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Soap really doesn’t want to eavesdrop. It’s Price’s and Ghost’s fault for talking in the communal kitchen.
“I can’t let you stay on base for the holidays,” Price’s voice is stern but not unkind. “It’s not my call, it’s in your psych eval how much leave you have to do outside of the base. We’re in the middle of December and you’ve still got a week to do this year.”
“No way for you to find me some super urgent assignment that would override that?” Ghost grumbles.
“Not this time, Simon,” Price sighs. “Give me the address where you’ll be staying by tomorrow.” He claps Ghost’s shoulder and leaves the kitchen. Ghost remains standing right where the captain left him, staring at his steaming mug of tea as if it was to blame for the situation.
“Hi there, L.t.,” Soap announces his presence as if his lieutenant was even possible to sneak up on. He automatically heads to the coffee machine but he honestly isn’t sure if this is what he came here for in the first place. His mind is fully preoccupied with a new idea that may be one of his worst or best yet. “I heard the end of your talk with Price,” he admits out loud. Ghost’s head finally rises and turns towards the Scot. “I may have a solution for you.”
Ghost’s eyes narrow a bit but he’s either in a mood to indulge Soap or… really desperate.
“What would that be?”
“Join me for the holidays,” he blurts out. “I have a small flat in Edinburgh, you’d have to sleep on the couch but it’s actually more comfortable than beds on the base,” Soap knows it’s not much of an advertisement but he also doesn’t have that much to use as incentive beside his own company. Ghost is just staring at him with that impassive look of his and Soap sighs. Time to put everything on the table.
“I cook when I’m on leave,” he confesses as if it was something much more disturbing than it is. “A lot. It’s the best way to keep myself occupied and I usually end up with too much food that I give away to friends and neighbours,” he brushes his hand through his hair in embarrassment. “But during the holidays everyone already has a fuck-ton scran on them and even food banks can’t take too much perishables,” he’s aware he’s babbling by now so he crosses his arms across his chest and makes his final point. “So the thing is, L.t., if you come to eat my food, you’ll be doing me a favour. I swear it’s decent.”
Something shifts in Ghost’s eyes and Soap realises he may have started sounding a bit too eager by the end there.
The thing is, with even the faintest opportunity to spend his leave with Simon on the horizon, he has to try to make it happen using everything in his arsenal. He knows he’s a bit pathetic about this crush on Ghost but this may be the closest he’ll ever get to casually spending time with him. And Soap yearns to be by his side both in the field and outside of it when they’re not being shot at.
“Edinburgh, huh?” Ghost muses out loud and Soap grins.
ж
They loan a car to get to Scotland and while Soap is not a fan of Ghost’s driving, he gives up the wheel without arguments just because he doesn’t want to give the other man any reasons to change his mind about this whole thing.
Once they’re on the road, Soap decides to take advantage of being the passenger and use the time to come up with a menu and a shopping list. His kitchen is mostly empty regarding food except maybe some rice and forgotten tomato cans.
“Any food preferences?” the Scot asks while opening a note-taking app on his phone. Ghost just gives him an unimpressed look.
“Okay, L.t., I know we’re both used to eating whatever we’re given and it’s more about sustenance than taste when we’re on duty, but it doesn’t mean you can’t have food you like,” Soap says patiently. “And I will be cooking anyway so I may as well do something you will really enjoy.”
Ghost’s eyes soften and he looks away from the Scot’s gaze and back to the road.
“Seafood,” he murmurs after a moment. “Asian.”
“Okay, I can work with that,” Soap smiles, ridiculously pleased about getting his lieutenant to cooperate. “You good with spicy?”
“Yeah.”
“Awright, mate.”
He gets engrossed in his planning when suddenly Ghost speaks again.
“Remember to be careful about fake noodles, Johnny.”
Soap blinks in confusion and looks up from his phone.
“The impastas,” his lieutenant deadpans and Soap groans.
That’s the man his heart chose.
