans against the wall on the far end of the hallway from Price’s office. He got shooed away like a stray dog for pacing right in front of the door earlier, but he couldn’t help himself. His Lieutenant is in there, delivering a report of their horribly botched mission.
Soap stares down the hallway, shifting his weight from one leg to the other every few seconds. He catches himself taking a step forward and forces his body to lean back against the wall. He cannot start pacing again, or he will get kicked out completely, and he can’t risk that if he wants to get a hold of Ghost before he disappears.
He desperately needs to talk to him. What happened at the mission… Soap shudders. His heart speeds up when he thinks back to those horrible minutes inside the closet.
At first, he was just embarrassed. He propositioned Ghost in a very obvious way, and instead of getting his desired outcome- either in the form of a blush spreading underneath that blasted mask, or, even better, Ghost’s thick cock stuffed into his mouth- he got a door shoved right into his face.
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
His humiliation quickly turned into horror as he heard the gunshot. He tried to get to Ghost right away, but that damned door locked itself on him. That thing must have been reinforced with a new magical metal alloy or something, because no matter how hard Soap rattled the handle, no matter how hard he kicked and shoved at all the right places, it wouldn’t budge.
He hadn’t had any clue about what was happening outside. He had heard blows being exchanged, shots fired, and some gurgling and splattering noises. But Ghost had been absolutely silent, just like his name promised, and it had terrified Soap. The thought of Ghost on the other side of the wall fighting for his life, bleeding, dying , because of Soap’s teasing, Soap’s carelessness, Soap’s mistake…
He angrily wipes his eyes. He can’t cry here.
This could have been the worst mistake he ever made, but Ghost had it handled. He managed to eliminate three armed enemies without even breaking a sweat.
If Soap didn’t already have a crush on Ghost before, that would have solidified it. Or, if that wouldn’t have done it, the way Ghost reassured him afterwards would have. But, since Soap definitely did have a crush before all that, he’s officially moved into ‘falling in love’ territory.
Ghost had been so professional about everything, and Soap followed his lead. They cleared the building a second time and made their way to the rundown shed Ghost had noticed right before the attack.
It had turned out to be a discreet cover for a trapdoor leading to a small underground lair. Inside, they were greeted by stale air and a fourth guy guarding a huge stash of coke.
They were prepared this time, so they managed to incapacitate and capture him without any problems. They called in enforcements, got extracted, and now Ghost has to explain everything to Price.
Soap startles as the office door opens without warning, and Ghost appears, looking as strong and unbothered as always.
Soap pushes off the wall. “Simon, finally! You have been in there for ages . Everything alright?”
Ghost keeps walking, but he answers Soap. “Well, Price isn’t happy. This mission is a mess. There is a lot of paperwork to be done, and we’ll have to reevaluate our stakeout data. At least some of the cars we observed had to be smuggling in some care packages for the drug’s guards.”
Soap keeps pace beside him. “Oh. Yeah. Hadn’t thought about that.”
“I can tell.” Ghost chuckles, but his words sting a bit.
“Well, I’ve been a bit preoccupied with other things!” Soap has to work hard not to shout at Ghost. “For example, I’m thinking why the hell you’re not on your way to Medical right now!” he adds, watching Ghost punch in the code to his room’s door.
He shoulders his way past Ghost and inside the room. His Lt. won’t get rid of him until he says his piece.
“Medical?” Ghost closes the door behind them. He doesn’t even question Soap’s presence. Good.
“Why would I go to Medical? I didn’t even get scratched.” Ghost unbuckles his tactical vest and pulls off his sweatshirt. “See? All good.”
Soap’s breath leaves him in a rush. Ghost is still wearing a skintight T-shirt, but the sudden display of defined muscle makes Soap’s head spin.
He scans over Ghost’s newly uncovered arms. It’s true. He can’t find anything more than a few minor bruises and old scars- until his gaze catches on the edge of Ghost’s balaclava. It has ridden up a tiny bit, revealing a deep blue bruise blooming above his collarbones.
Soap reaches out, fingers gently closing around the black cloth. Ghost jerks his head back.
“Relax,” Soap breathes. “I won’t take it off.”
He slides the cloth upwards, exposing more and more of Ghost’s neck until his whole Adam's apple is visible. It bobs up and down as Ghost swallows nervously. A vicious bruise is covering the delicate skin, black, broad and nasty, sneering in Soap’s face.
“They choked you?” He trails his fingers across the bruise and pulls the balaclava back down. He can’t bear to look at the injury any longer. “This is my fault.” He stifles a sob and lets himself fall forward, burying his face against Ghost’s broad chest, hands still raised and clutching at the black cloth. “I’m so sorry, Simon. I shouldn’t have forced your hand like that. I shouldn’t have distracted you. You wanted to search that shed first, and I dismissed your order just because I… because…”
A tear escapes him and rolls across his still bloodstained cheeks until it gets absorbed into Ghost’s T-shirt.
“I am so lucky that you are a combat god. I don’t know what I would have done if you got seriously injured or… or worse. Because of me .” His voice is barely more than a whisper now. “I still can’t believe you made it out. That you are actually here with me.”
Gentle arms wrap around Soap, tentative and light as a feather. He must be dreaming. He snuggles closer, rubbing his face into Ghost’s chest.
“I’m fine, Johnny. I’m here.”
Soap can feel the vibrations of Ghost’s rumbly voice rippling right through his body. If he concentrates, he can even feel Ghost’s heartbeat, strong, fast and steady.
“Is this real? This isn’t a dream, is it?”
Ghost’s chuckle makes Soap’s head bounce a bit on his chest. “Does it feel like a dream? I’m here with you. This is real.”
How can the worst day of Soap’s life turn into the best in a couple of minutes? He can feel Ghost tightening his arms into a proper hug.
He makes a noise that’s half sob and half laugh. “So, I haven’t lost you? I was so afraid back there.”
Ghost hugs him even tighter. “Never, Johnny.”
Soap feels like he’s flying. “I’ll take that as permission to keep you, Simon.” He tilts his head to grin up at Ghost, not caring that his cheeks and eyelashes are wet and bloodstained.
Ghost rolls his eyes, but his hug stays firm and the skin around his eyes crinkles in a smile. “Affirmative.”
Soap’s fingers finally uncurl from the mask’s cloth. He flattens his hands against Ghost’s collarbones and runs them across the hot skin exposed to him. He feels like he is in a trance. Ghost just basically confirmed that he is Soap’s. Not in as many words, but Soap knows by now words don’t come easily for Ghost. This is as much as he is going to get from this man.
His hands move from collarbones towards massive pecs, gently raking across the contours of the muscles he longs to touch so badly. Ghost catches his wrists.
“Johnny…” Ghost’s voice catches in his throat.
“Sorry. Sorry. I… This is new for you, right?”
Ghost looks him straight into the eyes. “Yeah… I never do this. Ever. Especially not with someone I’ve only known for a couple of months.”
Soap’s heart cracks a bit, and his giddiness starts to dwindle. “Oh.”
“But… I don’t know. It’s different with you.”
Just like that, Soap’s heart flutters again. “I knew it! I knew it was only a matter of time until I broke through your walls!”
Ghost sighs. “I suppose so.”
Soap is a generally happy person. He can find the bright side in almost every situation. His laugh comes easy, he enjoys the company of his friends. He can get excited by little things like a rainbow on the horizon or his mom sneaking a jar of jam into his duffle bag. He lives for the big moments, like his sisters’ weddings, or his dad being declared cancer free.
But he has never felt like this before. Like his heart opens up, secret hope growing into something bigger. The possibility for something real is right here, and he will grab it with both hands and hold on tight.
He is tempted to kiss Ghost on top of his mask, right here, right now. He leans in, but then he notices the panicked look Ghost is giving him.
He forces himself back. He can wait. He can be very patient if there is a good reason for it, and giving Ghost the time that he needs to get comfortable with physical touch is the best reason there is.
“Don’t worry, Simon. Your pace, okay?”
Ghost looks so confused the cracks on Soap’s heart threaten to reopen. Is Ghost this used to people disregarding his feelings? Most people probably don’t even realise he has them. They are so afraid of this man they convince themselves he is an unfeeling monster when he is anything but.
Soap can see it clearly, Ghost’s need for love, for friendship, for acceptance. He will give him all of that. Ghost is his , and he won’t let him forget it. He’ll take care of him, starting right now.
“Okay, come on. Put your shirt back on.”
Ghost actually lets out a laugh. It is tiny, but real, and Soap tucks it away into his soul.
“What?”
Soap winks. “You didn’t think I’d let you off the hook about seeing a doctor, right?”
Notes:
Well. Soap and Ghost *might* have differentiating interpretations of this conversation. Might. lol
Chapter 6: Hidden
Notes:
Since this story has been very lighthearted so far, and I don't want anyone to get an unpleasant surprise: pls make sure you've read the tags :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Ghost is sulking. He didn’t leave his room all day, courtesy of John ‘Soap’ MacTavish. He has no idea how, but that little shit got a hold of Ghost’s doctor’s orders.
This morning, Ghost had just finished dressing and was about to leave for breakfast when Soap poked his head into his room.
“Just wanted to make sure you take your rest day, Lt. Better get back to bed! And stay there, okay?”
He shoved some porridge and tea into Ghost's arms and vanished again. Ghost had been totally stunned. Soap had known he would disregard his prescribed bed rest and actually came to his room with breakfast and scolded him like a child. What. The. Fuck.
Though, thinking back to yesterday evening, he shouldn’t be too surprised. Soap had proved to be very protective of him. It made Ghost’s heart flutter in unexpected ways, but he supposed that must be what it was like to have a friend. He probably needs to get used to that since he basically promised to have an actual friendship with his Sergeant yesterday.
What’s much weirder than Soap’s behaviour is the fact that Ghost actually listened . He stayed in his room, read and worked on a new skull balaclava. Those things don’t come pre-painted, unfortunately.
Soap had asked him if this was new for him, and it is. He doesn’t listen to people, he doesn’t talk to people, he doesn’t hug people, he doesn’t trust anyone. On missions, yes, he has to trust his team, but not on a personal level.
Soap tears all of those walls down, he sees behind the mask, and he does it effortlessly. Not that anyone ever put any effort into getting to know Ghost, but Soap doesn’t even have to do that. Ghost just lets it happen. He is defenceless before Soap.
There’s a knock at his door. When he opens it, he finds Soap waiting for him holding a tray laden with food.
“Hey Lt.! Brought you some lunch.” He pushes past Ghost and places the tray on Ghost’s small desk.
Ghost eyes the two overflowing plates. “How many men were you planning to feed with that, Soap?”
“Huh? Two of course. Thought it would be awkward to just stare at you while you eat.” Soap happily arranges the plates and cutlery he brought but stills and adds, “Unless you would prefer to eat alone, of course. Sorry, I’ll just-”
“No, it’s fine!” Ghost interrupts hastily. He sits down and examines the food Soap has brought. “The cafeteria is serving mashed potatoes and… is that mush supposed to be broccoli?”
Soap laughs. “Actually, they conjured this up for you and your sore throat, but I didn't want to taunt you with the steak and kidney pie the others are devouring right now, so I am suffering with you.” He bravely stuffs a forkful into his mouth. He almost manages not to grimace. “Huh. Who knew seasoning was bad for sore throats?”
Ghost chuckles and takes a bite himself. It’s not great, but he has eaten worse things in his life. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” Soap grins. “But I wanted to.”
There is only one chair, so Soap grabs his plate and sits on the edge of Ghost’s bed. They eat in companionable silence, until Ghost notices Soap staring at him.
He raises an eyebrow. “Is something the matter?”
Soap quickly averts his eyes and mumbles through another mouthful. “Uh-uh. Nuthn.”
Ghost shrugs and keeps eating. Between bites he realises- he had raised his balaclava and left it up, resting on the bridge of his nose. He usually lifts it for every bite when eating with company, pulling it up and away from his face a bit, so each bite or sip only reveals a small sliver of his mouth.
He must be more comfortable around Soap than he had realised. He blushes, and this time there is no mask to hide it. He has to be more careful around his new friend, who keeps stealing glances at his uncovered lips.
Soap puts his empty plate back on the desk. “How are you, anyway? I don’t think I’ve asked you today yet.”
Ghost swallows the last bit of his potatoes. “Fine. My throat isn’t nearly as sore as you and that damned doctor make it out to be. I can take more than a little choking.” He doesn’t mention that he is used to the feeling of his throat closing up whenever he is stressed anyway. This injury is merely an inconvenience.
“Well, that information will come in handy sometime…” Soap grins and wiggles his eyebrows. “But I actually meant more in general. A lot happened yesterday, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay with that. The fighting for your life stuff as well as our, um, hug?”
Ghost wants to lie and say he’s fine. That nothing out of the ordinary happened. But he watches Soap looking at him with open and vulnerable eyes, and he thinks back to the nightmares he suffers through almost every night. He thinks about the buried torments hidden deep within him that keep him from opening up to anyone.
It doesn’t feel right to withhold all of that from Soap. He wants to be honest with him. He deserves some more bits and pieces to know why Ghost is as closed off as he is.
“Well.” He hesitates. “I can deal. Of course, I can. But…” He squints at Soap. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s not a happy story.”
Soap only smiles and pats the spot on the bed next to him. “I want to know everything about you, Simon.”
Ghost suddenly feels very exposed. He lowers his balaclava back down for an added layer of protection, but he moves and sits down next to Soap. He left a few centimetres between them, but Soap is having none of it and slides closer until their thighs are pressed together and he can melt against Ghost’s side.
He jostles his shoulder against Ghost. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“Well...” Ghost has to close his eyes for a couple of seconds before the words come out. “Most of the time, I am fine. I am good at this job. Very good even.”
“Understatement. You are the best soldier of all time.”
Ghost smiles a tiny smile despite his heart going 100 miles a minute. “Shut up. So, I am capable. But…” He pushes Soap away so he can look him in the eyes. “If you tell anyone about this, I am going to kill you and everyone you told, are we clear?”
Soap only rolls his eyes and leans back against him. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
Ghost stares down at the top of his mohawk. Why does this casual dismissal of his threat make him feel so much more at ease?
“Do you remember what you said yesterday?” he asks, voice soft. “That you didn’t know if you were dreaming?”
Soap nods against his shoulder. “Aye.”
“I feel the same sometimes.”
Soap tilts his face up to him, forehead scrunched in confusion. “Like, right now?”
“No, I didn't mean it like that.” Ghost rubs both hands against his face, right over the mask. “Let me start over. Did you read my file?”
“What little there is of it, yes.”
Of course, he has. It would be reckless to ignore your team partner's files. Ghost’s has a lot more gaps than any other soldier’s file though, and he is about to fill some of them in for Soap. For Johnny. He forces out his next words.
“Then you know that I was a prisoner of war a couple of years ago.”
Soap nods against his shoulder again. This time, he also places a reassuring hand on top of Ghost’s knee.
It’s as if this simple touch breaks a dam in Ghost, and he can’t hold back his story any longer.
“Manuel Roba. The man who was responsible for my imprisonment was called Manuel Roba.” The name used to make him break out in a cold sweat, but now there is only numbness.
“I was on a mission regarding him in Mexico with three other soldiers. One of them, a guy called Vernon, betrayed us, and we were captured.”
Soap’s thumb draws reassuring circles on his knee. The path it takes burns through Ghost’s pants. Ghost wishes it would leave a mark on his skin.
“Roba’s favourite pastime was to turn enemy soldiers into his minions. His brainwashing techniques were brutal, and a lot of them died. Well, he knew I was part of the S.A.S. You can imagine that capturing soldiers this specialised is a rarity, so he was foaming at the mouth when he got the chance to force me into his service.”
He focuses on Soap’s moving thumb and continues. “He unleashed his full arsenal on me. I won’t go into much detail. Most of my memories are hazy anyways, but…”
Soap shakily exhales. “It’s okay. Get it off your chest. I can take it.”
A wave of relief crashes over Ghost. He should have known Soap would understand. Ghost decides to trust his word and not to hold back anything. If Soap says he can take it, he damned well can.
“The first thing he did was to put me in a wooden box. It was so small I could only sit or kneel. It was dark but had a slit in the top. Through this slit, they’d drop scorpions on me.” He smiles without humour. “I don’t know how many times I got stung.”
Soap doesn’t say anything, but his thumb digs a little deeper into Ghost’s muscles. He doesn’t mind.
“They performed something like an autopsy on me. Cracked open my ribcage and everything; without anaesthesia, of course. I don’t know what they did exactly, maybe some experiments… I was kinda preoccupied with the pain, you know?” He lifts one hand and absentmindedly traces over the outlines of the scars he got from that procedure.
His fingers stop on top of another scar. He knows that this one is especially nasty, a big, red and puckered star just underneath his ribs.
“Once, they dug a hook through my bottom ribs and hung me up on a tree. I must’ve hung there half the night. As I said, I only have vague ideas about most of the torture they put me through, but I remember this night more clearly. It was kind of beautiful to see the stars again.”
Soap’s hand on his leg has stopped moving, but Ghost can’t stop the river of confessions pouring out of him.
“They wanted to break me. Take my old memories and replace them with new ones. So, there wasn’t only physical pain. Each morning, they brought me to a woman. I don’t know if it was always the same one or if they brought in different girls, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. They strapped me down on a chair, naked, and they watched while she… did things to me. You can imagine.”
The hand on his leg twitches. Ghost can tell Soap tries to keep himself still.
“After a few days, Roba gave me a skull to hold on to during those sessions. Told me it was my mum's.” Ghost thought those memories had long lost their sting, but he was wrong. That one still hurts. “I was so gone, I smiled and hugged the damn thing. Wouldn’t let go of it. I can’t even explain why .”
Maybe Soap can’t contain himself any longer, or he doesn’t know that he is doing it, but his hand squeezes Ghost’s leg like a vice.
“That’s when I started seeing people’s faces as skulls. Sometimes I imagined the actual bones, sometimes their faces were painted in skull shapes. I’m pretty sure Roba actually painted his face a couple of times. Memories from my former life, as far back as my childhood, slipped in and got mixed up in everything. I still imagine my father’s face as a skull every time I think of him.”
The painted balaclava clings to his nostrils with every breath he takes, trying to suffocate him.
“Everyone around me was just a ghost. They weren’t real. I wasn’t real. I couldn’t tell what was happening to me anymore.”
Ghost knows he is rambling at this point, but he needs to get this out, or he will drown, pulled under in this maelstrom of agony swirling through his mind.
“There was a man with me in my cell sometimes. I’m not sure what he did to me, but he would be there when I woke up. I think he licked my face a couple of times, and I didn’t even care. I don’t think I cared about anything at this point.”
Ghost’s body is weirdly calm. He sits there, still as a rock, but Soap trembles beside him. He feels the little shivers wander over and onto himself, and he absorbs them patiently.
“Throughout all of this, they kept trying to get me to do their bidding. They wanted to erase my mind and turn me into a puppet. So, they put me in a ring with Vernon, the guy who betrayed me and the others. They egged me on, tried to get me to kill him. They even put a knife in my hand. I fought him, yes, punched and kicked and choked him. But I didn’t kill him. It was hard, but I held on to that tiny shred of willpower, so I wouldn’t give them what they wanted. They didn’t get my soul.”
But he is giving it to Soap, piece by ugly piece. He hopes he doesn’t wreck Johnny in the process, but he is the first person Ghost ever wanted to share himself with.
“Sometimes, it still feels like they won. At night, those memories come back to haunt me. And every once in a while… they come during the day as well. That’s what I meant when I said I didn’t know if I was dreaming sometimes.”
Soap forces himself back and releases his death grip on Ghost’s thigh. His eyes are red-rimmed and look a bit glassy, but he doesn’t cry.
“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Simon, they didn’t win. They can’t have. You are the strongest, most amazing person that I have ever known, you know that?”
Ghost smiles. “I’m telling you how broken I am, and that’s your response?”
“That’s just the thing,” Soap says. “You went through all this, but you aren’t broken.”
He raises his hand, as if he wants to pet Ghost’s cheek.
It doesn’t matter that Ghost just bared large parts of his soul to Soap, he still flinches backwards. Soap lets his hand fall and inches his whole body away from him. Ghost suddenly feels very cold.
“I’m sorry, Simon. I should know better after what you just told me. I already knew you struggle with being touched, but after that story… Well, I understand.” He swallows and looks away. “I’m sorry.”
Ghost shrugs. “Don’t be. I just haven’t cared enough to let anyone try to get close to me since then.”
It is hard to read Soap’s face. There might be a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but his expression looks so hopeless, so dejected, Ghost is afraid he broke something in him.
He doesn’t know if he is protecting Soap or himself, but he adds, “And I don't know if I ever will.”
Soap’s mouth opens, but he doesn’t say anything.
Ghost glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. “You’re late for target practice.”
“Fuck target practice!” Soap blurts out. He looks a bit offended. “Do you think I want to leave you right now? After what you just told me?”
Ghost chuckles. “Do I need to order you, Sergeant?”
“Yes, I guess you fucking have to, Sir . I want to be here for you.”
“You have been. Thank you for listening.” Thank you for accepting the darkest parts of me. “Now go on and fuck off.”
Soap looks like he’s going to protest again, so Ghost kicks his shin to get him to shut up. “You can always come back, you know.”
Soap takes Ghost’s last remark seriously. Their lives mostly go on as usual, but more often than not, Ghost will get back to his room in the evening and find Soap sitting on his bed, doodling away in a sketchbook.
The first time it happened, he was a bit surprised, but Soap’s presence felt so natural he didn’t ask any questions. He didn’t even demand to know how Soap found out his room code.
He feels a nervous sort of excitement as he walks up to his room now. Will Soap be waiting for him today? Or at least come by later? Soap does have other friends that request his attention too, so he doesn’t show up every night, but Ghost waits for him, nonetheless.
Ghost hesitates before opening his door that very well might have Soap waiting behind it already. He steals himself against the disappointment he will feel if Soap isn’t there and strides into his room.
“Stupid piece of shit!”
Ghost laughs. No matter the crass words, Soap’s voice makes him feel lighter than air.
“Hope you didn’t mean me, MacTavish.”
“Oh! Sorry, Lt. Didn’t see ya there.” Soap grins at him sheepishly. He sits cross-legged on Ghost’s bed with what looks like his tactical vest spread across his lap. “And for the record, I’d never call you a piece of shit.”
Ghost shakes his head. “That’s a relief.”
“Might call you stupid, though.”
The mischievous glint in Soap’s eyes is so fucking charming Ghost actually has to pretend to bristle at the remark. He doesn’t think there is anything Soap could say in that tone of voice that would seriously offend him. It’s just too lighthearted.
“Better behave yourself, Sergeant,” he growls back. It almost sounds like he means it.
Soap’s grin grows even wider. “I’m not waiting on your bed every night to behave myself, Simon.”
Usually, Ghost is very good at swallowing what he wants to say, but Soap caught him off guard, so for once the miserable truth slips out. “Not every night.”
Soap sits up straighter. “Awww, did you miss me yesterday?” His tone is light, but his eyes are tender. “Maybe I waited for you to show up at my room for once.”
Ghost blinks. “You did?” It didn’t even occur to him for one second that Soap could be waiting for him too.
Soap fiddles with his vest again, avoiding eye contact. “Nah. All good, Lt.”
Still reeling from that unexpected realisation, Ghost leans against his desk and crosses his arms. He frowns as he watches Soap stab his vest with a needle repeatedly. It doesn’t look like he is achieving anything besides missing the fabric and prodding his thumb instead.
“Fucking hell,” Soap mutters.
Ghost chuckles. “What are you even trying to do? Tired of your sketches?”
“Pff, as if. I’ll never get tired of drawing, especially when I have the perfect subject sitting right in front of me.” He smirks at Ghost. “Nah, this stupid strap ripped off during training today, and I need to fix it.” He shows off the offending strap. “I get that our equipment has to be sturdy, but I can't get the needle through this bloody fabric.”
Ghost can see why. Soap hasn’t even removed the broken threads and is trying to push the needle through with brute force, hurting his fingers in the process. Additionally, what he has managed to cobble together so far looks very crooked.
Ghost sighs. “Hand it over.”
Soap’s eyes go wide. “Really? You’re an angel, Simon!”
“Yeah, yeah. Shut up.” He takes the vest from Soap and gets out his sewing kit before he sits down at his desk.
He starts picking apart Soap’s messed up stitches when a shadow from behind him covers his working fingers. Soap is watching right over his shoulder, breath hot on his neck. Ghost shivers and makes a shooing motion with his free hand. “Go play or something.”
Soap snorts. “Got any paper lying around? I didn’t bring my sketchbook.”
“It’s literally only two hallways away.”
Soap pokes him in his side. “Pleeeeease? You must have something I can scribble on. My sketchbook is almost full anyway.”
Ghost can’t believe he’s just gotten poked . What’s more, he loves how casual the gesture was. Soap really isn’t afraid of him in the least. Ghost’s brain might have melted and is oozing out of his ears, but he points at his small stack of books.
“Just pick any of them.”
“Um. You sure? I am allowed to draw in your books?” Soap warily eyes Ghost’s collection.
You are allowed to do anything you want to my belongings, Johnny. “Do you want to draw or not?” He picks up a ballpoint pen and lobs it at Soap. “Catch!”
Soap snatches up the pen and points it at his forehead in a mock salute. “Aye, Lieutenant!”
They grin at each other, and Ghost feels like he is going to burst into a ball of sunshine. Soap has infected him with his brightness, and it feels glorious.
Once both of them have settled down with their projects, Soap starts rambling about his day. He tells Ghost how he accidentally spilled coffee on Gaz at breakfast, how he ran a new personal best lap time, and how there is a betting pool going on about how long it is going to take one of the rookies to figure out they switched his shoes with a pair that is two sizes too big. Apparently, they are at three days and counting.
Ghost listens attentively while removing the old thread and cleaning up the frayed fabric of Soap’s vest strap. Soap is a natural storyteller, joking and gesturing along. He even attempts to imitate voices sometimes, and Ghost bursts out laughing at his Scottish impression of Price.
Ghost feels warm and cosy, tangled in the rays of light emanating from Soap. He watches his friend with soft eyes. Soap is doodling into the western novel that had been on top of the stack of books, occasionally turning to a new page. He is still talking, unaware of Ghost’s exploration.
The lines of his body are magnificent. He wears jeans and a black t-shirt, boots kicked off onto the floor. A toe pokes out of a hole in his left sock, and Ghost gets the strange urge to boop it, like he would with a dog’s nose perhaps.
