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The thunder was raging once again. Big raindrops were splattering at a raging pace on a large window, making a dynamic pattern on its surface. It was pitch black outside, only distant city lights dividing endless skies from the earth. Whole city was currently being flooded by the same storm that surprised Ghost and Soap in Iran. It chased right after them all the way to Thailand, Bangkok.
After they got called back on track from the feral air BNB, they finally ended up in Thailand instead of Laos, attempting to capture the given objective. And they did. It was nice, finally seeing him disarmed, cuffed and hustled at the back seat of a military truck. The soldiers that arrived on the site were quiet, as they saw the scenery inside the top apartment. Ghost and Soap, well, mainly Ghost, left there quite a mess. Simon used all of his skills to disarm Carlan, their enemy. It might have been the most brutal fight Soap has ever seen Ghost perform.
Everything started seeming wrong as they got into an elevator. The two of them got a clear order — find and capture Carlan, the boss of one of the biggest organisations dealing with drugs smuggling in Asia. Everything went smooth so far, so just as Soap thought to himself “now it’s time for something to fuck up”, the static radio noise suddenly went silent. He exchanged looks with Ghost, who towered over him in a pokey elevator.
— Told ya it was going too good — said Simon, scoffing quietly at the end.
Soap sighed and started tapping his heel up and down, shifting his gaze from his watch to Ghost, who still stood motionless, like a statue. Johnny wondered why the radio connection was broken. It was definitely not because of the increasing height, the radio had a much bigger range. They were rushing up in a personnel elevator, to the VIP highest floor apartments. There were mirrors on the opposite walls, creating a mesmerising, endless tunnel. Ghost stayed still, glaring at Soap with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
— Do I have something on my face? — said the scot with sarcasm, a bit annoyed at how calm Ghost was while he himself was a bundle of nerves. To this point, the whole operation was really dynamic and stressful, so it was normal for someone to lose their composure. Ghost, however, never seemed to get impatient. He always just soaked the pressure in, just took it.
Soap wondered how he released it.
After several floors have scrolled on the display, Johnny figured that the reason for the connection loss was probably a purposely induced local signal disruption. The smuggling organisation must’ve had resources for specialistic tech like that. He shared his concern with Ghost, and all he got was a quiet swear, as the man nodded his head slowly.
— It's a trap, isn’t it? — grunted Soap.
— Most likely. Be careful, Johnny — he answered gently, once again focusing his gorgeous eyes on Soap, a truly caring look. Soap hadn’t gotten used to the fact that he didn’t have to hide his affection anymore yet. It always felt wrong to even have this kind of thoughts for his fucking superior, so now he slowly learned to let those feelings in. It was weird, probably for both of them. Now that there were only two of them in the elevator, Ghost brushed his hand along Soap’s elbow, with the intention of comforting and reassuring him. It was the best he could do right now.
After the elevator arrived at the last floor, it was just straight fire. A hot fight started right away, just as Ghost shot through the lock on the door. Carlan attacked them immediately, clearly on some kind of speedy drugs. Ghost was the first to get into his way, so he was the one the man focused on. Simon seamlessly took out his knife, but Carlan surprised them with outstanding combat skills, so he had to be at his top alert not to get stabbed by his own weapon. They ended up tossing each other all around the apartment, breaking expensive pieces of furniture and art. Soap was ready to help at any point, but it ended up not being necessary — Ghost handled it well, finally shoving their nastily stabbed opponent to the floor. He growled as the bleeding man wiggled underneath his bulk, defeated, and thrusted his knee further into his back.
— Where is the signal disruptor? — hissed Ghost, addressing Carlan. He just got a bunch of curses in response. Soap was about to say something, but he widened his eyes at what Ghost did next — he lowered his head to be in level with his hostage and whispered, it seemed like, right into his soul, in a velveted threat.
— Are you tired of breathing with a straight nose?
Carlan wrenched again, trying to escape, but he froze right as the ringing silence was broken by the sound of a knife being pulled out.
— Kitchen counter — he snapped.