ж
Somehow they make it to Edinburgh in one piece, despite Ghost deciding to overtake slower cars in some risky parts of narrow British roads. For a sniper who’s able to stalk his prey for hours without moving a muscle, he’s a pretty impatient driver.
“I have a parking space assigned next to my flat, we’ll leave the car there and walk to get the groceries,” Soap lays out the plan while they’re navigating the city and getting closer to the destination. “It’ll be more efficient. Finding a parking spot next to the shops before Christmas is a fucking nightmare.”
Ghost hums in agreement while simultaneously glaring down a silver BMW that just cut them off. The glare in question is as menacing as ever, even with just a plain black balaclava Ghost chose to wear for the trip instead of the skull. It’s honestly hilarious to see the legendary Ghost using the same deathly stare that makes new recruits stutter through simple yes, sir being directed at a car whose driver is blissfully unaware of the special force psycho in the vehicle behind him.
Thankfully once they’re parked and out of the car, Ghost seems to relax… Or at least do his version of relaxed which is stop murdering random people with his gaze. For a second there Soap started considering leaving the man at the apartment and getting to the supermarket by himself, even though he’d have to do two trips if he went alone.
By some miracle, the shopping goes quite smoothly. Now they only need to transport the ungodly amounts of food Soap has bought back to his place. Soap is staring at the bags, doing mental math on how best to split it all, when Ghost simply snatches most of the groceries, barely leaving anything for Soap to grab.
"Aww, I've always wanted to get myself a big strong man to carry my shit for me," he quips, and knowing well that he won't make the man give up any of the bags he already claimed, he takes what’s left and leads the way back.
"Well maybe you should've started on that by not getting so ripped, those biceps must be scaring the suitors off," Ghost responds, deadpan.
Soap is very grateful that they're already out in the cold weather because he can blame the wind for the redness in his cheeks.
"Didn't scare ya off," he says and he wanted it to be teasing but it ends up sounding like he's worried Ghost is going to just turn around and walk away then and there. He kinda has been worried about that since they left the base. He still can't believe he got the man to join him here.
“Well, you promised me good food,” his lieutenant responds teasingly. If he has noticed Soap’s weird tone, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Small mercies.
ж
Feeling a bit tired after the journey and the shopping earlier in the day, Soap doesn’t feel like doing something overly complicated for dinner. But he still doesn’t want the first meal he does for Ghost to be something too plain. Scrambled eggs with mushrooms and some veggies seem like a good middle ground.
Once all the groceries are put away, Soap gets to cooking. Ghost takes a seat on one of the bar stools next to the counter, watching the process intently. Soap’s kitchen is pretty big for how small the apartment is, it’s a one bedroom after all, but Ghost manages to be an intimidating figure in the most spacious of rooms. No pressure then.
“I just… Never imagined you alone during holidays,” Ghost admits abruptly. Soap doesn’t have to ask what he means, he knows the other man sees him as the sociable one. He is , he’s quick to make friends and he’s cheerful by nature. But Ghost sometimes seems to forget that where there’s light there’s always shadow too, even if there’s less darkness in John MacTavish’s life than in Simon Riley’s, it’s not absent.
“Family kicked me out just before I enlisted,” Soap says casually, not stopping in chopping the mushrooms even for a heartbeat. It’s easier to talk about it like it’s yesterday’s weather than treat it with the crushing weight it held when it happened to his younger self. “Usually I find some friends who are on leave at the same time to spend time together, but during the holidays when everyone’s got plans with their families… It feels too much like I’m imposing.”
There’s a moment of silence between them and Soap steals a glance towards the other man. Ghost is watching him intently, something calculating in his eyes. The Scot focuses back on his mushrooms as he dumps them onto the pre-heated pan.
“Your family kicked you out for joining the military?” Ghost asks at last. Fair assumption on his part but not what happened.
“Nope,” Soap turns around to browse through the ingredients he left out on the counter earlier. “They’d probably love that one if they knew,” he lets out a laugh but it’s flat even to his own ears. He finally locates the scallions and grabs them before crossing his gaze with Ghost's. “They kicked me out because I’m gay. I joined the military cause I had nowhere else to go.”
