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It had been a long night. Ghost was exhausted and he was sure Soap would be too. Whilst they hadn’t known each other long, there was a bond forged in fire and blood that connected them and made them more comfortable in each other’s presence than almost anyone else. It was hard to deny your trust in someone once they had rescued you and talked you through hell.
Though the night was still young, Ghost made his way towards his quarters, grateful for the fact he had his own and didn’t have to share. Not only did he hate sleeping in the mask, but he also hated the idea that someone would wake up to him having a nightmare. He was ashamed of the idea of anyone seeing such a display of weakness. Ghosts didn’t have feelings or emotions. You couldn’t die if you’re already dead. He hoped that night, the weariness that sunk deep in his bones meant he was too exhausted to dream. He knew hopes were pointless.
Before he knew it, the short walk to his quarters was over, and he was standing outside the grey door marked only by a small plaque proclaiming L.T Ghost. He had fought tooth and nail to remove his name from his door and for it to only state his code name. he dug around in his pockets trying to find the key that would let him in. once he had found it there was only a little fumbling with exhaustion for him to slide the key in and turn to unlock it.
Ghost removed his tactical gear as he walked through the door, putting it away he went. As he reached his bunk, he sat down to remove his boots, leaving the mask for last. His boots were placed neatly at the end of the bed, he began to reach for the hem of his mask drawing it over the sharp lines of his jaw and nose. Before he could move it further, he was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Scowling he righted his mask and made his way to the door, wearing only his undershirt and sweats. Simon was fully prepared to scare the living daylights out of the Rookie that thought to disturb him, mouth open to yell his grievances at the poor FNG.
But it wasn’t an idiot of a rookie. His Sergeant stood on the other side of his door; hand poised, ready to knock again if his first attempt hadn’t been answered. Simon was captivated for a moment. The light of the setting sun through his open blinds fell through the door frame. Illuminating Johnny’s face. Although Simon constantly complained about the supposedly ridiculous mohawk the Scot wore, he was beginning to appreciate it now the top had grown longer. Hair falling slightly in his face. The soft orange glow of the sun setting seemed to make his hair shine; Ghost couldn’t look away.
‘-T?’ Soap’s voice shocked him out of his stupor, he shook his head a little, trying to banish the traitorous thoughts that betrayed him.
‘What was that, Johnny? What could you possibly want with me right now?’ Simon was too tired to deal with the appropriate formalities right now, and from the looks of it Soap was too, his eyes drooping despite his attempts to stay awake, ‘You should get some sleep Sergeant,’
It took a moment for Soap to reply, brain working slower than ever, ‘Yer room-‘he began before being interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn, ‘ Yer room is closer LT, don think I can make it to mine’ his words coming out more and more slurred with every passing second.
Before Ghost could even register he was moving, he was opening the door wider and stepping out of the way, letting the smaller man through. The sergeant looked about as shocked as he felt as if he didn’t expect Ghost to agree with him, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Quickly, he stepped through the threshold of the room. His eyes darted around trying to absorb as many details as he could before he was inevitably kicked out when Ghost realised what he had done.
Ghost’s room was unsurprisingly bare. A stack of folders precariously balanced on his desk; gear packed away neatly; bed slightly rumpled from where he had sat down moments ago. But Johnny could see the small signs of the room being lived in. A discarded mug on the bedside table, a small hint of a gun under the pillow and a book, face down on the side with its pages spread open. There was a secondary door on the other side of the room, which Soap assumed led to a bathroom.
Simon had apparently registered what was happening by the way he glared at the Scot, eyes softening slightly at the tired grin the man gave to him.
‘Lighten up L.T., I promise I don’t snore,’ Soap teased. Which drew a quiet snort from the masked man that he quickly tried to cover up with a cough.
‘You may not Sergeant,’ Ghost began a smile hidden by the clothe of his balaclava, ‘but I never said I didn’t,’
A loud groan tore its way out of Soap as if he was crushed by the idea, but by the way he was bending down to untie his laces, he didn’t mind too much.
Realising he apparently wasn’t getting rid of Johnny, Ghost sighed and began to climb into his bed, claiming his spot. As he settled against the pillow, he allowed his eyes to gently roam Johnny’s body. Tracking the way his muscles moved as he removed the most uncomfortable parts of their gear. Realising he was being watched, Johnny teasingly began to flex, drawing a surprised laugh out of the Brit. Ghost was grateful for the mask coving his face as he was sure it would have been bright red at the surprise and embarrassment of being caught.
‘Just hurry up and get in would ya,’ he almost growled out, his impatience getting the better of him, ‘turn the light off before though’
As Johnny made his way over towards the light, Simon turned over onto his side, his back facing the window, his arm out patting the other side of the bed almost granting Soap the permission he felt he needed. Soap surprised Simon, as he laid down and turned to face Simon. He gestured towards Ghost’s face hand reaching out to the bottom of the balaclava.
‘So ye do sleep in it,’ Soap teased, fingers playing with the frayed edges of the well-worn mask.
Simon’s voice was barely a whisper, ‘not usually,’ this made Johnny pause, expression guilty and he realised what the taller man had said, his hand quickly withdrawing from the aforementioned mask.
‘I don havta be here L.T. not if its puttin’ u out’ Soap seemed genuinely concerned to Simon let out a little laugh hand moving Johnny’s own back to the edge of his mask.
‘The mask’ he whined, a poor imitation of Soap’s own words months previous, ‘take it off’ though Johnny was startled his hand began to drag the balaclava up the Brit’s face seconds before he had registered what Simon had said. Soap held his breath as more and more of the man was revealed, whilst it was not the first time the Scot had seen Simon’s face, he treasured every time he got to. He gently cradled Simon’s head in his hands, thumb slowly stroking against the scar that spanned its way down Simon’s face. Johnny smiled softly as Simon gently pushed his face further into Soap’s soft hands, face flushing as Johnny’s other hand moved to card its way through the soft strands of his hair. It was all too easy how much the small action could make someone as feared and respected as Ghost melt.
Softly, Johnny rested his head against Simon’s own, relaxing as their breath mingled together. Simon’s eyes began to droop even more, pleasantly relaxed and calmed by Johnny’s hand on his face and in his hair. Before long the Brit was steadily sleeping, refusing to move from the position he and Soap were in.
As Johnny settled in for the night calmed by the cutest sight in front of him, he thanked all that he could, for being trusted by Simon Riley.