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“Come on, man, a cold beer can only do you good.”
Soap could only groan at Gaz’s offer, not even bothering to roll over to face him. “Nah.” Although, he knew he was right, a good drink was all he needed after a hell of a time. There he was, grumbling in bed, all stitched up and with a few ribs broken and a damn annoying bandage around his torso. It’s been a few days already since he returned to base and if he felt like a truck had hit him multiple times, now it was like that same truck had an awful sense of humour and had parked right over his chest. Useless to say, Soap still felt like shit.
“I’m not going back to Price saying good old Soap will stay in bed another day.” Gaz crossed his arms, leaning on the door frame. “Fine, you win. I’ll pay.”
Soap scoffed, looking over his shoulder. “Since when yah do?”
“Ugh, since Price wanted everyone to go for once, you’d be the only one staying! Even König is going!” That peeked Soap’s attention. “Even Ghost.” There was a certain style in the way those words rolled over Gaz’s tongue and his smug smile grew a little bit as the Scot sluggishly heaved out of bed, cursing some weird Gaelic word.
And there they were, the whole bunch, loudly entering their usual pub downtown, some laughing, some ordering their drinks from across the room. It gave the “let’s go unnoticed” a new meaning. That night was a derby night, so the majority of patrons had taken seat under the huge tv and cheering for their team to win.
Gaz kept his word, immediately offering a cold Guinness to Soap before joining to watch the match, literally bumping into the other guys, teasing on how this and that rugby player was going to score first. Bets started flowing in.
Soap had stayed aside holding his drink, curiously looking around himself. He was indeed surprised to see König joining, the odd lad had his good amount of issues, but he seemed content alone in the most isolated corner of the room, still wearing his hood of course, lifting it just enough to bring chunks of the meat pie and French fries to his mouth. Price had expressed his gratitude to the young man for joining and reassured him to call him in case he needed. Soap had snorted at that, pleased to see Price being the dad of the situation once again, which he did as well with him as he got out of his room. Good old Price. He toasted to that.
Another tall figure caught his attention, standing behind the group of sport supporters holding his usual whiskey, his signature balaclava always present. Soap had never thought of Ghost being a rugby fan… indeed he looked incredibly bored, finding the ice in his glass more entertaining than the match itself. There was something off for sure, LT looked distant, even more than usual, more detached, more thoughtful… and it’s been like that since they returned from their last mission. Soap ended badly injured, but if it wasn’t for Ghost, he would have surely ended in a bloody coffin. It was weird how they barely shared a word afterwards, just a dry “Get some rest.” and a “Try to not bleed all over the infirmary.” Johnny pouted in thought, saddened he could see the bottom of the now empty glass. Out of instinct, he ordered another drink hoping to walk by Ghost for a chat, but Price had already occupied that spot, forcing Soap to approach later on. He himself got embedded in conversation with the lads, who wanted to know the details of his last mission. Honestly, he needed to vent a bit, sharing anecdotes about huge explosions always put him in a good mood.
End of the first half of the game and people took chance to use the loo or make heavier bets. Soap had indeed noticed someone already fled from the pub, König was nowhere to be seen. The fact itself wasn’t alarming and he was sure Price already had taken notice. As he exited the loo, he also noticed someone else hadn’t returned to watch the match and knowing him, he was sure Ghost had walked outside.
A thin red line coloured the far horizon as the last sunrays eventually died signing the end of a rather calm day. That’s what Simon wanted to feel, calm. That’s what he looked like from the outside, but his thoughts were a bit in scramble. He leaned against the wall, arm crossed, the thought of a cigarette had brushed his desires, but he abandoned it just like he abandoned his drink, now sadly forgotten on a cinderblock half full and watered down by what used to be ice. Inside it was getting too chaotic and he really needed some fresh air. The back of the pub was always a good spot for him, nobody ever got there if not the owner of the place to restock time to time from the crates, and the view was gorgeous as the place was slightly elevated over the wide green countryside. A light above his head turned on automatically at the first sign of darkness and he continued unbothered to enjoy his time. Not too far away there was apparently someone listening to some music in their room, it was soft in the background, almost hard to hear, but he recognized a song his mother used to listen to quite often back in the day, the classic “El Condor Pasa” by Simon & Garfunkel. Rare good old memories flooded in and he welcomed them more than gladly, unconsciously starting to hum along the tune.
He abruptly stopped as he heard the door open.
Soap found himself in a short corridor as he got outside, the walls continued for about two meters before giving on the open back courtyard. He wasn’t really sure he would have found him there, but he had a hunch that told him Simon was indeed where he hoped. And he heard a light shifting right behind the left corner.
“Oi, LT,” he cheerfully said as he peeked over, getting greeted by a half-masked Ghost.