It’s not the first time he struggles to keep his hands to himself when it comes to Soap. Every time he notices the sun bouncing off Soap’s hair, he wants to run his fingers through it to see how soft it is.
He wonders how Soap’s stubble would feel like under his fingertips when he doesn’t shave it for a day, or two, or three. He could collect data and create a table for his findings.
He wants to grab Soap’s jaw and turn his face towards him whenever Soap makes a dumb joke, which happens basically every minute.
He wants to know what Soap’s smirk tastes like. What noise he would make if Ghost gave in to this particular longing.
But he restrains himself. He has too. The two of them are friends, nothing else, and that is more than Ghost could have ever hoped for. He cherishes every moment he gets to spend with Soap, and he isn’t going to ruin his one chance at friendship with misguided desires- especially not since he hasn’t even figured out what it is that he desires.
Soap ignites a spark in him that Ghost doesn’t know how to interpret. For now, he is just going to bask in the warmth of it without trying to fan it into a proper fire.
His practised fingers have been working away unsupervised, and the strap is already sewn back on partly, half of it still flapping around. He loves that he can take care of Soap in this small way, but he wants to do more. He wants to leave a bit of himself with Soap so he can be by his side wherever he goes.
An idea pops into his head. He glances up at Soap, making sure that his attention is still fixed on the book in his lap, before he rummages around in the tin that holds all his thread.
He picks out the white one he usually uses for his masks and switches it with the tan thread the needle is currently equipped with.
His hands tremble a bit, but he stitches a tiny skull onto the fabric right where the second half of the strap is supposed to go. He works quickly, pushing the needle through the thick cloth with the help of a thimble. He’s lucky Soap hasn’t spotted it yet, or he would surely have been bombarded with grandpa jokes.
The small skull turns out a bit crooked, but it doesn’t matter. Ghost rubs his finger over it fondly, allowing himself a few seconds to marvel at his work. Then he swiftly switches the thread colour back to tan and covers the miniature skull with the vest’s strap, sewing it on tightly. No one but him is going to know it is there, watching over Johnny.
Soap has been silent for the last five minutes, concentrating on what looks like the final phase of his drawing. He looks up just as Ghost ties his last knot. “Are you done?”
Ghost nods and hands over the vest, praying that his stitches will hold the strap securely in place.
“Wow, you’re good at this! Looks like it is brand new.” Soap tugs at the strap experimentally, then he jumps up and squeezes Ghost’s shoulder. “Thank you so much, Simon. You saved my fingers from about a hundred self-inflicted needle pricks.”
“That’s probably the first time you ever wanted to be saved from a prick.” Ghost freezes. That did not just come out of his mouth.
Soap looks equally stunned, but he recovers quickly and laughs. “Look at you, Si! So, you do know how to have fun after all.” He winks and gives Ghost’s shoulder another pat before tugging on his boots.
“See you tomorrow. I’ll be off to dream about all the pricks I’ve missed.”
Once he is gone, Ghost gets himself and his room ready for the night. He puts away his sewing kit and picks up the book and pen Soap left on his bed.
He flicks open the western at a random page, confused about the tiny drawing of a stick figure covered with a sheet and a rectangle covered in suds in the bottom corner of the book. He turns the page and finds a very similar drawing in the same corner.
Slowly, he realises Soap made a flipbook. He lets the pages swish from under his thumb a couple of times until he finds the proper speed.
It’s a short animation of a ghost slipping on a bar of soap.
That night, Ghost falls asleep with a smile on his face.
Notes:
All of Ghost's backstory in my fic is canon from the comics. Highly recommend them if you haven't read them yet!
Chapter Text
Ghost feels like he is drowning in work. He is endlessly revising the faulty stakeout data they gathered, trying to figure out how to implement new strategies to prevent errors in the future.
He is also in charge of interrogating the captured drug dealer. The prisoner has been silent so far, and if they don’t get information out of him soon, they will need to hand him over to Laswell.
On top of that, they got a new batch of recruits roaming the base, and those still need the fear of God put into them. New guys always have the tendency to boast and try to establish themselves on top of the pecking order, so they are a nightmare to handle for their instructors.
Whenever they see Ghost, they quiet down real quick, of course, but he can’t be everywhere at once.
Surprisingly, Soap has been very helpful with that. He has a way of handling rookies that gets him their respect as well as their camaraderie, so Ghost can actually offload some of his responsibilities onto his Sergeant’s shoulders.
It is nice to be able to share his work with someone else. He is used to doing everything by himself, so it surprised him how easily he can let go and trust Soap to handle whatever he tasks him with.
Soap hasn’t disappointed him yet. He wormed himself into every aspect of Ghost’s life, and it is unexpectedly wonderful.
But the sharing of responsibilities has unwelcome side effects, namely not being able to take their break at the same time. They used to eat lunch together every other day before the new recruit shipment came in. Sometimes, Soap even made him a cuppa, improving his tea making skills every time he tried.
Ghost smiles as he remembers the unreasonably proud grin that stretches across Soap’s face whenever Ghost tells him the tea has been steeped perfectly, or that the amount of milk is exactly how he likes it.
Ghost doesn’t routinely praise people, but those smiles are worth it. He can change some of his habits for Soap.
Which is exactly why he is on his way towards his Sergeant’s room right now. Soap hasn’t shown up two nights in a row, and Ghost would never admit it, but he misses him. He had sat at his desk wondering whether Soap was testing him- whether he was really waiting for Ghost in his own room.
Ghost wipes his moist palms on his cargo pants as he walks down Soap’s hallway. He’ll just check if Soap is there, and if he isn’t, well, no harm done. No one will ever know he was here.
He arrives at Soap’s door. His throat threatens to close up, but he shoves down the familiar feeling and knocks resolutely.
He doesn’t have to wait long before Soap cracks open the door.
“Holy Shit, Lt.!” Soap bounces on the balls of his feet. “You are here! Please, come in!”
He grabs Ghost’s sleeve, drags him inside and shoves him onto his bed without preamble. Ghost ends up laying there in a half sprawl, completely baffled.
“Uh. Sorry. That is not my usual method of getting lovers into my bed. I just got a bit excited that you actually showed up.” Soap grins crookedly and pulls on Ghost’s hand to help him up into a sitting position.
Ghost laughs. “And I’m usually not that easy.” He is tempted to wink at Soap but chickens out. Baby steps.
Soap is wringing his hands, a bit lost on what to do now. “So, uh, you came here to..?”
Ghost shrugs. “Just to spend some time together?” He blushes, trying to come up with something to say. Why hasn’t he thought of a conversation topic before he came here? His upper lip starts to sweat, dampening the cloth of his balaclava. He decides to improvise. “Oh, yeah, um, you haven’t updated me about the shoe bet. Has the rookie figured it out yet?”
Soap grins wickedly. “He has not. Well, he hasn’t asked anyone about it yet, at least. But he did start to rub his feet when he thinks nobody is looking.”
“You cruel man. Am I going to have to get some inlays for that poor sod as well?”
“And here I thought I was special, Lt.” Soap pouts at him, pushing out his lower lip. Ghost has a hard time looking away. “But don’t worry. I bet 50$ on him finding out tomorrow, so I might have been dropping some subtle hints.”
Ghost snorts. “You are about as subtle as a freight train, Johnny.”
Soap shoves him and walks over to his desk to rummage around in a drawer. “Still took someone an awfully long time to get all my not-so-subtle hints though, huh?”
It’s Ghost’s turn to wring his hands. It’s kind of embarrassing that he didn’t realise sooner that a friendship goes both ways. He just sat in his room waiting for Soap to show up for over a week and had needed a push from Soap first before taking initiative himself.
“You’re right, Johnny. Sorry. But I’m here now.”
Soap smiles at him warmly. “That you are. And you even came at a perfect time.” He throws his sketchbook at Ghost. “Just filled the last page and need something else to draw on.”
He grabs the pouch he was searching for out of his drawer and plops down on his bed, facing Ghost. “I had an idea.” He opens the small bag and lets a bunch of colourful markers spill out on top of his blanket.
“Are you going to colour in your sketches?”
Soap shakes his head. “I do that sometimes if I think a sketch turned out particularly good. But, uh, I thought… Shoot me down if you hate it, okay? I kinda thought you could use a little colour in your life, so I was hoping to…”
He takes Ghost’s left hand and rolls up his sleeve, revealing the tattoos hidden beneath.
“Plus, I haven’t gotten a good look at your tattoos yet, and I’m curious.”
Ghost sits still as a statue. Those tattoos cover up some of his uglier scars. Nasty burn marks and crisscrossing cuts, a badly stitched wound that had gotten infected and wouldn’t heal properly, leaving a thick strip of hardened tissue. A whole chunk of his bicep is missing where a guard dog bit him and ripped a piece of muscle out.
But he cannot refuse the pleading look in Soap’s eyes, so he angles his body towards him to give easier access to his arm. “Knock yourself out.”
Soap lets out a little whoop and shuffles through his colours. “So, about this bet. I think Price almost caught us talking about it today…”
He talks about his day like he always does, letting Ghost know all the little things going on in his life.
Ghost tries to focus. He really does. He loves Soap’s stories, but his forearm is resting on top of Soap’s thigh, palm facing up. Soap has one hand placed on his arm to keep it steady and colours the tattoos with the other. Each time he leans forward to get a closer look, Ghost’s fingertips brush against Soap’s stomach. As if that isn’t distracting enough already, the felt tips of the markers tickle hellishly, no matter how gently Soap applies the colour.
He flinches and Soap grabs him harder. “Hold still, you big baby! I’ll mess it all up!”
Ghost chuckles. “I can’t help it! You should try to hold still while being tickled!”
“Try me,” Soap grins.
Ghost abruptly moves his upper body forward as if to take him up on his taunt, making Soap topple backwards in laughter. “Jesus, okay! I’ll try my best, but don’t complain about a messy colouring job, got it?”
Ghost sighs. “You can’t mess this thing up any more than it already is.” He nods towards his arm to make his meaning clear.
Soap just shakes his head and continues to colour. There is no judgement in his demeanour. He doesn’t comment on the objectively questionable motives of guns, missiles, dog tags and skulls scattered over Ghost’s skin, he doesn’t hesitate to touch the old wounds, nor does he stop the markers movement when he gets to heavily scarred areas.
His touch is soft yet confident, trailing up and down Ghost’s arm, turning it this way and that to get to every tattoo.
The stories have died down, but Ghost is content to watch Soap turn his black and white nightmare into a rainbow masterpiece. He could sit here forever, revelling in the casual touch.
Soap smiles at Ghost’s arm. “I love this.”
Ghost nods. “Yeah. I didn’t expect it, but I do too. You are really good at drawing.”
“Nah, that’s not what I meant.” Soap shades in the underside of a missile. “I mean sitting here with you. You don’t care whether I’m telling stories or if I’m funny. You just like being here with me.”
“I… yeah.” Ghost shouldn’t be surprised by how easily Soap can read him. “You’re right. I do.”
“Do you realise how nice this feels? I get along really well with the other soldiers. And the rookies. I have a lot of fun with them, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. But, well… You know that Gaz is my best friend, right?”
That stings a bit, but Ghost nods anyway. Of course, he couldn’t have risen to best friend status already. Maybe he won’t do so at all. It’s fine.
“But even he expects me to be ‘on’ all the time. Be Soap. With you, I can just be myself. Be quiet if I feel like it. I don’t have to pretend.”
Ghost stares at him, a fluttery feeling flourishing in his chest. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Ghost turns on his shower and steps under the stream without giving it time to warm up first, letting the cold water run over his back.
It has gotten late. Soap ended up colouring almost his whole arm, rolling the sleeve of his shirt up as high as it would go. They didn’t talk much, just silently enjoying each other's company.
Ghost regards his naked arm, cataloguing every little detail before the water washes away the pigments. There is colour accumulating around the drain already, destroying all the hard work Soap just did. Maybe Ghost could get him some permanent markers. Or, even better, he’ll just have Soap colour his arm every other night. He could even have him draw on some original designs and get them tattooed.
He traces the path Soap’s markers took with his fingers. A shiver that has nothing to do with the finally rising water temperature travels through his body as he remembers how confidently Soap touched him. As if he had a right to it. As if it was nothing out of the ordinary.
But it was. It so fucking was. Ghost had loved every minute of it, and now, in the privacy of his own bathroom, he lets himself relive the recent memory.
Every time Soap touches him, his skin breaks out in flames. They grew higher than ever today, burning brighter with every stroke of marker. The fire calmed down to steadily glowing embers as Ghost walked back to his room, but his fingers trailing over Soap’s lingering touch reignite them.
As he had watched Soap manhandling his arm, moving it around however he pleased, shoving at his sleeve to expose more and more skin, the heat originating from his arm had started to travel all over his body, pooling in his lower stomach.
It isn’t something that happens to Ghost often, but Soap managed to stir up the desires he has buried deep. As much as he likes to invalidate the experiences he went through, as much as he tries to repress them, he still has to admit they are affecting him. Passion usually plays a very small part in his life, but today…
He looks down his naked body in fascination, watching himself grow with every passing second. He flexes his lower abdominal muscles, making his half hard cock bounce up and down.
It’s not as if he never masturbates, but he only does it if his body gives him clear cues that release is needed, just like what it is doing now. It is usually a utilitarian affair, a task he does to maintain his health, similar to brushing his teeth.
This is different. He imagines Soap standing behind him, embracing him. The hot water streaming down his back helps to paint the mental picture. Ghost can almost feel Soap’s breath on his neck, his stubbled chin scratching over Ghost’s shoulder blade.
Ghost takes a deep breath and reaches for his shower gel. He tries to keep the pretence of washing going for his sanity’s sake, but the irony that he is literally spreading soap all over his body doesn’t escape him.
His hands follow the path the water takes along the valleys between his muscles. They are powerful and thick, honed with hours of daily training and years of combat. He watches them shift underneath his skin, tensing each time he rubs over them. He only has them because he needs to be strong for his job, but he obviously knows a lot of people appreciate the look of a muscular man.
Would Soap like his body? During the few opportunities he’s had, Ghost has only ever seen him flirt with women.
He flirts with you, you idiot.
He quickly shoves that thought away. Soap doesn’t mean it like that, and Ghost knows better than to misinterpret this little game they play.
Even if there is a chance that Soap has a thing for men… Ghost knows that his body is objectively good looking and desirable. At least as long as he is wearing clothes. But if you peel away that layer, an ugly beast is revealed.
He is riddled with scars, and not the pretty kind. They are red and gnarly, and some cut so deep that they disfigure the shape of his muscles. His abs do have an asymmetrical look to them because of that, mangled and forced to twist to the right.
No one in their right mind could think that was attractive, so Ghost covers himself up, using his clothes like armour to keep up the image of an imposing soldier. He actually wants people to think of him as a monster, not a man, so they won’t try to come close to him.
This strategy has worked all this time until Soap came along. Now, Ghost wants to uncover himself for Soap, let him witness every part of him. Hell, Soap hasn’t even seen Ghost’s face , but he wants him too. The thought lets his stomach tense with visceral want, cock growing even harder as he imagines Soap’s eyes roaming over him.
He hasn’t baulked at the scars under Ghost’s tattoos. Maybe he wouldn’t mind all the other ones as well.
Ghost’s hands follow his scars, gliding over his twisted abs, upwards to the puckered mound underneath his ribs on the left side where the hook he got hung from dug through his body. Next are the autopsy scars on his sternum, flaring out left and right under his collarbones in a T-shape. Those are just the biggest ones. Tiny scrapes and cuts are littered in between with colours varying from pale silver to angry red.
He touches the deep cut carving into his right pectoral, narrowly missing the actual nipple but slicing through the darker skin surrounding it. Soap would want to know what had happened to it. He would want to hear every story attached to his scars; Ghost is sure of it.
Would he also want to touch them? Would he try to remember which of those scars made Ghost lose the feeling in his skin and which made it more sensitive? Would he catalogue all the different pinches and hurts that Ghost has learned to live with? Would he want to know all the places that make Ghost sigh and yearn for more touch?
Ghost closes his eyes and pretends Soap’s hands are the ones whispering over his skin. Would he be tender, caressing Ghost’s muscles, softly dragging his fingertips through the dips between them?
Ghost turns so the water streams down his front. He trembles as his dick gets the first hint of stimulation from the shower jet, tantalising him, feeling as sensual as Soap’s hands would if they were running up and down the sides of Ghost’s body.
Or would he be rough? Would he dig his big hands into Ghost’s flesh? Would he grab at him, fueled by wild desire? The image of Soap standing behind him dominates Ghost’s thoughts, and he arches his back in a desperate attempt to push his ass against Soap. Before his brain can register the lack of resistance, he takes hold of his own cheeks, massaging them unashamedly.
He feels like he is burning up, and he wishes Soap was actually here. Ghost would let him do anything he wanted. He scratches his nails against his own skin, the delicious sting sending a shock of pleasure through his core. He wants Soap to claim and mark him, to draw blood, to tear him apart.
If he would only touch him. If he would only want him.
Ghost groans. He can’t take the anticipation any longer, so he finally reaches between his legs and takes himself in hand. The sudden touch makes him gasp, and he sputters as water drips down his face, invading his mouth.
The stimulation is almost too much to take, threatening him with an imminent orgasm, Soap’s face burning bright behind his eyelids. He wants to drag this out, so he closes his fingers in a tight ring around the base of his dick until he regains his control.
He keeps his strokes slow and languid, avoiding the head of his cock for now. Soap would be a teasing brat and make him beg for proper stimulation, so Ghost makes himself wait.
He twists his hand around his length, making it throb with need. Soap would have him begging on his knees, he just knows it.
“Please,” he whispers, voice raw, drowned out by the noise of the water. “Please.”
He pants, finally sliding his fingers over the flushed head. He has to let go of his ass so he can steady himself against the wall with one hand. His other hand starts to move faster, more insistent, alternating between long strokes down the shaft and pressure around the top of his cock. The water helps his hands glide over his skin, soft and hot and smooth under his palm.
His head falls forward, forehead thudding against the tiles. His breath comes out fast and hot, mingling with the steam from the shower. Scalding water streams down his back, and Ghost imagines Soap kissing his neck. He’d imitate the course of the water, licking downwards, pressing his lips to each vertebra on his way down.
Ghost’s face heats up as he slicks himself with more shower gel, suds enveloping his cock, fingers pulling on his balls, squeezing himself softly. His hand trails even further back, spreading the slippery gel over his taint until he finds his entrance.
He doesn’t touch himself there often, but the thought of Soap doing it has him weak in his knees. He keeps his forehead firmly pressed against the wall to keep himself steady so he can use both his hands. He reaches around to let himself explore his opening, still working his dick with his other hand.
He moves in circles, massaging the sensitive muscle. It twitches in response, making Ghost’s breath hitch. The feeling is so intense Ghost squirms away from his own touch, but he pushes his ass back again as soon as he loses the contact.
All thoughts fall from his mind. Pure need is overriding all his inhibitions, and he fucks hard into his fist, holding on tightly to his cock. Each thrust makes him gasp. His movements grow so erratic a fingertip catches on his rim, dipping inside just a bit.
He pulls back and goes back to rubbing around the outside, but a sudden heat blazes through him.
Yes, he thinks he likes men. Yes, he likes looking at them. Maybe he even imagined kissing a man once or twice, but he never wanted to be fucked. Never wanted to be invaded in that way.
Yet, he can’t stop himself from pushing his finger back through the tight ring of muscle guarding his entrance. He does it deliberately this time, all the while imagining the finger to be Soap’s. Would he want to work him open like that? Would he want this kind of intimacy?
He can’t think, he can’t breathe, he can only push back against his finger, mindlessly riding himself. He doesn’t push inside deeply, but he doesn’t need to. The act is foreign enough, illicit enough, hot enough to push him over the edge.
He moans, the echo of his voice travelling though his shower stall. Waves of pleasure roll through him, making his whole body tingle. His cock shoots out strings of cum, hitting the wall in front of him and dribbling down his fingers. He smears it over himself, keeps pumping his throbbing dick until it aches with overstimulation.
His hands reach out towards the shower walls, holding his swaying body upright as he stands there trembling, waiting to come down from his high.
When he doesn’t feel like he’ll fall over anymore, he straightens and shoves his face right into the water jet, letting it clear away the fog from his mind.
This has been fucking hot, but what has he been thinking? A tight knot of guilt starts to form inside his chest. Soap can never know he has used him like this. Why did he do this? He’s just going to ruin things between them.
Soap has been kind enough to offer him his friendship, and Ghost just goes ahead and takes more than what was given to him. Soap is the first person that showed any interest in getting to know him, and Ghost has nothing better to do than defile him like that. Is he really that desperate?
Self-hatred boils under his skin, and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, trying to shut out his feelings. If only he could wash them away as easily as his cum washed down the drain.
He hammers his fist against the tiles, bruising his knuckles. Don’t fuck this up, Ghost. Don’t fuck this up.
The water grows cold and his skin wrinkles before he finally finds the motivation to get out of the shower and wrap himself in a towel. His tattoo contrasts starkly against the white cloth. There are still some shadows of colours left, making his chest ache.
He has to pull himself together if he wants to hold onto his friendship with Soap. This doesn’t have to change anything. He can’t let it change anything.
Simon cannot lose the colour Johnny has injected into his grey life, and he will do whatever it takes to keep it.
Notes:
There you go, first lil taste of smut! hehe :D
Chapter Text
Ghost slowly drags his razor across his cheeks. His tired eyes stare back at him from the mirror, reminding him of his late-night activities. He usually shaves right after his nightly shower, but he felt so guilty yesterday that he went straight to bed, trying to forget what he had done. How is he supposed to face Soap now?
He swirls the razor around in his water filled basin to get the shaving cream off when the decision is taken out of his hands.
Soap bursts into his room, a happy smile on his face.
“Sleeping in today, Lt? Breakfast isn’t going to wait for-”
He freezes in the door frame, jaw dropped, eyes wide. A deep blush spreads across his cheeks.
Ghost knows all that because he can watch everything in his mirror. He has his back to the door, but his face, though partially covered in shaving cream, is clearly visible from Soap’s perspective.
Ghost feels surprisingly calm. He hasn’t shown this much of his face to anyone in ages, but he wants Soap to see. Scars and all. It feels like he’s paying amends for his betrayal yesterday in the shower, so he almost welcomes this accident.
“I’m… holy shit, I’m sorry, Simon, I’ll just–” Soap’s eyes are fixed to Ghost’s chest now, and he moves backwards out of the room.
“Wait! It’s fine. You don’t need to leave.” Ghost swallows. “But come in and close the door, please.”
Soap does as he is told without hesitation. He sneaks another glance before retreating to Ghost’s desk, where he can no longer see into the bathroom.
“I’ll, uh, wait over here.”
Ghost chuckles. He doesn’t need long to finish shaving. Unfortunately, that means he has to grow some balls and actually leave the bathroom and face Soap. His pulse speeds up. He hasn’t thought this through.
Trying to buy some time, he cleans his sink with slow swipes and meticulously puts each item away into his one bathroom drawer, straightening them. He pulls a forgotten packet of razor blades from the back of the drawer, where he thankfully finds a half empty box of surgical masks.
Such a mask will cover his nose and mouth, but everything else will be exposed.
The funny thing is, Soap already knows the parts of Ghost’s face that are now hidden. Ghost will give him his face in pieces, another puzzle for Soap to put together. It’s almost like showing him his whole face. The perfect compromise for his coward’s heart.
However, Ghost still needs to take a deep breath before he can step outside of the bathroom to face Soap.
He is met with eyes full of wonder.
“I didn’t know you were blond.”
Ghost combs his fingers through his hair. It is naturally wavy and longer than he usually keeps it, so some big curls are starting to form. He is a bit embarrassed that Soap got his first glimpse of Ghost’s hair when it is this shaggy.
He thinks back to the styling products he used to have before the mask made such things unnecessary. Well, maybe he’ll style it for Johnny one day.
They look at each other from opposite sides of the room. Soap is obviously becoming flustered, his blush growing ever deeper.
“I mean, I suspected it, since your lashes sometimes look light too. After the facepaint wears off a bit. Like, after training. Or missions. Speaking off, I’ve also never seen you without painted eyes, uhm–”
Ghost has mercy on him and interrupts his rambling. “I’ve got something for you.”
He walks over to his desk and gently takes Soap by his shoulder. He guides him to the side so he can open the desk’s drawer. Inside is a simple black sketchbook that he presents to Soap.
“You said you were running out of pages.”
For a moment, Soap looks flabbergasted. Ghost feels very proud about stunning him into silence two times in a row in the span of only ten minutes.
“I told you yesterday evening! How do you have this?”
Ghost wiggles his eyebrows, taking advantage of the fact that Soap can actually see them now. “Magic.”
Soap laughs brightly. “Yeah, you are truly magical, Simon.” He cradles the sketchbook to his chest. “Thank you.”
They are standing very close to each other. Ghost clears his throat.
“Actually. You told me sometime last week, when I fixed your vest, remember?”
“Did I? I can’t remember, but that makes this gift even better. You listened.”
“I listen to everything you say, Johnny.”
Soap’s eyes leave Ghost’s face for the first time, briefly flitting down to his chest before they travel back up. Soap raises a hand, tentatively touching one of Ghost’s blond, wavy strands.
His voice is very soft as he says, “You are a beautiful person, Simon. Inside and out.”
His fingers move slowly, trying not to startle Ghost into flight. He is getting braver and puts gentle pressure on Ghost’s scalp, moving up and down, petting his head.
Ghost is burning up inside. Tingles travel down his spine, setting his body ablaze.
He coughs to break the tension. “We’re late for breakfast.”
Soap drops his hand. “Yeah.”
Ghost gestures to his face. “I’ll just have to, you know, put the paint and a proper mask on first.”
“I’ve always wanted to ask you. You don’t need to answer, but why do you wear the mask?”
Ghost frowns, and Soap tracks the movement, fascinated, as if he is trying to commit it to his memory.
“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a shield. Like armour.” There’s more to it, of course, but that part had dug its claws into Ghost’s flesh long ago and isn’t ready to let go.
“Yeah okay, I figured that out. But, why a skull? Ghosts generally don’t have bones. But you put so much effort into it! Painting and stitching onto your balaclavas, and only God knows where you got that skull half-mask from. That has to be so uncomfortable, and you still wear it on every mission!”
Ghost shudders. “It’s complicated.”
