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Johnny will be the first to admit that out of all the close calls he’s had in life, both inside and out of the military, the most recent one has been the worst.
Cutting it fine doesn’t even begin to describe how lucky Soap is to be alive right now. Though many would disagree, Soap felt like the luckiest son of a bitch alive when Hassan’s magazine emptied just as he had situated himself above the man ready to fire. To him, just the butt of the rifle meeting his head was the best outcome in that scenario.
He thought all his luck had run out when he came to and was mere feet away from a window that, sure enough, was blown wide open. This time, his luck had a creepy mask, a smooth voice and a badass gun on his side. Hassan had been taken out by Ghost before Soap could even really feel the chill out the Chicagoan air outside. Maybe luck is on his side.
Now though, in a hotel room alone, his mind is finally catching up with this last days work. He nearly died. Multiple times. He could say he’s gotten close before, especially with the Graves fiasco, but never before has he stared down the firing end of a rifle and been blessed enough to have it not shoot.
Being alone isn’t good right now. His mind is wandering, thinking over the mission, the betrayal, Hassan, his teammates. He misses Gaz, he hasn’t had time to just be his friend for a short while and he hates it. He misses Ghost. Ghost who is in the room next door, uncomfortably close yet so characteristically distant.
He leans his head against the wall, the ache in his body bone deep. The side of his head is cold, the lingering presence of a now melted ice pack that he held to it still there, but his body is decidedly warm. He kicks the covers back off his body and curls up on himself.
Soap wishes they could’ve gone straight home. Back to base, on leave, he doesn’t care, but being alone is the last thing he wanted to be dealing with right now.
His light grey tank top hugs his torso and lets a considerable amount of cool, night air reach his skin yet still he sweats in the bed. His joggers are loose, too long at his ankles, yet they still feel constricting and regulatory, like uniform.
The meds he took are easing the aches, sure, but he’s feeling less and less tired, his mind working overtime as he does nothing but think. He isn’t particularly sure what he’s even thinking about, but he knows his brain isn’t stilling for even a moment.
Finally, a sound draws him from his stupor, gently taps on the wall. The wall he shares with Ghost.
J O H N N Y
It takes Soap a minute, his disorientation coming to a halt when the military part of his mind takes over. He’d be an awful Special Operations Officer if he didn’t recognise morse code immediately. Albeit, his usage of it is rusty, but he just about brings his mind back long enough to knock out a coherent set of knocks back, counting his pauses as he goes as to not confuse Ghost.
G H O S T
He taps back and there’s an awkward pause where he worries that maybe his morse isn’t as up to scratch as it once was.
STILL ALIVE
Soap had his phone open now, the notes app open as he takes down the letters he hears. Trust Ghost to overcomplicate communication. The man is next door but can’t even talk to Soap in person? Typical.
YES
GOOD… WORRIED
Thats a new one. From Ghost, at least. Johnny can’t recall ever hearing a time where Ghost had expressed worry before. He just has to ask.
ABOUT ME
EVERYTHING
SAME
Theres another pause, long enough that Soap thinks that maybe Ghost has had enough, that’s the end of that conversation or perhaps he fell asleep. As per, Ghost provides Johnny with an answer sharply after that.
SLEEP, J
AND YOU, SIR
Johnny has never been blindly obedient of his superiors, especially when it comes to being off duty with the taskforce. That’s how he finds himself now, stood outside Ghost’s door, on the second day of their stay in this hotel, with dark circles under his eyes.
Truthfully, he did try to sleep, but the silence wasn’t enough and Soap could only keep his mind at bay for so long. Despite Price ordering him to get rest, especially after a bump on the head that was undoubtedly going to cause a concussion, Soap found himself jogging around Chicago at 4am.
It was relatively quiet, just the odd few people littered about the snowy streets, but Soap looked at every single one of them with envy. How innocent and naive they were to wander around these streets when not even a full day ago, an almost certain chance of death was granted to them. He had turned around then.
He spent the entire day talking to who he could, Ghost, Price, Gaz, Laswell. It was weird and wrong and it felt like everyone was walking on eggshells. Nobody was ready to talk about it and Soap wasn’t going to be the arsehole to ruin that.
