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Romance.
The word sticks to Ghost’s tongue in a way that genuinely disgusts him. Even mouthing it is almost unbearable, like his jaw is turning to dust and cracking off.
He was never that interested in it. He didn’t have the time or the energy to date in school, too busy trying to survive his father’s house to care about that shit. It just never seemed that fun anyway. It would’ve been just another stressor Simon had to deal with.
Once, a girl had given him flowers and asked him to a dance, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that it was out of pity. He had had a lot of bruises that week.
When he joined the military, fraternizing within the ranks was strictly forbidden. At the time, he had been a rule follower. He didn’t dare to even look at a fellow soldier that way.
After Roba?
The thought only made him sick.
What was even the point? He was in his thirties now. The time for love has long passed by him.
He had made his peace with that.
Had.
Simon was completely content to be a loveless recluse until that stupid, arrogant, unfunny jackass stumbled into his life with the grace of a toddler.
It was beyond infuriating, the way his heart seemed to slam into his ribcage every time the Scotsman stood too close or flirted too hard. A bit of fun never bothered Simon; he’d flirted with hundreds of people just to prove he wasn’t totally frigid, but this was outrageous.
It was made even worse by the fact that Johnny seemed to be that way with most people. Every bar, every undercover mission, every leave: Johnny has someone wrapped around his finger for a few fleeting moments.
Ghost hates to think he’s one of them.
Simon is too daft to understand if Johnny finds it fun or if he’s just a slag, not that he cares. Johnny can do whatever the hell he wants. They're not together. He’s not the Scotsman’s keeper, and the man certainly doesn’t owe him anything.
But it still gets to him, the creeping jealousy every time Johnny leans too close to a stranger or touches their arm. He has to fight the urge to puke on the rare occasion Johnny is dumb enough to kiss said person.
God forgive him if Johnny even actually leaves with one of them someday. It might just be enough to snap Ghost in half.
He’s brought it up in passing, taunting the sergeant for his obsessive need to flirt with anyone in his general vicinity. Johnny always bites back with a certain amount of cockiness that makes Ghost’s heart lurch with discontent.
That should be him. He doesn’t know why; he’s not anything exciting or fun. He has no experience and even less patience.
He’d probably break the poor man’s heart.
He wants him – yearns for him in a way that makes Cupid and him sick. It’s the type of sappy love that makes teenagers write their names together in little hearts.
It’s the type of love he never got to have before.
He should knock his lights out for that, disrupting the cold but functioning flow of Ghost’s life. He didn’t need this feeling or these thoughts. He never wanted them in the first place.
God, he wants to kiss him, and God, he hopes he never does.
Because then Johnny will know all the reckless bravado is just a cover for the sad, sexless man he really is.
He’d much rather be forced to watch Johnny make out with another person in the darkness of a dingy bar, which is what he’s doing at this exact moment.
Johnny probably thinks he’s some voyeuristic freak with the way he’s staring. He can’t help it. Studying it is the closest he’ll ever get to experience and he can’t seem to peel his eyes away.
Johnny’s got this way of cupping people’s faces, hand right on the jawline as a rough thumb strokes over the cheekbone. It’s the same song and dance every time.
The man Johnny is currently kissing can barely keep pace with Johnny but he isn’t even moving that fast. Ghost wonders if it’s different when you’re in it. Does every drag feel like an eternity or is it gone too soon?
Holy shit, he’s pathetic.
Finally, he manages to tear his gaze away, peering down at his bourbon instead.
This is the worst. He’s never been so miserable while still being able to stand upright. The hurt thrums in his chest like the bass of a broken speaker. Each beat is pained and taunting, there to remind him he does have a heart and he can’t ever escape it.
He stands, tossing a tenner onto the bar with a sigh. Johnny can get a ride from one of those apps for all he cares. Staying here another minute might actually kill him.
The outside air is cold, the ringing of the door’s bell snapping Ghost out of his haze. It’s a starless night, adding to the loneliness in a way it hasn’t before. If even something as vast as the night sky is empty, what hope is there for him?
The door of the bar chimes again.
“Lt?!” Johnny yells, jogging to catch up to him. “Where are ya goin’?”
He falls into line next to Ghost, walking with him through the dingy street of London where the bar is.
“Got bored,” Ghost grumbles, sniffling. The chill of the night is making him a little stuffy. “Is that a problem?”
Johnny frowns, sticking his hands in his coat pockets, “Ya pulled me away from a good time.”
He knocks his elbow into Ghost’s side, trying to lighten the mood, “Ya goin’ make it up to me?”
He gets a harsh grunt of distaste in response, but Ghost’s chest explodes at the mere thought, “Absolutely not.”