He gets back to the chopping board.
"Completely unrelated but do they live nearby?" Ghost asks. Soap turns back around and sees the man eyeing his knife rack. He snorts before he can stop himself and feels the tension he didn't realise was growing in his shoulders all but dissolves.
"Keep your hands away from my knives, these are for cooking ," he joins in on the joke, pointing at the man with the blade in his hand. "I know you've got at least three of your own in your socks right now."
Ghost only hums in response and it doesn't entirely sound like an agreement. Soap really hopes Ghost will stay away from the knives, though. Kitchen equipment may be the only thing in this flat he cared about enough to think through when moving in.
Once the food is ready and Soap distributes the two plates between them, a ridiculous nervous feeling suddenly twists his guts as he’s taking the other seat by the counter. He really hopes Ghost will like the meal. He watches Ghost roll up his balaclava up to his nose and take the first bite while the Scot absentmindedly moves his own food around on the plate, pretending he’s not waiting for the reaction from the other man. The sight of the scar crossing Ghost’s mouth, which never fails at making Soap feel a little crazy, is not helping things.
"You said your cooking was decent ," Ghost comments after he swallows the first two bites.
Soap freezes, his own fork halfway up to his mouth. Oh creepin’ Jesus, he hadn’t come up with plan B on how to keep Ghost by his side in the event of the man absolutely hating the food.
"Don't give me that look, Johnny, it's fuckin delicious. Bloody hell."
Soap feels his face heat up at the compliment, he mumbles a “Thanks, L.t.,” under his breath and shoves some eggs into his mouth before he says something stupid.
“I usually rewatch Star Wars during holidays,” Soap says after a moment of silence. “Not much to do all alone,” he shrugs.
“Okay, sure. I’ve only seen the old ones ages ago.”
“We’ll start with those and see what we feel like next,” Soap decides. He lets out a little sigh of relief – Ghost likes his cooking and agreed to the movie marathon.
So far, so good.
ж
Soap is not surprised when the next day he leaves his bedroom at dawn and Ghost is already up. He's sitting on the couch, the black balaclava from before in its place, his pillow and the rest of the bedding already neatly tucked away on the chair by the wall. He seems to be studying the piles of DVDs and BluRays under the TV. Last night they managed to watch only Episode IV before they decided to retire for the night. Soap wonders if Ghost will want to continue today or decide for something else he may spot in the pile. He seems like a John Wick kind of guy.
“Mornin’, L.t.,” Soap says and a bit of a yawn escapes his lips. Seems like the leave is slowly getting to him. “Whad’dya say for some light breakfast, we go for a run, and when we’re back I’ll prepare us some proper scran?”
Soap doesn’t make himself go through full training routines while on leave but being away from the base usually quickly has him on edge so he keeps himself busy. Jogging in the morning usually does the trick to prevent his body from feeling too restless.
“Good plan, sergeant,” Ghost agrees.
Running around the neighbourhood reminds Soap that it’s actually Christmas time with the ever-present colourful lights and plastic Santas on every corner. He’s not one to really celebrate the event since he’s been spending this time alone for years now. He didn’t bother decorating his flat or doing anything in particular to mark the occasion. It’s just a winter leave at this point. He wonders for a minute if maybe Ghost expects any festivities to happen but he abandons the thought quite quickly. Soap delivered on everything he promised Ghost while inviting him over. If the man wants anything more than a place to sleep and freshly prepared food, he has to take care of it himself.
After the jog and quick showers, Soap treats them both with full English breakfast. He’s still really proud he worked out the technique of serving it with everything on the plate at the perfect temperature.
“One of the two English things I love,” he admits, after they both polished their meals. Ghost has probably no idea how happy it makes Soap to see him empty the plate every time.
“What’s the other?” Ghost asks, eyeing him with curiosity.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Soap dodges. The answer here would be You and they’re not having this conversation probably ever. He’s getting too comfortable around Ghost, one of these days he’s going to blabber too much. “You want coffee or tea?”