— Soap, turn it off, will ya? — said Ghost quietly, once again looking at him from under his gear-covered helmet, magnetic hazel eyes.
When support arrived, they took the furious man away in silence, clearly giving Ghost a wide berth. Him and Soap didn’t get any further orders, everyone just kind of left. So here they were, at the top of Bangkok’s highest skyscraper, in an insanely expensive, dilapidated VIP apartment, with a storm raging outside. Soap sighed loudly, only now allowing himself to release some tension that builded up since they left the BNB. He usually handled stress well, so he didn’t know what differed from his previous missions.
He approached the window, staring into the city lights glare. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even notice a presence on his right, as Ghost, as always without a sound, stopped right next to him and awkwardly reached for his shoulder.
— You alright? — he asked, voice low.
Soap turned his head swiftly and chuckled at his sudden appearance.
— Always have to creep up at me? — Simon shrugged at this. — Yeah, ‘m fine. It was just… a lot.
Soap angled his head to look at his companion, his shaggy mohawk, still too long, falling into his eyes. Ghost seemed stiff, he stood like a puppet, arms awkwardly just hanging down. Soap took a closer look.
— Ghost, you’re bleeding – what the fuck… — he cursed, as he rushed to inspect a quickly growing bloody patch on his lower back. Ghost backed away from his touch, hissed. There was a sparkling dust of glass shards covering his fleece, blood already dripping down the floor.
— ‘m fine…
Soap scoffed at this.
— Shite, not fine. Sit down, let’s get you patched up — he gestured over to a big, white sofa which covered most of the spacious, modern living room. The sofa was bent into an “L” shape, one of the modules facing the breathtaking view, the other — a big, expensive looking plasma flatscreen. There were horizontal lamps above it, the light volume turned down just enough to cover everything in a vibrant glow.
Surprisingly, Ghost just obeyed and sat down at the part of the sofa with no backrest, so Soap could reach the wound more easily. His mind kind of went quiet, and he has lost the moment in which it exactly happened. After the Thai soldiers left with Carlan, he just got left with silence. There would usually be intrusive thoughts and a rabid battle in his head. On previous missions he could never get his mind to shut up. He didn’t know what changed. Or maybe he did?
— I preferred that last night — grimaced Ghost when Johnny lifted his fleece up and delicately inspected the damage.
— Shut up.
— Are you proud of yourself?
— Immensely — smirked Soap. Ghost chuckled at this, but it was soon followed by a hiss of pain, as Johnny removed the biggest shard of glass.
— ‘s not gonna work like that — mumbled Soap to himself and stood up — Don’t move, yeah? Gotta find a first aid kit to even get started with it — he addressed Simon and started wandering around the apartment. Everything was nicely harmonised, whoever designed the whole thing did a damn good job. Light fixture, modern matt counters, minimalistic decorations and room layout — perfect. Soap eventually found the kit in the kitchen, having to step over a bunch of pieces of household appliance to get to it. He also spotted a pack of cigarettes and, mindful of Ghost’s nicotine addiction, took it along with him.
Simon was still sitting in the same position, but he took his tactical vest and helmet off, only his hardshell skull mask and a black balaclava hiding his face from Soap. Soap found himself wishing to see those chapped lips again, an unusual need, languor. His stomach twisted, as he realised he didn't need to hold his feelings back anymore. His not-so-innocent crush found its way into reality, somehow, it was just like a fucking miracle. He had Ghost all to himself… well, technically. They didn’t really talk this through. Nothing, except that little hot kiss they shared last night, indicated that something about their current relationship changed.
Soap worried that Ghost might’ve regretted their encounter. He planned to confront Simon on this topic — he was not the one to avoid problems, he believed that talking things through could never do no harm. But maybe he’d do so in a more comfortable situation, as the two of them were exhausted and one of them was heavily bleeding. Soap decided to take care of that first.
— Look what i got you — hummed Soap, swinging a pack of cigarettes in front of Ghost. Okay, it was his wily little plan, one of the few excuses he had to see his Lieutenant without his ever-present mask, even if it was just the lower part of his face disclosed. Ghost quickly took the pack, and, as Soap predicted, rolled his mask up immediately. His sharp jawline was on a full display again, chapped lips curved around the cigarette quickly. He had a lighter from god knows where, and exhaled a dense cloud of smoke, throwing his head back.