Johnny chuckles, but to Ghost, it sounds uncharacteristically hollow. He glances over, craning his head to the side to get a full view of the Scotsman.
His cheeks are flushed from the cold, a rosy glow climbing across his nose. His mohawk is a little longer than usual since they’re on leave, and it falls in a way that makes Ghost want to run his hands through it.
Johnny shivers, cracking his neck to the side, “Fuckin’ London… This place is a shitehole, just so ya know.”
“I do,” Ghost sighs, letting himself grin for a split second before he straightens himself out.
They fall into a comfortable silence for a while. Normally, Ghost would be grateful. Now, he can’t seem to get the question out of his head. He has to ask.
“Why do you do it?” He says quietly, his voice a type of soft he doesn’t reach often.
Johnny looks over at him, hands still in his pockets, “Do what?”
Ghost clears his throat, almost sounding embarrassed when he asks, “Kiss people all the time. Strangers. ”
Johnny hums, turning his gaze to the night sky as he thinks.
“I dinnae,” He shrugs, “I guess I worry it’ll be the last. No sense in wasting time I don’t have. Gotta have some fun while I’m still kickin’,”
Ghost’s silence fills the air before he speaks again, “I don’t see the point of kissing strangers. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Aye,” Johnny concedes, “Maybe, but who else would I kiss?”
Me, Ghost thinks, eyes moving to focus on the ground.
Johnny stops walking beside him, though Ghost doesn’t notice for a moment. When he does, he turns around to look at him.
He’s completely still, standing in the same place as before. He looks bewildered, eyebrows drawn up, and his eyes wide.
“... You? ”
It’s Ghost’s turn to freeze, pausing mid-step to stare at Johnny. Fuck, did he say that out loud? Jesus, he needs to stop drinking bourbon. He swallows hard, panic rising in his chest. The overwhelming urge to flee fills his stomach, so he turns on his heels and starts to walk away.
Johnny's footsteps speed up behind him.
“Ghost.”
“No.”
“Ghost!”
“No!”
He can feel Johnny gaining on him, and if he wasn’t so goddamn prideful, he’d take off in a full sprint.
“Ya just said I could kiss you,” Johnny says behind, sounding a little breathless, “Ya can’t just walk away!”
“I didn’t say that,” Ghost grits through his teeth, the cold night suddenly feeling far too hot.
Johnny grabs his wrist, yanking him backward. He almost stumbles, body compensating for the movement by invading Johnny’s space.
They’re right on top of each other, Johnny faltering back a step to clear the space. Ghost’s jaw tenses, head still tilted up as he glances down at Johnny.
“Did ya mean that?” Johnny pants, the heat from his breath mingling with the air to create a misty fog.
Ghost doesn’t say a word, chest heaving despite how quiet he is.
“Ghost,” Johnny says, tugging on his wrist. Dropping the “Lt.” always means danger, “Did ya mean it? Tell me.”
He can barely speak, his tongue as ashy as it always is when he talks about matters of the heart, “... yes.”
What is he thinking? He has no experience whatsoever. The only thing he knows about kissing someone is what he’s learned from watching Soap, and all that has flown out of the window now.
Johnny's face tugs into an affectionate smile, and Ghost is certain he’s going to throw up, “That would be nice.”
There’s still time for him to pull his pistol and blow his brains out before he embarrasses himself in front of the love of his life.
There’s a pull on his arm, and Ghost is dragged into a small nook between two buildings. It’s not an alley, but it’s out of sight enough to give them some privacy.
He’s pushed up against the brick wall to make space for Johnny’s body, the Scotsman pressed up close to him.
He’d give anything to relax right now, his body so stiff he probably looks put off. There’s nothing he wants more than to enjoy this, but he can’t. He’s absolutely terrified for the first time in a long time.
“Ya seem nervous, Lt.” Johnny says, voice low and laced with humor, “All good?”
Johnny is trying to be sweet, and Ghost looks like he’s about to spontaneously combust. His nod is tight, head barely bobbing up and down in confirmation. He might have a heart attack, but goddamnit, he’s going to kiss this man.
Rough hands slide across the front of Ghost’s hoodie, the warmth bleeding through the fabric. Love must be violence because the feeling makes Ghost hiss like he’s been stabbed. His heart stutters, the feeling crawling into his throat as Johnny’s fingers press into his skin.
He finally tilts his head down, eyes screwing shut the second he catches a glimpse of Johnny’s face.
Johnny does most of the work, leaning onto his tiptoes to reach Ghost. Their lips press together, soft and tense.