“You’ve got tea?” Ghost says dubiously.
“F’course, I got some for you,” Soap says as if it was obvious. He takes the box out of one of the cabinets and shows it to Ghost. “That’s the brand you like, right? I grabbed one based on what I’ve seen you drink from your stash on base. I didn’t have time to ask you in the store, I put it in the basket when I sent you for bread and then forgot about it,” he adds with a little laugh.
Ghost is just staring at him as if Soap just announced he’s keeping C4 in the oven.
“That’s the brand I like, yeah,” he says at last, his voice carefully neutral.
“Magic. You trusting me to make it for ya or should I just leave it in your hands?”
“I’ll do it… Thank you, Johnny,” Ghost takes the box and just stares at it for a moment. “Take a seat, I’ll make you your coffee, too.”
ж
They get to watching Episode V and Ghost seems a bit more into it than the day before. Yesterday it was mostly Soap commenting and the other man making sounds that meant either agreement or disagreement but this time Ghost is discussing the strategies and weapons used right at the beginning during the battle on Hoth.
“I wonder what firing a blaster rifle would feel like when sniping,” Ghost muses. “Are these projectiles even affected by wind?”
The conversation about blasters transforms into discourse of probable real life use of lightsabers in the field. Soap ends up a little terrified and even more in love with Ghost at the end of that discussion. Later on, when Yoda is being a little green asshole to Luke, Soap even hears a small chuckle from his lieutenant.
After the movie ends, Soap moves back to the kitchen to start working on their lunch. He’s doing pad thai with shrimps and even though he knows that’s a dish he always nails, he can’t help but feel a little nervous again. That’s the kind of food Ghost said he enjoys and Soap really doesn’t want to disappoint him.
For a moment there Soap thought Ghost won’t join him this time for the preparation of the meal, but as he’s scouring his cabinets for fish sauce he knows he bought but currently is rudely hiding from him, a voice reverberates behind him.
“What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?”
Soap is proud of himself for not jumping because he did not register the other man entering the kitchen. But that’s practice of being around Ghost at this point. The man has really no right to be so stealthy with that build.
“I dinnae know, what is?”
“A carrot.”
Soap finally locates the fish sauce and turns around with the bottle in his hand.
“Awful, L.t.,” he comments and he can see the amusement in the dark eyes. Soap is apparently so gone on Ghost that this look still makes it worth it to hear all the bad jokes.
ж
Soap is woken up by shouting in the other room.
He’s out of his bed and sprinting out the door with a gun in his hand before he fully registers where and when he is. Only once he’s scanning his living room for hostiles, it fully hits him there’s no one else in the flat; just his lieutenant thrashing on the couch, clearly having a nightmare. The sound came from Ghost… Soap puts his gun down on the coffee table and slowly approaches the other man. The room is not completely covered in darkness thanks to the glow of the street lamps coming through the windows so he can see his lieutenant quite clearly now that his eyes have adjusted to the gloom.
“Ghost,” he says in a soft voice, keeping a distance of a few steps for now. “You’re safe, you’re dreaming. Wake up, Simon.”
A pained sound escapes Ghost’s mouth, muffled by the mask still on his face but unmistakable. He’s tense, clenching his fists, and still asleep.
Soap lets out a deep breath and braces himself for getting punched in the face. Then he approaches closer and crouches next to the couch. He gently puts his hand over the other man’s chest, feeling Ghost’s heart pounding with adrenaline under his fingertips.
“I’m here, Simon. Please, wake up. Come back to me.”
Ghost’s eyes open abruptly, the whites haunting in the semi-darkness. Then there’s a hand on the Scot’s wrist, squeezing hard, and the other threateningly holding his throat. Soap freezes in place.
“It’s only me, it’s Johnny,” he keeps his voice soft. When he swallows, he feels the other man’s fingers twitch around his throat. “You’re safe, Simon.”
Ghost breathes in and out, once, then twice. His eyes are scanning Soap’s face as if it belonged to a stranger, looking for a trap, seeking danger. The Scot’s wrist is really starting to hurt but he doesn’t dare move.