But he thinks about it. Can he manage to give Soap another part of himself? He wants to. Wincing internally, he thinks back to his shower thoughts yesterday. He knows he won’t be able to hand his whole soul over. Not yet. So, he’ll have to carefully skirt around his deepest hurts.
“Johnny… I don’t know if I’m ready to share that yet. I can try to… to share some things, though. I’ll try to explain the best I can. If you want to?”
Soap wordlessly plops down on the bed and crosses his arms, as if to say, ‘Of course I want to, idiot.’
Ghost leans against his desk. “Well, okay then. Buckle up, buttercup.” He tries to smile but falters. Come on Ghost. Tell him.
Another compromise then. He’ll push at his boundaries as hard as he can, and someday he will break through them for Soap. He will bust out a sledgehammer and tear down every single brick. He will lay everything bare. But for now, he’ll chisel away at his walls, creating gaps and cracks, and he will let any scraps escape that’ll try to make it through. He just hopes Soap will catch them.
“The first time I put a skull on my face wasn’t planned. I had escaped from Roba at that point and was back home. I was in the bathroom, and my mum came in without warning, just like you did today.”
Soap hides his face behind his hands. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”
“You really need to learn to knock first, or I will change my door code.”
“Ha! As if that’s going to keep me away.” Soap grins. “You can change it as many times as you like, and I will still be coming back.”
“Like a kicked puppy that comes crawling back to its master, huh?”
“Ooohhh.” Soap laughs. “New kink unlocked.”
Ghost groans. “Shut up, MacTavish. Anyway, back to the story.” He tries to get rid of the distracting image of Soap on his knees, wearing a leash and collar.
“My mum caught me with half of my face covered in white toothpaste. I didn’t even know I was doing it, and I was as surprised as she was when I looked into the mirror. I can still remember how scared she was. I didn’t tell her where I had been the last eighteen months, but she obviously knew about the nightmares I had every night. Couldn’t hide the screams, you know.”
Ghost keeps his eyes trained on Soap’s knees. He knows Soap is watching his face, and he doesn’t know if he could handle eye contact.
“That day, I told her I was dreaming about things that I imagined to have done, and about a man with his face painted as a skull making me do those things. I told her the scary part wasn’t me doing those things, but that I liked doing them. That I couldn’t stop laughing about them.”
Soap’s right knee has started bouncing up and down, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t tell her that I actually did what I was dreaming about, or that Roba and his skull face were real. I guess it was easy for her to draw her own conclusions anyway, because she told me to go and talk to my dad about it. She confessed that she thought for a second it was him, not me, standing in the bathroom. Apparently, he used to paint his face the same way to stand out at the punk concerts he was going to. He even got his nickname ‘Bones’ because of this habit.”
Ghost hesitates, trying to squash his unease.
“I didn’t want to talk to my dad. I know you love your family, but… well, my family hasn’t had it easy, and most of it comes down to him. He wasn’t around a lot, but whenever he showed up, something would go wrong. He would fight with my mum. He beat her. They were always arguing about my brother and me, that he didn’t like how she was raising us, that he didn’t want us to grow up to be ‘government wankers’. He said he was never around to give us freedom, whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. He really hated the idea of his sons being ‘pussies’. His words. I already told you he made me sleep in a bed with his pet snake. Rocco. He even made me kiss it once. Claimed it would make me toughen up.”
Ghost’s heart speeds up at the memory. He can still feel the scaly skin on his lips.
“I hated the thing. But I think one of the worst things he did to our family was to get Tommy addicted to drugs.”
Soap leans forward and touches Ghost’s hip to get his attention. “Who’s Tommy?” he asks gently.
Ghost looks at Soap. Such an attentive listener.
“My little brother.”
Soap simply nods and waits for him to continue.
“I first got an apprenticeship at a local butcher shop, but I enlisted after 9/11 happened. It was like waking up. The army gave me a purpose as well as tools I could use to build a real life with. Discipline. Precision. Control. Things my dad always wanted to get rid of. I was good at it too, so I got accepted into the S.A.S. That was probably the best time of my life…”
He hasn’t recalled those memories in a long time. It hurts too much to remember what he has lost.
“When I returned home after two years, things were worse than ever before. Tommy’s drug issue had gotten so bad he wasn’t himself anymore. He stole from my mum to support his addiction. If she didn’t have enough money for him, he would beat her just like dad did.”
Bitterness creeps into his voice, but he can’t help it.
“I’d had enough. I visited dad’s favourite bar, looking for him, still wearing my uniform. I found him, of course, and told him to fuck off and stay away for good. He only laughed at me, told me that at least he wasn’t a hitman for the queen. That soldiers were all the same, like robots. He said he was ashamed to call me his son. I lost it. I just wanted him to shut up, so I hit him. Nearly bashed his face in, but he wouldn’t stop laughing.”
Soap reaches out towards Ghost again and puts his palm against Ghost’s hip. It’s as if he wants to comfort Ghost, but Soap is the one that’s shaking.
“Everything alright?” Ghost asks.
“Yeah. It’s just… hard to listen to that.”
Ghost’s stomach plummets. He should have known his past was too dark for a person as bright as Soap. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
Ghost can’t look at him anymore, so he doesn’t see Soap’s face when he stands up. So, he is going to leave. It hurts, but Ghost can handle it. It’s fine.
“Do you mind if I walk a bit while listening? Need to get the energy out.”
Soap starts pacing through the small room. He can only take five steps before he has to turn around, but it doesn’t deter him. Ghost watches in confusion, so Soap stops again.
“Sorry. Too distracting?”
Ghost chuckles. He needs to learn to trust Soap. Of course, Soap wouldn’t leave him like that. “No. Go on if it helps you.”
Soap nods and resumes his pacing.
Ghost continues his story. “I decided to stay home for a while to help my mum and Tommy back on their feet. It wasn’t easy, but we made it work. Things were looking brighter without dad. Tommy got clean. He married Beth, even had a child with her. From what I can tell, he was a great father to his son too. Dad didn’t manage to mess him up that bad.”
Soap happens to be next to Ghost when he says that and raises a fist. “Come on Simon. For Tommy’s W against your dad!”
God help him, but Ghost gives in and finally bumps his fist against Soap’s.
“Hell yeah!” Soap’s eyes sparkle.
If it weren’t for him, Ghost would be lost in the dark.
“I thought they were in a position where they could fend for themselves, so I left for the army again. Everything was going well until Roba captured me. You already know how that story went.”
Soap nods gloomily, pacing back and forth again.
“Dad was in the hospital with cancer when I came back. Not gonna lie, I was kind of glad that he was out of commission like that. He couldn’t hurt my family anymore. Still, when mum heard about my nightmares, about my hysterical laughing fits in them, she insisted that I should go and talk to him.”
Ghost takes a deep breath.
“She said, ‘He is your father and there is always gonna be a piece of him in you. Go see him, Simon, before the cancer takes him. You might learn something about yourself.’ I’ll never forget those words.”
He shakes his head.
“I still didn’t visit him, of course. I was too hateful and too stubborn. I resented the thought that any part of him could be part of myself, and I didn’t want to give him a chance to confirm that. I suppose I was scared. So, I told mum that he was dead to me and ignored her pleas.”
Soap keeps walking, one hand placed on his nape, squeezing his own neck in agitation. “I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like. I have never felt like that about my family. But… I get that you didn’t want to meet him. I think.”
“Yeah. Told you it’s complicated.”
Soap snorts. “That seems like an understatement.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Ghost’s eyes follow Soap on his journey through the tiny room, his head swivelling like he’s watching a tennis match.
“There came a point where I needed answers. After… after I lost my mum.” Ghost swallows. This is the part where he is going to have to keep things from Soap. At least for now. “I wasn’t in the best headspace. So, I went to talk to him.”
Soap stops on the other side of the room, now with both hands raised to massage his own neck. “Okay. So, how did that go?”
“Believe it or not, but he was happy when he saw me come in. Thought I was there to kill him.”
“He– what? ” Soap opens and closes his mouth like a fish on dry land. “Why would he think that? I mean, yeah, you had issues, but he was still your dad!”
Ghost sighs. “Oh, Johnny… There is much more to this story. So much more. I told you I was going to withhold some things, and that is one of them. But, even if there hadn't been anything else going on, there was enough hate between the two of us to warrant his assumption.”
He looks at Soap, at the confusion etched into his expression. He sees the hurt Soap feels for him in his eyes, the compassion in his tightly shut lips, the need to hold himself back in his tense shoulders. He looks like he is going to break apart, the light he carries with him dimming, threatening to go out completely. Ghost can’t let that happen. “Johnny?”
“Go on, Si. Tell me. Please.” Soap wrestles a smile onto his face. He wants Ghost to finish his story. He wants to help carry the weight of Ghost’s secrets, whether he’ll accept his help or not. Ghost can see it clearly, that pure dedication directed towards him, and he can barely believe it.
Soap restlessly shakes out his arms and flexes his fingers, but he waits patiently for Ghost to continue. That’s when Ghost gets an idea. He’ll help Soap settle down. Help him focus. If Soap is willing to burden himself with Ghost’s sorrows, that’s the least he can do for his fiercely loyal friend.
Ghost pushes away from his table and enters his bathroom.
“Okay. So. Obviously, I didn’t come to kill him.” He rummages through his bathroom drawer, shoving the orderly stored razor out of the way. “I told him I just wanted to have some answers as to why I was so fucked up. That mum said he would know something about my laughing fits.”
Ghost pulls out what he was looking for and hands it to Soap, who stares at the tiny round container in bewilderment.
“What’s this?”
“Well, I figured we could give your fingers something to do while I am talking.” Ghost blushes. “It’s cream eyeshadow.” He hopes Soap will understand what he is offering without having to explain it.
Soap opens the little package and touches the eyeshadow. The corners of his mouth curl upwards as he drags his blackened fingertip across the back of his hand. Ghost is satisfied to see Soap’s inner light turned back on.
“Okay.” He steps towards Ghost. “Do I just use my fingers?”
Ghost nods and closes his eyes. “Go right ahead.”
He only needs to bear the anticipation for a second before Soap touches his eyelid, soft as a feather. It’s as if Soap is kissing him with his fingertips.
“Dad proposed a bargain. He offered to tell me what mum probably thought was the source of my nightmares. He said ‘Old Bones’ had some answers regarding the skull face that kept haunting me.”
Soap keeps applying the eyeshadow. His fingers have stopped trembling.
“He said he’ll help me if I’ll help him. He wanted me to end his misery, put him down when I left. He didn’t want to deal with the cancer anymore.” Ghost opens his eyes for a second so he can look at Soap. “I agreed, so he told me his story.”
Soap’s face is very close, free of any judgement. His black finger hovers near Ghost’s eyes, so he lets him continue, closing his eyes again.
“When I was young, maybe 11 or 12, mom wanted dad to spend more time with us boys. I was the older one, so he took me to one of the punk concerts that he always went to. I remembered pieces of it while he talked about it, so I’m telling you a mix of my memories and what dad told me, okay?”
Soap hums in agreement.
“The concert was awful for young Simon. I was so overwhelmed. The music was so loud, so angry, and there were drugs everywhere, people were dancing, brawling, throwing up, making out... He left me alone in the fray. I tried to find him and spotted him going off with a girl. I later realised she was a hooker, but I didn’t make that connection right away. Well, I followed them to the restroom.”
Ghost concentrates on Soap’s steady breathing against his mask. The creative activity seems to help him to stay calm, so Ghost keeps going.
“I didn’t know what was happening at first. I stood in front of the stall they locked themselves in, listening to my dad throwing slurs at her. I don’t know how long I stood there, but after some time a syringe dropped to the floor, followed by a surge of bloody puke. I must have said something, made some kind of noise, because dad came out of the stall. Yelled at me, asking what I was doing there.”
He remembers the echo of his dad’s screams travelling through the tiled room. The memory feels so vivid that he half expects to be back in that grimy bathroom if he opens his eyes, but Soap’s gentle touch keeps him present.
“I asked him about the lady, if she was okay, but he was all confused and asked me if I meant the ‘slag’. Told me straight away that she was dead. That she was just a dumb whore, an addict, hell-bent on a bad end. Said she even died with a smile after he paid her for her services with a shot with whatever drug he injected into her. Maybe it was heroin, I don’t know.”
Soap is still spreading eyeshadow across Ghost’s face. Or maybe he’s just touching him for comfort.
“He forced me to look at her, soiled and drooped across the toilet seat. Told me to laugh with him, just like she did when she died. We stood there in the restroom, laughing, laughing, just laughing . I couldn’t stop for a long while. Dad loved it. I think he had the time of his life that night. We never talked about it afterwards.”
Ghost feels Soap cupping his face with both hands, but he keeps his eyes shut.
“I stood there next to his hospital bed, listening to him, and I just couldn’t stand to be near him anymore. He looked awful. Haggard and pale, nothing but skin and bones except for a massively swollen belly filled up with a giant tumour. He truly became what people thought him to be all his life. Nothing but bones. I turned to leave, which obviously sent him into a blind rage, furious that I didn’t intend to fulfil my side of the bargain. He screamed at me, an angry skull straight out of my nightmares– clinging to life, but as good as dead, thirsting for revenge, for my blood. He was mirroring what I felt in that moment right back at me.”
Soap presses his brow to Ghost’s. Ghost is surprised that the closeness doesn’t feel confining but comforting.
Soap’s voice is hard as steel, contradicting his gentle body language, but Ghost still feels safe. “Oh, I’ll give that bastard what he wants. I’ll gladly kill him, if cancer didn’t take care of that already.”
“Don’t worry. He’s dead, and cancer had nothing to do with it.”
Soap’s hands fold around Ghost’s face a little tighter. “I know it’s a fucked-up thing to say, but I hope you did it.”
“I didn’t pull the trigger in the end, but I might as well could have. His death is my fault.”
He pushes Soap back so he can look at him properly, but he doesn’t fight the hands holding onto his jaw. “So, why the skulls? It’s obvious they have been a recurring theme throughout my life. Dad, my time with Roba, the daydreams, the nightmares… But what made me really embrace them was what came after this hospital visit. I–” The words get stuck in his throat.
Soap’s thumbs rub across his cheekbones, soothing him. He knows Soap won’t judge him, that he will embrace whatever Ghost will throw at him.
He opens his mouth, tries to force the words out, but they won’t come. His throat closes up, that familiar choking feeling rising in him. His chest expands in an attempt to inhale, fighting against his imagined suffocation.
“Oh, Si…” Soap moves his hands from Ghost’s face and enfolds him in a warm hug. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. You have shared a lot today already.”
“But I want to tell you. I really do.” Ghost just lets the hug happen. He is too shaken to reciprocate.
“And you will. Maybe not today, but you will. I don’t know if you have noticed, but I can be very patient.” He pulls away and winks at Ghost.
It’s Ghost’s turn to shake out his limbs. Opening up about his past drains him, even if he has Soap there to pick up his pieces. “Yeah. Yeah, I will. One day. I promise.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know that was a lot.”
“Don’t ever apologise for that, Si, do you hear me? Your trauma is valid and needs to be heard, and I will always be here to help you with that. Understood?”
Ghost side-eyes Soap for the use of the word ‘trauma’, but he lets it slide. He nods. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you for putting that kind of trust in me.”
The choking feeling recedes with every breath Ghost takes, leaving only warmth behind. What did he do to deserve a friend like Soap?
He pats Soap on his shoulder. “Are you hungry? It’s much too late for breakfast now, but we can see if we can talk the kitchen staff into handing over some leftovers if you want to? I’ll just have to put on a proper mask, and we can go.”
Soap grins and tosses the eyeshadow towards Ghost. “First, I’ll need to wash my hands.”
Soap disappears into the bathroom while Ghost goes on the hunt for a balaclava. He uses the tiny mirror hung up on the inside of his wardrobe door to check out Soap’s paint job.
The colour is generously distributed around his eyes, coating his skin in an even layer of black. It looks neat and tidy with his balaclava hiding the edges where pigment meets bare skin.
“You know, if that whole military thing doesn’t work out for you, you could always start a career as a make-up artist, MacTavish.”
Soap pops out of the bathroom, shaking his wet hands at Ghost. “Aye, sure. Always good to have a backup plan.” He hesitates. “But, um, is it actually okay like that?”
Ghost groans. “Fishing for compliments, really? Your artist's hands did a much better job than I ever could. It looks great.”
Soap blows a couple of kisses at him. “Awww, you like me making you look all pretty? My little princess?”
“Shut up.” Ghost resolutely opens his door but can’t suppress a chuckle.
Soap puts a hand on his shoulder and follows him outside. “Don’t be like that, princess! I’m sure I could find some glittery eyeshadow next time. Would really elevate your look, don’t ya think?”
Ghost laughs at that, a real, full belly laugh, looking at Soap affectionately.
Then, someone in the hallway clears their throat loudly. “I think that might be against the regulations.”
Both soldiers whirl around, finding themselves face to face with their Captain.
Soap’s hand drops from Ghost’s shoulder lightning-quick. “Uh, morning, Captain.” He blushes a deep crimson red.
Ghost shoots him a confused look before he nods respectfully at Price. “Just having a bit of fun, Captain.”
Price watches them with curious eyes. “Good to hear you laughing, Son. It has been too long.”
“Have to say, I agree, Captain.” He claps Soap on the back fondly, his hand lingering for just a second. “All thanks go to MacTavish here.”
Price’s gaze travels between the two of them, scrutinising them. A smile appears on his face. “I see. Keep up the good work, boys.” He touches two fingers to his hat in an informal salute and leaves.
Ghost wants to follow him down the hallway, but Soap grabs his arm and pulls him back. “What the fuck was that?”
Ghost shakes his arm free. “What do you mean?”
Soap is clearly straining to stay calm. “Seriously? What do I mean? He just saw us coming out of your room together!”
“Yeah, so? We just had a talk.”
Soap stares at him. “That’s not what he thinks, though!”
Ghost has never been this confused in his life. “But– that’s what we did . Can’t we have a conversation in my room? We are friends!”
Soap laughs. “Sure. If you want people to keep believing that, you need to learn not to be so suspicious!”
“Suspicious?” Ghost blinks. “Johnny, what is the problem here? Price didn’t seem to have any issue with us spending time together, and I don’t see how anyone else would think that either.”
“Y-you–” Soap sputters and tries again. “You don’t mind if people know about us?”
“What? Of course not, why would you think that?” Ghost doesn’t know what’s happening. Doesn’t Soap know how much this friendship means to him? “I mean, as long as you don't tell anyone what we are talking about, I don’t have a problem with them knowing. I’m not ashamed of you.”
Ghost looks at Soap’s disbelieving eyes. He needs to drive his point home so Soap knows he is serious about being friends. “The opposite, actually. I kinda like the thought of people seeing that I managed to find someone who thinks I am worth their while.”
Doubt creeps into Ghost’s thoughts. The way Soap reacted to Price seeing them together… Maybe Soap is the one that wants to keep Ghost a secret? Maybe he doesn’t want his friends to know that he befriended his commanding officer? True, the two of them have been friendly with each other for a while now, spending some lunch breaks together, but that’s different from having private talks.
“Um. But we can keep our distance, of course. If you want that.” His gaze drops to the floor, unsure if he misinterpreted the whole situation.
“You don’t actually think that, right?” Soap’s voice sounds very tender. “Of course I don’t want to keep away from you. I just never thought…” A huge smile blooms on his lips, blinding Ghost. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. They can deal.”
He links his arm through Ghost’s and strides towards the mess hall. “Come on. Let’s give them a show.”
Ghost lets himself be dragged, relieved that they solved that problem. “We can’t be too chummy, though. I’m still your commanding officer. Can’t let anyone get the wrong idea and accuse us of favouritism.”
Soap fake gasps. “But I am your favourite!”
Ghost rolls his eyes. “Please, Johnny. Take this seriously.” He couldn’t bear the guilt if their friendship brought any negative repercussions for Soap.
“Don’t worry, Simon. I know your boundaries.”
Notes:
Price be like 👀, but GOOD FOR THEM
Chapter Text
Soap is living the dream. He stares at his boyfriend’s magnificent backside clad in tactical pants. Ghost pours himself a cup of tea at the other side of the mess hall, completely unaware of Soap’s ogling.
He sighs and watches while Ghost lets the teabag bob around in his steaming cup, waiting for it to stew.
The past few days have been great . Soap has been having the time of his life ever since Ghost gave him the go ahead to be more open about their relationship. The secret ‘getting to know each other’ stuff has been awesome too, but Soap very much enjoys rubbing it in his friends’ faces that he has managed to snag the hottest man alive for himself.
He has been careful with the words he has used, though. ‘Boyfriend’ and ‘relationship’, specifically, have been reserved for his mind only. He knows Ghost is kind of skittish. The last thing Soap wants is to scare Ghost off with a label he doesn’t feel comfortable with, and since Ghost hasn’t even opened the door for a proper kiss yet, naming what they have is probably way too soon for him.
So, Soap has been telling everyone that he has been spending private time with Ghost. That they enjoy each other's company. That he feels like he really found his person.
All that, coupled with a few carefully timed winks and not denying any playful remarks his friends have made, has seemed to get the message across loud and clear to the whole base.
Soap has confirmed nothing, and of course neither has Ghost, so people won’t say anything to their faces. Not that anyone would ever dare to ask Ghost about anything personal anyway. But the important part is everyone knows they are an item. Soap loves it.
Across the room, Ghost gets rid of his teabag and makes his way over to Soap. Heads turn as he walks past, people whispering as it gets clear to whom Ghost is walking towards.
Yeah, look at him all you want, Soap thinks. But this delicious hunk is mine. Hands off.
He props his chin up with his hand, shamelessly watching Ghost on his way through the room. The tall, masked man is a sight to behold. He’s so broad that he needs to turn his body sideways each time he wants to squeeze between two tables. Soap sighs. He can’t wait for the day when this glorious giant of a man will throw him onto a mattress.
Stop it, he chides himself. He will wait however long it takes. Ghost is worth it.
“Only tea today?” he asks as Ghost sits down opposite him. Soap usually sits next to Ghost, just so he can press their thighs together any chance he gets, but this works too. He stretches out his legs so he can catch one of Ghost’s feet with his.
Ghost glares at him over the rim of his cup but doesn’t say anything. He also doesn’t move his foot.
It’s another new favourite game of Soap’s. He knows he has to be careful with Ghost, but he can’t help but tease and push him a little bit, testing Ghost’s boundaries. So far, he hasn’t found any, which makes it really fucking tempting to push harder. He forces himself not to rub his foot up Ghost’s calf, or maybe even higher.
“Probably won’t have time for breakfast. I asked for a bit of private time with our guest.”
Soap frowns. He knows that the captive drug dealer they snagged on their botched mission has been giving Ghost headaches. He didn’t spill any info, so they were supposed to hand him over to Laswell a few days ago. But then some bureaucratic stuff Soap isn’t privy to happened, so the captive is still at the base.
“Private time?” he inquires.
“I shouldn’t even tell you. But yeah, I might need to… be really nice to him later.” Ghost cracks a knuckle. “Off records, you know.”
Soap understands the implication, so he doesn’t ask anything else. Secretly, he swoons a bit. His boyfriend is damn hot when he shows glimpses of his threatening side.
“You should still be eating breakfast. A big boy like you needs sustenance.” He winks.
Ghost scoffs, but Soap can tell he’s trying not to smile under his mask. “I think I can manage.”
“Aye, we all know you’re a badass.” Soap takes a bite of his toast. Contrary to his man, he’s not one to skip meals. “Steamin’ Jesus, this is good!”
Ghost cocks his head. “What are you moaning about?”
“In general? You. Right now? This new jam they offered today. Pumpkin-apple, I think?”
There it is again. The slight stiffening of Ghost’s shoulders whenever Soap says or does something suggestive. As usual though, Ghost takes it in stride after his initial shock wears off.
“Pumpkin-apple jam? Sounds like an abomination.”
“It’s not, though! It’s really good.” Soap mumbles around another bite, “I fink fhere’s fome finnamon in fhere.” He swallows and motions at Ghost. “Pull your mask up.”
Ghost looks confused. “Why would I? My tea isn’t cool enough to drink yet.”
“Pah, weak excuse. You know what I mean! You need to try this jam!”
“I’ll do no such thing!” Ghost regards the toast in Soap’s hands with a disgusted look. “It sounds horrific.”
“Oh, come on!” Soap leans across the table and snatches the edge of Ghost’s balaclava. Ghost goes very still, taut as a drawn bowstring. Soap’s movements grow gentler, slower, but he pulls at the black cloth without hesitation until Ghost’s lips are exposed.
Then, he shoves his toast at Ghost’s mouth without mercy, forcing him to take a bite or end up with jam smeared all over his chin.
“Ha-HA! Success!” He grins like a maniac.
“Huh. Okay, it’s not bad,” Ghost grudgingly admits.
Soap is distantly aware of the looks they are getting. Soldiers are staring at them, at Ghost’s halfway exposed face and Soap feeding him small pieces of toast. He doesn’t care, though. All that matters is that Ghost is playing along, leaving his mask drawn up, giving in to Soap’s pesky mothering, and not reacting to the quiet whispering that has been picking up around them.
They talk about small things, legs still hooked together. Soap doesn’t even notice that Gaz sat down next to him at first.
“Don’t really want to interrupt you lovebirds, but–”
“Then don’t!” Soap shoves his friend with his shoulder.
Gaz laughs. “Sorry, Soap. But I’ve got a message from Price.” He looks straight at Ghost, who has pulled his balaclava back into place. “You’ve got 30 minutes, Sir.”
Ghost gives a clipped nod. “Thank you, Sergeant. I’m off then.” He gulps down the last of his tea and stands up.
“Leave the cup. I’ll bring it back for you.”
Ghost looks at Soap in surprise. He’s still not used to someone taking care of him, even in such a small, mundane way. “Thank you,” he says, voice gentle.
“Do I get a goodbye kiss for that?” Soap grins at Ghost.
“Keep it professional, MacTavish, or I’ll have to file a complaint against you.” Despite his words, he ruffles through Soap’s mohawk before striding away, steps filled with purpose.
“You can punish me anytime you want, Lt!” There’s no reaction as Ghost leaves the room.
Gaz stares at Soap in disbelief. “Tell me. Does he leave the mask on while he fucks you?”
Soap rolls his eyes. “First, it’s not like that. Second, rude that you would just assume he would do the fucking.”
“Yeah, sure.” Gaz laughs. “Have you seen him? He’s twice your size!”
