Chapter Text
It's been a while since their … kiss. Soap still didn't know if it really counted as one, since they didn't even touch skin to skin, but with Ghost, kissing him chaste through his mask may very well be a proper kiss. Even though it hasn't happened again afterwards, something shifted between them. Because Ghost hadn't strangled him to death for going in for a kiss. And that clearly meant something.
The infamous Ghost, nightmare of new recruits and terrorists alike, stalker of the night, a living legend, a soldier with a kill count that puts even Death to shame, did not allow physical touch. He made his boundaries crystal clear. Everyone stupid enough to cross them was put into place immediately. With force.
But Soap had kissed him and yet he lived. No boundary was crossed then. At least none that Ghost was angry about.
And if that didn't put Soap on a literal high, he wouldn't know what did. Ever since that incident, Soap started testing his limits even more. He has always been the one with a death wish on their team. Ever since his first day he showered Ghost with friendly touches, but until now they have been few and far between, short and lighthearted. A pat on the shoulder after a mission that ran smoothly, a friendly fist bump to the upper arm when Soap was especially giddy, nothing too much.
Now though, Soap tested his luck with everything Ghost-related and loved to watch the reactions of his lieutenant.
He had just come back from a shorter mission, and it was pouring like God wanted to create another great flood as he walked to the training grounds. A bunch of new recruits had the misfortune to have been assigned to Ghost. The man had no mercy with FNGs and had used the storm rainfall to get them to train working even in extreme weather conditions.
Ghost was running through the training grounds, shouting orders, telling the recruits how to improve their efficiency and how to deal with hostiles in such a downpour. Because this is how real missions are. There is no timeout if a downpour happens. Gaz and two other sergeants had volunteered to play the hostiles in this encounter as it seemed.
Soap was pouring wet as he stood at an observation deck and watched instead of taking a hot shower and passing out for a couple of hours. It was mesmerizing how Ghost moved. He was a big man, tall and muscular, but he managed to move his bulk with a catlike graze and deadly efficiency. It was almost comical how the recruits stumbled and struggled in comparison. Even Gaz looked like a mere mortal while Ghost seemed to be something more.
After spectating for the better part of half an hour, Soap felt the chill down to his bones, exhaustion not far behind. While the soldiers on the training grounds kept moving and stayed warmish, he was freezing now. Making his way down, he watched Ghost finish the training and letting the recruits assemble for some last advice on his lesson. The seven young men looked ready to pass out, pale and drenched like sewer rats. Gaz and the other two already left, their presence not being needed anymore.
With a couple long strides, Soap found himself right next to his lieutenant. Maybe he had hoped to startle the man a little bit, but Ghost didn't even twitch when Soap planted himself at his side. The recruits though did not expect him to show up and some were surprised and flinched.
»You might not want to get yourselves into a situation where you need any of the things I taught you today, but when the moment arises, you will be thankful you know how to handle them. Now get yourselves warmed up.«
Ghost dismissed them and only after that Soap put a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't a simple clap or pat, but instead his hand stayed. »Saw you workin', it was really hot, Lt.«
»Clearly you bumped your head on your mission. It's clearly cold, you're really cold and I'm able to tell that through my own soaked clothing, so you should hit the showers as well.« God, how Soap loved the deadpan reactions from Ghost. He couldn't stop the smile from forming on his lips. The fact that Ghost stood still, unwilling to break contact, didn't get unnoticed.
One of the recruits still lingered and shot them both an unbelieving look, because no way was Ghost allowing someone to be this close. Not the Ghost. Anyone else would have lost a hand that day.
»Mission's been good«, Soap said after a moment, knowing that Ghost wouldn't ask, but still wanted to know.
»If it hadn't you wouldn't be standing in front of me.«
»The weather was a pain in the ass though.«
»Nothing new, still is.«
Ghost began to move though and Soap – unwilling to let go just yet – slipped his hand from the other man's shoulder to his lower back, falling in line with his steps.
»Did ye miss me?«
Ghost's snort was audible even over the heavy rain.
»You're freezing, Johnny. Get yourself taken care of and then we can talk about the earth-shattering things you missed while being gone from base for a couple of days.« His voice was as flat as a pancake, dripping with sarcasm.
»What if I don't want to? Will you take care of me then?«, Soap teased, letting his hand slip just a tiny bit further south.
»Johnny.« It was the warning Soap already knew too well. The warning that he started drifting too close to a boundary. He couldn’t say for sure if it was his hand so close to that tempting ass of Ghost or his words. Or if it was simply the fact that they were in the middle of the base and Soap tried to grope his commanding officer. He could find out though and that out of all of it was what made Soap grin like a maniac as he lifted his hand away from Ghost's body in mock surrender.