Which is why he’s stood still staring at the door to Ghosts room. He’s been there for an easy five minutes, rocking on his socked feet the entire time as he combs his eyes over the wooden door. He doesn’t want to bother Ghost, not at nearly midnight, but he knows he will start to go insane without sleep soon and he just needs a familiar face. Odd, considering that’s the one thing Ghost keeps hidden, but Gaz is on the other side of the hotel and he can’t be bothered to walk to him.
“Sergeant.” A voice barks and Soap nearly jumps out of his skin.
“Ghost! You steamin’ idiot, scared the shit outta me!” Soap whips his head to the side and sees Ghost standing there. He’s dressed down, a black jacket over his shirt, partly zipped up and just a loose fitting pair of grey joggers on his hips. He has casual trainers on, something Soap never expected his Lieutenant to own, but his signature balaclava remains pride of place over his features. The skull plate is nowhere to be seen.
“Well then I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when I walk back up here to see you rocking like a madman outside where I sleep.” Ghost says. He’s using his authoritative voice but his eyes betray him. He isn’t mad, nor concerned about Soaps appearance, more so just worried about the Scot before him.
“Aye, s’pose it doesn’t look great, eh Lt?” Soap chuckles a little. He leans against the wall beside the door and sighs, “Needed to ask you a question though, Sir.”
“Ask away, Johnny.” Ghost softens, staring intently at Soap.
“Have you slept? Or been sleepin’?”
“That’s two questions, Johnny.” He says before sighing, “But no. I take it that’s a no from you too?”
Soap nods, “Feel like I can’t remember how to, Ghost. Alls I think about is Hassan and Graves and Shepherd and it’s all too fuckin’ much for me, Lt.”
Ghost stares at Soap momentarily, paused by his outburst, before he gestures to the door and swipes his keycard into the lock, “Don’t suppose you want to come in for a while? Maybe crash? There’s a second bed.”
Soap already knows that. His room is identical. He never expected Ghost to offer an insight into Ghosts private space like this however. He nods, nonetheless, “Appreciate it, Lt.”
He follows Ghost into the room and finds nothing out of the ordinary, the place to the same military standards as their base despite a few items haphazardly placed to confirm someone is, in fact, sleeping in there. Stupid things like a can of deodorant, a second pair of shoes, a half drunk bottle of water on the nightstand, nothing outlandish at all.
Ghost seems content on falling asleep, or attempting it this evening at least, as he immediately makes his way to a bed. Soap takes that as his sign to crawl into the other bed on the other side of the room.
It’s still awful, really. They’re even closer, yet still so damned distant. Soap can even hear the quiet huffs of breath coming from Ghost but he daren’t move. He’ll curse himself if he ruins this. Though the distance still sucks, it’s progress, he thinks. It’s a step in the right direction.
“Anythin’ on your mind, Johnny? Or do you just want to sleep?” Ghost asks, suddenly. His voice cuts through the air and is frighteningly loud in the dead silence that is the room. For a hotel, there’s not a peep from anyone else residing there. It’s eerie.
“Just got used to havin’ you around, Ghost. Was weird trying to sleep in a room beside you instead of five feet apart.”
“I hear you,” Ghost agrees, “Not normally my style this Johnny, not in the slightest, but we’ve been through the mill, haven’t we? The whole force, really. Nothing like shared trauma to bring friends closer.”
“Ay don’t you be goin’ soft on me, Lt, thought you said friends weren’t in the field manual?” Soap jokes.
The distance is painful as they banter. Soap somehow feels they’re closer through comms than they are in this shitty hotel with the shitty beds on either end of the room. Ghost took the left side of his bed, up near the wall so naturally Soap took the right side of his bed, forcing the gap between himself and Ghost. It’s regrettable, really, but he can’t scare his Lieutenant off now, not when they’re finally making progress in this so-called friendship.
“Even I can make mistakes, Johnny.” Ghost sighs. He lightens the mood, “Not often, like, but it can happen. I suppose worse things have happened in my life than your friendship.”
“That’s the spirit, Lt.” Soap huffs out a chuckle before a yawn escapes. There’s no denying how tired he is.
“Stay here, just for tonight. Sounds like you need a good sleep.” Ghost suggests. It falls on practically deaf ears, Soap is already struggling to keep his eyes open.
He hums out an unintelligible response before Ghost chuckles and starts to succumb to sleep as well.
