Work Text:
Soap didn’t remember his childhood very well. He had many distorted visions and fragments of memories, not connected to each other and not making any reasonable sequence of events. Snippets of conversations with his parents were still ringing in his head sometimes, most of the time when he was trying to fall asleep, but he couldn’t tell particular words apart and combine them so that they make sense. One memory, however, he remembered very vividly, with vibrant colors. Well, as vibrant as they could get underwater.
It was a lazy afternoon in July, in the middle of Loch Ness lake in Scotland. His father took him fishing in an old sail with rust-eaten metal poles. It was reeking of fish and algae, but little Johnny was delighted, his kid enthusiasm bright and pure, as it was his first time sailing. He was constantly running around, laughing and staring into the water. When his father told him the old legend about the Loch Ness monster, he was constantly turning his little head around and looking for it. Johnny armed himself with a broken oar and shouted: "I’m not scared! Come and get me!"
And he wasn’t scared.
But here was a moment when he was leaning overboard, trying to reach the water with his pole. Johnny was six, the boat was shaky and the oar heavy. He lost balance for a split second.
That was the first time his courage was tested. Freezing water closed over him, pushing its way into his mouth, nose, ears. Johnny got caught in black seaweed, desperately trying to get out and take a breath. He ended up choking, coughing. His father heard his shrieks and cries and rushed to rescue him. As the water split, when Johnny’s father was helping him surface, all he remembered was sun rays forcing its way into the black depths of the Loch Ness lake, his vision distorted and blurry from the lack of oxygen.
Now, he felt the same. When Ghost took his mask off, it was like sun rays broke through the ever-present darkness around him. Soap couldn’t count how many times he wanted to appease his curiosity and rip the fabric away. They were still arm length apart, one of Ghost’s hands on Johnny’s shoulder. And Soap starred.
The thing that really defined Simon’s face was his hair, dirty blonde curls falling down on his forehead, framing it and softening his sharp features. There was a scar on the bridge of his nose, probably from it being broken numerous times, a bump giving it character. His skin was pale from not being exposed to sunshine for so long and seemed well taken care of. The one of many scars that caught Soap’s eye was the one indented in Simon’s furrowed eyebrow, stretched halfway to his forehead. There was also one near his ear and two little ones under his eye. After looking closely for a while, Johnny also discovered a tiny seam on his lower lip, too thin to notice at first glance. A sharp jawline complimented him well. Very well.
"Can I…?" stuttered Soap, his eyes jumping from one feature to the other, trying to memorize it. Ghost swallowed and nodded, tensing his jaw. Johnny slowly raised his hand and traced along his eyebrows, his cheekbones, nose… Simon didn’t flinch once, closed his eyes.
"You’re beautiful," whispered Soap. Ghost could feel his breath on his bare skin. He gritted his teeth together and shut his eyes tighter. Soap let go immediately and took a small step back. He knew that it was already a lot of vulnerability for Ghost. Last thing he wanted was to scare him.
"Don’t say that," Ghost cut himself off and made a pause. "It's not true."
Johnny smiled softly. "How could I lie to you?" he replied, batting his eyes. Ghost shot him a glare and attempted to put his mask back on, but Johnny caught his wrist halfway, just as Simon was tilting his head forward. "
Please… I think I like looking at you."
Ghost, however, just shook Soap’s hand away and planted the balaclava back where it usually sat, adjusting it so that the bottom of it was covered by the collar of his hoodie, so that there was no skin visible, only his hazel, tired yet still piercing eyes. Soap loved looking into them, especially in the natural light they were currently exposed to. The sunrise afterglow was still present, making light fall into purplish blue tones. That gave Simon’s irises a completely new hue, making them brighter and at the same time swirling deep. They regularly conveyed resolve and resilience, carved out by years of experience, but at the moment they had something different inside, something Soap hadn't seen yet. Now that Soap could combine what he usually saw with the knowledge of how Simon looked under his mask…
"Thank you for opening up. I appreciate it," Soap chose to be honest and clear, no bullshit. "I really do. And I respect your privacy, so just say if something is too much, yeah?"