»Alright, alright, but once I'm all nice and clean I want you to tell me about your day. In detail.«
»Dream on, soldier.«
Laughing, Soap turned to the public showers.
Soap was very happy he had had the courage to make a move on Ghost that fateful morning, because he just loved the freedom to touch him, to tease him, to test him. And he felt save enough to try it now, instead of feeling the fear of rejection biting at his neck. Ghost had allowed the kiss, and with that it seemed as if Soap managed to break a portion of the thick wall, he had created around himself and simply … slipped through. He found more walls inside, but those were smaller than the initial one and he felt privileged to wander around on the inner side of that first wall instead of walking with everyone else outside.
It had been a ballsy move, a decision based on nothing, but the way Ghost had said those words and his posture doing so. »I don't have friends.« Looking down on him, so close, putting him in a position of disadvantage below him, everything to keep control. Like he was about to lose it by admitting to care. Soap made the bold decision that caring so much couldn't only mean friendship – and he had been right, in some way.
He wanted to pull at all the seams that represented Ghost, wanted to find a way deeper inside, wanted to get a glimpse of Simon. Soap had started to really get close and personal with his lieutenant. But not only with physical touch, but also with shamelessly drawing him whenever he could. The day they kissed he decided to fill his new journal with drawings of his lieutenant only. He had gotten himself another journal for his other doodles even.
Not long after taking a hot shower, they were both seated in the rec room. No one else but them, because most of the others that had been here too before, left for an early supper a little while ago.
Ghost occupied an armchair, a couple of his knives and a steaming cup of tea in front of him. He sharpened and polished the knives with utter care and focus. All the while Soap talked about vanities, like the bumpy ride to the mission, how bored he was laying in wait for two days until the target finally showed up, and how he really missed the hot chocolate from his aunt Maggie right now with the weather being so terrible. He stopped after a while though, because Ghost didn't give a single hint that he even listened to a thing Soap has just said in the last hour. It was alright, Soap simply concentrated on getting the shape of Ghosts nose under the mask right.
»What's so special about your aunt's hot chocolate?«, Ghost asked without looking up from the knife he sharpened right now.
Soap perked up at that. »So you did listen.«
A noncommittal hum came from under the mask.
»I started to think you didn't like me blabbering.«
»It's soothing. Like the pattering of the rain.«
It might have been nothing from anyone else, but hearing Ghost admit that he liked Soaps endless talking did things to him. He leaned back into the couch happily and continued drawing Ghost. His legs were perched up on the coffee table and he used his thighs as a table. Like this he could hide his journal from Ghost's direct view.
»So you like my voice?«, he couldn't stop teasing, pushing, probing. Since Ghost gave him something like a non-verbal permission to do so.
»Just as you like mine.« Soap had not expected that answer, and even more so, he hadn't expected Ghost's piercing gaze on him suddenly. Ghost was known to have a staring problem, but this was different. The dark brown of his irises seemed to suck him in, luring him to a place where no one would ever find Soap. A place just for them, unbothered by the rest of the world. There was something dark in Ghost's gaze, strong emotions that Soap couldn't quite place, but he felt all of Ghost's attention on him once more. A thrill pulsed through his body and he could tell the exact moment his eyes dilated, because that was the moment when the other man broke eye contact.
Not ready yet, it seemed. Soap smiled softly and turned back to his drawing, abandoning it for a moment to try and catch that gaze on paper, so he could look at it whenever he missed it.
They fell back into a cozy togetherness with Soap talking about his aunt Maggie and her unbelievable talent in the kitchen. Her being a pastry chef with a thing for sweet drinks and Christmas sweets, while Soap's mum, her sister, was great at cooking savory meals, but a grinch when it came to baking. Soap told Ghost about that one family gathering where his mum and aunt had been on bad terms with each other, but that hadn't meant that aunt Maggie would stay away. It had simply meant that both had tried to outdo one another and forcing people to try their baked goods and meals. That had led to so much tasty food and delicious sweets that not a single person in the whole McTavish family and spouses had gotten out without belly aches due to overeating.
»One day I will take you to a McTavish-family gathering«, Soap promised, smiling softly.
