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When Soap suddenly wakes up, it's still dark and his chest hurts. He rubbs over the sore spot while his mind reminded him of the cause of the pain.
Yesterday's demolition’s training had gone haywire. A group of improperly supervised greenies forgot to make sure the room behind the wall they were blowing up was clear. Unfortunately, Soap had been behind that wall with another group.
Things could've gone worse than they did. Soap got hit in the chest by a stray brick. Two people in his group were hit in the head instead and needed medical attention. It went without saying that the supervising teacher got written up and the greenies were thrown out.
He was honestly fine. There was a big bruise on his ribs, but no cracks. The little glass of milk in the morning he had with breakfast was working overtime for sure.
Soap didn’t know why he was awake, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep again with the way his mind was coming up with all the what-ifs.
With a sigh he swung his legs out of his bed. It only took a quick few steps for him to open his door. He was prepared to walk into the dark void of the hallway, however, a big shadow right outside the door had him jump out of his skin.
“...Ghost?”
The man looked surprised to see him as well. There was a moment of awkward staring as the phantom didn't respond. Soap coughed in an attempt to break the tension a bit.
"L.T.? What're you doing here?" Despite his casual clothing, the bastard still looked intimidating. Unfairly handsome too, but Soap was keeping those thoughts to himself.
He liked to think he had a good grasp on Ghost's expressions by now, even with a mask, but he had absolutely no fucking clue what the man in front of him was thinking.
“Out for a stroll, Johnny?” Of course the man would only answer his question with another. It felt unfair, but Soap was too tired to argue with the masked menace in front of him.
“Fancy something to drink?” He wasn't waiting for an answer and began walking towards the little kitchenette down the hall. By the sound of footsteps behind him, Ghost had decided to follow him there. Two’s a party or something.
Soap grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge and filled up two glasses. He placed one of the glasses in front of Ghost and chugged his in one go. Ghost huffed out a laugh when he simply poured himself a second glass before putting the carton back in the fridge and sitting down properly.
Ghost looked at Soap for a bit before pulling up his mask and drinking his own juice. Soap stole a few glances at his lieutenant’s uncovered skin, honestly couldn’t help himself. If the fucker wasn’t so mysterious all the time, Soap wouldn’t be acting like a Victorian gentleman being shown an ankle.
They don’t speak. Even when they're both finished, they just sit in silence for a little bit. Soap expected Ghost to explain what he was doing in front of his room, but the words never come.
When the sugar from the juice finally hit, Soap grabbed both of their glasses and put them in the dishwasher. He feelt Ghost's eyes tracking him around the room. Soap sighed, realising he wouldn't be getting any answers. He was too tired for any of this. He hovered a bit at the doorway before leaving, unsure about what to say next, if he should even say anything.
“Goodnight, L.t.,” he settled on and left the room. He’s not followed back, but the feeling of eyes on him never leaves.
Soap felt thrown off his game when he woke up.
Ghost didn’t bring up their little rendezvous last night at breakfast and Soap sure as hell wasn’t going to. What if Ghost had a perfectly good reason for being there? He'd look like a right fool.
After dinner, Soap was feeling much better. The day had passed as usual. He had not forgotten last night, but in his mind, it was simply something he wasn’t going to get an answer to right now. Anyone else would’ve been interrogated immediately, but Soap trusted Ghost. If it was important, it would come up eventually. That’s just how Ghost rolled.
Soap showered, brushed his teeth and passed out in his bed immediately.
He couldn’t breathe. His first thought was how peaceful death would be, but his second was air, air , air . Soap coughed roughly, almost retching up his lunch, but nothing leaves his mouth. One of those days.
It’s tough for Soap to grasp onto reality, but there was a pair of hands holding him. In his daze, there are fingers softly holding onto his jaw. At the edge of his vision, he can still see the death, the destruction he’d been a part of. Would his hands ever feel clean? Funny how his callsign was Soap when no amount of showers could wash away the guilt he felt after every kill.
The hands holding his face don’t falter. They’re warm and solid. Soap uses the feeling as a home beacon.
“Breathe, sergeant,” a voice Soap recognised rumbles out.
The familiar sound turned off the fight-or-flight system in Soap’s brain and he relaxed. He hadn’t noticed that he’d been so tense.
Soap’s labored breathing slowly subsides and the voice above him shushes each hiccup with soft strokes along his jawline. When he calmed down enough to grasp who exactly had been helping him calm down he’s almost sent right back into a panic attack. Ghost .
When the other man noticed that Soap has calmed down enough the hands on his face disappear. He missed them immediately.
“I’ll be right back,” Ghost says as he leaves Soap’s room.
The Scot looks at the ceiling and just lets the seconds pass by in silence. At the point when he’s almost convinced himself that he’d dreamed of the lieutenant’s appearance by his side, the man returned.
Ghost was holding a glass of orange juice and Soap coughed out a strangled little laugh. Even in the low light, he can see the skin around Ghost’s eyes crinkle up slightly, this man.
Soap sits up and Ghost hands him the juice. Soap sipped the drink slowly. When the glass is empty Ghost takes it back and stands up.
“Goodnight, Johnny,” is the only thing he said before turning off the light in the room and closing the door. Soap is left alone in the dark.
“What the fuck? ” he whispered to himself.
Ghost’s room wasn’t close. Why was he here?
Last night’s meeting was weighing heavily on his mind the entirety of the following day. Ghost waking him up from his nightmare, Ghost tenderly brushing a few stray tears from his face, and Ghost getting him a glass of his favourite goddamn juice . Soap refused to believe that it was anything close to a coincidence.