“You are lucky we are such good friends, Gaz.” Soap punches his shoulder. “Stop it. I told you, it’s not like that.”
“Like what?” Gaz looks at him quizzically. “I thought the two of you were… well. Having fun?”
They are the only people sitting at their table, so Soap elaborates in a quiet tone. “We are! Just not like that. Yet.” His heart beats a bit faster. “We haven’t labelled what we are doing.”
“Um, okay. So, what are you guys doing?”
“We’re mostly talking. He’s shared a lot of things about himself. Things that made me realise he’s going to have a hard time with physical touch. Maybe he’ll never want that.”
“And… you’re okay with that?”
“Yeah.” The smile on Soap’s lips is small, but genuine. “He’s worth it, Gaz. I wasn’t kidding when I told you that I’ve found someone special. He’s it for me, I can feel it.”
“Okay. Wow.” Gaz shakes his head. “Who are you, and what did you do to Soap?”
“Stop it! I’m serious.” Soap throws another playful punch at his friend. “He’ll come around. It’s not as if he never lets me touch him. There have been hugs, and a foot massage, and… Have I told you that he asked me to do his facepaint?”
Gaz’s mouth opens to a perfect ‘O’. “Okay. Didn’t expect that.”
“I know, right?!” Soap grins at him excitedly. “Also, have you seen his tattoos?”
Gaz nods. “Yeah, I was wondering about that. I thought he got some colour done, but it seems to be changing?”
Soap grins and wiggles his eyebrows.
“No way. You’ve been–? That’s actually… cute.”
“Yes! Yes, it is!” Soap is so happy he might float away. “He even got me new markers a few days ago.”
“You crazy son of a bitch. You actually did it! You made your Lieutenant fall for you.” They exchange a high five. “I’m happy for you, man. Who knew that your crush for him would actually evolve into something serious?”
“I still can’t believe it myself. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m reading too much into it. I mean, the only kisses that I get are the ones I force on his cheek each morning and night.”
Gaz groans and rubs his face. “Listen, you said it yourself. He might be a bit weird about physical shit. But, Soap, that man looks at you like you are the only person in the room. For fucks sake, you took his mask off in front of half the base right now, and he just sat there and let you do it!”
“I only pulled it up a bit,” Soap interjects.
“Didn’t you just tell me about how the two of you like each other? Well, from what I can tell by watching you, how he behaves around you, that’s definitely true. Stop fucking worrying.”
“Aye.” Soap smiles at Gaz, the temporary doubt forgotten. He knows where he stands with Simon. “You’re right. Just because he’s not comfortable with labelling us doesn’t mean we aren’t real.”
Notes:
No, Soap. You're not reading too much into this. Nuh-uh. Never.
Chapter 10: Temptation
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ghost is ready for this day to end. Torturing people is easy enough. But the paperwork he has to do afterwards to conjure up plausible sources for the intel he wrung out of his captive is a bloody nightmare. His only comfort is that his private… conversation with the drug dealer actually brought results.
He hammers away at his keyboard, idly wondering if he could abandon his office for today if he manages to break it. It’s bizarre anyway. The same hands that are typing up a report right now have earlier today been covered in blood splatters. He’s a soldier, not a secretary , for Christ’s sake.
He puts more force into his typing. How can it be so easy to break bones, but this stupid piece of plastic won’t budge?
There’s a knock on his office door. He groans. Price wouldn’t stop by personally, so whoever it is can shove whatever they want right up their ass.
“Office is closed! Come bother me again tomorrow.”
The person in front of his door has the audacity to knock again. He glares at his computer display. Maybe he can just chuck the whole thing at the suppliant; kill two birds with one stone.
“I said, fuck the hell off!” he bellows.
He can’t believe it when the handle gets pushed down and the door starts to swing inward. He’s going to rip this wankstain to shreds.
“Did you not fucking hear me? Is it so bloody hard to– Oh,” he stops abruptly when Soap comes into view.
“Well, it’s nice to see you too, sweetheart.”
Ghost’s whole body goes slack, and he relaxes back into his chair. “It’s you.”
Soap couldn’t look anymore smug even if he’d try. “Given that you stopped yelling, I take it that I can come in?”
“Of course you can.” Ghost beckons him closer, motioning towards the chair in front of his desk. “What can I do for you?”
Soap ignores the visitor’s chair and rounds Ghost’s desk. He hops up and plops down right next to Ghost’s keyboard, kicking his legs back and forth, hands tucked underneath his thighs. “You could wrap things up and come with me to the common room? We’re playing cards today.”
Ghost tenses up. Soap wants him to spend time with the others?
“Cards, huh? Not strip poker again, right?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but no. I don’t even know what we are going to play exactly. It’s just an excuse to hang out anyway.” He directs one of his trademark shit-eating grins at Ghost. “I could give you a private show later, though, if you are terribly sad that I won’t lose my clothes publicly tonight.”
Ghost grips his chair’s armrests. His lack of freaking out about Price knowing that they have been spending time together seems to really have assured Soap in their friendship. He has started treating him how Ghost imagines he treats all his other friends, saying whatever is on his mind without fear of being ridiculed. It just so happens that Soap’s mind seems to be bursting with flirty remarks, so that’s what comes out unfiltered. All. Of. The. Time.
Ghost doesn’t even mind it. In fact, he likes it a bit too much. He finds himself wanting to respond in kind, biting his tongue to not blurt out his own suggestive comments.
Soap would probably love it if he did, but he can’t. The difference between him and Soap is that every single thing he wants to say to Soap would be nothing but the truth. He wants their banter to be real, he wants to flirt with Soap, he wants the possibility of more than friendship between them to be there.
But that’s not how it is, and he has to live with that.
“Gotta decline the generous offer, Sergeant.”
Soap gasps and clutches at his shirt in fake agony. “You wound me, Simon!”
“Oh no,” Ghost deadpans. “How will I ever make up for it?”
“Simple. Come on and meet the guys with me.”
Damn. Walked right into the trap. Ghost already knows his fate is sealed, but he still protests. “Card games aren’t really my thing, Soap.” He turns his chair slightly sideways, so he can stare at his computer screen to avoid eye contact.
“You mean people aren’t your thing.” Soap puts one of his boots on Ghost’s armrest and forces the chair back in his direction. “Please, Si. I really want to spend time with you, but I also don’t want to alienate my friends, so you gotta come with me. It’s going to be fun, I promise.” His eyes grow big and round. “Please don’t make me choose?”
Ghost sighs. It’s impossible to say no when Soap looks at him like that.
He’s so fucked.
Ghost ended up promising Soap to stop by the common room later, so that is where he is headed now.
He feels like an iron vice has a grip on his chest, painfully restricting his breathing, as he thinks about the last time he found his way there. He didn’t bring any paperwork as an excuse to be here tonight. All he has is Soap’s invitation, which the others may or may not know about.
Before entering, he hesitates and forces a deep breath down his lungs. It’ll be fine. Soap will be there.
He strolls in, pretending to be calm and confident as always. Soap, Gaz, Vargas and Parra as well as a few other guys are occupying a couple of couches surrounding a coffee table. They joke and laugh loudly, but the conversation dulls a bit as Ghost gets closer.
The only people that seem excited for him to be here are Soap and, surprisingly, Gaz.
Soap motions him closer to the crowded couch he’s parked on. “Simon! Glad you made it!” He shoves at Gaz. “Make some room, fat-ass.”
Gaz shoves him right back. “Don’t be jealous, MacTavish. Not everyone can be blessed with a butt as amazing as mine.”
Soap cackles. “Sorry to tell you, but your ass barely makes the top 5 in the base ranking.”
He, Gaz and some rookie shuffle to the side while they keep up their ridiculous argument, creating a tiny bit of room on the two-seater couch. Ghost is sceptical, but he somehow manages to squeeze himself between the couch’s armrest and Soap. His complete left side is smushed up against Soap, tingling like crazy from the close contact. Is this heaven or hell? He can’t tell.
The sight of their Lieutenant squished into the old upholstery like that seems to set everyone at ease. Ghost gets introduced to the rookies and a couple of veterans they are playing with today. He already knows some of them well on a professional basis, like Vargas and Parra, but spending time with them casually is still a novelty for him. They insist on him calling them Alejandro and Rodolfo from now on. Rodolfo even offers him the nickname ‘Rudy’, but Ghost can only take so much at a time. Additionally, he struggles to imprint all the new names into his mind while the playing cards get distributed.
“You know how to play Uno, right?” Soap asks.
Ghost wants to pretend like he doesn’t and just bolt out of the room. He is profoundly uncomfortable, being thrown into the deep end like that. He’s still trying to hold on to all the new names he just learned. As their Lieutenant, he knows the last names and call signs of all his subordinates, but he usually never makes it to first name basis with them.
His head is swimming, and the dizzying nearness of Soap isn’t helping. But he wants to try his best for him, wants to give it his best shot to try to fit in with his mates, so he nods. “Everyone knows how to play Uno.”
Gaz snorts loudly. “Wait until you find out about Soap’s rules, Lieutenant.”
“Not this again!” Soap groans loudly. “We already agreed on our rules, the proper rules, last time!”
Each and every one of the dozen or so soldiers present sighs. Apparently, rules and Soap don’t go together very well.
The first game starts out civilised. Everyone plays by whatever arbitrary rules Soap decided on, and Ghost even manages some smalltalk with Liam, the rookie seated on the couch to Ghost’s right. He learns that Liam came to the base with the last shipment of recruits together with Dan and Eric, the rookies sitting next to him.
Dan wins the first round, much to the chagrin of Soap and Gaz who demonstrate their displeasure through booing like a pair of fifth graders.
Cards get dealt for the second time. Ghost is still trying to wade through the tangle of new names and stories thrust upon him when he snakes out his hand quick as lightning and clamps it around Soap’s neck.
“My, my, my, what do we have here? Trying to sneak a glance at my hand, MacTavish?”
Soap laughs. He submits to Ghost’s grip and almost dangles from his hand like a puppy would, waiting for his Lt.’s judgement.
“Noooo, Ghost!” he whines. “I didn’t look, I swear!”
Gaz chimes in. “Soap, you lying piece of shit! We’ve been through this, no cheating this time!”
“I didn’t! You guys are accusing an innocent man!”
Ghost squeezes Soap’s neck briefly before releasing him. “Watch yourself, Johnny. You’re not getting off this easily next time.”
Soap flutters his lashes at him. “Is that a promise, Sir?”
Something weird happens then. Gaz makes an exasperated noise, but the other soldiers are exchanging curious glances and whispered words.
Except for Liam. “I’ll protect you, Soap,” he announces loudly. “Don’t worry, Riley won’t know what hit him.” He bumps his fist against Ghost’s shoulder to soften his words, even though his tone was anything but friendly.
Ghost wants to roll his eyes but manages to reign himself in. As if Soap needed any protection, least of all from him.
The game picks up again, interspersed with conversation. People are still a bit weirded out by Ghost in their midst, he can tell, but he has dealt with much worse. He just hopes Soap doesn’t get flack for being friends with him.
Soap is garnering just as many inquisitive looks as Ghost is every time he interacts with his commanding officer in an overly casual way. Ghost forces down the protective urge that’s raising its ugly head in his chest. It won’t help Soap if he blows up at his friends. Fortunately, the atmosphere is so good-natured and friendly even Ghost forgets to be quite as tense as he usually is.
He focuses his attention back on the game when first Eric, then Dan and then Liam each lay down +4 cards in quick succession. Each time one of those cards gets revealed, the whole table breaks out in excited laughter.
Ghost grins wickedly. What are the odds? They are playing with multiple decks to make up for the number of players, but there still aren’t a lot of those cards available– and Ghost happens to have one at his disposal. If he plays it, Soap will be forced to draw 16 cards. If he doesn’t, Ghost has to draw 12 cards himself. It’s clear which play Ghost is supposed to make.
Soap pats his shoulder condescendingly, unaware of Ghost’s trump card. “Awww, poor Ghostie! Don’t fret, I’ll help you sort all of your new cards, aye?”
Ghost turns his head towards Soap. “Will you now?”
Soap blanches when he realises what the mischievous sparkle in Ghost’s eyes means. “No! Nooo, Simon!” He clutches at Ghost’s arm. “You’re bluffing, right?”
Ghost slides his +4 card free from his stack. “I should play it. Teach you a lesson, you little cheating menace.”
“You can’t! It’s against the rules to play multiple +4 cards in a row! You can’t stack them!”
The group dissolves into chaos, everyone yelling at the same time. “ What ? Since when?” “He can, and he will!” “You were the one that said ‘the official rules are for losers’!” “Don’t try to twist things to your advantage!” “Do it, Ghost!”
“Shhhhhh, quiet, guys!” Soap is laughing along with all the others. “Let Simon decide.” He looks up with pleading eyes. “You wouldn’t do it to me, right?”
Ghost flicks a finger against his card. “Tell me why I shouldn’t.” He didn’t plan it, but his voice has a rough, demanding edge to it. He blushes, grateful for his mask hiding it.
Soap swallows. “B-because I’m your favourite?” Ghost is probably imagining the husky undertone.
Damn that brat. Damn him and all that is holy. Ghost was actually planning on taking the fall for Soap, pretending to have bluffed after all, but now he can’t if he wants to keep the favouritism rumours at bay.
“We all fucking know you’re his favourite!” Gaz yells at Soap. “That doesn’t mean you get spared during Uno!”
“Yeah,” Alejandro snickers. “Get a room if you want to play favourites.”
Fuck. This is getting out of hand. Ghost opens his mouth, but Liam is quicker than him.
“Oh, so that’s why you brought him, Soap? Wringing benefits from your officer? I was starting to wonder why you would pick h-”
Ghost growls. “He doesn’t get any benefits from spending time with me.” He stares at Liam, straightening up from his sunken position on the couch. Nevermind that he has to squish down the nagging voice in his mind, whispering that there might be a kernel of truth to Liam’s words. He lets his fury drown out these thoughts and forges on, speaking dangerously quiet. “No special treatment whatsoever. And if you take offence at any part of our connection, you take it up with me. Officially, during office hours. Do I make myself clear, Private?”
Liam shrugs, trying to sound nonchalant. “I didn’t mean any offence.”
“I said : Do I make myself clear?”
There is some contempt hidden in Liam’s pressed together lips, but he knows better than to antagonise Ghost any further. “Yes, Sir.”
Their group has fallen silent. Soap is the only one still grinning widely. “Anyone up for another round?”
Unbelievably, Soap gets the group going again. He is the embodiment of a ray of sunshine, breaking through the clouds of the storm Ghost has brought upon their gathering.
He’s cheating again, playing cards that shouldn’t be playable, changing rules whenever he feels like he needs an advantage, sneakily playing two cards at once… No one should be able to get away with that much shit. People are supposed to get annoyed at such impudent behaviour, but Soap manages to make it seem playful. Because it actually is. He is a genuinely nice person, having so much fun while interacting with his friends that they can’t help but match his energy.
And somewhere along the way, Ghost starts having fun as well. He finds himself chuckling along whenever Soap gets busted for another sketchy move, he laughs at some of the bad jokes Eric makes, and he joins in when everyone is booing at Soap when he cheats another win.
He doesn’t recognise himself. This is what it’s like to have friends? He never knew what he was missing.
“This is the last straw, MacTavish!” Gaz shoves Soap, pressing him even tighter against Ghost.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Soap is very clearly trying to keep a straight face.
“Liar! I fucking saw you palm a +4 card! Thought we wouldn’t notice!”
A play-fight breaks out next to Ghost. Soap shrieks as Gaz tries to dig his fingers between his ribs, squirming away while using his cards like a shield to defend himself. Somehow, he ends up on Ghost’s lap.
Soap sticks out his tongue at Gaz. “Try to get me now, Garrick!”
“I’d actually rather you stay up there. Maybe Ghost can control you better that way.”
Ghost can’t breathe. Soap being squished against him all night has been overwhelming enough already, but him lounging around on Ghost’s lap like he belongs there is sure to make him combust any time now. He tries to save himself with a lie. “Who says I even want him on top of me? He’s just going to spy on my cards!”
Liam snorts. “I’d let you on top of me anytime, handsome.” He reaches out and tugs on a strand of Soap’s mohawk.
The whole group howls with laughter. Dan digs his elbow into Liam’s side and nods in Soap’s direction. “Dude, haven’t you heard?”
Ghost wants to ask what the fuck they are talking about, but Liam interrupts him again before he gets the chance. “I think Johnny can decide for himself, right?”
“Aye, I can.” Soap leans back heavily against Ghost’s chest. “And it’s ‘Soap’ to you.”
“Good work, men.”
Ghost assesses the state of the rookies assembled before him. They wait in their proper positions, backs straight, heads up, awaiting new orders, even though they are breathing heavily after the last exercise he put them through. If they keep this up, he won’t torture them for much longer today.
It was a bit awkward at first, getting the rookies he played cards with last night to behave again. They seemed to be under the impression that he would go easy on them because of one pleasantly spent evening.
Especially Liam acted up a bit. He was slow at responding to orders and tried to skip some exercise repetitions, pretending not to listen to his Lieutenant.
He won’t make that mistake again. After the dressing down he got in front of his mates and the extra laps Ghost had him sprint, all his delusions about Soap or others getting special treatment should be shattered.
The Private is starting to grate on his nerves, but he wouldn’t be the first troublemaker Ghost tamed. He’ll learn in time. And if he doesn’t, Ghost will be happy to remind him of his place or kick him out of this program completely. He doesn’t have any use for cockiness in his ranks.
Ghost grants his recruits a well-deserved five-minute break. His attention wanders to the other side of the big courtyard where sturdy outdoor equipment is set up.
Some higher-ranking soldiers are training over there, including Soap and Gaz. The two of them are hard at work, trading back and forth their spots at the dip station and the pull-up bar. It looks like they are sharing a pair of earbuds, listening to music during their workout.
Soap’s hair shines like gold in the late afternoon sun, lighting up his usually chocolate brown mohawk like a halo. He looks otherworldly, muscles gleaming under a thin layer of sweat. Ghost is mesmerised by his face, alternating between fierce concentration during exertion and bright smiles between sets.
Ghost resolutely turns around, keeping Soap out of his sight. He has a job to do.
He orders his soldiers on a couple suicide sprints, setting them up like a competition. He will be the judge of which soldier reaches the finish line first. It is a brutal exercise, but the sense of rivalry at least gives the recruits something to push themselves for.
Ghost usually enjoys watching. It grants him the opportunity to appraise not only the physical fitness of his soldiers but also their behaviour under pressure. Sometimes, he will give one of them the order to freeze while their opponent gets to go on just to test their obedience.
Today, he faces his own challenge. Despite his best efforts, he can’t stop his eyes from straying towards Soap.
Soap notices, of course. He grins wider each time he sees that Ghost struggles to stay focused. His smile is so obvious even Gaz spots them staring at each other. He rolls his eyes and whacks Soap on the head.
Seeing them together is strange. Soap said Gaz is his best friend, and judging from how they behave, Ghost has to agree. Their friendship seems very balanced. Both constantly tease each other, but in a loving way, and Gaz seems very supportive. He wasn’t even jealous that Soap tried to include Ghost into their established group.
Isn’t it normal to feel protective and a bit possessive over your friends? Gaz must be a stronger, more confident man than Ghost is.
He manages to keep up appearances with his rookies, even though Soap isn’t fighting fair. He has started to silently sing along to his music, moving his lips to the lyrics.
He adds rolling his hips to the mix, swaying them from side to side. The rhythm probably matches the music in his ear, but even without a beat to help the illusion Ghost is hypnotised. He can’t look away when Soap sashays his way through the different training tools.
The muscles on Soap’s bare arms ripple as he dances enthusiastically, all the while singing along and smirking at Ghost. Did he just mouth his name, ‘Simon’?
Gaz rips out his earbud and chucks it at Soap, hitting him right on the forehead. Soap laughs and motions at Ghost. Gaz looks over, rolls his eyes and shares a high five with the still laughing Soap.
A sharp pain stabs into Ghost’s heart.
“Sir?”
His eyes snap towards Eric. “Yes, Private?”
“Um.” Eric gestures at the two soldiers that finished their suicide runs just now. “It was pretty close between Miller and Carter. Your judgement?”
Only Ghost’s years of experience save him from revealing how preoccupied he has been the last few minutes. He slaps himself mentally; he doesn’t have any idea which soldier won this round. “Why don’t you give me your expert opinion, Private?”
Eric’s chest swells with pride. He might have won a couple of Uno rounds yesterday, but he still longs for the approval of Ghost the Legend, his Lieutenant. Good.
“I think Carter was a smidge faster, Sir.”
“Good eye, soldier. The point goes to Private Carter.” He nods approvingly at Eric.
His soldiers go on with their exercise. This time, he at least manages to keep his sight fixed on them, but his thoughts keep wandering.
Ghost massages his chest right above his heart. The pinch he felt when he witnessed Soap's and Gaz’ high five has dulled, but he can’t get it out of his mind.
He should have known. He should have fucking known. This isn’t serious to Soap.
Soap has inserted himself into every part of Ghost’s life. No day is complete if he hasn't seen the Sergeant, if he didn’t manage to get a smile thrown his way, if Soap didn’t assault him with some flirty line.
He relies on Soap for brightening his day. Worse, he has started to rely on Soap with carrying the burden of his past. He handed over pieces of himself, of his past, pieces that splintered off from his severed soul, so Soap could help Ghost rebuild himself. Soap has unknowingly helped him fit long lost tiles back into the mosaic that once was Simon Riley.
Ghost wants to spend every single second with Johnny. He wants to listen to him talk about his day, laugh at his jokes, and help him carry his burdens too. He wants to hold him. Be close to him.
But that wouldn’t be fair to Soap. They are friends. He hopes that they are friends. Maybe Liam is right, and Ghost is nothing more but the promise of benefits. Maybe he is just a pathetic Lieutenant, so desperate for human connection that his subordinate took pity on him. Maybe…
Ghost sees Captain Price walk across the lawn out of the corner of his eye, so he rounds up his soldiers. They gather before him in neat rows.
He’s breathing hard. He wants to give his soldiers words of affirmation, but his throat constricts as he realises he is in deep shit. This isn’t just some infatuation, or longing for connection, or even lust.
He is in love with John ‘Soap’ MacTavish.
Price reaches his side. He stands beside Ghost, waiting for him to end the exercise. Ghost feels Price looking at him when the silence lasts longer and longer. The Captain probably wears a concerned expression, but Ghost can’t be sure. He is staring straight ahead.
Price clears his throat. “You’re dismissed, lads. Looked like a good session to me. I can see some of you made big improvements already. Keep it up.”
The soldiers salute and shuffle away, relieved to be done for the day.
Ghost doesn’t want to look at Price. He hasn’t choked up like that in a long time. While he is grateful Price came over at the right time to rescue him, he knows that he is in for a lengthy interview now.
He forces himself to face his Captain and nods respectfully. “What can I do for you, Sir?” Thankfully, his voice sounds as controlled and confident as always, but the damage is already done.
“Nothing. I just came over to have a look at your boys. They’re shaping up nicely.”
“Thank you.”
“But tell me, what happened just now? Where’s your head at, Son?”
Ghost tenses his shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean. Sir.” He tries to suppress the urge, but his eyes flit towards Soap.
Price chuckles. “Ah. That one.” His moustache moves upwards in a warm smile. “He looks good on you, Son. When did you plan on telling me?”
It feels like someone pulled a rug from under Ghost’s feet. He breaks out in a cold sweat. Does Price have objections concerning his casual behaviour towards a lower ranking soldier after all? Did Ghost mistake his silence as approval of his and Soap’s friendship? Did Ghost just get them into trouble?
He takes a calming breath and decides to test the waters further before jumping to conclusions. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on.” Price strokes a hand over his beard. “You can’t tell me there is nothing going on between you and MacTavish. The two of you are like peas in a pod.”
Okay, that doesn’t sound too bad. Ghost just has to clear up some things. “We are friends. The whole flirting thing is just… a game. Nothing to take seriously.” His heart hurts as he forces out his next sentences. “I understand if it comes across as unprofessional. I’ll tell him to quit it if you’d prefer.”
“Oh, Simon.” A deep sadness seems to settle over Price. “You’re going to crush him. Better let him down gently, hm?”
Ghost can’t even answer this time. His mouth hangs open uselessly. Price can’t see it underneath the mask, but he can read Ghost well enough to recognise what is going on.
“Oblivious bastard.” Price sighs. “He is obviously gone for you!”
“I…” Ghost swallows repeatedly to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “I don’t think so. And even if you’re right… It wouldn’t change anything, Sir. I’m his Lieutenant.”
Price huffs. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, Simon. At least think about it. If he makes you happy, you won’t face any obstacles from me.”
Ghost can only shake his head weakly. Price can’t be right. He has misread this whole situation.
The Captain pats Ghost on the shoulder with a tired smile. “And here I was, thinking about how I would bend the rules for the two of you.”
Beads of sweat roll down Ghost’s temple. Exhausting his body usually exhausts his mind as well, but today it isn’t. Fucking. Working .
All the bench presses and deadlifts he put his muscles through have done nothing to turn off the thoughts Price has planted in Ghost’s brain.
He doesn’t doubt that the Captain meant well and didn’t intend to send Ghost into panic mode, but he did. Price had timed his little speech perfectly, as if he had just been waiting for Ghost to realise his feelings for Soap. Ghost fled right to the gym after their conversation, ignoring Soap on his way inside.
He doesn’t know how he is supposed to talk to Soap ever again without blurting out his feelings. All Price has done is given Ghost hope. Hope that he has denied himself all along because he knows Soap will never want him. Not in the way Ghost wants him , anyway.
He had almost convinced himself that he was content with the friendship he and Soap have managed to build, but Price had to go and ruin it all. Curse that man. Ghost cannot afford to hope.
His arms tremble as he tries to lift the weights again. Shit, he must have lost count of his bench press repetitions. He grits his teeth and barely manages to push hard enough to deposit the bar back onto the J-hooks.
“Tsk tsk tsk, Lt.” Soap leans against the wall closest to Ghost. “You really should ask someone to spot you if you insist on pushing yourself that much. I mean…” He comes closer and shoots an appraising look at the weights on Ghost’s bar. “...hot damn, Si.”
Ghost sits up, the bench between his thighs. He scoffs. “I can handle myself, MacTavish.”
Soap pushes against Ghost’s chest, getting him to scoot backwards, and straddles the bench too. Their knees touch, skin against skin, exposed by their gym shorts.