— Needed that. Thanks.
— Anytime — chuckled Soap. — But now, lean forward for me, please — asked Johnny and gently placed his palm at Ghost’s wide lats. Ghost did and groaned in pain as Soaps gloved hands started removing shrapnels of glass. The injured area was quite big, but there were no deep cuts, just heavy superficial bleeding. “He’s going to have some nasty bruises from that”, Soap thought to himself.
— At what point did you even get it? I think I missed it — speculated Johnny, his intention to get Ghost thinking of something else, as he knew that disinfecting an open wound like this hurt like a bitch. He was mostly done with glass stuck in his skin, just the hard part left to do.
— Motherfucker threw me on a million dollar flower vase — sighed Ghost and huffed quietly, shaking his head in disbelief — I probably couldn’t afford one with my whole life salary.
— You still earn more than me.
— I don’t really care though. Nothing to spend it on anyway.
Soap pursed his lips into a line and did not respond, concentrating on pouring a liquid disinfectant into a clean gause.
— Gonna hurt now. Wanna hold my hand? — asked Soap, half joking. He was hoping for Simon to say yes. He wanted him to say yes. He wanted to hold his hand.
— I’ll be fine.
Soap gritted his teeth and firmly put the cloth to the bloodiest patch. He felt bad, both for doing this to Ghost and for thickening himself into believing that Ghost would ever reciprocate his feelings. He was always trying his best to stay honest to himself, but in Simon’s case, he was helpless. There was just too much emotion involved, both now and in this fucken hotel room. “Ghost was just jittery after his panic attack and wanted some comfort, that was what happened. He was no boyfriend, no affair, and would never be”. Soap tried to convince himself into thinking so. In fact, he just wanted to distance himself so that rejection wouldn’t hurt him that bad. Ghost’s behaviour was not really shining sunlight onto their future together.
Meanwhile, Ghost suffered in silence. It was impressive — he didn’t shift a muscle, only the sound of gripping leather gloves together and a loud, steady breath disrupted the silence. He was still sitting at the edge of the white sofa, now adorned with some bloodstains, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Only thing he could focus on now was the fiery pain shooting through his flesh. Pain became an integral part of his life, so he welcomed it. It was always the same for him, familiar. Whether it was training to failure at the gym, being in an uncomfortable position to the point he started to get bedsores, various wounds, gunshot, knife, injuries, twisted joints, bruises… After what he has been through, nothing in the military could really disturb him. He didn’t know what to think of his numbness — sometimes he felt like it was a blessing, sometimes like a curse. Always on the field or at the base, he never really found himself in a situation in which such numbness could be a disadvantage. Retraction he found within himself after his first year as a rookie, slowly became his second nature. He was always alone, left to himself by choice, but he never had his own back. He would always beat himself up and feel nothing about it. So now, when his feelings jostling their way through his walls disrupted his long-built inner balance (or imbalance), he was completely lost. He literally had no idea what to do with Soap. How to tell him that he is the first person he thinks of when he wakes up, that he worries and cares about him, that his heart beating matters to him more than his own. That he is really the only person he actually enjoys talking to. This whole feelings bullshit, he was never good at it.
By the time Ghost came to realise this, Soap had already finished disinfecting his cuts. Ghost’s whole lower back was sore, and as the adrenaline floated away completely, he started feeling other parts of his body obviously not being okay. He probably exceeded the range of motion of his elbow more than once, because it was a bit swollen and pulsing rhythmically. His ribs near the back wound were probably bruised too.
— Bandage, and you’re as good as new — said Soap and patted his back in a silent “good job” kind of support. He quickly took care of that and a moment later, Simon moved to the backrest part of the sofa to support his head against. He was smoking a second cigarette, clearly exhausted. Soap took the rubber gloves off and shortly followed him. He threw himself at the sofa with a tormented groan. He rested both of his muscled arms on the sides of the sofa, threw his head back and spread his legs, exhaling loudly. The window was now in front of him, so he stared outside, just soaking in the watered down blinding city lights for a few minutes.