The following night, Soap finds himself less upset about the distance. Mainly because they close it somewhat.
Ghosts idea of ‘just for tonight’ has been quickly discarded following the fact that the two of them had the greatest sleep of their lives last night. Even if Johnny had wanted to go back to his room, Ghost wouldn’t have let him, he craves the feeling that comes from a good nights rest.
They hadn’t meant to really, they were just talking before bed but Soap is the first to notice how close he and Ghost have gotten. They started on opposite ends of their own respective beds but as they spoke, they shuffled closer and closer until they’re now facing each other, only the gap between the beds keeping them apart.
Soap never expected to see Ghost in this way. Balaclava still hiding everything important but his eyes speak for him anyway. He’s let his guard down, he’s feeling human and ordinary. It’s an odd look on Ghost but one Soap quickly finds addictive. He wants to see Ghost at peace more often, he looks so content.
By 2am, they both start flagging. Exhaustion creeps up on them faster than they expect and Soap isn’t too upset when he looks for Ghosts eyes and finds them shut. The peace is back again, the comfort and the assumed safety. It suits him. Soap smiles, “Goodnight, Simon.”
The fourth day is interesting. Peculiar, if you will. Neither of them could tell you how it happened but it true.
Ghost wakes abruptly at around 5am, a noise having disturbed him. After deeming it safe, the noise clearly being from the world outside, he goes to turn over in his bed but a tugging alarms him.
He faces Soap. His face is pressed into the pillow, mohawk sprayed across the cotton surface. His hand is hanging over the side of the bed and Ghost follows it with his eyes until he realises it. They’re holding hands.
Somehow, subconsciously, they have reached out to one another in their sleep and have found themselves clinging to their partner. Ghosts brain instantly short circuits and his first thought is to remove his hand but as he pulls away, Soap lets out a quiet groan and his brows furrow, “Ghost.”
“Soap?”
Soap isn’t awake. He’s talking in his sleep. His hand looks bare just hanging from the side of the bed and Ghost feels cold upon the loss of contact. He finds himself hooking his finger around Soaps, slowly moving his thumb over his skin gently and Soap hums contentedly under his breath.
“Johnny?” Ghost says. It’s the fifth day of them being in this hotel and, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, the chokehold he had on his feelings for Soap is slipping.
“Ghost?” Soap replies.
Ghost is in love with the way Soap behaves. He loves how all he had to do was say his name for Soap to put down his phone, turn on his side and give Ghost his undivided attention. He respects it.
“Ghost team meeting,” Ghost trails off and looks intently into Soaps eyes, using them to gauge an honest reaction. “What did you think?”
“What do I think? I think you should take the mask off more often, Simon. You’re a good lookin’ fella y’know?” Soap says. Ghost chuckles a little.
“That so?”
“C’mon, you know you are. Don’t know why you have the thing in the first place, ain’t my business, but I’ve come to hate it.” Soap admits, “Stupid things covering you up!”
“That’s the idea, Johnny.”
“Yeah well I don’t like it. Neither does fourteen year old me who would’ve used you as way of coming to terms with my sexuality. I’d have been all over you.” Soap admits. Ghost can see a light blush on Johnnys cheeks as he speaks. Perhaps he didn’t mean to come out to his commanding officer like that.
Ghost breezes past that fact though, “You sayin’ you wouldn’t be all over me now?”
Soap laughs, “Chance would be a fine thing, Simon.”
Ghost looks away briefly before he sits himself up in bed, propped up on his elbow. He stares at Soap for a moment before saying, “This isn’t a big deal, don’t make it one.”
Soaps confusion can only last a moment since Ghost very quickly rips his balaclava off and leaves it on the table between them. He’s as beautiful as Soap remembers. It’s the only word that comes to mind for Ghost; beautiful. His features are delicate and warm and he looks like the friendliest guy alive. Maybe that’s what the masks for.
“Just like I remember, Simon.” Soap smiles.
“Use my name more often Johnny. ‘M not Ghost without the mask. Simon is good.” Ghost requests and Johnny lets out a mumble of an ‘okay’ and smiles at Ghost.
On the sixth night, Johnny is disturbed at an ungodly hour by the sound of wood clacking together. He peers through his lidded eyes and widens them when he sees Ghosts bed pressed up against his, a gap no longer present.
