Work Text:
“What part of lights out escapes your understanding, MacTavish?” Ghost says, his voice lighthearted, a tone that is reserved for Soap and Soap only.
A silence follows, alarm bells immediately ringing in Ghost’s ears as his partner remains silent. In however long it’s been since he met Soap, he’s never once shut up. Never not had a witty comment or a quick remark that always bordered on unprofessional so why now is he on mute?
”Soap?” Ghost asks, drawing his attention to him. He is sat on his side of the bed, closest to the bedside table, unmoving right in the centre. His jaw is clenched tight but other than that, no emotion shows on his face. Ghost studies him momentarily, leaning up against the wall a little. The twin bed is a tight squeeze, especially for two men as large as they are, but they make it work. “Johnny?”
As if being burnt, Johnny flinches and, in one swift movement, he flops on his front with his face buried into Ghost’s side and his arm over his front, fingers clutching his shirt tightly.
Ghost is concerned to say the least. Usually Ghost is the one to shut down, to become unresponsive and seeing Soap do the same only unnerves Ghost.
The silence is odd. Usually they can sit in each others presence silently without it being awkward or uncomfortable but this? This is tense. This makes Ghost’s heart beat to the point that he can feel it ricocheting off his ribcage, making him feel somewhat nauseous.
”Johnny? You wanna talk?” Ghost asks.
Instead of being met with a response, the silence is shattered by something that is arguably much worse. Ghost feels like his heart has been punctured by his ribcage when he hears Soap. His body is shaking lightly and, through Ghost’s own thin shirt, he feels a dampness from where Soap’s head lies. When a quiet sob leaves Johnny’s lips, Ghost softens.
He reaches a hand out, placing it between Soap’s tense shoulder blades and gently moves his hand around, caressing him gently in his hold whilst Soap desperately fights off the tears spilling from his eyes.
Ghost doesn’t know what to say or what to do. He keeps his hand flush against Soap’s back and holds him whilst he cries but Ghost is lost.
Soap huffs out a cry, the sound catching in his throat as he tries to wrangle it away, forcing himself not to feel his emotions. He tilts his head onto its side, squeezing his eyes shut as he cuddles into Ghost’s embrace. He takes his hand from off of Ghost’s torso and slowly slides it up the hem of his shirt, his finger dancing over Ghosts skin.
He lies his hand flat on Ghost’s skin; warm. He’s warm. Blood rushing through his body as it’s supposed to, keeping him alive. He’s alive. Soap feels how, despite Ghost’s stomach being rigid upon the sudden touch, with every breath his stomach moves slightly. He’s back. He’s safe. He’s alive.
Soap feels so stupid. When he and Ghost were nothing more than fuckbuddies, using each other as momentary relief in tough times, he told himself he wouldn’t get attached. Things progressed and, when they put somewhat of a label to themselves, declaring exclusivity, they promised themselves that despite their relationship, they wouldn’t allow this to impact their ability to perform in the field nor alter their decision making skills. They swore on it and here Soap is, a sobbing mess, purely over his worry.
”Johnny, talk to me.” Ghost says with a slight sigh, voice low and gruff as he grips onto Soap’s shoulder, someone grounding him in his own body.
“Si,” Johnny grumbles, fighting back his tears once more as an embarrassing whine threatened to escape his lips, “Shit, Simon.”
”What?” Ghost asks. Johnny remains silent. He balls his hand into a fist on Ghost’s stomach and buries his head back into his chest, a fresh wave of sobs ruining him. “Fuckin’ ‘ell Johnny.”
Ghost wraps his strong arms around Johnny and pulls him closer, flush against his chest as Johnny does everything he can to hide his face from Ghost, embarrassed and ashamed. Ghost doesn’t let him. When Soap goes to bury his head in Ghost’s neck, his own hand flies out and catches Soap’s forehead, stopping him from leaning down. He props himself up, forcing Soap to look at him and Soap’s eyes fill with tears.
“Johnny what the fuck is going on?” Ghost asks and Soap looks down in embarrassment.
”Can’t stop, Lt.” Soap mutters, wiping his eye on the shoulder of his shirt.
”I don’t care about you cryin’, Soap, I care why you’re cryin’.”
Soap groans and glares at Ghost, “You, yer daft sod. Near went damn mad when you were gone.”
“What are you talking about Johnny?”