Then all of a sudden Ghost retreats.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, sitting properly on the couch and ripping the balaclava off of his head. He’s breathing heavily, learning forward and staring down at his own feet.
With the biggest crisis averted, Soap allows himself to unceremoniously fall onto his ass from the crouching position and take a more relaxed seat on the floor. While still closely observing Ghost, he moves his wrist around to check for damage – nothing broken or sprained but even without looking at it he knows there’ll be finger shaped bruises forming there soon.
“Simon, are you alright?” Soap breaks the silence. “Do you need anything?”
Ghost gazes up at him, looking as close to spooked as the Scot has ever seen him.
“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, Johnny,” he says and his voice sounds genuinely distressed.
“I’m fine, dinnae worry about it,” he shakes his head. “Do you want some water? Tea?”
Ghost just stares at him in disbelief.
“I’ll make you tea,” he decides for his lieutenant and gets up from the floor, gracefully despite the overall circumstances. He’s fully awake by now.
The other man immediately follows him into the kitchen.
“It’s awright, I’ve seen you make it, I won’t fuck it up,” Soap reassures him but Ghost doesn’t leave. He stands motionless barely two steps away from Soap and stares at the electric kettle for full half a minute before he admits:
“I don’t want to stay alone right now.”
Soap’s breath hitches at the admission, he feels as if his own chest was crushed by the weight of the words. Hells fuckin’ bells, he really wants to gather Ghost in his arms and hold him until he falls back asleep feeling safe. But he can’t really do that now, can he? It’s not his place.
So he turns around and makes tea for both of them. It’s not his favourite hot beverage but adding coffee to the adrenaline already in his veins right now is a very stupid idea if he plans to fall asleep in the next twenty four hours. His body is already as alert as during a mission.
He puts one of the steaming mugs of tea in Ghost’s hands and steers them both back to the couch. Ghost takes a small sip of the tea but then he just remains sitting in place, unmoving, for a long moment. Soap feels useless. He never witnessed his lieutenant having violent nightmares like this before, even when they had to sleep next to each other on missions.
“Christmas time is different, difficult, ” Ghost says abruptly. Soap sees he’s still tense as a string, ready to pounce any second. “I used to have a brother and a nephew, he was so small…” he confesses out of nowhere and Soap stops breathing, afraid of disrupting the moment. Ghost isn’t looking at him, his face turned towards the window even though not much can really be seen outside with the pouring rain. “They were murdered during the holidays. My mother, too.”
Soap doesn’t know how to react in the first moment. He is also suddenly and ridiculously happy he doesn’t do Christmas decorations
He’s used to giving comfort to fellow soldiers when they lose one of their own. But this is Ghost, a walking mystery, a man who rarely allows himself to show emotions, baring himself like this— But Soap has to do something.
“I know words don’t really change anything but I’m so sorry, Simon,” he says and dares to put one of his hands on the other man’s shoulder. To Soap’s utter surprise, Ghost leans into it. Soap braces himself for a possible punch in the face for a second time this night, then puts his mug away, and wraps his arms around Ghost in a full hug.
Ghost freezes at first and right as the Scot starts to move away, he takes a shaking breath and reciprocates the embrace. He rests his forehead against Soap’s shoulder and his hands grab fistfuls of fabric as he clings to the Scot’s t-shirt as if it was a lifeline.
After a while, he risks moving his hand against Ghost’s back, his fingers drawing meaningless patterns in a soothing gesture, and impossibly, the man gradually relaxes into it, his body heavier against Soap’s. The moment stretches but Soap is happy to stay in Ghost’s arms for as long as the other man needs him.
ж
Next time Soap stirs awake, it’s fuckin’ noon.
They must’ve ended up falling asleep on the couch together, Soap with his feet still on the ground and bent to the side in a way that allowed him to use the armrest as a pillow. Ghost, somehow, is fully on the couch, partially folded with his legs drawn up, and partially sprawled over Soap, resting his head on the Scot’s stomach. One of Soap’s arms has been resting on Ghost’s chest as if keeping him in place. The positions have no right to be comfortable but somehow they have managed to sleep through the dawn which usually has them both awake and ready for action.