“Aye, I know you can. But don’t forget you’ve got me now. I’d be happy to assist anytime you need me.” He winks. “Anything for my princess.”
Ghost can’t handle the bloody nicknames and winks. Not today. They are almost as bad as Soap’s smiles, making his heart speed up and his stomach flutter. He stands up and begins reracking his weights to get some distance from Soap.
“I’m done anyway.”
Soap grins. “Fantastic! Care to come shower with me? I think the ones in the gym are empty right now.”
Ghost almost drops the plate he’s carrying.
“I’ll even promise to keep my hands to myself! But, gotta be honest, I’m dying to see what you're working with. My imagination skills only go so far, you know.”
The grin on Soap’s face is as wide as it can get, but he seems to be genuinely waiting for an answer. Ghost swallows heavily. Is he actually serious?
Ghost hates Price with every ounce of his being for putting him on this train of thought. But maybe, just maybe , could there be a shred of truth in what the Captain said? There isn’t a chance in hell Soap wants him as a whole, but maybe he wants Ghost’s… body? Even though he is covered in scars from head to toe?
He doesn’t want to decline. He wants to drag Soap to his private shower and show him everything he wants to see. But Ghost can’t risk it. He will destroy their friendship if he misinterprets Soap’s flirting, and that is too high a price to pay.
“Somehow, I don’t think that your imagination needs any help.”
Soap gets up from the bench and saunters over, standing dangerously close. “But it does! I’m sure it could never compare to the real thing.”
Ghost can’t withstand this temptation much longer, but he is sure he will regret it if he gives in. He steels his voice as much as he can, trying to hide his true feelings. “I don’t do communal showers.”
A deep sigh leaves Soap’s lips. “Aye, I get it. Too much. Sorry.” His smile falters slightly. He studies Ghost as if he is looking for clues to a puzzle. Ghost hopes his flushed skin and rapid pulse can be excused by his recent exercising.
Whatever Soap finds in Ghost’s expression, it prompts him to take his sweat soaked shirt off and chuck it at him. “You might deny me, but I'll give you some fodder for your fantasies.” He flexes his pecs, bouncing them up and down. “Never accuse me of being less than generous.”
Ghost can do nothing but stare at Soap as he turns around and walks towards the showers. “No one come in if you don’t want a show!” he yells loudly before he disappears into the adjoining room.
That fucking Scot. Ghost is frozen to the spot, his mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. Soap is going to be alone in there, undressing, taking off every scrap of clothing to reveal each inch of his sculpted body. He is going to turn on the water and take himself in hand, stroking until he is hard. Will he be waiting for Ghost?
Maybe Ghost should give in and follow? Maybe he should show Soap what he looks like underneath his clothes? This whole thing will stop anyway if he sees the scars, and then they can go back to their normal friendship. Ghost will be able to stop wondering. To stop hoping .
And if a miracle happens and Soap isn’t repulsed… Ghost would stand before him naked, nothing shielding him from Soap’s gaze anymore. He is half-hard already, standing in the middle of the gym, imagining the water running across Soap’s chest, so it'd be impossible to hide his arousal.
Ghost’s pulse hasn’t slowed down at all after ending his workout. It has only increased its pace, same as his breathing. His thoughts jumble as he indulges in the vision his mind is conjuring up.
He’d pleasure himself unashamedly, his own hand rough around his cock. Soap would lick his lips and taunt him, throw some stupid innuendos at Ghost. And this time, Ghost would act on his desires. He’d walk up to Soap, relishing in the wide-eyed stare directed at him. Soap would be too stunned to react if Ghost sinks to his knees, right in front of his Sergeant.
Ghost hasn’t done this before, he thinks. At least not voluntarily. He can’t be sure, since so many of his memories are missing or hazy at best.
But he wants to taste Soap. Lick him, kiss him, swallow him down until his nose pushes into coarse hairs. He wants his throat stuffed full until tears run down his face. He wants Soap to lose his composure, wants him to grab his face und fuck into his mouth, moaning so loudly that no one in the whole base would have any doubt about what they are doing.
The fantasy shatters as the voices of a couple recruits drift through the gym. They are talking quietly, but they clearly aren’t aware of the excellent acoustics of the room.
“Look at him. He’s completely out of it.”
“10 bucks says he’s going to follow MacTavish.”
“Do you think they’re actually fucking?”
“They have to be. I mean, Soap has this guy wrapped around his little finger. His head game must be phenomenal .”
“True. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised if a certain Sergeant gets promoted soon.”
“Maybe I should try my luck and see what kind of privileges I can squeeze out of him, huh?”
“Ewww! Gross, dude.”
Ghost’s fist tightens around Soap’s gym shirt. He should walk over there and squash them under his heel like beetles. But he can’t. He’d only stoke the flames nourishing those nasty rumours if he reveals his eavesdropping and storms over to protect Soap’s honour.
This is exactly why he can never give in to Soap’s teasing, even if it was meant seriously. Soap can’t lose his reputation over casual sex with his commanding officer. Ghost isn’t worth it.
Notes:
Guys dw, I get so mad at Ghost each time he says they're 'friends', too. Like, GET A GRIP DUDE smh haha
For anyone wondering, I like to think that Soap was listening to 'Like Me' by Chase Icon when Gaz chucked the earbud at him. Specifically, this part:
I like it rough and harder than a diamond
He could hit the blunt while he's breaking in my hymen
I can make him do what I say like Simon
So soft but he's built like a linemanhehe :D
Chapter 11: Confusion
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s gotten so cold Ghost’s breath forms little puffs of steam in the evening air. He has been sitting on the bench outside of his barrack for quite some time now, watching the sun set and the sky grow dark. He is staring at the stars, lost in thought, when he notices a familiar figure approaching him.
“Hey Lt. There you are.”
Very little light emanates from the building behind them, but Soap’s face is clearly visible with the moon hanging brightly in the sky. His smile looks soft in the silvery glow.
Ghost releases a noncommittal grunt. “Yeah. Fancied a smoke.”
Soap eyes the unlit cigarette in Ghost’s fingers. Ghost forgot about it right after lighting it, so it burned out soon after he took his initial drag.
“Nasty habit.” Soap takes the cigarette and chucks it in the nearby garbage can before he plops down right next to Ghost, pressing their thighs together. The contact burns through Ghost, a sharp contrast to the chilly surroundings.
He sighs. “What’s one more bad habit? Got enough of ‘em anyway.”
“As if.” Soap snorts and shuffles even closer, leaning his shoulder against Ghost. “Why haven’t you gone back in? It’s a bit nippy.”
“I just… had to think about a few things.” Their close proximity loosens the knot in Ghost’s chest, and he relaxes against Soap’s frame. Nothing wrong with sharing a bit of warmth out here.
Their breath mixes together in misty tendrils. It looks quite beautiful, Ghost thinks. He watches the clouds vanish into nothing before he shares what has been on his mind all day. “I overheard some soldiers talking in the gym yesterday. While you were in the showers.”
He feels Soap’s body shift against him. “What did they say?”
“They think you’re whoring yourself out to me to get preferential treatment.”
A hard laugh escapes Soap. “Well, we both know that isn’t true. So fuck them.”
Ghost closes his eyes. He knew Soap wouldn’t take this seriously. “Soap, we can’t just ignore these rumours. Every promotion you will get in the future will be tainted by our closeness. It’ll ruin your whole career. Being friends with ‘The Ghost’ isn’t worth that.”
“Yeah, well, I’d agree if I only were friends with ‘The Ghost’ .” Soap tilts his head up to look at Ghost. “But, since I care for Simon … those rumours and everything else we might have to deal with are totally worth it in my book.”
Ghost’s throat threatens to close up at that, the familiar choking feeling trying to take hold. “You can’t be serious,” he croaks out. “You can’t actually care for me.”
“Um, excuse me?” Soap leans back and glares at Ghost indignantly. “Of course I do! Haven’t I made that clear during the last couple of weeks?”
Ghost glares right back. “You can’t mean that. I’m just a masked asshole masquerading as Lieutenant!”
“I don’t bloody care about any of that. I don’t care that you are my boss, I don’t care that you need time to open up to me, and I don’t fucking care about your mask.”
Soap looks at him so earnestly that Ghost’s anger dissipates instantly. His voice falters. “Maybe you should, though.” He swallows around his constricting throat. “You still don’t know everything about me. About my past. About… the mask.”
“Will you tell me then?”
This is it. Ghost’s chance to put everything out there, for better or for worse. If Price is right, if Soap could possibly have real feelings for him, he needs to know about all of Ghost’s sins and demons.
He nods, but the words won’t come.
Soap waits patiently, once again snuggled up close, before he finally caves. “Tell me, Si.”
The gentle command frees Ghost from his paralysis. “Okay. I’ll tell you. Just…” he hesitates. “Stop me whenever it gets too much, yeah?”
Soap nods against his shoulder. “Aye, I will. But it won’t be too much.”
Soap’s courage never fails to amaze Ghost. How can someone be this confident, this fiercely loyal to someone else? Ghost feels very humbled that he should be the one to be graced with this honour.
He takes a deep breath. Let Soap be his judge, jury and executioner.
“I suppose I should start with my escape from Roba. Remember how I and two comrades, Sparks and Washington, got captured because the fourth in our squad betrayed us?”
“Aye. He was called Vernon, right?”
A wave of warmth rushes through Ghost. He didn’t expect Soap to retain any details; maybe he really does care.
“Yes. He was in charge of large parts of the brainwashing scheme. I guess Roba got impatient when it became clear Vernon’s methods weren’t working on me, or Vernon fucked up otherwise. Either way, they killed him.”
Soap shrugs against Ghost’s shoulder. “Got what was coming for him.”
“I suppose so. Well, Roba himself was next in line to try and break me. You’ve heard a lot about that already.” Soap nods and links his arm with Ghost’s, waiting for him to continue.
“It took some time, but Roba finally decided I was a lost cause. They dug Vernon back up, put me in his coffin and buried both of us together.”
The horror of these badly suppressed memories makes Ghost shudder. “I was in a bad state then. I just wanted to stay in the ground, let the maggots eat me and rot away. They crawled all over me, nibbling and scratching at my wounds.”
Ghost has had this type of serious talk with Soap so many times now that he recognizes Soap’s sudden stillness for what it is. He is holding himself back, trying not to give away how much Ghost’s story disturbs him. He pretends to be strong for Ghost.
Ghost loves him for it.
“I don’t know how, but I found my will to live again. I think it might have been pure spite.”
“Thank God you did,” Soap mumbles. “Thank God you’re still here.”
Ghost smiles grimly. “The thing is, it’s not easy to escape a buried coffin. I needed some type of tool. So… I ripped off Vernon's lower jaw. His tissue was decomposed enough that it was actually kinda easy. I used the bone to break the wooden lid and dig myself out.”
His hands cramp closed, forgotten sensations rising to the surface. The overwhelming stench of rotten flesh, splinters embedding themselves into his arms, dirt raining down on him. “It must have taken me the whole night. A new day was dawning when I dragged myself out of the grave. Back to life. After that, I wandered through the Mexican desert for weeks before a sheriff picked me up.”
Soap’s grip around his arm tightens. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like. You went through hell and back.”
“Yeah, that’s what it felt like. Still, I wanted to get back into hell as soon as possible, but my therapist arranged indefinite leave for me. I couldn’t persuade her to give me military clearance.”
“No shit,” Soap snorts.
“Shut up and listen, MacTavish.” Ghost ruffles his hair affectionately, admiring how soft it looks gliding through his gloved fingers.
Soap huffs. “Fine. Get on with it then.”
“It was Christmas time when Sparks found me.”
“Oh? So, he escaped too?”
“Yeah, he and Washington both. I had heard about it but didn’t know any details. My therapist kept me secluded from most things military. And to be honest, I didn’t fight her much on it. I didn’t want to hear rumours about the army if I couldn’t be part of it. I regret that every single day.” Shame settles over Ghost. If he had been stronger, if he hadn’t taken the easy route at that time, it all might have gone differently. “I still remember decorating our tree with my nephew Joseph the day before Sparks came knocking on our door. He wanted to talk, and I jumped at the chance to get first-hand news from the military, beyond frustrated with being held back. So, I left my family alone and went to a bar with him.”
Ghost’s eye twitches. “Biggest mistake of my life.” He wants to put his cheek on top of Soap’s head. It might make talking easier.
“The evening actually started out alright. We drank and talked like we used to. He told me that he and Washington got promoted after what they went through and that they were going to ship out again soon. But… he was kinda off. Jumped from topic to topic and didn’t make a lot of sense most of the time. I decided to get him home. Walking through the fresh air should have sobered him up a bit, but he only got worse.”
Ghost finally gives in and rests his head on Soap’s. His hair is as soft as Ghost imagined.
“Turns out Sparks didn’t escape after all but was set free instead. He started rambling about heroin trafficking and smuggling terrorists across borders. About how Roba always used to say rules are just bars that keep men locked in cages and that he could free me from them too. He told me he had friends in high places, and that they could be my friends as well.”
“What the fuck?”
Ghost chuckles, cheek rubbing against Soap’s mohawk. “My thoughts exactly. But I played along to get more info. It wasn’t hard. The brainwashing worked so well on Sparks he didn’t even consider anyone could be opposed to Roba. He said, the sooner Roba’s plans came together, the sooner we got to go back. He wanted to go back so badly , Soap, it scared me. Lots of things he did that night scared me. I even had to keep him from raping a girl.”
Soap jerks back. “Are you serious? What a piece of shit!” His body trembles with suppressed rage for a moment but settles back against Ghost. He raises his hand and pulls Ghost’s head on top of his again. “Sorry, please continue.”
Ghost smiles despite the gruesome topic. “He was shaking like a leaf by the time I got him back to his flat, clearly out of it. I almost felt bad for him. Almost . I knew I needed to detain him, couldn’t let an unhinged lunatic run rampant. Unfortunately, he was still a well-trained soldier, so he caught on quickly. He had a gun, and I only had my knife, so we were still grappling when Washington came through the door. Him showing up surprised me, so he managed to shoot me in the thigh as I fled through the window.”
A tremble moves through Soap at the mention of Ghost being injured. Ghost’s heart breaks for him. If only he knew what horrors lie ahead of them next in the story.
“I raced home in a mad rush. I knew what they had done. I felt it in my bones. The whole evening had been a ruse, Sparks distracting me while Washington…” His voice breaks.
“Don’t tell me…” Soap sounds apprehensive. Like he knows what’s coming next.
Ghost buries his nose in Soap’s hair and breathes in deeply to comfort himself with Soap’s scent so he doesn’t get swallowed up by his past. He needs to be anchored to the present, or he will lose himself.
“I found them all dead. Slaughtered. Every single one of them. Mum. Tommy. Beth.” He pauses to take in another dose of Soap’s fragrance. “Even… even little Joseph. I had played with him just hours ago, and now his body was sprawled between his toys, cooling in a puddle of his own blood. They died because of me . If I had only kept up with the news about Sparks’ and Washington’s escape, I might have seen the warning signs, the holes in their story… But because of my weakness, Roba was able to make good on his threats and take revenge.”
A suppressed sob leaves Soap’s throat. “Oh, no. Si… Si, I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh. It’s alright.” Ghost untangles his arm so he can cup Soap’s head with his hand, gently petting his hair. He takes as much solace from it as he tries to give, drawing comfort from the warm man curled up against him. The fact that Soap isn’t recoiling from him, isn’t asking Ghost to stop even though the story is obviously hurting him, gives Ghost the strength to continue.
“The first thing I felt was rage. Then grief. Guilt. Shame. And then… something that scared the hell out of me. All those emotions went away, and I just laughed . I couldn’t stop. I felt like I was going mad. Maybe I was.”
Soap’s hand clutches the front of Ghost’s jacket, and his face is halfway buried into Ghost’s neck. This is really taking a toll out of him. Ghost trusts Soap to stop him if he can’t take anymore, so he forges on.
“I never hated myself as much as I did at that moment. I hated how I couldn't stop laughing, just like I had laughed when I was with Roba, how I laughed in my nightmares… I needed to shut myself up, couldn’t stand the noise anymore, couldn’t stand how fucked up I had become. Laughing at my dead family. I… I had my gun in the house.”
“Fuck. Si… fuck .” A violent shudder passes through Soap’s body. He clings to Ghost like an iron vice, like he needs to convince his body that Ghost is still here with him. Ghost knows it can’t be easy for him to hear this, but he soldiers on.
“I shoved it deep inside my throat, but the laughter wouldn’t stop. It was like a compulsion. I forced the barrel down until I threw up, again and again, until my throat burned and I was only retching up bile, laughing through it all. I didn’t pull the trigger, but it was damn close.”
Ghost has no idea how it happened, but he has both arms around Soap now, holding his shaking body close. And still the words keep coming.
“I was acting on pure survival instincts then. I left, seeking shelter in the back of a seedy pub instead of hiding in my apartment, tending to my gunshot wound and trying to figure out what to do next. Turns out that was the right thing to do, since Sparks and Washington decided to blow up my flat in an assassination attempt, which they believed to have been successful. I also found out that my old commander was dead as well. There was a whole fucking conspiracy going on.”
He sighs. “We’re getting back to a part of the story you already know now. The laughing… It had shaken me up so badly I needed answers. So, I finally chose to follow my mum’s advice. That’s why I caved and went to visit my dad.”
Soap seems unable to speak. He moves his head in a jerky nod to indicate that he knows what Ghost is talking about. His face is hidden against Ghost’s front, and his breath leaves him in tiny, wet puffs, absorbed by Ghost’s clothes.
“I had to sneak into the hospital. The police had found my massacred family at that point, and word had gotten to the press. Of course, they blamed me, the troubled soldier in therapy, for the slaughter. I heard a radio station call me ‘the most dangerous man in Britain’, and I found my dad reading a newspaper with a similar headline. Something about a SAS Officer on a killing spree.”
“That’s why he thought you came to kill him.” Soap’s voice is muffled against Ghost’s collarbone. He sounds like he’s crying. Ghost clutches him impossibly tighter but doesn’t comment on it.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“You said you didn’t do it, but you might as well have done it. Does that mean…?”
A grim smile tightens Ghost’s lips. “Yes. I left the dirty work to Sparks and Washington. I heard the gunshot as I was walking away from the hospital.”
Soap releases his grip on Ghost’s jacket so he can wipe his eyes. “Lucky timing.”
Ghost chuckles darkly. “I guess I deserved some luck after what had happened. I followed them afterwards. Found out they were stationed at RAF Bonnington, a joint British and American Air Base. That was when a desperate need for revenge burned through me. Everything I loved, everyone I held dear was dead. There weren't any Rileys anymore, not a single one left. Not even me . I was only an empty husk. A dead man with a mission.”
The bench creaks as Ghost shifts his weight. He turns slightly so he can stare up at the night sky. His eyes trail the stars as he takes a short break, trying to order his thoughts so he can recount the next events in his story as concisely as possible. Soap is still trying to hide his tears, sniffling quietly.
“It wasn't easy, but I snuck into the RAF base. I used one of Sparks knives to slit Washington’s throat to make it look like Sparks did it. Scared the shit out of Washington first, though. You see, that was the first time I deliberately painted a skull on my face. He must have thought I was a vengeful spirit, risen from the dead to haunt him.” He huffs. “Well, that was basically the truth, I guess.”
Soap shoves him weakly. “Not funny.”
“It kinda is, though.” Ghost shakes his head. “Anyway. I kidnapped Sparks.”
“You did fucking what ?” Cold air rushes between their bodies as Soap sits up abruptly. “How the hell did you manage to kidnap a soldier from an RAF base?”
“My legend status has to come from somewhere, right?”
Soap groans and rubs his red-rimmed eyes. “Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Okay, doesn’t matter how you did it, but why ?”
“I knew that killing those two wouldn’t be the end of it. I needed to get to Roba, the real threat. The real monster. And I had to do it on my own. There was some sort of conspiracy going on around him, so I didn’t know who I could trust anymore. Not to mention, I was a wanted criminal.”
They aren’t cuddled up anymore, facing each other instead. Only their knees and thighs are touching still, but Ghost somehow feels just as close to Soap as before.
“I brought him to my family's house. Shot him right in the mouth and watched his body crumple on top of Joseph’s toy aeroplane.” He can still feel the grim satisfaction after all these years. “I switched our dog tags and set the place on fire.”
Soap reaches out and clutches both of Ghost’s hands in his. “You used him to fake your own death?”
“Yes. I needed to convince Roba I wasn’t a threat anymore so I’d have a proper chance to take him out. Give him a false sense of security. And…” Ghost hesitates. “To be honest, I also needed it for closure. So I could take control over my life again.”
There is no judgement in Soap’s gaze as he asks, “Like a cleansing fire, then?”
“One could think that, but no. It was a funeral pyre; Lieutenant Riley was gone. All that was left was just… a ghost.” Ghost holds steady eye contact with Soap. “Do you understand now? I need the mask so I don’t have to be Simon Riley anymore. So I can pretend all of this never happened to me. It couldn’t have happened to me, because I’m Ghost, and Riley is dead. He’s the one that lost everything, not me .”
Soap sits there, frozen, overwhelming pain etched into the tight lines of his face. Ghost knows Soap probably has a million questions, so he waits patiently for them to spill out. In the end, Soap picks the easiest one. “But… you’re still using your name.”
Ghost squeezes his fingers tightly. “Well, yeah, kinda. Got Price to thank for that. He set all of that legal stuff straight, even though my name is still not widely known. Especially my first name is mostly off records. I was very lucky that the Captain found me right after I killed Roba and his entourage and set his whole mansion on fire for good measure. Picked me up with a Helo right next to the carnage and enrolled me into the 141.”
“You did what ?” Soap yelps, his mouth hanging wide open in shock.
“Yeah.” Ghost can’t repress a small chuckle. “Gonna tell you that story when I need you to be in awe of me one day. I’m a legend for a reason, remember?”
“I don’t think I could admire you anymore than I already do, Si,” Soap says, the reverence he feels for Ghost plain for him to see. “How are you so strong?”
“I’m not strong, Johnny. I’m falling apart.” He tries to hide the desperation in his words. “I don't even know who I am ! But… you’re helping me understand what man I could be. You help me find little pieces of him, a new one every day. They are hidden in your smiles when you do something silly. They float in each cup of tea that you make for me. They fall from your lips each time you tease me. I’ve been finding them everywhere recently, and I've given them all to you. And you did not only keep them safe for me, you built someone new with them. Not Ghost. Not Lieutenant Riley. Maybe not even Simon.”
Soap’s voice is barely more than a whisper, impossibly soft. “Who did I build then?”
“Do you know how much I love it when you call me Si?”
Ghost wants to be bare before Soap, to show him the truth hidden behind his shields. Not only with words, but with actions. He reaches up, his movements careful but deliberate, and pulls off his mask.
The chilly night air is like a slap to his face, emphasising the severity of what he is doing here. He is completely exposed, body and soul.
Soap looks enraptured. He lifts both hands to Ghost’s face, holding him still, eyes roaming over every single detail as if he is cataloguing it all, each rise and fall of bone and skin, creating a map of Ghost’s features so he’ll never forget them. But he doesn’t have to do that. Ghost doesn’t intend to hide his face from Soap anymore after tonight so he can live forever in the memory of this man. The only man that counts.
Soap’s cool fingertips trail over scars and reverently smooth over eyebrows before he cups Ghost’s cheeks and just holds him, watching. Waiting.
Only pale moonlight shines down on them, but Soap burns so brightly it might as well be daytime. What is he waiting for? Could it be–?
Ghost’s face is still trapped in Soap’s warm hands. He wishes Soap will leave them there forever so he can drown in his soft eyes, framed by wet lashes, until he can’t see anything else anymore. He leans forward, testing the waters, and Soap doesn’t move.
They are so, so close, sharing each other’s breath, both waiting for the inevitable. This was always meant to happen. Ghost knows that now. He closes his eyes.
Finally, their lips touch, and sunshine explodes between them.
Ghost is blinded. He feels like he is hanging by a thread, about to float away, with Soap’s touch as the only tether grounding him to Earth.
Soap keeps his lips soft and hands steady, ready to let Ghost take the lead. Their mouths linger on each other, a tentative, almost shy contact. Ghost separates them, letting cold air sneak between them for a second, before he goes in for another kiss, feeling Soap’s lips twist into a smile beneath his. He takes a shaky breath, cut off by Soap’s lips pressing against his this time.
Suddenly, Ghost doesn’t want to hold back anymore. He pulls Soap closer, one hand at his waist, the other at the nape of his neck. There’s no resistance in Soap’s body, only eagerness as he yields to Ghost’s touch.
Nothing has ever felt so good. It’s like Ghost is taking his first breath after holding it all his life. There’s no pressure around his chest, no familiar choking feeling in his throat. He forgets all his worries. Nothing matters but this wonderful man wrapped in his arms, who is making him come alive, one smile at a time.
The kiss intensifies, lips moving and breaths mixing. Ghost wants to devour Soap now that he finally took the leap, so he licks hungrily at Soap’s smile. A low groan escapes Soap before he responds in kind, sinking his tongue into Ghost’s mouth. The bench creaks dangerously in the quiet courtyard as he scrambles on top of Ghost, straddling his thighs.
Ghost can’t believe this is happening. He has denied himself this pleasure all this time, misguided fear clouding his judgement. Now though, he has a panting Soap right here in his lap, and he is so overwhelmed he can’t do anything but act on instinct. He grabs Soap’s waist so hard he’s probably going to leave bruises and pulls their bodies together, grinding his hips up against Soap while their kiss grows messier, a furious whirl of tongues and teeth and spit.
Soap’s arms wrap around Ghost’s neck, hands raking through his hair, fingers spread out over his scalp. He takes hold of Ghost’s head so he can force the kiss deeper, crushing lips against lips in a desperate yearning for closeness.
But then it all stops.
Soap forces himself away, breathing heavily. “Sorry.”
Ghost feels like a fist squeezes around his lungs. All the air leaves him in a rush. Sorry?
“Sorry. Too much too fast, huh?” Soap grimaces, lips red and puffy.
Ghost lets his hands fall limply to his sides, and Soap shimmies off his lap. What does he mean, ‘sorry’ ? Does he regret their kiss? Panic bubbles to the surface. Did Ghost misjudge this so badly? Has he actually done what he has feared all along and destroyed everything between him and Soap?
Soap has to recognise the fear rising up in Ghost because he places a placating hand back on his thigh. “Please don’t panic. It’s all good. We’re good. It’s just… that was a bit much in a short amount of time, huh? I… I know opening up is really taxing on you, and I shouldn’t take advantage of you when you are being vulnerable. Even if you are saying such wonderfully sweet things.”