It’s for that reason that he feels not an iota of guilt as he closed the door of his room behind him and sits down right next to the door. He’d gone through all of his usual night-time rituals, but wasn’t planning on sleeping any time soon.
Soap stretched slightly when he heard the last few men outside scramble into their own rooms just before midnight. Staying awake when it was dead silent outside made him feel like he might’ve read too much in Ghost’s previous actions, but around 1 am he finally heard footsteps in the hallway outside his room.
The person outside walked the full length of the hallway and Soap felt silly for a second, but then the person walked back and the steps stopped in front of his door. Soap remained still for a little bit, waiting to see if the person would really remain outside of his room. When a minute had passed, he stood up and opened the door to confirm something he already suspected. Ghost .
The man was dressed in casual clothing and one of his soft cloth masks. He didn’t seem to be surprised to see Soap, and didn't react other than a slight jump when Soap had initially opened the door. Matter of fact, the man only spared Soap a short look before looking around the hallway again. Soap saw that he held himself with a stiffness that he’d only seen his lieutenant have on sniper missions.
“L.t.?” Soap asked quietly. Ghost hummed, the only indication that the other man was even listening to what was being said. “Why are you here?”
Soap looked carefully at the other man. He could see no further change in his superiors’ body language and let out a sigh.
Soap opened the door a little more and stepped back inside.
“We have to talk, Ghost,” he said. Ghost looked at the open door and Soap’s face. Soap tried to put on his sternest expression. With a sigh of his own, Ghost followed him inside. Soap closed the door behind him.
While Soap had planned to wait for Ghost, now that he actually had the man in his room, he was momentarily struck speechless by the circumstances. He wasn’t sure how to begin the conversation. Ghost wasn’t any help, as the man was still just standing close to the door. Soap waved him over to the chair by his desk while he sat down on the edge of his bed.
“What’s going on?” He decided to rip off the bandaid. “What am I supposed to think here? This is what, the third night in a row?” He knew he had Ghost’s full attention, but the other man remained silent. “Talk to me L.t., what’s going on in your mind?”
“I’m keeping you safe,” the other man suddenly replied. Soap mulled over this answer for a bit.
“Safe from what? I think even terrorists sleep, L.t.” Despite the likelihood of being attacked right now being laughably low, he could see the effect that his words had on the other man. Ghost had balled up his fists and the knuckles were turning white.
“No,” Ghost whispered, “It’s not the terrorists I’m worried about.”
“Then what are you worried about? I can’t read minds, Simon,” Soap said softly. He could see that Ghost was struggling to find the words and waited to give him time to collect himself. Unfortunately, footsteps in the hallway interrupted their moment.
Soap noticed Ghost immediately looking towards the door. The man leaned forward in his chair and remained laser-focused on the sound outside. He knew that Ghost was holding onto one of his hidden knives by the position of his hand under his sweater. Only when the footsteps could no longer be heard did Ghost lean back.
A slight tremor throughout the lieutenant’s body finally spurred Soap into action.
“Come over here,” Soap said.
Ghost looked at the hand that was patting the space next to Soap on the bed. It didn’t take long for him to get up and make his way over to where Soap was sitting. He sat an appropriate distance away from Soap, but the Scot wasn’t having it. If Ghost could delicately hold his head in his hands yesterday, the man could handle a hug.
As expected of Ghost, it took time for the man to relax into the Scot’s hold. They didn’t speak until the tremble had left. Surprisingly, it was Ghost who broke the silence between them.
“I can’t sleep,” Soap hummed to let him know he was listening, “Every single time, all I can see are the results of my own carelessness. How can I close my eyes when I only see yours close? There’s so much blood, Johnny. So much of your fucking blood, every single time .” Ghost’s voice is rough as he lays it all out there for Soap to judge. But how could he?
“Simon,” Soap begins, because it feels right, “I’m here. A little banged-up, but I’ll live. You didn’t mess anything up.”
Soap wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, but to be hugged back with so much force his ribcage gives in slightly wasn’t it. He can’t get a look at Ghost’s face, but he feels a shuddering breath leave the man. Soap holds his arms securely around him.
“You don’t have to haunt the hallways, Simon. If you need to see me alive, just wake me up next time. Ok? My door is always open for you.”
“I’m sorry,” Ghost replies.
“Nothing to be sorry for. Can’t say I’m not flattered to have my own personal guard dog. Know how to sit and give paw?”
“Shut up, MacTavish.”
“All I’m saying is, it would’ve been worse if you’d be happy to see me dead.”
“Never,” Ghost says with an agitated tone. The arms around his waist tighten up even more and Soap can’t breathe properly and the bruise on his chest aches slightly.
“Alright, alright. Easy there,” he says a little breathless. The arms loosen up a bit and Soap breathes in again. He moves back slightly, but not far enough to break their hug, he has a feeling he wouldn’t have been able to do so regardless. Just enough to look Ghost in the eye.
“You can’t stand outside my door every night. You need to sleep.” Soap can see that Ghost takes this as a challenge as soon as he says it. “I mean it. The wrong person sees you outside of my door and you’re getting discharged.” Soap doesn’t think Price would send Ghost away, perhaps to a shrink for his obvious textbook PTSD, but he didn’t know many other CO’s like that.
Ghost huffs, but Soap can see that he realizes the same thing. He doesn’t seem too happy about it.
“If you really feel a need to stay on guard, just wait inside until the feeling goes away. Sleep in the chair for all I care. Not outside,” Soap says.
“Alright,” Ghost mumbled. Soap kisses the man’s forehead. It felt like the right thing to do and he feels smug when the other man relaxes.
Soap leans back in Ghost’s hold. They were going to figure this mess out together.