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Ghost quickly jumped off the helicopter and he felt a small sense of relief as his feet touched solid ground. Captain Price quickly followed after him and Ghost paused in his steps when he felt a firm hand land on his shoulder.
“Ghost, report to the med bay. You’ve got one hell of a wound right there.” Captain Price orders sternly as he eyes Ghost’s bicep and the blood stain that was seeping through the dark uniform.
Ghost shrugs his captain’s hand off his shoulder, “I’ve got it handled, Captain.” Ghost replies as he makes his way into the base. It was not right to disobey his captain’s orders but he felt jittery at the thought of having strangers put their hands on him.
Instead, Ghost made his way to where his room was located. He was silent through the halls, avoiding any lingering soldiers around and giving glares to any that gave him worried looks. Ghost felt the exhaustion pull at his skin, weighing him down as every step caused his arm to jostle. He had just come back from an intel mission; it had been successful but he hadn't escaped unharmed. The wound on his bicep was clear proof and he felt a pang of anger at being careless and being shot. He was Ghost for fuck’s sake.
After a few minutes of walking, Ghost made it to his room and he quickly entered it, closing the door behind him. He beelined for the bathroom to grab a spare towel. As he sat down in a nearby chair, his tired legs silently thanked him and his face twisting in pain. He wasn’t sure how he was going to take off his equipment and his uniform. Despite the hesitation, Ghost grit his teeth and slowly peeled the layers off, each time pausing as it caused pain to shoot along his entire arm. He struggled for several minutes, doing his best not to disturb his wounded arm as he slid out of his uniform. He was left in his black long sleeve shirt and uniform pants but dismissed the pants; he would take them off later when he had more energy. Ghost sighed quietly and took off the skull mask from his face, leaving him in his balaclava. He was able to breathe a bit better, if only his arm would stop hurting. The blood had soaked through his sleeve and he felt it stick to his skin. Ghost made a noise of disgust; looks like he needed to take off the shirt too.
So there Ghost was, sitting in his room, shirt off and a towel in his hand as he tried to staunch the blood that dripped from the wound where a bullet had shot clean through.
What Ghost didn’t expect was a certain someone bursting into his room unannounced. There was no warning, no knock. Ghost realized too late that he hadn’t locked his door and in came a person he least expected.
John fucking MacTavish.
“Soap…” Ghost muttered as Soap pushed past his door to approach him. Soap quickly came up to stand in front of him, his hands already on his hips. Ghost’s lips twitched in amusement as he looked up at Soap. “What’s the reason for this sudden intrusion?” he asked.
Soap huffed in annoyance as he started to scold Ghost, “Don’t joke, Ghost. Yer clearly hurt…yet why are ya not in the med bay?”
Ghost raised an eyebrow, “Hurt? I’ve no idea what you’re on about.” His words were not convincing at all as he watched Soap give him a disbelieved look. He was shirtless and holding a towel to his bleeding arm; his words were bullshit.
“Yer funny, Lt.” Soap mutters as he just grabs the towel from Ghost’s hand and starts to wipe at the wound, having no regard for Ghost’s discomfort.
Ghost’s jaw clenched in pain but he stayed silent as he let Soap press on his wound with the towel. The bleeding had slowed to a sluggish speed and it wasn’t like he was in any danger from blood loss. He didn’t get why Soap was fussing so much about him.
“Easy on the goods, Johnny…” Ghost says, his voice gruff.
“Oh, please, this is nothing to you. A little pain won’t kill.” Soap replies quickly with a cheeky grin as he continues to wipe at Ghost’s wound. “Ya got a med kit?” he asked.
“Cabinet next to you. Second drawer.” Ghost answers quietly as his brows furrow slightly. He was starting to feel uncomfortable with the situation, his chest bared to Soap, scars visible. Ghost’s shoulders tensed slightly but it was enough for Soap to notice. Soap stayed silent, not calling Ghost out on it as he turned to the cabinet and dug out the med kit in the back of the drawer. “Got it…” Soap mumbles to himself as he pulls out a bottle of antiseptic and a roll of bandages.
Ghost stares at the bottle of antiseptic and turns his glare at Soap, “Just bandage my wound and get it over with, Johnny.”
There it was again. Johnny. It seemed like Ghost couldn’t help but call Soap by his name whenever they were alone together. He knew that Soap noticed but the Scottish man never called him out on it.
His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet chuckle, “C’mon, Lt., you don’t want to lose your arm, do you?”
Ghost blatantly rolled his eyes, “Now you’re being dramatic.” Despite his annoyance, he let Soap pour the antiseptic over his wound (with a small hiss of a warning) and let his arm get wrapped with the bandages.
Soap finished with a dusting of hands, “All fixed up, Ghost. Ya like me being yer nurse or somethin’?” he asked with a smug smirk on his lips.
“I’d say watch it.” Ghost snapped back, his tone having no anger behind it. Ghost shivered slightly, the cool air in his room wafting against his skin. Yet, he didn't feel like getting up and taking a shower.
