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The darkness felt permanent, sinking into each corner and claiming each crevice, and Soap was wildly aware of it all. Only one thing grounded him as his mind sunk into the surrounding darkness, and that was a strong arm tucked around his waist. Ghost was tucked behind him, arm tight and lips brushing Soaps neck. His warm breathing tickled slightly.
One thing Soap had learned about Ghost after they started whatever this was, was that the man cuddled like his god damn life depended on it. Soap would have never assumed Ghost was so touchy, but he was proven wrong very quickly after the floodgates were opened.
It warmed Soap knowing the man had such a soft spot, something he might have always suspected was there, but was never sure of until the dam broke. Even if it was always a fight to get him to take the mask off, even if Ghost would continue to have difficulty talking to him about what happened in the past.
Ghost would frequently awaken to nightmares, out of breath and in a dizzying panic attack. It scared the shit out of Soap, and frustrated him to no ends when he just… couldn’t help him.
Ghost was a creature of habit. He was used to being a lone wolf, and he had been for so long that sometimes… sometimes Soap thought maybe he would never be able to break through that hard shell.
It was hard, so hard to get through to him sometimes. Sometimes Ghost would disappear from their room, for hours at a time. Soap would wake up alone, bedside long since cold in his absence. Soap sought him out as often as he could, on the off chance he would wake up before Ghost would return.
More often than not, in those cold nights, he would find Simon on the roof. Still in his pajamas, skin pricked with chill. Simon, sitting and staring up at the night sky, eyes gone somewhere far, far away.
Soap tried talking to him the first few times. It didn’t work, Ghost would tense up, eyes cloudy and he could see the outlines of the frown underneath the faded skull balaclava. Ghost never spoke. Instead he would distance himself further, going places Soap would never be able to follow. Still, he would sit there with him in the cold. As long as it took.
After a few times Soap learned to start bringing blankets up with him, to keep them warm in the early morning hours.
That had become a routine, every few nights. On a rare night, tears would silently fall from Simon’s face. The sight made Soap’s heart hurt, and he wished- god he wished- he could have done something. He wished he could have taken anything- anything from his shoulders. The invisible weight he carried.
The reasons why sometimes he flinched away from Soap's touch. Why some nights, Ghost couldn’t stand to be touched at all, and it was too hard for him to lift his mask above his lips at all.
Some nights it felt like they were going backwards, and try as he might, Soap couldn’t get anywhere. But he stayed. He would always stay, and be that silent support Ghost needed- be the shoulder for him to lean on, to hold him close when he needed that human connection.
The connection between them now, the warm arm around his waist, warm hand laced with his own. It meant everything. He could feel all the calluses on his rough hands, and if he moved his thumb he could trace the scars.
It didn’t change the fact that the room was dark, and his chest felt heavy. Soap frowned slightly, unable to shut his mind off.
Neither of them had said the words. The three words that Soap found so easy around other people- around his family.
Soap knew he loved Ghost. He could feel it in the mess of fluttering in his stomach when he looked at him, in the brush of their thighs or arms whenever casually in front of the team. He could feel it in the intensity of Ghost’s kisses whenever Soap or him reunited after a mission, in the way Ghost wouldn’t let go of him for hours afterwards, face buried in Soap’s neck after checking him over entirely for any wounds or injuries.
But Soap never said it. Ghost never said it.
Maybe the way they said it was in their actions. Did Ghost feel an I love you when Soap stayed up with him on those cold nights on the roof, with a blanket draped around his shoulders?
Soap thought he felt it when Ghost met his eyes, and he could see the softening around the edges. Barely any change to anyone else, but it was a look that only he saw. It was a private thing.
Was that their I love you’s?
Soap’s eyebrows knit together. He squeezed Simons hand slightly, eyes tired and watching the dark corner of the room.
Actions spoke. But did Simon love him? He knew he may not get those words directly from his lips, it might be a very long time before that threshold was broken. Before they would be able to say those words directly, no mincing actions or stuttering hearts.
Whatever it was they had, it was something. It was important.
But Soap knew he would always worry he wasn’t enough, and one day Ghost would push him away when he came to sit with him.
Ghost shifted against his back, and he felt a huff at the back of his neck. He felt Ghost’s firm arm pull him impossibly closer to his chest.
“Why’re you ‘wake?” Ghost mumbled against Soaps back, voice muffled. He gave Soap’s intertwined hand a little squeeze.
Soap sighed. He couldn’t help fidgeting, absentmindedly playing with Ghost’s fingers. “Nothin’, mate.”
He must have sounded dismissive enough, because Ghost hummed. “Dream?” A quiet, curious voice.
Ghost, reaching out- he was trying. Soap tried to hold back the warmth in his eyes that threatened. “No.”
Ghost nudged his leg with his knee, trying to prompt Soap silently to continue. To go on.
Soap’s throat tightened around the words- those three words. They were too difficult to get out, too much weighed on them.
Soap took a slow, deep breath.
“Simon…” He felt Ghost stiffen at his back slightly at the use of his name, he could feel his chest still as he held his breath. “Would you love me if I was a worm?”
Silence.
More silence.
“No. Go the fuck to sleep Johnny.”