Unfortunately, Soap was so taken aback by their sleeping arrangements that he physically startled at first and that rouse Ghost as well. They untangle themselves without a word and take a seat next to each other trying to get their heads around last night. Soap yawns and brushes his hand through his hair. It’s a miracle his back isn’t aching.
Ghost grabs the balaclava that has been laying around the couch since the abrupt awakening in the night… and then puts it down on the coffee table next to the abandoned gun and two mugs of unfinished tea, leaving himself uncovered.
Soap has seen Ghost's face more than once at this point but it's always a treat. He hadn't even thought of commenting on the mask when they arrived - even if it's just the two of them and far from the base, Soap knows that it's more than just identity matter for Ghost and he accepted it about the man a long time ago. He was ready to stare at the black cloth for the entirety of their leave without a word about it.
Now, seeing him in the soft morning light with his face unobstructed by anything – it takes his breath away a little. It's not like he’s not fond of the dishevelled hair and smudged face paint that usually accompanies the occasions when he gets to see Ghost without the mask; he may be enjoying that look a bit too much, to be honest. But right now, there's no sweaty mess on the top of Ghost's head and no paint staining his skin, just soft dirty-blond hair falling over his forehead and visible bags under his eyes. The scar crossing his face is fully visible without the cover of night’s gloom, Soap follows its trail from where it starts above Ghost’s left brow, then crosses his nose as it continues on the right side of his face, then branches out into two in the middle of the man’s cheek – one line cutting across his mouth, the other going all the way down below the jaw. Soap’s hands burn with the need to touch the scar, to outline it with his fingertips. The Scot can’t say that the urge is new.
The awareness of how gorgeous Simon is hits him every time he gets to see him like this. The additional layer of longing on top of the fact that he was already half in love with Ghost while only knowing the mask.
There are new temporary lines on Simon’s cheek, left from the creases of Soap’s t-shirt. Seeing him like this feels… painfully domestic.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Breakfast?” he says, already standing up and heading to the kitchen. His heart is sprinting as if he just went through drills with Price, not woken up after multiple hours of solid sleep.
He’s not running away. Just making a tactical retreat before he does something extremely stupid.
ж
It’s another two days of cooking, going on runs together, and watching movies – the jury is still out whether inviting Ghost to spend the leave together was one of Soap’s best or worst ideas ever. These unremarkable days together are some of the best memories Soap has gathered in his life. He’s also more in love with Ghost than ever.
“We’re done with the prequels,” Soap announces, while scrolling through the Star Wars tab in the streaming app. He had to bring out the bourbon to survive some of the Jar Jar scenes but Episode III is always a treat.
“That Fett guy was really interesting, too bad there wasn’t more of him in the second movie,” Ghost muses.
Soap nods knowingly. “The seismic charge is the reason why I got into explosives.”
Ghost rolls his eyes in a way that the Scot reads as exasperated but affectionate. The balaclava hasn’t made an appearance while they’re inside the flat since that night and Soap is feeling spoiled with all the expressions he gets to see now.
“Actually, if you liked Fett,” Soap gets hit with the idea and straightens in his seat. “We should go with Mandalorian next. It’s a tv-show this time, we can start after lunch.”
Ghost nods and then gets up to follow Soap into the kitchen. He always joins the Scot while he’s cooking, observing from his perch by the counter. Soap isn’t sure if he’s just that bored or he wants to know what goes into his food, but he doesn’t mind.
“Any chance we can do pad thai again?” Ghost asks. It’s the first time he actually did ask for anything in particular. Soap turns to him, beaming.
“So you really did like it,” he can’t help but express his giddiness.
“I like everything you make, Johnny,” Ghost says in a tone that for the man sounds borderline affectionate. “Only tea still needs work.”