»Wouldn't want you to bother with a strange fellow like me, who wouldn't eat a bite in front of them.«
At that Soap's gaze fell to the no longer steaming cup of tea on the coffee table. It was completely untouched. »Do you want me to look away for a moment?«
Ghost caught on immediately and shook his head. »Not thirsty anyway.«
In all the time Soap knew Ghost he could count the times he saw him push up the mask on two hands. His movements were always quick and precise, and Ghost had mastered not showing a sliver of his face to Soap. Even that one time they went drinking after they had killed Hassan Ghost managed to turn and twist and time his movements in a way that Soap had never actually seen him drink the bourbon he had ordered.
He really wanted to know what he looked like underneath the balaclava. Soap wanted to know everything about Ghost, but he didn't voice his needs, because it would scare the other away. He had drawn a line at showing his face before. Multiple times. It wasn't the right time for that yet.
»I would tell them to bring it all up to my room and that they could ask you what you liked best the next day«, he answered belatedly.
»Your room? You are getting ahead of yourself there, Sergeant.« The humor was strong in Ghost's lilt.
»You know, there is still something in my room here on base that has your name on it …« Soap had returned to the drawing of Ghost polishing his knives by now and looked at Ghost from under his eyelashes. He was done with most of it. The only part still missing was Ghost's right hand. He couldn't get it quite right with the other moving around all the time.
»Quit moving your hand«, he whined.
Ghost didn’t even look at him. »Don't remember signing up to model for you, Johnny.«
»Don't look so good then«, Soap pouted.
It gave Ghost pause, because his movements slowed for a moment. Soap was sure that he wanted to say something, but after a minute Ghost simply put down the knife and started sharpening another one.
»I'd really like to give you something. Are you coming to my room tonight?«
»Why can't you give it to me here?«
Soap pursed his lips. »I don't want to.«
»Not my problem.«
»It's prohibited, Lt«, he sighed.
Ghost's eyes found his once more. »Meet me at the old barracks at ten. No one will see that prohibited item when we're there.«
_________
It was cold and wet, but at least it didn't rain anymore when Soap made his way to the old barracks at night. They were located at the edge of the base, a little bit behind the newer barracks where all the soldiers were staying at.
The place wasn't illuminated anymore because it was supposed to be broken down soon to make room for a new building complex, including a new mess and gym. Destroyed and remade. Soap enjoyed seeing signs of the everlasting change of human life. He himself was another tool to do that. Being a demolition expert was the truest form of the first step to creation: Destruction. He really hoped to not be on a mission when they put the old barracks to the ground.
In the darkness that seemed to swallow him whole as soon as he left the last floodlight behind, shadows danced with even deeper black. Finding Ghost wasn't that hard though. It was pitch-black where he was standing, but the tiny orange glow of his cigarette betrayed him.
»You should quit smoking, it's your tell«, Soap said in greeting and had to watch his step on his way to Ghost.
»I made it easy for you.«
Hearing this dark, gravely voice from out of the dark did things to Soap. He felt like prey. It was the first time he didn't mind. As his eyes adjusted more and more to the low light, he slowly discerned the white skeletal prints on Ghost's glove and balaclava. Like the grim reaper himself showed his face to a dying soul.
Soap reached him and noted with appreciation that Ghost chose a spot in front of the only wooden wall of the old barracks. Leaning on it didn't feel like getting the warmth sucked out of him, unlike leaning on concrete.
»Real cozy out here«, Soap huffed. »I totally get you choosing this over my cold and wet room.«
»Not as crowded.«
He could have just as well said intimate. »That's for fucking sure. Not a single soul out here this late.«
Another floodlight a little further away was turned on and dispelled some of the pitch-black darkness around them. It was barely enough to shine a slight gleam on them and make the smoke from Ghost's cigarette visible.
Ghost took out a pack of cigarettes, hit it against his lower arm to push one out a little and offered it to Soap. Soap almost never took one, but Ghost did never cease to offer. Just like most times, Soap declined. He wasn't really into smoking and most of the times he managed to work against the peer pressure of others. It was only Ghost who got him to cave in sometimes if he was honest.
Thanks to the floodlight from somewhere near the car pool he could make out the white of Ghost's eyes and knew exactly where his gaze lay. He was focused on the present in Soap's hands.
»Did I finally manage to make you curious about what I got for you?«
»Up until now I was dreading it being something stupid – knowing it came from one of your sisters.«
»Oi!«, Soap shouted and punched Ghost against the upper arm. »They're wonderful women.«
»Swapping your toothpaste with hair conditioner doesn't sound like a wonderful woman to me.«
Of course that's the single thing Ghost would actually remember about his sisters!
»You simply have no idea of them«, Soap said easily.