— Don’t want to wake you up or anything, but why is nobody coming to get us? Haven’t heard anyone telling us what… yeah — stuttered Johnny after a while, studying Ghost’s cigarette extinguishing in his gloved palm.
— ‘m not sleeping — mumbled Simon, clearly on the edge of the real world. — And I don’t know.
Soap returned to watching the rain mesmerising patterns on the window. After a while, the sound of pacing raindrops and the overwhelming silence was broken by Ghost’s croaky voice.
— Soap?
— Yeah?
— Talk to me so I don't pass out. Please.
— Yer okay?
— Tired. Just ask me some questions.
Soap was quite surprised to receive such request from Ghost. His partner was usually not the talkative one and he always had to drag out little pieces of information out of him. He only knew Simon’s age because he saw his military personnel file. This bastard would never tell him anything, so that’s why it was so unusual of him.
— Like what? — Soap wasn’t sure what kind of questions wouldn’t get Simon upset.
— Just talk to me for fuck’s sake — sighed Ghost, but even the swear hadn’t seemed really convincing like it usually did.
— Alright, I can do that… — hesitated Soap. — So, do black people blush?
The silence was loud. Ghost sighed once again and directed his half lidded eyes towards Soap, giving him the most “what the fuck”, tired look Soap has ever seen him give.
— I don't know, ask Gaz — he finally replied, resting his head on the sofa again.
— Alright, sorry, just a… joke — he cringed at himself — Anyway, I’ve always wondered when did you start smoking — said Soap after a while. He hardly ever saw his lieutenant without his Lucky Strikes pack.
— When I first joined the military.
— Why?
— I’m… not sure — mumbled Simon. His voice changed, it was more soft now, gentle. And less british. It was like he let his guard down. Or fatigue did.
— Right… Sorry if this was too personal. You never really talk about yourself — remarked Soap carefully.
Silence fell for a while again. The rain seemed to have been getting heavier with every second.
— Hey, don't fall asleep — scoffed Johnny and leaned forward to poke Ghost on the shoulder. The man shook his head and glanced at Soap. His balaclava was still pulled up, so Soap could see him parting his lips and taking a deep breath.
— I’ll check the radio, yeah? I don’t know what’s taking them so long.
Static noise filled the silence for a while, snippets of conversations ringing in Ghost’s ears, but he was too exhausted to distinguish individual words from each other. He hadn’t had a proper sleep for about four days now, so his body started shutting down on its own.
A few minutes later, Soap finally found the right channel on the radio, Laswell’s familiar voice flooding them with information Ghost couldn’t find the sharpness in his mind to process. After the short conversation ended, he asked Soap:
— What did she say? — he voiced faintly.
— She wanted a sitrep and told us to wait here. They want to take pictures or something — replied Soap, a small smile creeping up his face as he looked at how exhausted Ghost was. Of course, he worried for him, but he couldn’t get over how private this image was.
— Alright, back to the questions, because I see yer passing out again. Tell me… what's your favourite colour?
— Blue — said Simon softly. — Why?
— Just wanted to know — he shrugged. — It was you who wanted to be asked questions — quarrelled Soap.
— Normal questions — emphasised Ghost.
— Define normal.
— Like, I don't know, war stories or something.
— Noo, I'm fed up with those. Let’s keep things light, yeah? — Soap smiled softly and adjusted his position. — I probably don’t have to ask, ‘cause I know that you used to do dog training, but just for the record: cats or dogs?
— It’s like you presumed, dogs — Ghost made a short pause — And I presume you prefer dogs too?
— I’ll have to disappoint you.
Soap heard Simon shift, but he was too tired to raise his head and make eye contact.
— You surprised me on that — he finally admitted. Johnny decided to move his ass and look at him. He raised his head and found his lieutenant with his boot ostentatiously placed on the spotless white surface of the sofa. He rested his head on top of his forearm and glued his eyes to Soap.