“Oi, L.t.!” Soap shoves him in the shoulder playfully for that last comment but then adds with a wink. “Yeah, we can do pad thai again.”
Ghost’s eyes linger on the Scot’s arm as it retreats from that pretend punch. As Soap expected, the marks from his lieutenant’s grab back then when he awoke from the nightmare bloomed into deeply coloured bruises all around his wrist. Soap barely pays attention to them, he’s used to being battered. But the other man has been frowning at it every time it gets into his view.
“Come on, I’m getting hungry.”
ж
They’re halfway through the first season and Ghost seems to be really into it. Soap has heard that small chuckle that’s more of a sharp exhale of his right at the beginning when the Mandalorian said “I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold” – figures that the man would enjoy that. Since then he’s shared a few comments and some grunts in response to Soap’s own observations but mostly he’s just watching intently. Usually he would be preparing dinner by this hour, but for now they’re still in front of the tv with some snacks and that bourbon from the other night.
Soap is really excited when they get to the episode where Mando and the ex-shocktrooper help a village. Maybe it speaks to him a bit too personally with the idea of making a stand and defending what’s yours, a small team making all the difference. And then there’s the hint of romance between a local woman, Omera, and Mando.
“She knows what she’s about but, damn , I would take that man with the mask and all,” Soap remarks out loud what he always thinks during the scene where Omera almost takes Mando’s helmet off, the alcohol loosening his filter. “You know you want him, girl, even without seeing his face. It’s about the energy.”
He takes a sip of his drink and only then realises what he has just said with Ghost right there . Hell’s fuckin’ bells, he’s not even drunk. He puts the glass down and keeps looking at the table, definitely not meeting Ghost’s eyes.
“That’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it, Johnny? Cause I remember you being quite vocal about taking masks off,” Ghost teases and Soap hides his face into his hands. “Or are you actually into masks and you were you just covering your bases back then?”
Soap is frozen in place, but he feels his face heating up. What has he got himself into?
And what is Ghost doing right now exactly?
“Is the voice enough for you?” The man is suddenly much closer, speaking low into his ear. Soap was so focused on his own panicking he didn’t hear him move. A shiver runs up his spine against his will. “Should I put my mask back on?”
After another moment of Soap staying motionless, calloused fingers wrap around his own, unexpectedly gentle, and move his hand away. He resists for only a second before uncovering his flushed face.
“Is that what you want?” Ghost continues his questions, his fingers now on Soap’s chin in order to steer him so that their eyes finally meet.
There’s something in Ghost’s gaze that makes Soap’s breath hitch. Something he dreamt of seeing but didn’t let himself hope.
“Is that what you’re really asking me, Simon? Do you really want the answer? Or are you just fucking with me because you’re bored?”
“What do you want, Johnny?” His dark eyes and low voice are serious, without even a hint of teasing. And Soap takes a leap.
“I want you, masked or not. Whatever you give me,” he lets out a small nervous laugh. “You already have me wrapped around your finger, ya bastard.”
Ghost’s hand moves to Soap’s t-shirt and he pulls him in. Then finally, miraculously, their mouths meet. Soap can’t help but whine deep in his throat, even when it’s just a brush of lips. These past few days he’s been going a bit crazy with being this close to Ghost – but never close enough. But now, at last… Soap moves to crawl into Ghost’s lap, to be able to properly put his arms around him and feel the other man flushed against him. He’s been missing this warmth since that night on the couch and now he can finally reach for it freely. Ghost welcomes him with an appreciative grunt, he puts his hands on Soap’s hips and deepens the kiss.
Soap soon gets a little light-headed, from the surreality of it all or the kiss itself, he’s not sure.
“You gotta breathe, Johnny,” Ghost is the one to retreat with an amused smirk. Soap pouts at him, even though he’s panting, and finally allows himself to indulge his craving to follow Ghost’s scar with his fingers. The other man stares at him intently as Soap’s fingertips travel along his brow, then nose, and down his cheek.
“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” Soap confesses and then leans in to brush his lips against the place where the mark branches out into two lines.