“Ye’ know damn well what I’m talkin’ about, Simon. That fuckin’ mission. Jesus Si- thought I’d lost you.”
Ghost notices how Soap, despite forcing himself to face Ghost, is leaning against the wall behind the bed, tiredly allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks now without putting up a fight. Ghost is biting the inside of his cheek.
He knows what Soap means. They both swore on it never getting serious enough for them to feel that strongly about the other getting hurt but he understands.
They’re right on the tail end of Las Almas. Johnny still has his shoulder in bandages, still technically on medical leave although he’s been training and hanging around the gun range excessively, and Ghost gets it. Ghost was sent on a solo mission. Something to help out Alejandro, at the time Soap cared very little for the details, but it took longer than necessary.
Soap, being Soap, wanted to be as involved as possible however Price had instructed him to recover from his injury and assured him that they would take care of Ghost without him. Originally, Soap had been okay with that until the day of Ghost’s return came and passed with no sign of his partner.
Price was expecting Soap to appear bright and early in the morning, demanding to know where Ghost was and the Captain had spent the prior night desperate to find an answer for Soap. Ghost had gone dark, he hadn’t responded to a call out in over four hours and his location stopped tracking around half an hour after that.
Naturally, the Captain assumed the worst. He didn’t want to, after all, Simon is a friend, but the Lieutenant was never one to go radio silent, not for that long. He wondered what could’ve possibly happened, the mission should’ve been a walk in the park for Ghost, but he reminded himself that nobody was invincible.
As predicted, when Price saw Soap, the Sergeant started to demand answers, “Captain, any updates on Ghost?”
”Sergeant,” Price had said before sighing. He saw the exhaustion in Soap’s eyes, the fear hidden behind a stoic expression, and all the lies he’d been practising overnight left his mind, “Soap. At around 1900 hours, we lost contact with Ghost. We’re still waiting to hear anything from him.”
“Where?” Soap had said, not a moments thought, “Where is he? Where is his location?”
”We lost that too. He’s been- missing, per se, since then.” Price said slowly.
Soap didn’t even take a minute to digest his words before rambling on, “Get me his last location then.”
”Soap, what are you doing?” Price asked, watching as Soap ran a hand through the front of his mohawk and sighed.
”I’m going to get him, Sir,” Soap said, huffing indignantly, “Somebody’s gotta find him, he could be hurt.”
“Not happening Soap. I’m not sending you out there alone.” Price said.
“You sent Ghost.”
“That’s different and you know it is.”
“Captain, come on. It’s Ghost! You know he’s out there!” Soap was getting worked up, pacing around the room and Price had to be firm with him.
”Sergeant MacTavish, leave it. It’s not happening. Need I remind you of our conversation regarding yours and his decision making when it comes to one another?” Price says and that shuts Soap up real quick. He can still see the panicked worry behind his eyes and sympathises, speaking to Soap as a friend rather than a superior, “You said it yourself, John, it’s Ghost! If he’s still out there, he’ll stop at nothing to get back.”
Soap dismissed himself. He spent the following two days struggling. He kept telling himself that Ghost was fine and he was just caught up. He made jokes to himself about how Ghost probably broke his radio somehow, doing something stupid no doubt but nothing felt right. He was grieving Ghost even though he was convinced he wasn’t dead.
He spent his nights flitting between nightmares and periods spent wide awake. He was picturing all the awful things that could’ve happened to Ghost in his dreams. He pictured Ghost shot, stabbed, buried, blown up, tortured and it was killing him.
That final night, Soap had been sat there with Ghost’s gloves in his hands. He had a spare pair and Soap was holding onto them as though Ghost’s hands were in them. Price had walked into the Lieutenants room, knowing Soap would be there even without Ghost being there, and found him cradling the gloves like a child.
Soap had nothing more to say to Price, to anyone, however his interest peaked when he heard the tone of Price’s voice.
”Sergeant,” Price had almost exclaimed, “Ya’ gonna like this.”
Price explained that Ghost had been in touch. They had arranged an exfil and Ghost would soon be home. Home being their shoddy base but Soap didn’t care what home was as long as Ghost was in it with him.
He was desperate to know what had happened, Price saying something along the lines of Ghost was met with some resistance on his mission but nothing he couldn’t deal with, but Soap was hardly listening, overjoyed with the return of Ghost.