Ghost falls onto the bed with a soft huff before he looks over at Soap. He’s a lot easier to read without the mask.
“Doin’ some midnight redecoratin’ Si?”
Soap doesn’t miss the way Ghost blushes at the nickname. He smirks at him.
“Colder on that side of the room,” Ghost bullshits, a gentle smile touching his lips, “Tactical warmth, Johnny.”
“Yeah, sure. You wanna know what I think? I think you just think I’m so hot that you can’t help but want to share a bed with me.” Soap jokes and Ghost laughs a little.
“No harm in that, Sergeant.” Ghost replies and Soap rolls his eyes.
“If you wanted to get in the bed, you could’ve. Don’t need to ask me, Simon. I trust you.” Johnny says, eyes honest.
“I trust you too,” Ghost confesses, “And that scared the fuck outta me.”
Soap sympathises and reaches a gentle hand out to Ghosts shoulder. He squeezes it lightly and smiles, “Who knew alls it took was little old me to make you human again?”
Ghost scoffs and says, “Fuck off, Johnny.”
And he does. The distance isn’t all that painful anymore, in fact, Ghosts body heat radiating against his back when he turns away keeps Johnny going. He feels like he’s recharging, plugged in against the wall that is Ghost.
If Johnny wakes up the next morning in with his back against Ghosts chest and arms around his waist, what does it matter?
The seventh night is their final in the hotel before they finally ship out back home. Johnny isn’t going to waste this opportunity. He isn’t going to let Ghost go all quiet on him again whilst they’re apart.
Ghost went to the shop, he is apparently very particular about what fizzy pop and water he’ll drink and will be damned if he doesn’t get it. Soap managed to hold back a joke about his favourite being Dr Pepper when Ghost left.
In that time, Soap pushed their beds away from each other again but climbs into Ghosts bed, resting under the covers. The balaclava is gone, on Ghosts face no doubt, and Soap has nothing to do nor fiddle with until Ghost comes back. His mind works overtime again. He’s starting to think he should be paid with how much he’s thinking recently.
When Ghost is back and he sees Johnny in his bed, he furrows his brows. He pulls his balaclava off and places it on the desk at the foot of his bed, the bag from the shop gets left there too. He quirks a brow, “We playin’ musical chairs or somethin’?”
Soap looks up from his phone at Ghost and smiles. Not a smirk, not a cocky grin, just a pure smile. “Thought I’d take some initiative, Simon. Always tellin’ me to use it out in the field, thought I’d bring it here too.”
“Initiative for what?” Ghost sits on the other side of the bed, leaning over as he unties his shoelaces and discards of them as quickly as he can.
“You wanted to share a bed last night. Couldn’t quite bring yourself to do it so you pushed the beds together. You’re nervous,” Soap analyses and Ghost gulps, louder than he expected. “The mask makes sense. You wear your emotions on your face, plain as day. I like it.”
“What does that mean?” Ghost questions.
“Look at me.” Soap says. His voice has an underlying demanding tone behind it but he keeps his voice soft and steady.
Ghost turns his head over his shoulder and looks at Johnny. He’s propping his head up with his hand, elbow digging into the mattress. His tank top, khaki green this time, is hanging loosely off his toned shoulders. Ghost feels feral just by looking at him.
“I’m gonna be completely honest with you, I want you to respect that and try and be honest back with me, yeah?” Soap asks and Ghost just nods. His mouth has gone dry.
“I’m a gay man. Realised it when I was younger, never been ashamed of it, but the army still isn’t as accepting as it could be so I kept it to myself.” Soap explains. “And I like you. I like you for you. I like Ghost and Simon, I like your personality and your stupid face. I like your god awful jokes you tell me over comms. I get that might change your mind about sharing a bed with me, but the offer still stands. Most likely always will.”
Soap turns away from Ghost, pulling the covers over his body and sighing deeply. Ghost just stares for a moment, unmoving. Overwhelmed.
Whatever Soap said before about the distance getting more bearable, it’s nothing compared to the feeling of Ghost slipping under shared covers. His body presses against Soaps back and he wraps his arms around him. He presses his bare face into his back.
“I’m pansexual, if you know what that is,” Ghost hums. Soap makes a noise of understanding, “And I like you too. I don’t know what it means and I’m not sure I even know how to be with someone else anymore but I- I only want you.”
