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Soap awoke to short fingernails scratching at the stubble on his chin, uneven and patchy because his electric razor broke last week and his backup blade was blunt. It was pleasant, comforting. The sensation made goosebumps spread down his neck to his arms, one of which was loosely resting on a broad chest, his hand wrapped up to clasp around an even broader shoulder clothed in a thin grey t-shirt that was wrinkled with sleep. It was probably the best way he could have awoken, better than he could possibly have asked for.
Taking a deep breath in to wake himself up slowly, musk hit his senses. The musk of another man, of deodorant and body wash, sweat and shampoo.
Ghost looked well-rested.
He had a lazy smile resting on his features as he watched Soap keen into his fingernails, only encouraging him to continue - motions dragging down his jawline, to the sharp angle of his jaw near his ear, and down to the back of his neck where his mohawk ended. This brought Soap’s face deeper into the crook of his neck, nose in his clavicle, breathing in his woody soap and spicy aftershave.
“Mornin’,” he managed to mumble against the skin, voice gravelly from disuse.
Ghost huffed an amused breath out his nose, which tickled his hairline. “Good morning.”
He pulled back, blinking against the harsh sunlight that was filtering in through the blinds of the other’s room as his strong features came into focus. “How long ‘ave you been awake?”
Ghost hummed, and he felt the vibration where his arm lay across the taller man’s chest. “Not long.”
He watched as the man’s eyes flicked down to his lips, only lingering for a second before they went lower to gaze at his bare chest, then a little lower to where his happy trail went down under the sheets. When his mask was off, it was so much easier to read his expressions - truly wearing his heart on his sleeve. Maybe that’s why he wore the mask in the first place.
“Appreciating the view?”
“Always.”
It was Soap’s turn to huff out a laugh, resting his head back against the shitty pillow that didn’t have enough stuffing in it. He felt the calloused hand trail down from the back of his neck, tracing idle circles over the skin of his bare chest, near his collarbones. Soap closed his eyes and let himself sink into the feeling, enjoying the intimacy and the soft touches, gentleness being a welcome stranger between them. He felt a thumb press down into the junction of his neck where he knew a purple hickey bloomed under his skin.
Soap took in a deep breath through his nose, relishing the warmth and comfort of Ghost's body against his own. They barely fit together on the single bed, but somehow they made it work. A steady heartbeat vibrated where his arm was pressed against Ghost's chest, and he subconsciously matched his breathing to it. It was as if they moved as one unit, one person, the way they did on the field. Their bodies entwined together in two parts to make a whole.
It wasn't just the physical closeness that he enjoyed in moments like this, it was the emotional connection he had with Ghost, as cheesy as it sounded. They had really gone through it together, seen and experienced things that most people wouldn’t even have nightmares about. It was the trust and the bond they had built over time that allowed them to work together so well, to rely on each other the way they did.
He knew that their ‘relationship’ was unconventional, and that some people would never understand it. But in a world where every day held a new danger, where they had to put their lives in each other's hands so often, it made sense. They were each other's safe haven in a world of chaos.
As he lay there with Ghost, Soap's mind wandered to the demands of the day ahead. The thought of going back to the gritty reality of their work made him feel a sense of dread, in a way it didn’t used to. He wished he could just stay in the safety of the bed, with the weight of Ghost's arm on his shoulder and the soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing in his ear.
“I gotta go soon,” Ghost mumbled, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them, fingers stilling on his chest.
“Yeah, I know.”
He felt a pang of regret at the thought of having to leave the warmth of the bed and the company of the taller man. He wished he could stay there with him all morning, tangled up in the sheets, and forget about the rest of his responsibilities for a little while. But for now, the best he could do was enjoy the moment while he had it.
He raised one of his legs to wrap around Ghost’s lower body under the sheets.
The younger man gave him a look of warning. “Johnny.”
“Si.”
“It’s past six already, I’m late.”
“Yeah, well,” he hooked his foot around the older’s shin and squeezed his thigh around him, practically pinning him in place. “Should a’ve thought of that before beddin’ me, big guy.”
Ghost rolled his eyes, but was soothingly petting the thick hair on his forearm. “Didn’t know you got so clingy.”
“You love it.”
He didn’t deny it, so Soap counted that as a win. He couldn't help but admire the way the muscles of Ghost’s broad shoulders moved under his shirt, the way his thin blond hair was tousled in loose curls that framed his handsome face, and the way his sleepy gaze lingered on him in silent appreciation. It wasn't just physical attraction, though - he was drawn to Ghost's emotional strength, his courage, his unwavering dedication. The way he showed love. The way that he touched him so gently, like he was afraid he would break.
It wasn't often that Soap allowed himself to be vulnerable, to let his guard down and just be with someone, but with Ghost, it felt different. It felt safe. In the midst of the chaos and danger they faced so often, times like this were rare and precious. It was a bittersweet moment, one that he knew he would remember long after they had left the bed and gone their separate ways.
“Coffee?” Ghost asked, shuffling to sit up (much to Soap’s protest), stretching his muscular arms out in front of him. The fabric of his shirt strained over his biceps, which was a nice sight from where he was curled up to his side, almost underneath him.
“Thanks,” Soap replied gently, savouring the warmth of the bed a little longer as Ghost shuffled to swing his legs off the side and stood up.