His face brightens in a smile. “Thank you, Si. It means a lot to me that you trust me to keep your story safe. I promise, I’ll always be there for you. Always.” He leans back in and places one soft, tender kiss on the corner of Ghost’s mouth before he stands up and pulls on Ghost’s hands. “Come on, big boy. Let’s get you to your room.”
Ghost is fucking confused. What is happening? Does Soap want him or not? He doesn’t understand . He doesn’t feel taken advantage of. He feels like he’s just lost something.
He shouldn’t have let Price plant hope inside his heart.
Ghost wants to demand answers but can’t formulate any questions, so he doesn’t even protest when Soap hands him his mask. “I love seeing you, but better put it back on in case we encounter anyone else.”
Soap takes Ghost’s hand in his and leads him through the barracks to his door. He pushes himself up on his toes and kisses Ghost on his cheek under the mask, the same way he has done for days now. He lingers for a second longer than usual before he pulls himself away. “I should leave before I do something stupid. We’ll talk first thing tomorrow morning, aye?”
Ghost stares after him for what feels like forever before he manages to enter his room.
Notes:
Oh yeah... it's all coming together.
Chapter 12: What If
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ghost takes a deep breath. His nose is buried in some kind of soft material that smells intoxicatingly masculine. He would recognise that scent anywhere. It feels unbelievably good against his heated skin when he rubs his face against the scent’s origin. In fact, his whole body is cocooned in warmth, flushing hotter the deeper he lets Soap’s fragrance invade his lungs.
Ghost is lying on his stomach, arms wrapped around a warm, silky object that releases this absolutely divine smell. He stretches lazily and shivers as his naked flesh glides over smooth grooves and valleys beneath him.
His movements are languid, a leisurely back and forth against the softness underneath him. Slowly, his brain catches up with his body, and he gasps when he notices that he is hard.
Of course, he is. Soap is here.
A grin spreads across his face as he moves his hips with more agency against the supple material entangled with his legs. He squeezes his arms tightly around the softness under him and takes another breath infused with Soap.
Is this a dream? Wish-fulfilment? It has to be. But it feels so real…
His hips move faster. This ridge right here, is this Soap’s leg? Ghost ruts against it. These mounds, they have to be Soap’s ass. Ghost shifts his weight on top and cants his hips forward, pressing his leaking cock against the yielding globes.
He is working up a sweat now, panting into the spot that smells so much like Soap. He wants to be closer, wants to brand Soap, so he bites down hard. His teeth clamp shut with enough force to bruise, maybe even hard enough to draw blood, but Soap doesn’t protest, so he doesn’t let go. Instead, Ghost releases a loud moan that gets caught in his closed jaw.
The wet patch beneath him has grown, precum smearing all over his flushed dick. It should feel gross and sticky, but it doesn’t. It is slick and hot, easing the friction.
A bead of sweat rolls down his neck, tickling him on its way down as he grinds his hips in a way that makes him lose all inhibitions. He doesn’t give a damn if he’s squashing Soap; he places his whole weight on top of him and fucks down, releasing grunts and panting unashamedly. There is no finesse behind his movements, only animalistic lust as he pounds himself against Soap without mercy.
He is probably very loud, but he doesn’t care, not even when he slams his headboard into the wall, creating knocking noises travelling through his room.
Wait– headboard? His simple military style bed doesn’t have a headboard, so it shouldn’t sound like that…
The thought fades as quickly as it came. That’s not important right now.
“Simon? You okay in there?”
He moans as he hears Soap’s voice. Finally, fucking finally. He wants to hear Soap’s sounds of pleasure too.
“Si– what are you–”
Ghost groans. That name . His insides burn with liquid fire whenever Soap calls him that. His blood rushes through his veins so fast he can’t hear his desperate groans over it. He is louder than he has ever allowed himself to be before, but this dream, or whatever this is, feels too good to hold back.
“Oh… my God.”
Soap’s voice sounds much closer this time, coming from behind, not from underneath him. Ghost doesn’t care. Dreams don’t have to make sense, and there is no way this is something else than a perfect fantasy. Might as well take what he wants while he can.
“Yes…” His voice is rough, strained from all the feverish grunts and groans. “Yes, Johnny… Don’t stop now. Don’t you dare stop now–”
“I’d never stop Si, never. I’d make you feel so good, I promise. Fuck .”
There’s a husky quality to Soap’s voice that he has never heard before, drenched with desire as if he’s as worked up as Ghost.
One last powerful thrust, and Ghost stiffens. He moans like a whore as his whole body goes rigid with pleasure, his orgasm barrelling through him.
“Oh, baby… that’s it.”
Ghost hums in agreement, still relishing in the aftershocks travelling up his spine. He reaches up to pet Soap’s hair, but his fingers curl around cloth uselessly. Oh. Soap’s not here.
Ghost’s heart clenches at the realisation that this really was a dream. The scent that started everything came from the shirt Soap handed him after his workout the other day. He forgot that he fell asleep cradling it last night. But– if he’s alone in his bed, who–
He sits up abruptly. The softness he rutted against turns out to be his bunched-up comforter, pulled off and under him, exposing his entire backside. His head snaps around and he focuses on Soap, who is inside. His. Fucking. Room.
He leans against the closed door, chest heaving, face deeply flushed, pupils blown.
They stare at each other for a few long moments until Soap’s eyes dip down, and Ghost remembers he is sitting there nude, face and scars exposed, with a wet patch underneath his ass. Shame spreads through him, hot like molten lava. He pulls his blanket over himself in an effort to hold on to at least a tiny bit of dignity. If he has any left, that is. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I just–” Soap’s voice breaks, so he clears his throat and tries again. “I just wanted to come talk. About last night.”
Ghost just looks at him blankly. His humiliations keep piling up, it seems.
“No need to be embarrassed. That was– an absolute vision, Si.” Soap grins smugly, pleased like a cat that got the cream. “Actually, I’m quite flattered that I seem to be starring in your dreams.”
Ghost feels himself blanching, all the blood leaving his face in a rush. He wants to sink into the ground. Soap has heard him moan his name? He swallows. “How long have you been standing there?”
Soap’s face drops at Ghost’s devastated tone. “Longer than I should have. I’m– I’m sorry. I crossed a line, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you fucking did!” Ghost hides his face behind his hands. He doesn’t do it because he isn’t wearing his mask, but because he can’t stand to look at Soap. He knows about Ghost’s desire for him now. If the kiss last night didn’t make his inappropriate feelings clear already, this definitely did it. And Soap doesn’t share those feelings. He broke off the kiss. Shit.
“Really, it’s alright! Si, do you know how many times I did this with you in mind? Just last night, after I left you, I–”
“You shouldn’t have watched!” Ghost bellows, too worked up to register any of Soap’s words.
“You’re right, I’m sorry! But, sweethea–”
“If you call me sweetheart, I’ll end you, I fucking swear.”
Soap’s mouth curls up at the corners. “Do you prefer darling?”
“Shut up if you know what’s good for you.”
“Ah, I got it! I think you liked being called princess, right?” He is obviously trying to lighten the mood, but Ghost has had it by now. Embarrassment morphs to rage. He wants Soap out of his room now .
“MacTavish!!” he snaps angrily.
“Well, preferably, I’d marry you before calling you MacTavish, but whatever you prefer, hubby.” Soap ducks to avoid the pillow Ghost throws at him. He mock-gasps. “Resorting to violence already? Baby, there’s no need for that. I’ll do anything you want; you just have to tell me.”
Ghost’s vein is pulsing dangerously on his temple. “Anything?” he growls.
Soap’s breath hitches. “Yes, Si. Anything.”
“Then get the fuck out of my room!”
“Oh.” Soap’s dejected face could have been funny if Ghost was in a better mood. “I guess I deserve that.”
“Leave! Now !”
“Okay! Relax.” Soap raises his hands in surrender as he finally backs out of the room. Just before he shuts the door, he sticks his head back in and looks straight at Ghost. “You know, I’m serious. I’ll do whatever you want. We could make your little fantasy here a reality.” He quickly closes the door to avoid the book Ghost chucks at him. His voice is muffled as he yells “Message received! I’ll leave! See you later, though. I won’t let you bail this time!”
Ghost falls back flat on his bed and groans. They are supposed to go to a bar tonight, the whole 141, to celebrate that they will go on leave soon, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to face Soap.
This whole situation is mortifying . Soap knows how desperately Ghost wants him now. His desires are out in the open, and he still doesn’t have any idea how Soap feels.
He sends Ghost all those mixed messages. He flirts with Ghost all the time but never follows up on any of his innuendos. He spends time with Ghost, talking and listening to him, drags him to see his friends, but he never claims there is more between them than friendship.
He let Ghost kiss him, reciprocated the kiss, but quickly broke it off. He led Ghost back to his room as if he was putting a child to bed. And, even worse, he watched Ghost pleasure himself just now and made stupid jokes about it!
However, he looked like he’d found it anything but funny… he offered to fulfil this fantasy for Ghost. What fantasy? What is he even offering? A one-night stand? To scratch an itch? It’s tempting, so fucking tempting to take him up on the offer, to take whatever Soap is willing to give, even though Ghost wants more. So much more.
Soap says he cares about Simon, but does he even know what that entails? Does he even have an inkling about the emotions that threaten to burst out of Ghost every time he sees him?
He can’t. He can’t know the true extent of Ghost’s feelings. He can’t know about Ghost’s aching longing to belong to him- to be with him, to spend each waking moment in his company. To fall asleep in his arms and never let go. To ravish him and make him scream under him or feel his weight on top of him. To be truly his. To love him and be loved in return.
Soap can’t fulfil these fantasies because he doesn’t know about them, and Ghost will be damned if he gives voice to them. Not after today. Not when he is so confused it hurts.
Ghost has managed to avoid Soap all day. He spent most of his time in his office, getting through some paperwork he should have finished a while ago. When he ran out of stuff to do, he reorganised his desk. Twice.
He only left the safety of those four walls to get some food, grabbing quick bites to go and leaving the canteen as quickly as he could before being spotted. The one time he saw Soap in the mess hall, Ghost turned around and came back an hour later, hoping he hadn’t been spotted by the Scot.
He fully intended to skip tonight’s activities, but then Gaz came calling for him.
“Respectfully, Sir. If you don’t come with me right now, I’ll get the whole task force together and drag you out of here. I don’t know what happened, but Soap has been a right mess today. You’d better make up with him, so come on.”
What was he supposed to do but follow Gaz?
As a result, he is now standing next to the vehicles they plan to drive into town in, listening to a group of grown men squabble about who is going to be driving. Soap is uncharacteristically quiet, standing at the sidelines and only interjecting a handful of words.
Ghost frowns. Isn’t he the one that should be morose after being observed in such a compromising situation? Instead, Soap is the one looking like a beat dog, occasionally glancing at Ghost but quickly looking away when caught.
Alejandro throws his hands up in an exasperated gesture. “I say we make the rookies drive! They haven’t earned their right to drink yet. They need to complete a few missions before that.”
“That’s entirely unfair!” Rodolfo interrupts. “They belong to this base as much as we do, right?” The rookies fervently agree to this sentiment.
The argument has been going on long enough to grate on Ghost’s already fried nerves, so he speaks up. “For fuck’s sake, hand me the keys. I’ll drive.”
The other soldiers stare at him for a couple beats of silence before a bout of laughter breaks out. “As if!” Gaz chortles.
“Yeah.” Alejandro claps him on the shoulder. “Do I have to remind you about the last time we let you drive, amigo? And the time before that?”
That gets Soap’s attention. “Huh? What’s the story here?”
Ghost goes bright red behind his mask and butts in quickly. “Okay, okay! Point taken! Do what you want, then.”
Alejandro sighs. “If Ghost is the only one offering, I’ll drive. I’d like to get to the bar in one piece.” He thrusts a set of car keys at Rodolfo’s chest. “But then you’re doing babysitting duty too for making me do this.”
“Sure.” Rodolfo smiles softly. Ghost rolls his eyes at him. That one is too soft-hearted for his own good and always goes along with Alejandro’s suggestions, but at least the rookies love him for it. Looks like a night of carefree drinking lies ahead of them.
They all pile into the two cars Price has set aside for them tonight. Ghost manages to secure shotgun in Rodolfo’s car, refusing to be squished against some rookie in the backseat, but Soap trails behind chattering to Gaz. He is the only one that hasn’t climbed in yet, looking sceptically at all the taken seats. “Eleven soldiers and ten car seats don’t mix well, huh?”
Liam pipes up. “You can come sit on my lap, Soap!”
“No, he won’t.” The words leave Ghost’s mouth before he can think about them. He rushes to explain himself somehow. “Uhm. There’s not enough room on the backseat for four people…” Thank God for flush-covering masks. How do other people go without them?
Gaz feigns innocence as he ushers Soap to the front seat. “Yeah, go sit in the front with Ghost. Much more room there.” He winks at Ghost exaggeratingly, the worst wingman in the world. Ghost wants to strangle him even though he probably means well.
Soap shrugs and tries to look nonchalant, obviously unsure about the situation. “Sure. If that’s okay with you?”
The hopeful tone in his voice is impossible to miss, so Ghost nods. He can’t refuse Soap anything, even if the unease from their last encounter still lingers.
Gaz beams at them happily, unaware of the dilemma he just put them in. “Great. Then that’s settled.” He shuts his door. “Chop, chop! Let’s go!”
The short drive to the bar is pretty uneventful. Soap sits in Ghost’s lap, stiff and hunched over, neck bent so his head doesn’t bump into the car roof with each pothole. Ghost doesn’t know where to put his hands. At least, the other guys are having fun, laughing in the backseat and singing along to music blasting from the speakers.
They don’t have to drive for much longer when Soap takes a deep breath. “Sooo…” he murmurs, close to Ghost’s ear so he can hear him over the noise. “Are you still mad at me?”
“Mad at you?”
“Yeah. I saw you running away from me in the mess hall. I’m sorry, you know. Really .”
Embarrassment rolls through Ghost. So he hadn’t been as stealthy as he had hoped. “Nah, you’re good. I, uh, panicked a bit.”
Soap wriggles one hand behind Ghost’s head, cradling it comfortingly. It’s hard to manoeuvre in the narrow space, but it’s worth it. Soap’s touch unknots something in Ghost’s chest.
“I get it. I tried to make light of the… situation this morning, and I realise now that it backfired. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. I was, uhm, kinda excited to see you like that, and, well, my sanity might have left me for a bit. But, in truth, I know I surprised you, and you unintentionally shared something with me you’re not comfortable with. So, I’d like to apologise. Properly this time.”
Ghost’s heart flutters. Soap is looking at him earnestly, like he really means what he is saying. And like he truly is afraid Ghost might reject his apology.
“Thank you. Apology accepted.” Ghost is temporarily blinded by Soap’s relieved smile. He wraps one arm around Soap’s waist, holding on tight. “But. Uhm. Doesn’t it bother you at all? That I– that I thought about…” He trails off, not wanting to put his question into words.
“That you thought about me? Steamin’ bloody Jesus, Simon, on the contrary . I–”
“We’re here!” Someone rips open their car door and cold evening air spills in. “Get out, lovebirds.”
Damn Gaz to Hell and back.
The bar has filled up over the last couple of hours. The crowd is a mixed bunch. Local working-class men enjoying a beer, groups of young adults having a fun night out and backpackers on an adventure in the desert mingle together, so the cluster of soldiers in casual attire fits in without any problems. Luckily, they arrived early enough to be able to claim one of the largest tables in the room.
Ghost sits with his back against the wall, as far away from the action he can get, which isn’t very far at all. Soap is right next to him, laughing and talking animatedly like he always does. The glum atmosphere between them has cleared, making it easy for Ghost to relax and let go.
All of them are sharing pitchers of cheap beer, and Ghost has to admit he is having a fun time. People are actually talking to him, and he even made Alejandro laugh when he loosened up enough to make a joke.
He thinks back to the last time he was here when he came barging into this exact bar to pull Soap away from his stupid strip poker game. So much has changed since then. His throat hasn’t even threatened to close up once tonight. Has Soap actually managed to make him part of a group? Him? Soap has to have magic running through his veins to pull off such a feat.
The music is just like what you’d expect from a dingy bar in the middle of nowhere. Oldies, newer hits and a whole lot of Spanish songs are tossed together in a playlist, playing one after another at a deafening volume. The crowd doesn’t seem to mind, filling up the makeshift dance floor between the tables at a rapid pace.
“Wanna go dance?”
Ghost silently looks at Soap, forcing as much contempt into his eyes as he can. Please don’t try to convince me. I won’t be able to say no.
Soap pouts a bit but quickly relents. “Yeah, okay, didn’t think so. But do you mind if I go dancing by myself?”
“Go for it.”
“You sure?” Soap cocks his head. “What if someone wants to dance with me?”
It’s hard to get the words out this time. “Then that is your decision and completely fine.” Ghost grits his teeth. He would hate to see someone else getting close to Soap, but he doesn’t have any claim over him.
“Okay…” Soap rises and walks away slowly, looking at Ghost over his shoulder. It’s as if he wants to give Ghost time to change his mind.
Ghost silences the caveman screaming ‘MINE!’ in his mind and makes a shooing motion. “Go have fun.” He winces. Shouldn’t have said that.
He takes a sip of beer so he doesn’t have to watch Soap leave.
At first, it isn’t so bad. Ghost is able to slip into a conversation between Alejandro and Rodolfo. He is honestly surprised how much he likes talking to them. Still, his eyes keep straying in Soap’s direction.
He looks… gorgeous. There’s no other word for it. He is wearing blue jeans, combat boots and a simple forest green T-shirt and still manages to be the most beautiful person this whole damn bar has to offer. His jeans aren’t overly tight, but still cling to all the right places as he moves to the music. The shirt, on the other hand, couldn’t be any tighter, which elevates its clinging-abilities to a completely different level. Heat pools in Ghost’s lower stomach the longer he watches Soap’s magnificent muscles shift against the soft cloth. His overgrown mohawk keeps falling into his eyes as he dances, and Ghost wants to push it back for him.
But all that gets overshadowed by Soap’s smile, stretching across both cheeks in a blatant display of joy. Ghost would die a happy man if that smile is the last thing he sees before leaving this world.
Alejandro and Rodolfo seem to be content to keep the conversation mostly between themselves, so Ghost gets away with throwing in an affirmative hum every now and then. He keeps watching Soap, who is dancing without inhibitions to whatever tune comes blaring out of the speakers. He dances with Gaz, then in a group with the rookies including Liam, Dan and Eric, jumping around wildly and doing silly moves.
Ghost feels himself smiling underneath his mask. Soap is so full of life, always living in the moment. He carries a fire bright enough to obliterate Ghost’s darkness, and Ghost finds himself drawn to it like a moth to flame.
Soap catches Ghost looking and waves at him through the crowd. Ghost hesitantly lifts two fingers in return, and Soap beams at him, clearly happy to have Ghost’s attention on him.
A single thought pops up in Ghost’s head.
What if?
What if Soap actually likes him?
Ghost wants to believe it so badly. He wants to tell Soap that he is falling in love, that he thinks about him all the time, that he wants to belong to Soap. He wants to tell him that he made Ghost’s life worth living.
For the first time, he thinks that finding out if Soap is serious might be worth risking their friendship. Besides, so much has happened between them that Ghost doesn’t even know where they stand anymore.
What if this is… something? What if this is nothing ?
What if this is all just in his head?
Before Ghost can obsess any more about it, Soap turns away to face a pretty girl who just tapped him on his shoulder. Ghost frowns. He has seen her before. He wracks his brain until the penny drops– she’s the one that was talking to Soap on strip poker night, wearing nothing but her bra and jeans.
She hugs Soap in greeting. They keep talking, and Ghost watches vigilantly as Soap pushes his sweaty hair out of his face as he laughs at a joke she made. He seems to be having a good time.
Gaz plops down next to Ghost, pulling him out of his reverie right as Soap motions over his shoulder, thumb pointing in Ghost's direction.
“Did somebody glue your eyeballs to Soap?”
Ghost flinches and tries to pretend he didn’t just get caught red-handed. “I don’t know what you mean.” What is Soap doing? Gaz has to leave, now , so Ghost can keep watching him.
“Sure. Listen, man. Sir. Whatever.”
At first, Ghost doesn’t know if he should be offended or elated that Gaz feels comfortable enough to talk to him like that. He decides on ‘reluctant gratefulness’ for now. He should welcome that Soap’s best friend is warming up to him, right?
It’s as if Gaz reads his mind. “Soap is my best friend, and I want to see him happy. You seem to make him very happy. So, as long as you keep it up, I wholeheartedly approve, yeah?”
Caught off guard, Ghost stops craning his neck to sneak a look at Soap and the girl. “You… approve? Of our friendship?”
Gaz laughs, shoulders shaking so hard a bit of beer sloshes out of his glass. “Sure, mate, friendship . Whatever you want to call it.” He grins and wiggles his eyebrows, just like Soap likes to do. “You don’t have to pretend with me, though. Soap tells me everything.”
He looks at Ghost expectantly, but Ghost can only stare back. Soap has told him what ?
Gaz shrugs his shoulders. “Alright then. Keep your secrets, Gandalf.” He laughs at his own joke when Soap appears behind him and snatches away his glass, gulping down the beer.
“What are you two talking about, huh?”
Gaz directs another of his not-so-secret winks at Ghost before he turns to Soap. “Nothing to concern yourself with, you thief.” He wrangles his now empty beer out of Soap’s hands again. “Damn, how did you guzzle all of that down so quickly? Be right back, getting another round.”
Ghost motions to Gaz’ freshly vacated seat. “Need a break?”
“Aye.” Soap nods but disregards the chair and straddles Ghost’s lap, loosely wrapping his arms around Ghost’s neck just like he did yesterday. Ghost’s breath hitches, and he does his best to push their kiss to the back of his mind.
He clears his throat. “Did you have a good time?”
Soap shrugs. “It was fine. Haven’t had the right people with me on the dance floor.”
“Hm. What about the girl?”
Ghost knows he walked right into a trap when Soap’s lips morph into a self-satisfied smirk. “You saw that, huh?” He leans forward and whispers into Ghost's ear. “Don’t worry, Si. I told her I was here with you.”
Fire boils through Ghost’s veins. He can’t ignore this anymore. This is real. It has to be. This is more than friendship.
Right?
Suddenly, the guys at their table break out cheering. Ghost’s first instinct is to duck his head in embarrassment, but they aren’t looking at him and Soap in their compromising position. Gaz has brought a round of tequila shots and passes them out to the excited soldiers.
“Terrific idea, amigo!” Alejandro tries to grab two shot glasses but gets intercepted by Rodolfo. “Ale, you’re driving!”
Soap lifts off Ghost’s lap to get some tequila for them too, along with salt and lime slices, but settles right back in.
He watches with anticipation as Ghost lifts up his mask but grabs his wrist when he tries to smear lime on the back of his hand.
“What? Am I doing something wrong?”
“Oh, come on.” Soap nudges him. “You gotta get creative with your salt placement.”
“Creative,” Ghost deadpans.
“Aye. Licking it off your own hand is boring .”
Maybe it’s the glint in Soap’s eye that does it, or maybe it’s the alcohol, but Ghost finds a bout of confidence rushing through him. He grabs Soap’s hand instead of his own and decorates it with lime juice and salt. Then, before he can think about what he is doing, he raises Soap’s hand to his mouth and licks a long stripe across. He kicks back the shot and chases it with the lime slice to finish his little show.
Soap’s shocked expression fills him with glee. Not even the sour lime lingering in his mouth dampens his smugness. He pulls his mask back down so Soap can’t see his smirk.
“Creative enough for you?”
Soap grins mischievously. “Oh, not even close.” Shit. Ghost should have known Soap would make a competition out of this.
“Do you trust me?”
Ghost gives a slight nod. He feels Soap pulling at the fabric of his black long-sleeve, tugging the neckline lower until a scar-covered collarbone is exposed.
Soap holds eye contact as he drizzles juice and salt right on top of it. Then he leans in slowly and flattens his hot tongue against Ghost’s skin. He licks him once, twice , before sitting up and taking his shot. “Fuck, you taste so good.”
Ghost honest to God growls . The sound rumbles out of his chest, deep and feral, and Soap’s knees clench around Ghost’s legs.
“Do that again,” he rasps.
“Cute.” Ghost’s voice is so low Soap has to come closer to hear him over the bar noise. “You think you can order me around?”
“Yes,” Soap purrs. “I think I can.”
He’s right. He definitely has the power to make Ghost do whatever he wants, and he knows it, the little devil. As if he needs to prove his obedience, Ghost growls again. He doesn’t commit to it fully this time, though, so it comes out a lot weaker than before.
Soap chuckles. “Awww. Like a baby tiger.”
They break out in laughter, holding onto each other in a bar full of people. This . This is perfect. Everything Ghost ever wanted. He should be grabbing at this with both hands.
His body listens to his mind, and his hands tighten on Soap’s hips, pulling him flush to him. Soap pushes against him in answer, canting his hips in tiny, smooth motions. He tries not to be obvious, but in reality, he’s rubbing himself against Ghost for everyone to see. “I thought about you while dancing.”
Ghost swallows hard. “You didn’t dance like this, though.”
“Are you complaining?” Soap’s face is so close to Ghost he can count every single lash surrounding his tantalising eyes.
Memories of their kiss last night rise up, and, like some sort of awful deja-vú, Soap throws himself off of Ghost’s lap. Again .
He is breathing hard as he stares down at Ghost. “We should stop that, or I’ll be sporting a hard-on the whole night.” He pushes his hair flat against his skull. “I need to go splash water on my face.”
He heads to the bathroom, making his way through the crowd.
“Damn. I hope you don’t mind me saying, Sir, but you two… are a sight for sore eyes.” Eric, one of the rookies, stares at Ghost, blushing furiously.
Alejandro laughs. “Gotta agree.” He motions after Soap. “That one is going to show you a good time tonight, I can tell.”
“Yup. Almost couldn’t hold myself back from whistling at you.” Gaz exchanges a high five with Alejandro.
Ghost forces out a chuckle and gets up. He’d love nothing more than to disappear into the bathroom himself, but he doesn’t want to bother Soap. Outside it is, then. “I’m getting some fresh air.”
His… friends? Is that what they are? Keep hollering after him as he leaves the bar. He isn’t even ashamed this time, just… flustered?