»I really do not.«
»Hold on, so you knew it was from my sister?« Soap didn't remember saying that. Ghost went real rigid after that, white smoke was coiling from his half smoked cigarette and only now Soap realized that Ghost had his mask up over his nose to actually smoke. But the light was too bad to make out his features. He cursed internally.
»I simply assumed.«
Soap smiled at that. Ghost did watch him very closely. It was nothing new, Ghost kept a close eye on a lot of things to be prepared for everything, but him keeping track of small details like Soap telling him about this little present right after getting a package from his sister was … sweet.
»Well, you assumed right! But you don't have to worry it being something to trick ye. All of my sisters, but especially Sarah are terribly mean to me but angels to everyone else!« Soap held the present higher like it's the proof of his words.
Ghost put the cigarette to his mouth and Soap got distracted by the thought of the cig on Ghost's lips. How badly he wanted to trade places with a stupid fag. He really couldn't handle Ghost's exposed lower face so close without being allowed to touch and see.
»Go on, Sergeant«, Ghost prompted. »Don't be a tease and tell me what I get from Santa.«
Instead of making a big show out of it, Soap simply shoved the bottle into Ghost's chest. The other took it easily and seemed to have no problem reading the label in almost complete darkness.
A low whistle drew Soap's focus to his Lt's lips once more. »That's an expensive one. What did I do to get such a fine present from your sister?«
Keeping me alive in Las Almas. »Well she told me I should use it if I'm ever in the need of bribing my favorite lieutenant«, he said with a wink.
»You told her of me?« Soap couldn't quite figure out if Ghost sounded displeased or distressed.
»I told her a little something, she's surely the nosiest one of my nosy siblings. I mean, they should know a little about the man I might bring over for Christmas«, he joked, but really, it was more of a wish beyond hope.
»I don't celebrate Christmas.«
»I know.«
A somewhat heavy silence fell upon them, and Soap watched how the smoke left Ghost's lungs and slowly ascended skywards. He did joke about taking Ghost to his family, maybe to get a read on him – if he would maybe consider it, even though he knew the answer already. That's why he never asked for real. This way he could still hope. And it still was a couple months until winter hits, so there was no way of knowing what might happen until then. Just a month ago he wouldn't have dreamed of touching his lieutenant daily.
»What do you want to bribe me for with it?« Ghost pulled him out of his musings, flicking the cigarette bud away and taking out a new one. He held it between his lips before lighting it with the same hand while he held the bottle of very fine bourbon in the other. Soap was transfixed on the short look he got of Ghost's face when the light of the fire hit it.
I want to draw you. Laughing nervously, he rubbed his neck. »I did try to get you to my room with it.«
»Should have told me what it is, maybe it would have worked then.«
»Heh, yeah, my bad. Thought I would be enough to lure you.«
Soap hadn't even realized that he lowered his gaze to the ground until a shadow fell upon him, locking the far away light out. He looked up and stared right into Ghost's face – mask … naked chin. It lay in complete darkness again while the light around his silhouette tried very hard to be a halo.
His very own Angel of Death.
»I'm sure there is something you want«, Ghost said in a deep rumble.
I want to draw you. All of you.
His hand moved on its own accord, ever closer to the exposed bits of skin. Would he feel stubble or was Simon clean shaven? Would there be scars under his fingertips that he could trace?
An iron grip stopped him from making contact. Instead, Ghost drew a heavy breath from his cigarette and leaned closer. Even though Soap didn't like smoke very much, he hungrily moved to meet him. The thought of being closer to those lips made him shiver. Scarred and chapped they may be – or soft and pliant under his own – he turned nearly insane thinking about the feeling of them on his own.
His eyes fell shut as Ghost's mouth opened and he breathed in the shotgun kiss, with all it's smoke and fire and it reminded him of Ghost in so many ways. Smoke, gunfire and blood where the scents of war and they were also his. Like the ghost that he was his touch was almost nonexistent, barely noticeable, impossible to hold onto. It touched Soap's lips, his cheeks, burnt his throat and lungs and was gone far to quickly. All it left Soap with was the stench of smoke.
It felt so fitting. Shotgun kisses were Ghost's equivalent of a caress. Soap's heart yearned for the man in front of him who was so close and yet untouchable.
»What do you want from me?«, Ghost asked, still lingering just outside Soap's reach.
»Everything«, he breathed and tasted smoke on his tongue. »I want it all. Everything you are willing to give, I'll take it gratefully.«
In the same moment, Soap knew, whatever Ghost would be willing to give, it would never be enough.