“Johnny,”
“Something told me I’d find yah here. May I join?” A silent nod and Ghost moved over without uncrossing his arms to cede his spot before heavily leaning again against the wall. Soap gladly accepted, “Haven’t seen yah in a hot minute. Price dragged yah out for a drink as well?”
“Yep.” He turned his head to face him, “How you doing?” He croaked.
Very gently he patted his side, “Still alive and kickin’. Wound’s healing, but the stitches are a pain in the arse. What about yours?”
“Haven’t bled to death yet.” Ghost rolled his right shoulder slightly, almost mechanically as if to feel it was still there. The bullet had left a nasty wound, yet luckily doing the least damage possible. He should wear an arm support, but he apparently and stubbornly liked to drive the doctors mad. “Sore.”
“Did yah at least keep the bullet as a souvenir?”
A rare snort. “Aye. Ugliest one in my collection.”
“Suits the target.”
“Watch your tongue, MacTavish.”
They both shared a teasing look with a shy grin before they both sighed and returned to watch the darkening green fields.
“I never got to thank you.”
Ghost glanced sideways towards him in a quick blink. “Duty.” He said in a whisper.
“… Was it though?”
He didn’t register the movement until Soap was standing right in front of him, his body automatically tensing up.
“Why did you do it, LT?” Soap looked up straight in his eyes, blues meeting browns, tension visibly garnishing both men’s features. How Ghost’s jaw tightly set didn’t go unnoticed.
“It… just happened,” Never in his life had felt his mouth go that dry.
“You could have pushed me out of the way.”
“No time, I just acted out of instinct, first thing to come to my mind, Johnny.”
“And risk your life?”
“…Part of the job.”
“Cut the bullshit, Simon,” he harshly snapped, his thick accent colouring his words. He could clearly see in Ghost’s eyes something had tilted, something had been triggered, but the taller man refused to share any more words. He looked rigid, his arms tightening over his stomach and his look never moving away. Soap took a step closer, daring to invade his friend’s personal bubble, close enough he could swear he could hear his fast heartbeat, not that his was any slower. “Why did you do it?” He tried again with a calmer tone.
Ghost said nothing, his lips tightly set into a thin line, his nostril twitching in rare occasions as his eyes moved from one blue eye to the other.
Patience soon ran out though… Soap stepped back lowering his stare, a hint of disappointment crossed him. He puffed annoyed and turned on his heels. “I’m getting another beer.”
“I did act out of instinct.” Ghost quickly said as the other man was to disappear behind the corner, where he stopped and peeked over towards him. Walking towards him with his arms down, Ghost tried a new approach, hoping for Soap to fully listen. “An instinct… I never felt with anybody else. I wanted you safe. I wanted you alive.” Much to his surprise and pleasure, Johnny did catch unspoken words and the Scot moved closer once again.
“You could have said so a long time ago, you know?” A teasing grin curled on his face and the room between the two of them became to lack.
“Didn’t want to do something stupid.” Ghost wasn’t expecting his own voice to be that soft, he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t avoid it. As Johnny moved closer, almost having both their chests to touch, he felt his breath freezing in his lungs.
Soap snorted. “Like what, Simon?” The damn tease in his voice, a whisper that made Ghost’s hair stand on ends under the mask and somehow Johnny saw right through it.
“…Why do you always have to be so bloody cheeky?” He growled as his hands quickly snatched Johnny's jacket and yanked him closer to shut him up before he could answer, leaning his own lips on his.
A solid moment of shock and chastity stilled the both of them, but it was short lived as Johnny responded pushing the taller soldier against the wall, suddenly reminded of the pain of their wounds through a hiss, yet that didn’t stop neither of them. Frantic hands explored under clothes, arms tightly wrapped around and thighs pressed hard between each other’s legs as urgent kisses were shared in the heat of the moment, almost in fear to see the end of it. A thumb pushed a chin down and tongues clashed in a messy deep kiss, teeth clicking and guttural moans escaping…
Both men broke off with a wet sound, sore and panting, their lips burning and their heads incredibly high in the clouds. The urge finally wore off and each of them took a moment to realize the situation. Soap had his arms around Ghost’s neck, laughably on tip toes so to be in reach, while Ghost had his arms around his torso, keeping them as far as possible from the bandages, with a hand cupping the other’s nape.
Simon sighed, gently leaning his forehead against Johnny’s, his fingers softly curling in the short end of the mohawk, thoughtful, but finally at peace, enough that he closed his eyes in full trust. “…Goddamnit, Johnny…”
The other chuckled and moved his own fingers under the rolled-up brim of the mask, craving to feel Simon’s hair under his touch. “Was that your twisted way of flirting? Now that was bloody stupid.”