"Yeah," affirmed Ghost, making eye contact with Johnny. "You know it works both ways?"
Johnny smiled and nodded.
Some time after, Soap left the room. He learned that it was sometimes best to leave Ghost to himself, give him space. He still felt that he intruded it too much today, but it was needed to move on. They couldn’t really go much further with no statement’s made, only with their gut feelings guiding them. Soap knew enough about that.
He was surprisingly calm. He swinged by his own room to change and figured that he could use some breakfast. No sudden mental breakdown appeared as he expected. In fact, their conversation was refreshing and purifying. He greeted some rookies on his way to the small kitchen, clean clothes embracing his good mood even further. Soap was beaming. If he was a cartoon character, there would be a yellow aura around him.
As he supposed, the kitchen was empty. It was temporarily assigned to the 141 team, so there was no way he would stumble upon someone, given that Gaz was probably sound asleep and Price ran the rookies training. After checking the fridge, he settled for scrambled eggs on toast and protein yogurt. And coffee. It was too late to start his day with it, but he couldn’t say no to his daily dose of caffeine. Soap opened a window and stared out for a little bit, waiting for his eggs to congeal. The view was not really breathtaking, only a parking lot and a wired fence around the facility in his range of view, but the breeze from the sea was clearly palpable. Soap liked the sea, despite countless missions when he got soaked to the bone and had to go around in salty clothes for days. He didn’t like ships and big oil tankers, didn’t like the sounds they were making and the uneasy aura surrounding them. The sea was nice though, calming to watch.
His eggs were done and he began to eat, lost in thought. At some point, without even realizing, Soap started quietly humming, an old song that the breeze reminded him of. His mother used to sing it for him sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep as a kid. It was bittersweet for him, just as other lullabies he had ever heard.
Soap turned on the coffee machine and began to do the dishes. Just as he placed everything in the sink, that was in front of the window, and cranked the water knob to the warm side, he heard a rustle behind him and quiet steps. Before he react in any waycould even turn around, strong arms wrapped around his body from behind, someone’s torso pressed tight to his back. Ghost. Johnny exhaled and smiled about it. He decided to wait.
He started washing his dishes, trying not to move around too much so as not to flick Ghost away. There was solace in this moment, the kind that both of them hadn’t experienced for so long. Sun was now higher, dazzling Soap through the open window, not restrained by anything. He felt Ghost tighten his hold, hooking over Soap’s shirt. His head was buried in the crook of Johnny's neck, he felt warm breath and tickling fabric of the mask on the sensitive skin there. He smelled of tobacco and shampoo. In every direction Soap swayed, Ghost swayed with him, synchronizing his moves and matching his breath. Soap couldn’t help a smile coming through, as the happiness flooded him. The moment was perfect, spine-tingling to the point he got goosebumps.
"It wasn’t too much, Johnny," Ghost mumbled into Soap’s neck. The Scot could hear relief in his voice. “I needed that.”
Now it was Soap’s time to stay silent. Because he was done with the dishes, his hands already dry, he gently turned around and leaned over the kitchen counter. Ghost reluctantly let go, only to close the space between them as soon as he got a chance, clinging to Soap’s body again. Soap let him do that willingly. Everything around was quiet. As Soap stood there, feeling Ghost's warmth and dormant strength against him, he couldn't help but reflect on the journey they'd been through together. From the chaos of the battlefield to the calm of this kitchen, they'd faced it all side by side. Memories flooded his mind: the adrenaline-fueled missions, the close calls, and the losses they'd endured.
The kitchen was like a sanctuary now, a shelter from the outside world, the time seemed to stand still in the gentle sunrise glow washing all over the room. Soap felt Ghost's steady heartbeat against his chest, a comforting rhythm amidst the stillness. And he knew that he could listen to it forever.