He watched as he padded over to the ‘kitchen’ in the corner of the room, which was actually just a microwave and kettle on top of a wooden crate that were both plugged in directly to the power generator. They weren’t supposed to have appliances in the barracks - but he supposed Ghost was always an exception.
Soap stifled a yawn, “Thought you said you were late?”
He heard the kettle flick on, and rumbling started filling the air as it heated up.
“Changed my mind, the new recruits can wait. They’ll be grateful that ‘ve had my coffee first anyway.”
A few minutes later, Ghost returned to the bed with two steaming mugs of coffee. He handed one to Soap who was propped on the edge of the bed before settling beside him, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. They sipped from their mugs in comfortable silence, enjoying the quiet of the early morning.
Soap savoured the warmth of the liquid as it travelled down his throat, easing away the remnants of sleepiness. He watched as Ghost leaned back with one arm behind him on the mattress, his eyes closed and his breathing steady, looking relaxed and content.
The morning light filtered in through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room. It was a reminder that the day was already well underway, and that time was slipping away. Soap tried to push the thoughts of his responsibilities to the back of his mind to hold onto the moment for just a little longer.
Ghost opened his eyes, and they shared a brief smile before he threw back the rest of his coffee and stood up, stretching his arms above his head.
“I’m training today,” Ghost said, breaking the silence once again.
Soap nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility settle back onto his shoulders. It was time to put on his game face and get ready for whatever the day had in store for them.
“Combat?”
“Shooting.”
Soap huffed. “Why didn’t they ask me to train shooting?”
“You really wanna be around a bunch o’ teenagers with guns?”
Soap grimaced. “Maybe not.”
Ghost chuckled, the sound deep and reassuring. “Don't worry, mate. You'll get your turn.”
The word mate, as awfully British as it was, sounded harshly contrasting in comparison to the names he’d used the previous night. The softer, more admiration-filled pet names that were whispered into the shell of his ear that made his chest stutter and skin burn with desire. Just the memory of it was tinting his cheekbones.
They were new at this, whatever ‘this’ was. The word lover felt a little too heavy on his tongue, but the idea was growing on him.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”
Ghost frowned. “Where are you stationed this morning?”
“Ah dinnae ken.”
Ghost hummed. He must have remembered a few of his Scottish slang phrases, because he didn’t ask for a translation. “Wherever you are, if you get a break, come down to the shooting range and we’ll grab lunch.”
“Are you asking me on a date, Lieutenant?”
“Absolutely not.”
Soap grinned, placing his mug on the dusty polished-concrete floor with a soft click. “Shame, I was hoping for some romance.”
Ghost rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face gave him away. “You know me, Soap. I'm all business.”
Soap nodded, trying not to let his grin falter. “Right, of course.”
It was a shame that his terms of endearment were shedding the further away they got from that moment last night, first the pet names, now his own name. The word ‘Soap’ sounded foreign coming from the taller man.
He must have noticed his face drop or something, because suddenly the man was standing in front of where he was propped on the edge of the bed, between his legs, hands gently squeezing his shoulders in reassurance. He resisted the urge to lean forward and rest his face on the taller man’s stomach.
“Doesn’t have to be called a date for us to enjoy time together,” he said softly, hands curling around his neck to play with the stray tufts of hair where his mohawk was overgrown. He really needed to get a new razor.
He tilted his head upwards to meet his eye. “What’ve you got against that word? Or any of the other words?”
The mood seemed to shift.
“What, like ‘boyfriend’? We’ve talked about this before-”
“No, we didn’t talk. You didn’t talk, you just said you dinnae want me to use that word, and that was the end of it.”
The older man took half a step back to run a hand through his own messy hair, looking a bit defeated. In that moment, he was looking a little less like Ghost and a little more like Simon. “I’ve got enough to lose, I don’t want to add you to that list.”
“Again, should a’ve thought about that before beddin’ me.”
“I was thinkin’ about other things when I was beddin’ you, Johnny.”
Soap huffed out a laugh, picking up his mug again to busy his hands. “Alright, I’ll give you that.”
He was mostly just happy that Ghost had called him Johnny again. He might have seemed unwavering, but he knew how the things that he said affected him. And he knew what to say to make it right again.
“I should get going,” the taller man said with a sigh, warmth receding with his proximity as he took another step back.
Soap nodded, disappointment tugging at his chest as he watched Ghost shove things into a duffel bag. He knew that duty called, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy at the thought of his lover being pulled away from him yet again. Even if he wasn’t supposed to use that word.
When Ghost grabbed a handful of combat gear and started undressing, Soap averted his eyes - a habit, maybe, to show respect to a comrade. Or maybe as some sort of self restraint so that his mind didn’t subconsciously call the man his lover again.
But the quick parting kiss that was pressed to his distracted lips brought him back again, enveloped in that longing and admiration that he couldn’t help but feel. Something that he couldn’t deny himself, because it was engraved so deeply into his soul at this point it would be painful to ignore.
Soap knew that their relationship was far from perfect, but he also knew that they were in it together. In a world filled with uncertainty, it was these little moments together that made it all worth it.
“Haste ye back, bonnie.”
“English, McTavish,” Ghost chastised as he slipped out the door, although the playful glint in his eye told him he knew what it meant.
“Sorry. I said - I hope one of the new recruits shoots you in the foot.”