His body hits the outside wall with a soft thud as he leans back heavily. He’s a bit annoyed with himself that he left his cigarettes at the base. Nicotine would be very welcome right now. Maybe then he’d be able to sort his thoughts.
Why doesn’t he just believe Soap? Okay, maybe Soap doesn’t want a relationship, but even Ghost isn’t dumb enough to miss the sexual tension between them tonight. Soap has made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t be opposed to bedding Ghost.
Shouldn’t Ghost be jumping at the chance to have Soap? Even if it’s just for a night? He wants to. He really does. He just has to trust Soap’s words; and his actions, if Ghost is honest with himself. There isn’t any room for misunderstandings in the way Soap acted a few minutes ago.
So, what is holding Ghost back? He trusts Soap in everything else, why not in this?
Because you’ve lost everything you ever had.
Ghost winces at the nasty voice in his head. It’s true, though. What if he allows himself to have a taste of Soap, and then he gets taken away from him?
That’s the whole reason Ghost let Simon die. Ghost doesn’t have anything to lose. And now, Simon is trying to get resurrected, and it scares the shit out of Ghost. If Simon rises from the dead, who can say that he won’t lose everything again?
He shakes his head, trying to snap out of it. Those are irrational fears, completely unfounded thoughts, but they are hard to abandon. He should be inside, talking about this with Soap. He should have found the courage to do so long ago.
He shoulders his way back inside. Gaz catches his eye before he reaches their table and points towards the bar.
Ghost’s blood runs cold. Soap stands next to the wooden counter, talking to Liam. The little weasel has positioned himself way too close to Soap for Ghost’s taste and is resting one hand on Soap’s shoulder.
Oh, hell no. Ghost doesn’t fucking think so. The crowd parts easily for him, afraid of the hulking giant wearing a skull mask. Right now, the fear he invokes in people pleases him, because it means he’ll reach Soap faster.
Liam’s words get clearer the closer Ghost gets to them. “...think we could have a lot of fun together.”
Soap rolls his eyes. “I don’t really care what you think, dude.”
Liam leers at him. “Come on, man! I’d rock your world if we fell into bed together.”
The urge to seize Liam by his neck and shake him until he stops moving is strong, but that would probably not look too good in a public bar. Instead, Ghost settles for a hard shove to knock Liam’s hand off Soap.
“What the fuck? What’s your problem, dude?”
“My problem? My problem is that no one seems to have taught you to keep your paws to yourself. Stop touching what doesn’t belong to you!”
Liam scoffs. “So, he belongs to you? Soap, did you hear that? He’s saying you’re his property.”
The nerve of that guy! Ghost is honestly surprised Liam has the guts to talk back to him. “That is for him to decide.” Ghost steps closer. “But. If he is going to ‘fall into anyone's bed’ tonight, it’s going to be mine .”
“You– you can’t just–”
“Still haven’t got the message, Liam? Let me make it clear for you.” Ghost cracks his knuckles. “Fuck. Off.”
Liam blanches. He nods to Soap. “You know where to find me.” Then he slinks off, tail between his legs.
Suddenly, Ghost feels a bit silly. He turns towards Soap, who has been watching this whole scene play out with crossed arms and an amused expression on his face. “Um, sorry for that.”
Soap grins at him. “Don’t be. That was… hot. Possessive barbarian behaviour, but hot.” He fans himself with his hands. “I could have handled him myself, but thanks for getting rid of him. Can I offer to buy you a drink to show my gratitude? Or…” He sways closer towards Ghost, leaving only inches between them. “Would you like something else? Since you already decided how tonight is going to end, apparently?” He rests his hand on Ghost’s chest, fingers splayed, wicked spark in his eyes.
Fuck it. Ghost is going to make the jump, consequences be damned. This is his chance to, for once, be selfish and take at least a piece of what he wants.
“I meant what I said. But… if you really want to spend the night with me, I'd rather we’d stop drinking.”
Soap’s eyes go wide, and he calls for a waiter. “Water, please!”
Notes:
Been waiting to show you guys this chapter!! Ngl, might be my fav :D
Btw, had a song stuck in my head while writing it, so you'll find some lyrics sprinkled in. Go listen to it if you want tooth-rotting fluffy musical vibes: 'In My Head' by Smith & Mertzlufft
Chapter 13: Confession
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It has been pure torture to wait until the other guys had been ready to leave, downing round after round of beer, but they finally made it back to the base.
Ghost stumbles after Soap, racing along the dark hallways. Soap holds onto his hand, impatiently dragging him along until they reach Ghost’s room.
The keypad beeps as Soap punches in the numbers without letting go of Ghost. “I guess I’m lucky you didn’t change your code yet.”
Ghost chuckles, but Soap pushes him inside, spins him around and shoves him against the closed door so fast the breath gets expelled from his lungs, leaving him wheezing. Soap doesn’t waste any time and plasters himself to Ghost’s body, leaning against him with his whole weight and clasping his hands behind his neck, touching him all over.
Their clothes separate them, but Ghost is sure Soap must feel his rapidly hammering heart against his chest. He wants Soap desperately, but now that he is well within his reach Ghost’s nerves threaten to get the best of him. This blasted familiar tightness starts crawling up his throat.
“You alright there, Simon?” Of course . Soap has picked up on his nervousness.
Ghost tries to nod. The movement feels sluggish, like moving through syrup, but he succeeds. Barely.
Soap stays pressed against him, watching him carefully. “Do you still want to do this?”
Ghost wants to tell Soap yes, he really fucking wants to do this. He wants to grab Soap, to kiss him, to throw him onto his bed and have his filthy way with him, but he can’t move . Why? What is happening? Ghost screams at his body, raging internally in the cage his anxiety has trapped him in.
“You know you don’t have to, right? It’s okay to withdraw consent. At any time.”
Ghost’s heart melts. Can Soap be any more perfect? “I do want to do this. It’s just, um, nerves.”
Soap smiles softly. “Okay. Let's just take it slow, then.”
He guides Ghost to his bed, makes him sit on it, and takes off both their boots, impossibly gentle.
“Take off your pants,” he orders, but there is nothing sexual in his tone. Ghost complies as Soap does the same.
Next, Soap crawls under Ghost’s blanket and lifts it up in a silent invitation for Ghost to join him. It’s easy to follow his cues, so Ghost does just that. They lie there, facing each other, and Ghost does nothing but breathe for a while. It feels good, bringing him right back into his comfort zone.
“This is nice,” Soap whispers. “But– would it be okay if I held you for a while?”
Ghost nods. “Yeah.”
Gently, as if he doesn’t want to spook him, Soap wraps one arm around Ghost’s neck and pulls their faces closer together. He entangles their legs, and goosebumps break out along Ghost’s skin as their naked calves brush together. When was the last time he lay in bed with another person? Has he ever? He honestly can’t remember.
Soap surprises him by touching his lips to Ghost’s, right on top of the mask he's still wearing. He knows Soap is leaving it up to him if he wants to take off this shield, and he loves him for it. He doesn’t deserve this amount of consideration.
It’s a chaste kiss, just a quick peck, but Soap stays close, lips moving against the fabric as he speaks. “Si, it is very important to me that you don’t feel like I’m pushing you into anything. I know you are struggling with intimacy, and, honestly, who can blame you?” Soap presses their foreheads together. “I know I can be a bit… touchy. A bit too much. I tend to take the whole hand when offered a finger, kinda like I did with our kiss. I messed it up by taking over. Sorry. But I promise I’ll behave tonight. I’m content with whatever you want to give me.” He wriggles his head to find a comfortable position on the pillow. “So, let’s just, uh, sleep? If that’s not too much to ask, I’d love to wake up next to you.”
This is going very differently than Ghost had imagined. He just wanted to quench his body's thirst for Soap, be selfish and take this one night for himself, but now Soap is being considerate? Sweet, even?
“So– you don’t want to fuck right now?” he blurts out.
“What?” Soap laughs. “Wow, okay. Well. Of course, I want to! And, yeah, I was kinda hoping we would– you talked a big game tonight. But your well-being is more important to me than getting laid. So, I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if you want me to. As long as you keep me close, I’m happy.”
Ghost makes a strangled sound. This– this doesn’t sound like a sex thing at all . This sounds like Soap likes him. Like he wants to be with Ghost .
“Johnny. If you don’t stop, I’ll end up believing you.”
“Um. Believe what, exactly?”
Ghost can’t take this anymore. He needs to tell Soap everything– even if it is going to kill him. It’s time to confess.
“Believe that you meant all the flirting for real. All the innuendos you’ve thrown at me those last weeks.” Ghost’s voice grows unusually small. “Believe that you want me.”
He swallows. No turning back now.
“You are… everything I’ve ever wanted. Compassionate. Vivacious. Sassy. You get me out of my shell without pushing too much. You listen to me and don’t want anything in return. And you are… you are so beautiful, Johnny. So bright.”
Ghost pulls off his mask, hoping Soap can see the truth written all over his face. “You are perfect to me. And I want to believe I could be the same for you. I want you to want me so badly. So, if you’re not down for something real, for this game to end and to give us a chance... quit playing with me. Please .”
Ghost closes his eyes and waits for the hammer to fall. He waits for Soap to laugh and tell him there’s no way he could ever want Ghost like that. He’s going to shoot him down. He’s going to realise Ghost misunderstood everything and pull back.
“I think… I think you misunderstood, Si.”
Ghost winces. This is it.
“Look at me.”
Ghost shakes his head and shuts his eyes harder, like a child pretending something isn't real if you can’t see it.
Soap cradles Ghost’s cheeks with both hands. “Si, please. Look at me.”
Hesitantly, Ghost obeys. He anticipated to find a smirk, or a smug grin, or perhaps pity. Instead, he is met with a stricken Soap.
“I’m trying really hard to be happy right now. Trust me, I usually would be after hearing all of that, but… uhm… I was under the impression that I made it clear already that I want you. I thought… I thought we’re dating.”
Wait– what ? Ghost’s whole world turns upside down, crumbling to ruins around him. “Dating?”
“Aye, dating. A couple. Boyfriends.” The mattress shifts as Soap sits up. “What did you think this was?”
“I thought we were… friends?”
“Friends? Just friends?” Soap stares at Ghost in disbelief. “Are you joking? Everyone knows we’re more than that. Everyone knows we’re together . How can you not know?” Soap’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “Do you act like this with all your friends?”
“You are my only friend. I don’t have a frame of reference!”
Soap shakes his head. “That’s a lame excuse, and you know it.”
“It’s not!” Ghost sits up too. He can’t keep up with what Soap is saying, his mind spinning out of control. He can’t think.
“Oh? So, you hug Gaz too? You hook your feet around his under the table? Do you?” Soap is getting properly worked up now.
Ghost gapes at him. “You know I don’t. He’s not you, that’s– that’s a you thing!”
“Yeah, right. Riddle me this: Do you think I tangle my feet around Gaz’? Do you think I kiss him goodnight?”
Ghost tries to get some words in, but Soap keeps talking over him.
“We hug all the time! You’ve shown me your face, and opened up to me about your past, and asked me to put on your makeup! You–” he takes Ghost’s left arm and shakes it, drawing attention to the bright pictures covering it. “You let me colour in your tattoos! Multiple times. ”
Ghost’s mind is reeling. Could he really have been so blind? It all made so much sense at the time, but now he isn’t so sure. If Soap is right, that means– that means he beat himself up over nothing. It couldn’t have been that easy, right? Nothing in Ghost’s life is ever easy. “I just thought we were… close,” he says.
“Oh my God.” Soap presses a fist to his mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick. You actually think we’re just friends.”
He looks absolutely horrified, and his eyes are starting to look glassy. He tries to get up from the bed, but Ghost snatches his wrist and holds on. He can’t let Soap leave now.
Ragged breaths move Soap’s chest as he fixates on Ghost’s hand clamped around his wrist. “Here I am, rambling about how I don’t want to cross your boundaries. But look at me, doing exactly what I wanted to avoid! Fuck . I’ve screwed up royally.”
Ghost tries to pull him closer, but Soap won’t budge. At least he doesn’t try to run away anymore. “Stop, it’s oka–”
“Don’t you dare tell me it’s okay! It’s not!” Tears start spilling from Soap’s eyes. Ghost wants to swipe them away, but he’s sure Soap wouldn’t let him. Not right now.
“You must have been so uncomfortable! I behaved like an idiot , flirting with you in front of all of those people, touching you so often–” He chokes. “I should have been more clear! I never used terms like ‘boyfriend’ or ‘relationship’ because I didn’t want to scare you off! But the only thing I accomplished with that strategy was that you didn’t know what you were getting into. You didn’t consent to any of this.” He sobs, the sound shaking his body. “I’ve been an awful friend. I took so much more than what you wanted to give me.”
For a moment, Ghost is speechless. He has been wrong all this time. This has never been a game, to either of them. He has just been too blind, too scared, to see it for what it really was. He had squashed his hopes so far down he completely missed what was right in front of him– what Soap had been trying to give him. And Ghost didn’t only ignore this precious gift, he also didn’t offer anything in return.
“No.” He shakes his head. “ No . That’s where you’re wrong. I would have given you everything . I just didn’t know you would want to have it.”
“Why the hell wouldn’t I want to have you?”
Soap looks at him so earnestly, with so much honest confusion in his gaze, Ghost’s shattered soul heals a little.
“Because no one has ever wanted me.”
This time, Ghost doesn’t need to pull on Soap to get him to move closer. Soap flings himself against Ghost, his weight throwing both of them back on the mattress.
“You fool. You absolute fool. I do . I want you.”
Ghost didn’t know how much he needed to hear these words until now. A heavy weight lifts off his shoulders. “And you’re the only one that counts.”
He wraps Soap in his arms, holding on tight. He’s struggling to realise what just happened just as much as Soap is, and he squeezes him against himself, keeping both of them from breaking apart.
A couple minutes go by before he can feel Soap’s breathing start to even out, and he kisses him on the forehead. “We both just need to trust each other and believe that this is real.”
“I’m just– I don’t know. Taken aback. I’m struggling to understand how you’ve experienced our… uhm, friendship.”
“Relationship.” Ghost corrects. “I want it to be a relationship.”
Soap chuckles against Ghost’s chest before he looks up, smiling tentatively. “You do?”
“More than anything.”
Ghost doesn't know who moved first, but suddenly they are kissing, slow and sweet and perfect.
Now he’s the one about to cry as his feelings start to pull him under. This situation is so overwhelming he's not sure if he can take it, drowning, losing himself in the current that is Soap. He is struggling to stay afloat in this ocean of emotions that he never learned to navigate.
He can’t do anything but gasp for air, breaking the kiss. He pants into Soap’s mouth, reeling from the novelty of it all. He has never felt like this before.
But Soap is here, moving his lips up Ghost's cheeks, kissing along the trails of warm tears that have escaped his eyes.
“Oh, Si…” Soap whispers.
Ghost blinks, drinking in how Soap looks at him. The pure joy in his expression, the tenderness in the lines around his eyes, the absolute trust and understanding that is shining down at him.
Ghost follows Soap, his sun, his compass, his shining beacon in the dark, to guide him to the surface of his emotions, and he is finally able to breathe again as the enormity of this recent revelation sinks in.
Without allowing it to slow him down, he dives back in, kissing with ferocity this time, giving Soap everything he has, everything he is .
He pushes himself up and leans over Soap, laying on top of him, crushing the man under him with his whole weight. Soap doesn’t complain. He just wraps his arms around Ghost’s neck, cradling his head.
Limbs, tongues, breath, all of them tangles together.
Soap bites at Ghost's lips, and he can't help but growl, a deep sound rumbling out of his chest, and soon he is nipping back, licking into Soap’s mouth. His taste is mixed with the tequila from earlier tonight, and it drives Ghost mad. He sucks at everything within reach, the corners of Soap’s mouth, his lips, even at his tongue. Soap whimpers at that, a helpless, high-pitched sound that further stokes the growing heat spreading through Ghost.
Soap clutches at him, hands roving down his spine, mapping out the shape of every vertebra he encounters. He grabs the small of Ghost’s back, needing an anchor when Ghost sucks his tongue in deeper, loving the way his lips feel wrapped around the slippery muscle.
Soap pants, open-mouthed, his tongue still trapped by Ghost, and he grips Ghost's ass with both hands, pulling him down against his middle, writhing beneath the bigger man. He pushes both of their clothed erections together, and now Ghost is the one whimpering as hot bliss shoots up his cock, teasing him.
This is too much and yet not enough, so he lets go of Soap’s mouth, frantically clutching at his shirt, tearing at the fabric. He needs to feel Soap, needs to be skin to skin. Soap seems to share his need, and they separate their tangled bodies.
Soap has his shirt pulled halfway over his head but pauses when he notices that Ghost has frozen up and is just staring at him unmovingly.
This isn’t the first time Ghost has seen Soap half-naked, but those public moments in dingy bars and military gyms can never compare to this . This man, kneeling on the bed in front of Ghost, flushed and panting for him, hair in disarray, plains and valleys of his body moving with hurried breaths is… everything .
Soap lowers the hem of his shirt back down. “What’s wrong? Are we moving too fast? It’s okay, we ca–”
Ghost interrupts him. “You’re stunning.” He sits on his haunches and motions towards Soap. “Please. Continue.”
Soap’s jaw falls open in astonishment until a smirk appears on his face. He steps off the bed and takes off his shirt, agonisingly slow, revealing toned abs and firm pecs. Ghost’s mouth waters as he drinks in the sight.
Soap basks in the undivided attention Ghost directs at him. This is for Ghost's eyes only, and both of them know that. While Ghost longs for Soap’s hands to be back on him, he enjoys that they are taking their time. This is more than a hurried fling.
Finally, Soap bends down and removes his boxer briefs without the slightest hint of self-consciousness. He stands next to the bed, leaking cock proudly on display, oh so ready for Ghost.
Ghost surprises himself and whines. Actually whines . He doesn't remember if he’s ever tasted another man, but he is ready to slide down to his knees right then and there to swallow down Soap’s intoxicating length.
He wants to own Soap, wants to fill his throat with him, wants to… he only realises he has moved when he is already face to face with Soap’s dick, gripping it without thought, licking the head, and he mewls .
Soap chokes. “Fucking hell, Si… you’re going to kill me.”
“I sure hope not.” Ghost drags his tongue from base to tip in a long, wet swipe. “I’m not ready to give this up yet.”
He explores Soap’s length, coating it in saliva, before he wraps his lips around the head and gives it an experimental suck. Soap groans and cards his fingers through Ghost’s hair. Encouraged by this reaction, Ghost bobs his head, pushing Soap’s cock deeper each time.
The heavy weight invading his throat makes him feel heady. He’s dreamt about doing this too many times, and now he can’t hold himself back anymore. He wants to bury his nose in Soap’s curls, so he tries to take the whole length inside. It proves to be too much, so he gags slightly but doesn’t pull off. He looks up at Soap with watering eyes.
“So bloody gorgeous.” Soap grips his jaw and forces him off his cock. “You are incredible.”
Ghost loves the firm grip but fights against it. He wants to get back on Soap’s dick, far from satisfied by the brief taste he has gotten.
“Shhh, easy, Simon. We’ve got time.” Soap pulls Ghost to his feet. “Let me see you too.”
Ghost hesitates for a moment. Soap is going to see all of his scars. Ghost has told him about them, but knowing about something is always different than actually seeing it. He prays Soap won’t run, and takes off his long-sleeve shirt swiftly, like ripping off a band-aid.
He didn’t have to worry, though. Soap’s pupils blow wide as he studies Ghost’s torso, memorising every detail. Ghost can see the questions in his eyes, but they’ll have time for these stories later.
“You’re like moonlight.” Soap loses a trembling breath. “And all those scars… they’re the stars.”
Ghost stands there dumbfounded. This has to be the first time anyone ever compared him to light instead of shadows. “And you’re like sunshine,” he whispers.
Soap releases a strangled noise and takes one step towards Ghost. He reaches out to touch him but stops short. “I want to go at your pace. You’ll have to take the lead, Si.”
Ghost shrugs. “Even if I could, I won’t.”
“What do you mean by that?” Soap’s eyes narrow. “Are you– how inexperienced are you?”
“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s just been a while since I did any of this.” He pauses before he quietly adds, “Willingly.”
Soap flinches. “Si… we can stop if you feel uncomfortable. Anytime. We–”
“I don’t feel uncomfortable! I don’t want to stop, and I don’t want to go slow. I want you to take what you want. I want you to be greedy and take me.”
“But–”
“No! Promise me you won’t stop just because you think I can’t take it.”
Soap looks reluctant, but he gives in. “Okay. But I’ll need a safeword. If you say stop or red, I’ll stop what I’m doing immediately. You hear me?”
“Yeah, okay.” Ghost has had enough with all the talking, so he takes off his underwear to shut Soap up. Luckily, that seems to work. Well, mostly.
“Bloody hell,” Soap groans. “Should have known your cock would be just as huge as the rest of you.” Then, he basically jumps Ghost, toppling him onto the mattress. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘climb him like a tree’? Always wanted to do that.”
Laughter booms out of Ghost’s chest, one of those full belly laughs that only Soap manages to coax from him.
Soap grins at him. “I love when you do that.”
Ghost feels warm all over. Heat spreads through his naked body wherever he touches Soap, and the pure joy racing through his veins only adds to the sensation.
“And I love you.”
Soap’s breath hitches, and a smile as bright as a thousand suns stretches across his face. “I love you too, you big idiot. In case that hasn’t been painfully obvious before.” He crushes his mouth against Ghost’s so he can taste the smile on his lips.
They kiss, happy and content despite hanging halfway off the bed. It’s slow and sweet at first but escalates quickly as skin rubs against naked skin. They have stalled long enough.
Soap licks along Ghost’s jaw. “Remember when you said you wanted me to take whatever I want?” Ghost nods shakily. “So lay back and let me.”
Ghost shuffles to the middle of the bed and lets Soap straddle him. If he jumps off his lap this time, Ghost is going to strangle him.
Soap starts to explore Ghost’s torso. His lips trail along Ghost’s collarbones while his thumb flicks against a nipple. Pleasure ripples through Ghost.
“ Fuck.”
Taking his time, Soap licks and kisses along every scar on his way down, creating goosebumps wherever he goes. It’s a strange sensation to have someone touch all his old wounds so reverently. Soap doesn’t flinch away from any of them, not even the bad, gnarly ones, just like he doesn’t whenever he colours in Ghost’s tattoos. He doesn’t ignore them either but uses them as guidelines, following them with his lips. He stops and nibbles at places that make Ghost shiver, he moves on when he finds stretches of skin that are numb to his touch, and he soothes over the aches he comes across that make Ghost wince, gentling his touch until it’s featherlight. Perfect.
He makes Ghost flinch as he follows a long, thin scar around Ghost’s ribcage and playfully nips at his side.
“That tickles.”
“I’d better distract you then.” A warm hand wraps around Ghost’s dick, applying steady pressure while Soap continues to dance his tongue over Ghost’s muscles. His hand around Ghost’s length moves up and down at a tantalisingly slow pace, and Ghost’s hips lift off the bed, chasing after the sensation.
“Seems like someone’s getting impatient. Don’t worry, princess. I’ve got you.”
A low buzz hums through Ghost at the nickname. He strangely doesn’t hate it. It feels intimate, even though it’s silly and Ghost certainly doesn’t resemble a lady in a ballgown in the slightest. He supposes it’s similar to being compared to moonlight when he is everything but.
Soap’s mouth follows the trail of curls leading down from Ghost’s abs until he reaches his cock and devours it without hesitation. He is much better at this than Ghost and deepthroats him in one go, taking him in as far as he can. He swallows around Ghost, making him keen. Ghost’s hips tremble as he fights to keep them still. He desperately wants to own this addicting mouth, but he at least wants to try to be gentle. He should, right?
Attentive as ever, Soap notices his straining for control. He alternates between taking Ghost deep and swirling his tongue around his tip before he pops off with a wet sound. “Use those hips, baby. I know you want to.” A drop of precum beads at Ghost’s slit. Soap licks it off. “Use my mouth. Don’t fucking hold back.” His lips draw Ghost’s cock in once again.
Ghost moans as his hips snap up into Soap’s mouth. He is definitely up for that when Soap offers so generously. It feels incredibly good, so slick and wet, soft tissue wrapping around his cock. He fists his hand into Soap’s mohawk and pulls his head along his length, using him like a toy– and Soap just lets him. He goes slack, following the pull on his hair. Spit dribbles out of his mouth, coating Ghost in wetness, creating a lewd squelching noise each time Soap's lips get dragged up and down. He doesn’t even try to pull away when Ghost moves his hips in earnest, fucking upwards. On the contrary, he grips Ghost’s thighs hard and holds on tight to keep himself in place.
“This isn’t what I wanted,” Ghost pants, but he doesn’t stop using Soap’s mouth, pumping into the delicious heat offered up to him. “I wanted you to take , but you are giving me pleasure. You’re letting me take.”
Soap grins around his cock, allowing Ghost a handful thrusts more before he eases off. “You’re right,” he purrs. “I want something else, too.”
He presses sloppy kisses against Ghost's inner thighs, then hooks his arms around Ghost's legs and flips him over onto his stomach in an impressive show of strength. Ghost moans. He isn’t used to being manhandled, and he didn’t expect to be so turned on by it. It’s easy to forget how strong Soap is since he is so much smaller than Ghost, but he is a soldier in his own right. Ghost loves it.
“Spread your legs for me.”
Ghost obeys instantly. Whatever Soap wants, he'll give it to him.
Soap lays down between Ghost’s thighs and takes hold of both his cheeks, pushing them apart until he gets a full view of Ghost’s hole. He should feel exposed, but Soap doesn’t give him a chance to.
“Fucking hell, Si. Every part of you is pretty. You really are my beautiful princess, huh?” His voice is so adoring, so earnest , Ghost preens at the praise. Soap softly blows against his opening, watching him clench at the feeling. “God, I need to taste you,” he groans and dives in.
The first lick of his tongue surprises Ghost. He nearly launches himself off the bed. What. The. Fuck. That felt like lightning striking his nerves. “Do that again.”
Soap obliges, and Ghost cries out. He is reduced to a shaking mess as Soap eats him out, tongue circling around his hole. He can’t stop. Ghost won’t let him stop.