A quick, shy peck covered his lips, “Shut up, Johnny…”
“Eh, make me, LT.” With incredible tenderness, he moved his left hand on Simon’s cheek, cupping it and moving his thumb to caress one of his many scars. He felt Ghost leaning in, his breath shivering just slightly, giving a strong signal of being touch-starved. That made Johnny’s heart skip a beat.
Tilting his head just enough, Johnny pressed his lips against Simon’s in a slow, gentle kiss, full of care for the man in front of him.
Everything felt just right, every single piece got into the right place, clicking tight and triggering emotions that just. Felt. Right. Their kiss was soft, taking all the time in the world, no rush, no urge… Gentle hands moved at the same rhythm and miraculously Simon had managed to remove one of his gloves before resting his hand over Johnny’s, keeping it against his cheek and savouring the rough skin under his fingertips. Their breathing had slowed down to a calmer pace, only rare whispered moans escaped between them and each time it happened either Simon or Johnny wanted to hear more from the other.
“Simon, wait, I can’t do this.”
Ghost’s eyes snapped open, his ears filling with the crushing sound of glass breaking. “Wha-“
“Stay still, don’t you go anywhere.” Johnny unceremoniously detached and frantically looked around, cursing happily in his rich dialect as he found the cinder block. He plopped the abandoned drink aside, pushed the block in front of Simon and hopped on, proudly standing barely a couple of centimetres over him. “Naw that’s moor like it! Yah bloody bean pole.” His thick accent really colouring his words in excitement, “Whot? Why yah lookin’ at me like that?”
If looks could kill…
Simon drew in a deep breath and brought index and thumb to pinch the bridge of his nose, not caring about the make-up, and frowning hard enough to form new wrinkles. “Phrasing, Johnny… Phrasing!”
Soap laughed heartily used a finger to tilt his companion’s chin up, “Don’t yah worry, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He blinked, catching something he hadn’t noticed before, “My…” He cupped both Simon’s cheeks in his hands, brushing his thumbs over the very light stubble, “yah have gorgeous eyes, Si…”
That was a very rare occasion where Ghost was looking up at someone and with that someone being Soap, he really felt at ease and somehow protected. His hands travelled over Soap’s buttocks and sank into his back pockets pulling him tightly closer and their lips locked again.
“Who would have thought… big ol’ boy Ghost to be on this side of the river…”
A snort. “Always been… And I thought you had eyes only for the ladies,”
“Eh, I’m on both shores… but now I have eyes just a certa’n someone…had for a while,” He trailed off downwards, covering Simon in pecks from the corner of his mouth down to his jawline and further down, where he gave him a soft bite in the nook of the neck.
Simon quickly grabbed his arm in a tight grip, he was shivering and hardly holding himself, thing that Johnny could feel very well against his own crotch. “Let’s not get too cocky…”
“Sorry, sorry,” Soap chuckled and gave him a last peck on the lips before gently rolling down the balaclava and adjusting the collar of his jacket, “Yah might want to cover your neck, Si,” He winked proudly as the other rolled his eyes. “I hope yah won’t mind me visiting tonigh’, I’ll spoil yah rotten.” He pressed his forehead against his once again.
“Please do…” His arms snaked around Soap’s torso, caressing his back. He frowned worried about his wounds, but Johnny wrapped his arms around his neck in a reassuring hug.
König had left the room surprisingly unnoticed but for Price to see him get up and sign to want to go out. It got too loud and crowded for him to tolerate, so he sneaked out from the back door.
The cold, fresh air and silence were a blessing as he closed the door behind himself and he trotted in the courtyard to find a nice spot where to decompress. There were many crates on the right, some against the wall, others a bit detached and among them a perfect niche where he could sit in.
For a long while all he could hear was the shy singing of crickets that started warming up for the night serenade and it gave him time to relax enough to even think to remove his hood. He didn’t though.
Not very far there was some neighbour listening to music in the background and König recognized some of the instrumental songs despite them being metal covers, but he still appreciated them. He was surprised to later hear Joe Satriani’s “Time Machine”. He decided he liked that person.
After some time he had heard someone walking outside, but not going back indoors, so he tensed up. He got lucky enough to find a thin fissure between the crates that gave him a way to look exactly towards the other side while still being covered. Of all the people, he wasn’t expecting Ghost to appear. He looked lost in thought and barely drank from the glass he had… König wondered what was going on.
He and Ghost had never been too close, but they both shared mutual respect and could count on one another, especially on a mission. It was odd to see him in such a light, König almost got on his feet to go to talk to him… but he froze before he could move when he heard someone else opening the door. It was Soap this time, whom immediately approached the other soldier for a talk. It felt a bit awkward to eavesdrop, but König didn’t have many choices… Also their conversation took a weird tone and…
Oh.
Oh, mein Gott…