Ghost is so rigid it’s impossible not to notice. Not even the chill from the air can get a shiver out of him. His hands are by his side, balled into fists as he stands there.
The rush of blood in his ears drowns out everything so intensely that even the humiliation can’t get to him. He feels nothing but the physical.
Johnny pulls away slowly, the hands placed on Ghost’s chest sliding down and off him. Ghost chokes on a breath he can barely get into his lungs.
Johnny looks concerned, head tilting to the side a little, “... Are ya okay? If ya dinnae want to…”
“No,” Ghost wheezes, grabbing his other hand to rub his thumb into his palm. “I want to.”
He’s fumbling with his words, trying to explain what’s happening in a way that doesn’t sound absolutely pathetic, “It’s just been a long time.”
“How long?” Johnny asks gently, joking to lighten the mood once again, “Because ya act like ya never been kissed before.”
Ghost is quiet.
Very quiet.
Johnny sucks in a breath, eyes widening just a little as the situation seems to dawn on him, “... Oh.”
Ghost growls, pushing at Johnny’s chest, “Fuckin’ hell.”
“Wait!” Johnny protests, putting his hands back where they were to stop Ghost from leaving, “It’s fine! I dinnae care. I just dinnae know.”
“If I’d known, I would’ve brought out candles and a violin,” He quips, offering Ghost that kind smile again, “Real romance type shite.”
“Don’t fuck with me,” Ghost rasps, trying hard to keep how mortified he is out of his voice.
“Aye,” Johnny says, dropping the ribbing to be serious, “I’m sorry. I just dinnae think…”
They both get a little quiet, Ghost staring up at the sky as he begs the universe to swallow him whole.
Johnny’s hands move from his chest to grab Ghost’s hand, squeezing them for a moment before pulling them forward. Ghost moves his gaze back down, heart thundering in his chest, “What are you doing?”
Johnny gives him a wry smile, placing Ghost’s hands on the dip of his hips.
Ghost is a dead man walking at this rate. His fingers tighten their grip, tucked between the warmth of Johnny's jacket.
Johnny nods in a way that’s barely noticeable, “I’ll teach ya, aye? It’s easy, I promise.”
Ghost’s breath hitches, dragged into his lungs by a harsh gulp. “What?”
“I’ve had lots o’ practice,” Johnny says, hands placing themselves on Ghost’s face this time, “Let me teach ya, Lt.”
Ghost’s jaw clicks as he opens and shuts it, hands starting to tremble as he holds Johnny in a tight grasp, “... Fine.”
There’s a brief moment of nothing before Johnny leans up again. Ghost’s eyes shut more naturally this time, closing the second Johnny’s lips touch his.
He tries to stay relaxed, still not knowing what to do when Johnny’s mouth drags open for the first time. It doesn’t matter though, because Johnny’s thumb digs into his cheek, aiming for the space between his molars. Instinctively, his mouth falls open, and Johnny hums.
His shoulders start to slump, his body tipping forward as he holds Johnny’s waist in a vice grip. A shuddered breath escapes his lungs, making Johnny laugh against his lips.
Following the movement of Johnny’s mouth isn’t so hard after that. His fingers crawl forward, palm sliding over Johnny’s back and dipping under his shirt. Johnny groans against him, an amused sound on his tongue as he kisses Ghost in a way that can only be described as lazy.
Ghost bends over further, nearly tipping Johnny off his feet as a muted growl leaves him. He pulls Johny close, chests flush together as Ghost holds him by the small of his back.
Johnny tries to say something, pulling away to speak, but Ghost responds by attacking his lips again. He’s waited thirty fucking years for this; there’s no way he’s going to waste it
“Christ,” Johnny huffs, following the words up by another blinding kiss, “Ghost.”
“Simon,” Ghost mumbles sharply, “Call me Simon.”
“Simon,” Johnny breathes, threading his hands into his lieutenant’s hair, “Did ya lie to me? Yer too good at this.”
Ghost can’t help the noise that leaves him, as equally pleased as it is annoyed, “Don’t push it, Johnny.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lt.,” Johnny says before he’s consumed by another one of Ghost’s dizzying kisses.
Ghost pushes him up against the wall, dragging out the last kiss as long as he can. When it’s done, he pulls away so slowly that their lips brush against each other after each panting breath. Johnny chases after him weakly, eyes hazy and cheeks flushed as he leans forward. Ghost keeps him away by pressing their foreheads together.
The cold London air mingles their breath, fogging the space between them. Ghost takes a moment to bask in the afterglow, unable to keep the grin off his face.
Johnny can’t help himself, “... If that’s yer first time kissing, I can’t wait to see what happens the first time we-.”
“ Johnny. ”
“Sorry.”