Soap turns in Ghosts arm, looking up at his face. He lifts a hand and cups his cheek. He cards his thumb over Simons skin and smiles, “I can show you, if you’ll let me.”
Ghost looks reserved, “I’m no good for you Johnny, I hope you know that.”
“Shut up,” Soap says firmly, “None of that, Simon.”
Ghost still looks a little unsure. He wants Johnny in every sense of the word but he can’t help but think Soap can do better. The selfish part of his brain says that he doesn’t want to see Soap with anybody else, that he can’t see that. He looks into Soap’s eyes and his own soften.
“I’m sorry.” Ghost whispers.
“Don’t be sorry.” Soap insists.
He moves closer, hand brushing through Ghosts hair and cradling the back of his head, pulling him closer as his lips meet Ghosts.
It’s a tentative kiss. Ghost flinches a little at the touch and Soap pulls back an inch to give Ghost some room. Ghost pulls him back. His own hand is splayed over Johnnys back as he holds him flush against his front.
They kiss slowly, no forced passion, no mismatched rhythms, just gentle, slight kisses. It’s clear Ghost was overwhelmed to begin with and Soap doesn’t want to add to that. He’s soft and careful and loving with Ghost and that’s all Ghost can ask for from him.
Ghost pulls back first with a little whine, pressing his forehead against Johnny’s and closing his eyes, “I’m so glad you’re still here.”
Soap smiles and places another kiss on Ghosts lips, just a light peck, before holding him close, “I’m glad you stayed.”
“Wouldn’t want to miss out on this, Johnny,” Ghost smiles, “Not for the world.”
Soap curls up in Ghosts arms, pressing his face against Ghosts hoodie. He kisses his collarbone lightly, hoping Ghost can feel it through the light fabric. He brings his arms down and wraps them around Ghosts middle before entangling their legs together.
The following morning, Gaz finds himself jimmying the automatic lock on Ghosts door. He had knocked on Soaps door for a good five minutes, getting no response, before he broke into there and found the room completely empty, there being zero signs of it being used in the last week.
When the door finally clicks, Gaz slinks through the door and keeps a tight grip on the gun against his side. He’ll go feral if Soap has been taken.
Through the sliver of light breaking through the curtains, Gaz sees two figures in Ghosts bed and pulls his gun out, finger hovering by the safety switch.
Ghost turns and looks at the foot of his bed. His hand is hiding a gun of his own. Ghost isn’t too loved up to not be on top form. When he sees Gaz at the foot of the bed, light hitting the silenced pistol in his hands, he lets out a sigh.
“Garrick?” Ghost huffs.
“Ghost?” Gaz puts his gun away and looks to the sleeping figure curled up in Ghosts arms. Despite the covers hiding most of him, the mohawk peaking out of the covers gives away Soap. “Is that- Soap?”
Ghost looks to his side where Johnny is still asleep. He looks at Gaz and nods, “Yes.”
Gaz looks distracted and uncomfortable. He sighs, “Ghost, I don’t know if you know but, um, your mask. It’s gone.”
Ghost nods, “Yeah, I took it off, but thanks.”
“Why- What the hell is Soap doing in bed with you?” Gaz asks. He has so many questions.
Ghost looks at Johnny who looks like he’s starting to awaken, “Not right now, Gaz. Is there a reason you’re here?”
Gaz’s mind tumbles through all of his questions and he nods, “Wheels up in 30, might wanna get sleeping beauty out of his slumber.”
Ghost nods, “Thanks.”
Gaz smirks as he heads to the door, “Pretty sure the only way to wake Sleeping Beauty is with a kiss.”
“Gaz!” Ghost huffs, blushing in the dark.
He holds his hands in surrender, “Just sayin’! See ya shortly man.”
Gaz pulls the door to on his way out, practically screaming, and he bolts his way back to Price, desperate to share what he saw. Both he and Price are well aware of Soaps little crush on the Lieutenant and Price will be happy to see Soap do something about it.
Though they’re leaving in thirty minutes, Ghost lies back down and pulls Soap closer into his front, Johnnys head resting on his chest. Johnny hums tiredly in his sleep and kisses Simons chest once more.
Ghost smiles.