— Dè tha thu a' coimhead air — scoffed Johnny and swept his hair away from his face. It was really getting too long.
— English, McTavish — Ghost had to pull out his iconic line. Soap loved when he did that.
— You should’ve picked up enough scottish from all the time you spent with me to know what that means — Soap pretended to be offended. They had a short eye battle, which Soap miserably lost. — It means “what are you staring at”.
Corners of Ghost’s mouth rose a little bit, but he said nothing. Johnny found himself mildly amused by the situation they were at. Two grown, exhausted to their limits men, sitting at the sofa in a completely destroyed million dollar apartment if fucking Thailand, asking eachother questions whether they prefer dogs or cats. He shared his thoughts with Ghost, but he only smiled further at that. If you could call his absent, tired, slightly autistic expression a smile.
The questions went on — Soap got to know that Ghost’s superpower of a choice would be psychokinesis, that he is allergic to sesame seeds, and that in high school he almost got expelled. Twice.
— What kind of music do you listen to?
— Not much now, but at some point I used to play Slipknot all the time — Ghost tilted his head and studied Soap for a while. — I wonder what your favourite artist is.
— Do I have to answer? — Soap cringed visibly and looked at the window uncomfortably.
Ghost’s dreadful look spoke for itself.
— It’s, um, Katy Perry.
Soap has never heard Ghost laugh so hard. The man threw his head back and huffed quietly, his deep voice really making the most pleasant to the ear sound. Soap was blown away once again, it crossed his mind that he might look like a puppy looking at the snow for the first time. It was shocking, how much Ghost has kept away from him and how badly he wanted to take everything he offered. It was honestly a little alarming, the amount of thoughts he devoted to his superior.
— I would never accuse you of that — smirked Simon and froze for a moment when he saw Soap. — What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.
— You’ve been keeping all that from me? — fumed Soap lightly, ignoring his little joke.
— You mean… what?
— All of you. You are always so retracted! We have known each other for years, LT, you don’t trust me?
Ghost’s expression quickly faded. He couldn’t think of a response, his mind went completely blank. Part of it might've been because he was so tired, but he genuinely didn’t know why he acted like Soap said. He was always keeping his distance from people, no matter if he knew them or not. It felt safer, more comfortable for him. He just always got away with his feelings this way, namely, not triggering them. Until last night, he never questioned his way of coping because he never thought he could get anything out of engaging into a relationship. Not necessarily a romantic one, just basic, both-sided friendship. But after his walls were destroyed, rebuilt and destroyed again, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He wouldn’t pick the topic up, because he didn’t know what to say.
In fact, he didn’t even know if he wanted a relationship. He just wanted to be with Johnny, his Johnny.
— It’s a difficult question.
— No, it’s not. We’ve known each other for years — repeated Soap. — Do you really think it’s in my interest to harm you in any way? I'm no threat Simon — his tone softened at the last sentence.
Those words were very important for Ghost. And the fact that Soap used his real name. There was always seeking safety, neutralising danger and staying alive. He didn’t have a comfort zone. Well, maybe his mask. The only thing he could describe as „comfortable”.
People have their comfort places, comfort people, music, routines, habits even. Ghost didn’t. He survived through his whole life, scraping through one day to another. His family was dead, he had no one and nothing, it seemed like not even himself. Maybe it was time to change that.
— No, I don’t think you intend to harm me — Ghost echoed. — It’s that… don’t know what to do — he confessed quietly, almost whispering. Soap heard everything clear though, his heart skipping a beat.
— You don’t need to do anything — a soft smile creeped up Johnny's face, lighting him up. For a moment he even forgot he was tired. — Just let me in. We both want the same, do we?
— I don’t think we do, Johnny. You want… fuck knows what, and I want you around, in every way I can get it. Around and alive. I… — he hesitated — fuck, I’m not good with… this — stammered Ghost out. It was the best confession he could get himself to give. It was also probably the most nervous Soap has ever seen him.
— So we do want the same — said Soap, still smiling with care-swirling eyes. — I just want our relationship to be clear. You said you thought about me since Las Almas, so there must’ve been something going on. And I really hope you don’t regret anything — Soap risked a question at the end.