Soap presses open mouthed kisses against his entrance, hands kneading Ghost’s ass as he holds him open wide. His tongue pushes harder against the tight ring of muscle until it finally slips in. Soap fucks Ghost’s rim with his tongue, licking against his insides. He’s sloppy, just like he was when giving the blowjob, drooling so much it drips down Ghost’s balls. He moves downwards to mouth at them, gently sucking at the sensitive skin before he returns his attention to Ghost’s opening. They are both moaning loudly by now, Ghost into his pillow and Soap against his hole.
Soap lightly bites Ghost’s ass. “Please tell me you’ve got lube.”
“Nightstand,” Ghost pants. “Drawer.”
He shivers in anticipation. The lube usually only gets used to help him glide his hands along his cock during lonely nights, but he suspects that isn’t what Soap has in mind. He hopes that isn’t what Soap has in mind.
After retrieving the small tube, Soap drizzles some lube on his hand, warming it up between his fingers. He drags smooth fingertips through Ghost’s crack. Fuck yes. Ghost likes the direction this is going in.
Soap chuckles. “So eager.” He rubs against Ghost, massaging gently. “Remember your safewords?”
Ghost practically shoves his backside in Soap’s face. “I don’t. Want. To stop.”
Soap laughs and presses his other hand against the small of Ghost’s back, making him lie back down. “Duly noted.” He kisses both cheeks. “Still. The safewords are?”
“If you don’t get on with it I’ll do it myself,” Ghost grumbles. “Stop and red. But it’s fucking green, so, please–”
Instead of answering, Soap increases the pressure of one finger against Ghost’s entrance and sinks it inside.
“Oh shit–”
“Not so cocky now, huh?” Ghost can hear Soap’s grin as he moves his finger in and out.
Electricity sparks up Ghost’s spine, and he groans. Soap ate him out so thoroughly that the initial breach didn’t even hurt the tiniest bit, so he soon pushes against the finger, demanding more. It’s a different kind of pleasure than Ghost is used to, but he already loves it.
Soap presses in a second finger, stretching Ghost carefully. He distracts him from the slight discomfort by hooking his fingers, searching for the spot inside Ghost that will make him see stars. Ghost whimpers when he finds it, writhing underneath Soap, cock messily leaking precum onto the sheets.
“Look at you. You’re fucking wild for it, aren’t you?” Soap teases his hole with a third finger, keeping the first two buried inside. “You’re so gone for me. I wish you could see yourself, fucking yourself on my fingers.”
The third finger joins the others, rubbing against Ghost’s prostate to make him forget about the burn. Ghost rides the fingers, pushes back over and over again, dragging his dick against the mattress in the process. If Soap keeps this up, he’s going to–
“Soap,” he warns, “Johnny! I’m gonna– I’m–”
“Do it.” Soap’s head dips down, and he licks Ghost’s stretched hole, tongue lapping around his fingers. “Come for me, Si.”
Ghost has always been a good soldier. His body responds to the simple order, shuddering as his orgasm ripples through him. The pleasure makes his muscles seize up, and he rides out the storm of sensations, biting the pillow to keep himself grounded. He slumps forward, shoulders relaxing into the bed.
His mind goes foggy, but in a pleasant way. It’s nothing like the forgetful veil he spread over his worst memories, no. It’s some sort of blur overlaying his consciousness, tinting everything around him in bright colours. He revels in it until the feeling of more cool lube being smeared between his cheeks clears the haze a bit.
Soap climbs on top, kisses Ghost’s shoulder and nestles his hard cock against his ass. It slots itself between his mounds as Soap moves his hips, head teasing Ghost’s hole but never slipping in. Ghost pants. He just came harder than ever before, but Soap’s weight on top of him, coupled with the promise of his cock bumping against Ghost’s opening has him wanting more .
Soap groans at the smooth glide, rocking against Ghost. “Fuck. Your body is so perfect, baby. Perfect for me.”
He sucks Ghost’s skin between his lips, leaving love bites all across his back.
“Mark me,” Ghost demands, breath ragged. “Brand me as yours.”
Soap’s hips stutter. “You want to be mine?” He nips along Ghost’s shoulder blade. “You want everyone to see it?”
Ghost whines. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Please. Yes, please .”
“I love it when you beg.” Soap crawls up to reach Ghost’s throat and sucks bruises all along his jaw. “Big, bad Ghost, begging me to mark him.” He backs off, admiring the pattern he left on Ghost’s skin. “So pretty,” he whispers. He twists his hand into Ghost’s hair and pulls his head back so he can press their mouths together, slicking his tongue inside. The angle is a bit awkward, and he growls in frustration. “Turn over. I need to kiss you properly.”
Ghost can’t comply fast enough, flipping himself over and spreading his legs wide to make room for Soap.
“Such a good boy,” Soap coos. “And I see you’ve got something for me.” He leans down and laps up the remnants of the cum smeared across Ghost’s stomach, cleaning him up with his tongue, before he lays down and claims Ghost’s lips in a dirty kiss.
Ghost hungrily licks against Soap, dizzy with his own taste. “You are filthy ,” he pants against Soap’s lips.
“Yes. And you love it.”
Ghost can’t argue that. He looks down at Soap’s still rock-hard cock dragging against his own, covered in lube and precum. “Are you sure that you have taken everything you want to have? Because I have more that I want to give you.” He looks into Soap’s eyes. “Fuck me, Johnny.”
“Oh my God.” Soap stills.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah.” Soap sounds strained. “Just trying not to come. You can’t just say stuff like that.” He drops his head on Ghost’s shoulder. “Believe me, I really fucking want you to take my cock. But– are you sure? We have time. So much time.”
Ghost rolls his eyes. “Not this again. Don’t decide for me.” He grips the small of Soap’s back and hauls him against himself while he pushes his hips upwards. “Does it seem like I need time?”
Soap wraps his hand around Ghost’s half hard cock. “Well. Kinda.” He gives it a tug, making Ghost moan again.
“Please. Please. I need you closer.”
Soap’s throat clicks as he swallows. “You have no idea how tempting you are. Only one problem… I don’t have a condom.”
Ghost growls in frustration. “We get tested all the fucking time. If you didn’t skip your medicals, we both know that we’re clear.” He puts his hands on Soap’s ass and drags him close, pressing their dicks together. “I want to feel you.”
It’s like a switch flips inside of Soap, and a wicked glint sparks in his gaze. “Alright. You want me to fill you up? Stuff you full of my cock? Want to feel me shooting my load inside you? I can do that for you, princess.” He coats his length and fingers with more lube before he slips two, then three fingers back into Ghost, testing the softness. He hums with satisfaction at the ease with which Ghost still takes his fingers. “Such a greedy little hole.”
Ghost’s rim clenches around nothing as Soap pulls his fingers out. He feels empty. He needs to be filled, needs more of this feeling that started out so unfamiliar. Now, he wonders how he could’ve ever lived without having a piece of Soap inside of him. His tongue and fingers have been heavenly already– how will the rest of Soap feel? He needs him as close as he can get him, wants to crawl into him, wants to fuse together with him so they can never be separated.
He growls again as he feels Soap lining his dick up with his opening. “Get inside me. Now.”
“So bossy… I think I prefer you begging.” Soap rubs the head against his rim, teasing him. Ghost tries to push his hips against him, to spear himself on Soap’s cock, but Soap pulls away quickly. “Naughty. Say please, Si.”
Ghost has never been more ready to beg. “Please. Fucking please! Please give me yo–” he cuts off with a moan as Soap finally slides his cock inside. Shit , Ghost was right. This is heaven. Pure heaven.
Soap stills, trying to give him time to adjust, but Ghost doesn’t need it. He wants to feel the stretch, wants Soap to be rough with him so his body will remember this night tomorrow. He lifts his hips in a silent plea.
Soap picks up a slow rhythm, moving in steady but powerful thrusts. “You feel so good. So hot around me…” He kisses Ghost one more time before he sits up and pulls Ghost’s spread legs on his lap. “Look how hard you’re getting for me again.”
Ghost watches his own dick bop with each of Soap’s thrusts, watches how Soap’s cock disappears into him. Soap drags one finger along Ghost’s length, and Ghost howls.
“So sensitive. You must be so starved for touch.”
Soap picks up his pace, and Ghost grips his bedsheets so tightly that his knuckles go white. “Don’t worry, baby, you’ve got me now. You’ll never go without pleasure again. I’ll fuck you every single day if you want me too.” He raises one of Ghost’s legs and holds it against his chest as he fucks into him. “And once I’ve broken you in well and good, I’ll let you fuck me.”
Ghost whimpers. His cock twitches, putting up a valiant effort to reach a second orgasm.
“Hmmm, seems like someone likes the sound of that. You know what I like to hear?” Soap stops his relentless pounding and moves his groin in a slow circle, dick pressing right against Ghost’s prostate. Ghost moans. He hasn’t been able to stop the sounds leaving him for quite some time now, accentuating everything Soap does to him. “ This . I like how you can’t hold back anymore. It’s like music to my ears.” He draws out and slams back in with a single thrust. “I want everyone to hear you.”
Ghost can’t think anymore. He should have known Soap would be chatty in bed, but he doesn’t complain. All his praise is making Ghost’s mind go fuzzy, making him forget everything but Soap. He wants to please him, to do everything he asks, just so he won’t stop talking. Won’t stop making him feel good. Won’t stop loving him– because that’s what he’s doing right now. His words are filthy, his movements are powerful, but his eyes are kind. Soap tears Ghost’s sanity apart, and he loves it. He never wants this to stop.
“You’re doing so good, Si. Such a good boy for me.” Another sharp thrust. “You’re taking me so well.”
Soap folds Ghost’s leg against his stomach, putting his weight on it. He moves in a brutal rhythm, balls slapping against Ghost’s ass. “I’m getting close. Do you want to come again?”
“I don’t think I can. This is too much,” Ghost protests.
“Is it?” Soap asks. “Use your words if you want me to stop.”
But of course, Ghost doesn’t. He feels stretched to the brim with cock, love and praise, and it is the best he has ever felt in his whole life.
“Hmmm.” Soap grins at him smugly. “I knew you could take it. And you can come for me again. I know you do.” Ghost yelps as Soap strokes his dick, matching the movement to the pounding of his hips. “One more for me, baby. One more .”
Finally, a wave of ecstasy crashes over Ghost. Ropes of pearly cum shoot out of his slit, painting his stomach and chest. One spurt even manages to hit his chin, and Soap groans at the sight. “Just like that, yes , just like that.”
Ghost’s muscles lock up in bliss, clenching tightly around Soap inside him.
“Fuck, Si –” Soap grinds himself against Ghost, pressing downwards, burying himself as deep as he can get, his own orgasm wreaking havoc on his nerves. “You’re going to be so full, dripping with it–”
Ghost feels him spilling his cum inside, hot and filthy and perfect.
Limbs shaky, Soap releases Ghost’s leg and falls forward with a moan. His hips keep rocking slightly, as if he’s unwilling to stop. Ghost wraps him up in his arms and locks his legs around him so he can’t pull out yet, even though Soap doesn’t make a move to get away. Ghost wants him to stay inside forever.
Both of them are gasping for breath, sweat cooling on their skin.
Soap rains kisses on Ghost’s chest. “Wow.”
Ghost hums in agreement. Wow indeed.
“I guess your glorious officer’s bed can handle the two of us after all,” Soap says.
They both laugh at that, chests shaking so hard Soap almost gets thrown off, but Ghost holds on tight, not willing to let go.
“Well, we’ll have to test that theory. Extensively.” Ghost chuckles and steals a kiss, softer this time.
After a couple of minutes, Soap tries to untangle them. Ghost’s stomach drops. He clings to Soap, not wanting to lose their connection yet. “Stay. Now that I have you, I want you to stay.”
“I’ll stay forever. Don’t you worry. You’ll never get rid of me.” Soap presses his lips to Ghost’s. “I love you. I mean it.”
“I know. I know now.” Ghost smiles. “I love you too.”
They lose themselves to another round of tender kisses before Soap tries to separate their bodies again. Ghost whines.
Soap laughs and kisses Ghost’s nose. “Shhh, easy, princess. I’ll be right back.”
There’s an uncomfortable pinch in Ghost’s ass as Soap pulls out his softened cock, but he is too sated to care.
Soap growls. “Do you know how gorgeous you look right now? Completely fucked out, dripping with my cum?” He leans down and drags his tongue against Ghost’s leaking opening in one long, hot swipe, making Ghost jump a bit. “Kinda wanna stuff it right back inside you.”
“Tomorrow, hm?”
“Is that a promise, Lt.?”
Ghost fights a grin. “It’s an order, Sergeant.”
Soap’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he finally gets up from the bed. “Aye. Copy.”
He disappears into the bathroom and brings back a damp towel. His hands are careful as he cleans Ghost with it, tenderly wiping him down. Then he crawls back into bed, dragging the covers over them.
“You good?”
“Better than good.” It’s true. Ghost feels like he is about to fly away with giddiness. “I have a boyfriend.” He grins. “I’ve never had one.”
“You’ve had one for a while now. Took you long enough to catch up.”
Ghost lightly slaps his ass, but Soap only giggles and settles his head on Ghost’s chest. He cuddles up to Ghost, using him like a giant teddy bear. “How the hell am I going to keep my hands off you at my parents’ house?”
“Your parents’ house?”
“Yep. I don’t have my own flat, would never use it anyway. But don’t worry, my family is going to love you. They’ll adopt you at first sight.” Soap chuckles. “They’re going to be a bit overbearing, so you have my explicit permission to fight them off using force. They won’t learn otherwise.”
Ghost swallows. “I’m… going to meet your family?”
“Si… You do know that tonight was about celebrating our leave starting next week, aye?”
Ghost’s head feels a bit dizzy, reeling with this new development. It’s all a bit much for one night. “Yes, but–”
“Tell me you’ve got something better to do.” Soap draws little circles onto Ghost’s skin, patiently waiting for his answer.
Ghost imagines his empty apartment in Manchester. He’d finally be alone again. He won’t have to talk to anyone for weeks, he won’t have to interact with people at all, everything will be quiet for once–
And then he thinks about not seeing Soap for a month. About missing his smiles and flirting and stories, and, the most recent addition, his kisses.
He snuggles even closer to Soap, pushing his nose into his hair and inhaling deeply. “No. I don’t have anything better to do.”
“Then it’s settled. You’re coming home with me.”
They stay like this, wrapped up in each other until their hearts slow down, beating in tandem. Ghost wonders how he is supposed to fall asleep when he has his own personal sun sprawled on top of him, so he just closes his eyes and listens to Soap’s soft snores.
Soap is heavy, weighing him down. He clings to Ghost like he’s afraid of losing him in his sleep, caging Ghost in with long and solid limbs. Ghost should feel trapped. He should feel confined. Powerless. Incapacitated.
Instead, he feels safe.
The choking feeling he has grown so accustomed to during these last few years never comes.
Notes:
FINALLY!! They worked it out! Wooohoo! :D
(Man, I hope the much anticipated reveal scene was worth the wait... aaahhh)See you soon for the epilogue :)
Chapter 14: Epilogue
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
~One year later~
“And this is where you’ll sleep.” Soap motions around the dormitory, showcasing the bunk beds equipped with standard military bedding. “Any other questions?”
Hopefully, there won’t be any. Soap wants to get back to his boyfriend ASAP. Ghost has returned from a solo mission yesterday, and spending the night tangled together hasn’t been nearly enough contact for Soap after being almost a week apart from each other.
Ghost has been given today off, but Soap doesn’t get a free day just because he misses his boyfriend.
So, here he is, showing the Shadows around the base. They are a group of soldiers the 141 has allied with in the past, freshly stationed here for a joint operation that is planned to take place soon.
Usually, Soap has a friendly camaraderie going on with them, but today he doesn’t give a fuck. He rushed through his tour and gave only the briefest of explanations. Ghost could be waiting for him. At least, he hopes so; you never know with Ghost. That man takes his duties way too seriously, so it’s entirely possible he’ll skip his day off.
Soap can’t let that happen. A day where at least one of them isn’t bogged down by work has to be taken advantage of. Soap has several ideas about what he wants to do to Ghost… or what Ghost could do to him. He tries to suppress his smug grin.
“Yeah, actually,” a dark-haired soldier says. “This is the base where ‘The Ghost’ is stationed, right?”
That catches Soap off guard. His thoughts have been circling around Ghost the entire day, so it’s kind of weird to realise other people have him on their mind as well. Other soldiers from another base, no less.
“Aye,” he nods carefully. There is no use in denying it. Ghost’s unmistakable appearance will draw their attention soon enough, whether he wants it to or not. “Why do you ask?”
Whispering breaks out among the Shadows at his confirmation. The soldiers grin at each other and exchange shoulder bumps, looking generally excited.
“Awesome! When do you think we’ll meet him? Soon, hopefully?” The dark-haired Shadow practically bounces on his feet. “We’ve got to take advantage of having him close!”
Exactly Soap’s thoughts, although he reckons the Shadow wants Ghost close for different reasons than him. After all, being trained by Ghost isn’t an opportunity a lot of people get; it’s understandable these guys get excited by the prospect. A proud spark warms Soap’s chest.
Another soldier bumps his shoulder against the dark-haired one. “Sure. We all know you’d rather have him take advantage of you, Richards.”
Well. Apparently, the reasons of Soap and this particular Shadow wanting Ghost close do align.
Richards laughs and shoves his friend right back. “Shut up, dumbass.”
“It’s true, though!”
“And what if it is? We’ve all heard the rumours, so what’s the harm in me trying?”
Soap bristles. He always thought it was kind of cute whenever Ghost got jealous over people flirting with his boyfriend, but now that he gets a taste of how it feels to be on the other side, he suddenly doesn’t find it very funny anymore. And what’s this gossip going on about Ghost?
He fights to keep a smile on his face, but he’d bet anything he looks too tense to keep up his friendly appearance anymore. “What rumours are flying around about the Lieutenant, Private… Richards, is it?”
“Yes, ‘Sir’.” Richards’ grin is still firmly in place. “You seem a bit uptight. What’s the matter with you?”
Soap grimaces. Respect seems to be a foreign concept for this conceited Shadow. Soap usually couldn’t care less, Richards isn’t his subordinate after all, but right now his patience is wearing thin. “Just spill it.”
“Ah, the rumours… You see, Allen here,” he motions to another Shadow across the room, “Might have overheard our boss talking about Ghost.” Richards’ grin grows even wider. He leans in conspiratorially to share his juicy secret with Soap. “He says Graves mentioned that he has it on good authority that Ghost might have a taste for… fraternisation.” Richards winks. “As it happens, so do I.”
He studies Soap’s face. “You look like you know something about that. No wonder when you live on the same base! Your turn to spill, MacTavish!”
Soap’s head feels so hot he is sure steam must be shooting out of his ears. Has he understood this correctly? Richards is coming for his man? As if. That arrogant scumbag won’t even lay a finger on Ghost as long as Soap is alive. “As it turns out, Lieutenant Riley has a very dangerous and very possessive boyfriend. So, you’re shit out of luck, I’m afraid.”
It feels good to spit that in Richards’ face even though Soap has had his fair share of opportunities to brag about his relationship already. The day after they confessed their feelings to each other, Ghost had gone straight to Price. After that, it had been smooth sailing, and Soap told everyone who wanted to hear about his blissfully happy love life– and, to be honest, he also told everyone who didn’t want to listen as well. He still does at any chance he gets.
And Ghost lets him. He still isn’t a man of many words if other people than Soap are around, so it is a win-win situation for both of them that Soap loves to run his mouth. People learn not to ask too many questions when he answers in greater detail than they had bargained for.
Unfortunately, Richards reacts opposite to how Soap had expected. Instead of backing off, he laughs. “So, he really is into men, then? Good fucking news.”
“Are you hard of hearing? He’s taken .”
“That won’t matter as soon as he knows what I’m offering, trust me.”
What the fuck? That bastard is even cockier than Soap. He grinds his teeth, seething. “Care to share with the class what makes you so irresistible, allegedly ?”
“Sure thing. Take a look.”
Richards’ fingers curl around the hem of his shirt, and before Soap can bark at him that he isn’t fucking interested in seeing him half-naked , he pulls it right over his head. Soap’s eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets.
A very familiar skull mask, worn by a soldier with a very familiar silhouette, stretches across the entire left side of Richards’ ribcage. “Pretty nice, huh? Got his mask right on top of my heart.”
“You… You have my boyfriend tattooed on you?!” He stares at the black and white lines. That can’t be bloody true. “Tell me it’s not real.”
Richards stares right back at Soap, a bewildered look in his eyes. “ Your boyfriend?”
“ Tell me that thing isn’t fucking real.”
Richards’ eyes grow very big and very round. He rubs across the offending stretch of coloured skin. “Umm…”
That’s it. Soap snaps, fury roaring in his veins. He launches himself at Richards, about to unleash his wrath on him, when a strong arm catches him around his waist.
“Easy, Johnny.”
Soap relaxes slightly as he recognizes the growly voice, but he keeps snarling in Richards’ direction. “That guy had the audacity to put you on his skin !”
“I see that.”
Soap feels clothed lips press a kiss on top of his mohawk.
The sight finally wipes the remnants of the smug look Richards was still sporting off his face, and he lifts his hands in surrender. “It’s just a sign of my, uh, appreciation, that’s all.”
“Didn’t fucking sound like it to me!” Soap lets himself get dragged away by Ghost even though he still wants to claw Richards’ eyes out. Or better yet, scratch his skin off his ribs.
Ghost calmly pushes him out of the dormitory. The only reason Soap doesn’t fight the gentle coercion is that it’s Ghost who’s directing him backwards. That doesn’t stop him from shouting “This conversation isn’t over!” at Richards as Ghost is closing the door, though.
He’s still breathing hard when Ghost wraps his fingers around Soap’s and walks him down the hall.
“You good, Johnny?”
Soap stops abruptly. “Um, no ? Have you seen this shit? He– he has marked himself with you! How are you so calm about this?”
A soft chuckle leaves Ghost’s chest. “I admit, that is kind of… weird. But it doesn’t mean anything.” He studies Soap’s face, clearly noticing the raw jealousy pouring out of him. “Don’t worry. He might have marked himself , but I didn’t do it. I’ll only ever mark one person as mine.” He trails his fingers over the fresh love bites blooming on Soap’s throat.
Soap shivers. Ghost left them all over him last night, as if he had to stake his claim anew after returning from their first time apart in months. Still… “Those aren’t enough. Anyone could have left them. I need better proof that I’m yours.”
“Anyone?” Ghost’s eyes go dark behind the mask, and his voice gains a hard edge. “I don’t think so. Because you are right in one thing– You are mine , John ‘Soap’ MacTavish. Mine alone.”
He pulls one of his knives from his belt. “I’ll show you what it means to be marked by me.”
Soap’s breath hitches. “Kinky. I’m not saying I’m opposed to that, but maybe our first time trying knife play could be in a more, uh, private setting?”
They are standing in a public hallway, Soap getting crowded against the wall by Ghost, much too close to be casual. Footsteps and voices can be heard close by as people go about their day. Maybe someone already hurried past them in the last couple of minutes. Soap wouldn’t have noticed. Neither of them cares, anyway; they haven’t been hiding their relationship for a long time now.
Ghost ignores him as he lifts his knife and cuts off one of the straps on Soap’s tactical vest in one swift move. It’s an old one he only uses for practice on base, never for missions anymore, but still.
“What the fuck, Si?”
Ghost places the tip of his knife against Soap’s vest. “Look.”
A tiny, embroidered skull shines up at Soap. The white stitches are situated right where the strap usually sits. Soap gapes at it. “What– how– huh ?” He strokes over it, letting his fingers feel all the tiny bumps and ridges that create this beautifully crooked symbol. A half-forgotten memory of Ghost fixing his vest pops into his mind. “You did this.”
He looks up at Ghost. Whenever he thinks he couldn’t love this man any more than he already does, Ghost surprises him again. Soap’s love for him seems to be able to increase infinite amounts, expanding every day, growing and growing and growing…
He throws his arms around Ghost’s neck and pulls him close to kiss him through the mask. “I love you,” he whispers against Ghost’s mouth, pressing the words into his boyfriend’s lips. “You’ll have to sew the strap back on crooked so the skull will stay visible. I want people to know we belong to each other.” He grins. “I’ll just have to find a way to mark you as mine, too.”
Ghost laughs. The sound of it never fails to conjure up a giddy feeling travelling through Soap. “I guess you’ll have to put a ring on it if you want that so badly.”
Soap’s stomach swoops in surprise. It takes a while for Ghost’s words to sink in, but when they do, he is about to burst with happiness. Getting to spend the rest of his days with Ghost sounds like his idea of heaven. “If you’re sure you’ll be able to handle me for a lifetime?”
A fire appears in Ghost’s eyes. He rips off his mask, catching Soap off guard– they are still in a very public place. Ghost grips Soap’s jaw, hard, and presses his lips against Soap’s in a bruising kiss, claiming him for himself.
“Affirmative.”
Notes:
It's done! Ngl kinda proud that I finished this. A massive thank you goes to my beta ChildOfPoseidon for keeping me motivated! <3 (and uhhh polishing the shit out of this fic haha) Pls go check them out if Percy Jackson content tickles your fancy :)
https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChildOfPoseidon
This has been the first fanfic (or anything really) that I've written, and the experience has been a RIDE! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did :D
Thank you guys for sticking with me for so long, you're the best <3 I can't even tell you how much joy your kudos/comments gave me!!
P.S.: If anyone is interested how Ghost's first meeting with Soap's family went, I might be writing a lil something :) Probably gonna post it sometime as a part 2 to this fic. Also, one or two filthy oneshots are cooking. So, maybe drop a user sub or sth if you want to read any of that :D
Chapter 15: Sequel Announcement
Notes:
Ahem, so… *drumroll* The Sequel is up!
It took some time, but here it is, as promised. Chapter one is already posted, this extra chapter here is just me making sure that the (frankly, still surprisingly many) subscribers to this fic get notified. I hope you’ll like it! <3
Below is the summary of “I Never Had a Reason to Believe”.
Chapter Text
A traumatised lieutenant, an oblivious sergeant and an unsuspecting family meet up in a Scottish farmstead… What sounds like the beginning of a bad joke is actually Ghost’s current reality. He has no clue how the fuck Soap managed to drag him into the Highlands to meet his parents– okay, yeah, he does. He’s stupidly in love with his Johnny; there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for him, including making a complete fool out of himself trying to fit into Soap’s family.
If only he could fit in. If only he knew how to act like a regular human being. If only he wasn’t a monster.
Maybe then, he could figure out a way to keep Soap.
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