Ghost pulls him down so that they’re both laying down and then joins them in another kiss. Later on, they just rest there on the couch for a while, Soap sprawled over his lieutenant with his face buried in the man’s neck, blissfully drowning in the scents of Ghost’s skin, gunpowder, and black tea. Ghost’s fingers are playing with Soap’s hair. The show is still playing in the background but none of them really cares about that right now.
“Why now?” Soap can’t help but ask. “I’ve been following you like a pathetic sod since Las Almas.”
Ghost lets out a long exhale.
“I expected you to get over it,” he admits at last. “No one really sticks around me for long. It seemed easier to wait for that rather than learn how to let you go.”
“I didn’t get over it,” Soap says out loud as if it wasn’t clear. He leaves a few kisses along Ghost’s jaw.
“These last few days, here with you in this shitty apartment, not really doing anything but being with you, goddamnit Johnny, it felt like home for the first time since… Since I last played with my nephew,” Ghost’s voice is barely above a whisper and Soap stops breathing, afraid to miss anything. “I felt like I want to spend every leave like this, doing whatever and wherever but with you. And that feeling is fucking addicting, I could only resist for so long.”
Soap moves then, climbing up a bit so that he can rest his forehead against Ghost’s.
“I want that too, Simon,” he says.
ж
When Soap makes the executive decision that they finally need to eat some dinner ‘cause he won’t have Ghost going hungry at his place, his lieutenant gets up with him to follow as usual.
“Still afraid I’ll poison your food?” Soap jokes and Ghost looks at him questioningly. “You’re always observing when I cook.”
“Because I like watching you do something you enjoy, you absolute muppet,” Ghost says with exasperation and pecks the top of his head, taking advantage of his height. Soap feels his face heat up both in embarrassment and anger at the reminder how much shorter he is.
“Okay, yeah, sure,” he mumbles in response. “Come on, you’ll make yourself tea.”
After their plates are empty and their stomachs full, Soap entwines their fingers and tugs Ghost towards his bedroom. What he doesn’t expect is resistance. He turns towards his lieutenant and the inner conflict is conspicuous on the man’s face. Soap feels his own expression soften.
“I’m not dragging you to my bed expecting sex,” he says in a patient tone not dissimilar to the one he used while explaining that Ghost can have food preferences.. “Just stay with me?”
Ghost takes a shaky breath and Soap is shocked to see embarrassment in the dark eyes and a sprinkle of blush on the usually pale cheeks.
“I think I’ll want it eventually,” he admits. “I just need some more time to…”
Soap squeezes Ghost’s hand when his voice falters and no more words come.
“It’s aw well good,” he says, knowing full well his gaze right now may be revealing a little bit too much about the intensity of his feelings towards the other man but he can’t keep it in anymore. Not with Simon being like this.
Ghost lets out a small breathy chuckle at the phrasing, as Soap hoped he would. “Speak English, MacTavish,” he chastises in a voice that’s missing the usual edge present when he’s making remarks like this, squeezing the Scot’s hand back.
“Want to go be my pillow for the night?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively to loosen up the atmosphere.
“How could I refuse such an offer,” Ghost snorts and this time when Soap starts walking towards the bedroom, the other man is right beside him.
ж
It’s Christmas the next day and they do absolutely nothing to mark the occasion. Without really talking about it, they skip their morning jogging in order not to run into festive families around the neighbourhood. After pancakes for breakfast, they go back to their Star Wars marathon.
"Hey, L.t.," Soap says while he’s looking for the episode they stopped actually watching on, putting all of his will into suppressing a smirk. "Why doesn’t Mace Windu use Microsoft software?"
Ghost lets out a deep sigh but gives him an expectant look.
"Because he has a bad experience with windows."
Soap manages to catch a glimpse of the other man's mouth slightly curving in amusement before he murmurs: "Oh shut your face." And then he pulls Soap closer to crush their lips together in a kiss, keeping Soap quiet with his own clever tongue.
Turns out this is Soap’s best winter leave ever after all.