He had been fine, he was sure of it, until he and Ghost were finally alone together and everything came crashing down on Soap, him realising how crappy his world had felt when he thought Ghost was no longer in it.
Ghost, unfortunately understands. He knows why Soap feels the way he does. When he was up in that church in Las Almas, trying to guide Soap through the Shadow adorned streets whilst he knew he was injured, he could hardly breathe. He felt sick with worry which wasn’t helped when he finally met up with Soap and the man was pale and groaning in pain but he was fine. Johnny was fine and he was fine but still he knows exactly what that worry feels like in the moment.
”Johnny,” Ghost sighs, “I didn’t mean to worry you. I- it’s shitty, I know. I’m here though, in one piece, completely fine.”
Johnny shakes his head, “Fuck Ghost. We promised. Promised it wouldn’t change anything about our job but look at me! I’m fuckin’ weepin’ like a babe here all cause you didnae answer your damn radio.”
”What are you sayin’, Sergeant?” Ghost asks, lowly.
”I’m sayin’ ‘ave gone soft for ya’. I really did think I’d lost ya’, Si and I weren’t me. You can ask Gaz, Rudy, Price. Those two days you were missin’, holy shit Ghost, ‘ave never been so scared.”
Johnny goes limp. He rests his head on Ghost’s shoulder and slides a hand over his chest to rest over Ghost’s heart. He remembers them joking about it mere weeks ago in Las Almas, Ghost’s cold heart, but Soap didn’t care how his heart was as long as it was beating.
”You’ve always been soft for me, Johnny,” Ghost jokes lightly, tilting his head and hitting it against Soap’s gently, “But I hear you. Think this place is gettin’ to us. Las Almas fucked us both up a little more than we’re lettin’ on, yeah?”
Soap closes his eyes and breathes deeply, basking in Ghost’s embrace, “I see why yer Lt. Ya’ stayed calm and everythin’ in Las Almas. If the roles were reversed and it was you that were shot, Jesus Ghost, I probably would’ve blown the place to smithereens to try and get to you.”
”Trust me, I considered it.” Ghost muttered. His hands gently ran over Johnny’s strong forearm, the one draped over his chest, and he sighed, “Might’ve sounded calm but I was losin’ it too, Johnny. Kept tellin’ jokes just to hear you so I knew you were still with me.”
”Yer soft for me too, Sir.” Johnny muttered, sounding much more like his old self and Ghost stammered a laugh out, nodding a little. He makes a proposition that he never thought he would in all his time in the military.
”Johnny I think we should take our leave. Just a month, go to yours in Glasgow. I think we both need a break.” Ghost suggests.
”Yeah? Never thought it’d be you that asked for us to take leave.” Soap sighs, “Yer really want to? Not just sayin’ it so you don’t have to see me be a big baby over ya’ again?”
“Well, both I suppose,” Ghost says, “Don’t want you to worry about me Johnny. I think it’d be good though. You’re always banging on about bloody Scotland anyway, figure I might as well see what all the fuss is about.”
“You’ll love it, Lt.” Johnny says, his mohawk tickling Ghost’s cheek softly, “Being a civvie for a month, aye?”
“That a yes? Don’t leave me waitin’, I’ll change my mind.” Ghost says and Johnny smiles a little, nodding.
”Affirmative, Si,” Soap slinks an arm around Ghost’s back, reaching up and running his fingers through the back of his hair, “Anythin’ for you.”
“Good.” He says, voice low. He leans back a little and tilts his head towards Soap, “C’mere. Quit your babyin’ over me, yeah? I’ll try and rein it in if you do too. Can’t be goin’ soft in the field, they’ll have our bloody heads.”
Soap nods and rests his forehead against Ghost’s, “I’m sure we’ll be fine after a break. Just stressed, yeah?”
Ghost smiles softly, brown eyes staring into blue before he cups the back of Soap’s head and guides him closer, their lips meeting almost tentatively at first before they kiss like they mean it. Soap cards his fingers through Ghost’s messy dirty blonde hair and Ghost himself is cradling the back of Soap’s head like he’s the most delicate thing known to man.
Upon separation, Johnny quips, “I take it that’ll be on the menu lots when we’re on leave.”
Ghost nudges his nose against Johnnys and steals another kiss before replying, “Affirmative, Sergeant.”