Simon looked away from him, clearly uncomfortable, but not in a negative way. His head was a mess now, he couldn't get to find the right words, couldn’t think straight and put himself together. He blamed it on exhaustion, but he knew damn well it was Soap’s careful investigation that made him unfold like a fucking book.
— I don’t.
— Good. Because I don’t regret anything too.
Soap wasn’t sure what to think too. He was really careful, not to push anything too far. Last thing he wanted was to scare Ghost with expectations. He really didn’t have any. Basic mutual trust and a kiss would be enough for him, if Ghost didn’t want to give any more. He always respected his personal space, even if it was sometimes frustrating to keep away from him when he obviously could’ve helped. So he decided to honour it now, to give Ghost time to think.
— I’m gonna get some water — he smiled at him gently and got up from the sofa. He felt Ghost’s eyes on him as he passed by. He directed his steps to the kitchen and, taking his time, did as he said, pouring himself a glass. He figured that if Carlan didn’t kill him, tap water wouldn’t too. He quickly downed it and decided to get Ghost one as well. He got to know that acts of service always worked on him.
When he got back to the spacious living room, Ghost didn’t shift an inch. If looks left trace, there would be a gaping hole on the ceiling. Soap approached Simon slowly.
— Here, drink it. You must be dehydrated — he said, voice down, as he handed the glass over to Ghost. The man took it and, with his burning gaze on Soap, drank it all. Soap’s stomach twisted at this, because there was a challenge in his eyes. He was standing in front of him, between his legs. It crossed Soap’s mind that he preferred that to the view outside the window. Both of these images were breathtaking, but in a different way. He suddenly felt shy. Ghost tilted his head. Only now Soap realised that there was a drop of blood on the hardshell, white skull mask covering Simon’s face.
Ghost put the empty glass away.
— There’s blood on your mask — voiced Soap faintly, intimidated by Ghost’s mere presence.
— Wipe it off then — Ghost smirked, giving Johnny a flash of his fangs.
It was a low blow. Soap knew damn well that Ghost could manage it on his own, he just wanted an excuse for getting him close. He didn’t mind it.
Soap narrowed his eyes at him and leaned down. He purposely supported his left hand on the sofa backrest, only inches dividing them two from each other. He slowly wiped the blood off his mask, but it was dry now. His heart was racing as he licked his thumb. Just as he lowered his hand back to the mask, Ghost’s iron grip tightened on his wrist.
— Don’t do that to me — he practically growled. His eyes were dark.
Johnny froze, the eye contact they were making was too much to bear. He still maintained it though and swallowed. There were two things in his mind now, two stupid thoughts: one, that Ghost probably heard his heartbeat and two, that he wanted to kiss him. Ghost was thinking of only one.
Ghost pulled Johnny’s arm down, and with no resistance encountered, kissed him. It was slow but solid, purposeful. Soap breathed shaky into Ghosts’ lips, kissing him back. That was the reassurance he needed. Their earlier conversation didn’t really clear things up, but the kiss did. It was simple. So simple. Two bodies and two hearts beating in the same rhythm. They both wanted it.
Johnny clawed to the sofa as Ghost’s gloved hand stroked his neck, pulling him a little closer. The harsh fabric was an emphatic spur. Ghost’s spine was shot through by chills of excitement, but he had to break the kiss. The conscious part of his mind reminded him that they were still on an international, top secret and highest priority mission. They would have both lost their jobs if someone spotted them now.
When he pulled away, Ghost put on a satisfied face, and, if the kiss wasn’t enough for Soap, he smiled. Soap has never seen anything so beautiful. His lieutenant smiling at him after they just kissed. It was almost too much to process for him. Unconsciously, he smiled back and collapsed at the sofa next to Simon. Soap’s cheeks were flushed pink, he felt like his whole body was burning. He shifted a bit, adjusting his position to finally rest his head on Ghost’s shoulder.
After a while, he was overwhelmed with relief. He felt the tension that disabled him from keeping it together on the mission flow away, he knew what caused it now. He was simply happy now, whole.