“Mind getting a shirt for me?” Ghost asked after a silent moment of him and Soap staring at each other. Soap grins and hands him one, already having anticipated the question beforehand. Ghost mutters a curse under his breath at Soap but accepts the shirt. He pauses there as he glances down at his bandaged arm. He doesn't look at Soap, knowing that if he did, Soap would tease him and offer to help put the shirt on. He wasn't so helpless that he couldn't put on a shirt…Ghost made the mistake at that moment, his eyes glancing up and locking onto Soap, who was already looking at him with a smirk.
“Need help, Ghost?” Soap asked as he held his hand out, a silent question to get the shirt back. Ghost’s jaw clenched again but he forced himself to relax and hand over the shirt. He let himself be maneuvered and Soap easily slid the shirt on him, but not before Ghost felt phantom fingers lightly brush against his side…along the long jagged scar that rested beneath his ribs. Ghost was quick to call Soap out on it, his eyes glaring intensely. “Johnny.”
“Simon,” was Soap’s reply, short and innocent. There was nothing innocent about Soap. Only Soap could say Ghost’s name in such a teasing manner without getting pummeled on the spot.
Soap leaned down and gave Ghost a pat on the head and Ghost immediately reached up with his good arm, wrapping a hand around Soap’s wrist, “I’m not some child you pamper, Johnny.” Soap only grinned at his words and leaned closer, “What’s so wrong about it?”
Ghost couldn’t give a response back as his lips pressed into a thin line. When Ghost stayed silent, Soap continued, shaking Ghost’s grip off his wrist. Ghost saw the moment of courage flash in Soap’s eyes before Soap’s hands came up to cup Ghost’s face, warm even through the balaclava.
“You deserve to be pampered. It’s already bad enough that you don't go to the med bay so at least let me take care of you.” Soap said, his voice quiet and careful as his eyes looked at Ghost, gauging his reaction.
Ghost felt himself tense at Soap’s touch but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the warmth radiating from Soap’s hands. Ghost could feel a lump forming in his throat at Soap’s soft spoken words, the kindness behind it. Soap took that as a sign to continue and he leaned closer, his brown eyes unwavering. “Don’t be so hard on yourself all the time…Simon.” Soap whispered, his eyes showing some sadness as he continued to cup Ghost’s face. It seemed like Soap didn’t have anymore to say as they leaned close, just enjoying each other’s presences.
After a few silent moments, Ghost exhales quietly as he gazes at Soap, a hesitant question on the tip of his tongue. “Johnny…”
“Simon.” Soap answered.
That was how it always was; if Ghost called, Soap answered. Ghost wouldn’t have it any other way he realized. He liked what he had with Soap and he wouldn’t trade it for something different. He didn't want to push Soap away, he wanted more of this warmth…this peace and quiet. Using his good arm again, Ghost reached up to press his hand against Soap’s cheek.
“...Can I kiss you?” Ghost asked quietly, finally showing some vulnerability; the fear of being rejected.
Soap’s face broke out into a smile and he nodded quickly, “The day I say no to ya, Lt., will be the day I die.” he tries to joke but it lands a bit poorly. Ghost grunted at the joke and kept his head still when Soap’s gentle fingers grabbed the edge of his balaclava and folded it up to the bridge of his nose. Soap leaned down further, his face getting close as his eyes shined bright with excitement.
Ghost felt a small amount of impatience and he wondered when that had happened…the impatience to have Soap, the impatience to feel Soap.
Before Ghost could think anymore, he felt warm lips press against his mouth. Ghost reacted immediately, his head tilting slightly to get a better angle at Soap’s lips and pressing closer. Ghost’s hand slid from Soap’s cheek to settle on his nape, a comforting weight to Soap. Soap hummed against his lips in content as his tongue darted out to lick at the seams of Ghost’s lips. Ghost obliged as he parted his lips, letting Soap in and gently exploring his mouth with his tongue. The kiss was gentle despite the desperation that simmered beneath the surface; Soap made sure to keep the kiss slow, not wanting to get too far into it and accidentally hurt Ghost, who was injured.
After a few hums and pressing tongues, Soap was the first to pull back, his face flushed but his lips curved into a happy smile. Ghost stopped himself from chasing after those soft lips, wanting to taste more of Soap. He let out a noise of discontent and Soap laughed and pressed a chaste kiss to his mouth before pulling back again. “Let’s wait until yer healed, Simon. Then I will ravish you properly.” Soap said with a smirk, his eyes shining with mirth as he rested their foreheads together.
“It’s a promise, Johnny.” Ghost replied, letting himself breathe Soap in. From that moment on, he decided that he would do his best to not get injured (or maybe he could get just a bit injured) so that he could come back to this…to Johnny. For the first time in a while, Ghost let himself be vulnerable, letting Soap see who he was. He didn't dislike it as he thought he would. It was scary for sure and Ghost still felt some hesitation deep down but for Johnny, he would push past his limits. He wanted to have more of Johnny, to receive the kindness and give it back tenfold each time. Ghost felt warmth settle in his stomach and as he was about to let his eyes close, Soap’s stern but somewhat teasing voice once again cut through his thoughts.
“Now, if you don’t get to bed right now, I’m telling Price that you disobeyed his order.”
God damn it, Johnny.