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If you’ve been on the internet in the last month, you’ve probably heard of “the orange peel theory”. It may seem silly, asking your partner to peel an orange for you, but according to the theory, if they offer to peel it for you, they’re a keeper. “One of the good ones”. Bonus points if they peel it without you having to actually ask outright.
Now, having partners isn’t exactly recommended when you’re in the military. Sure, it’s not exactly prohibited per se, but it certainly isn’t encouraged. So even if there’s someone you would date, you’d probably say “I’d die before dating another soldier.” (Which is either really ironic or really depressing, considering the job).
But of course you can imagine dating another soldier, dream of falling asleep in their arms, hope that maybe, just maybe, they make a move, so all the imagining, dreaming, hoping can become a reality.
All this to simply say, Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish and Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley will not admit, especially to each other, that they like each other. Like like each other.
Of course, oranges would be way too forward, far too obvious. Ghost- no, Simon, knows this. He wants to show Soap (Johnny) that he cares about him. How would he do this, you may ask?
Why, Eye Black, of course!
~~~~
It started with a simple question from Gaz. Soap and him were sat at a table in a bar they all frequented, Price getting another round of drinks, all of them waiting for Ghost to join them. The four of them had made a ritual of getting together and drinking two nights before a mission, and this night was no different.
“How much time do you think Ghost spends on his Eye Black before each mission?” Gaz had asked.
“Loads. I’d bet money it’s more than fifteen minutes,” Soap replied.
“Oh I’ll take you on that bet. Why do you think it takes him so long?”
“Oh come on, Gaz! You really think he spends less than fifteen minutes on it?!” Soap exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat, across the table.
“Who does what for more than fifteen minutes?” Price asked, slightly concerned, walking up to the table with four drinks in his hands.
“Ghost and his Eye Black. Although I’m sure “Johnny” would LOVE to know more about how long Ghost spends on other things,” Gaz smirked, Soap choking on the drink he was sipping.
“Oh haud yer wheesht! Eejit… I told you that in confidence!” Soap yelled, before leaning back in his chair, “and I didn’t say exactly what yer impyin’, all I said was he was right bonnie under the mask, and that I wouldn’t complain if I saw his face again. Yer a whopper mate, I cannae tell ye anythin’ anymore.”
“English, Johnny.” A low voice behind him had his face dropping, the color draining from his face.
Gaz’s hand shot to his mouth, trying, and failing, to cover the laugh that jumped out.
“L.T.! How much o’ that did ye hear…?” Soap asked cautiously, clearly afraid of the answer.
“Only whatever gibberish you just spoke, I didn’t hear whatever you’re clearly worried I heard, so you can calm down,” Ghost sat in the empty chair, between Soap and Gaz, pulling his mask up to his nose, a smirk on his lips as he sipped on his drink.
“Och, yer the worst, L.T.” Soap replied, pushing his hand against Ghost's shoulder. “Hey, quick question. How much time do ye spend on yer Eye Black before each mission?”
“Why?” Ghost seemed unsure where the conversation would lead. “You want to try it again sometime?”
Soap and Gaz look at eachother, silently asking if they should tell him the truth or not. Price decides the truth is better. “They made a bet on how long you spend on it.”
“Och, you only heard the end of the conversation, Captain! What if I did want to try it? The bet was only a joke.” Soap doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince Ghost, or himself, that there wasn’t a real bet.
“Do you, Johnny?” Ghost asked.
“Would ye give me some, L.T.? I sort o’ threw what I had after ye’ all made fun o’ me the last time I tried having a bit o’ fun with it,” Soap pouted.
“Oh don’t take it to heart Soap, I’m sure Ghost would even put it on for you,” Gaz joked. It made Soap look back at Ghost, who had an unreadable expression on his face (Soap can ALWAYS read Ghost’s face, even when he can only see his eyes).
“You can use some of mine, Johnny. I’ll even apply it to your face.” (He’d do anything Johnny wanted). “Find me before our mission.”
“Aye, sir,” Soap said, saluting him.
The conversation shifted, but it stayed in Soap's mind.
Imagining.
Dreaming.
Hoping.
~~~~
Soap is awoken by his alarm clock two mornings later; it reads 0500. He rubs as much of the sleep off his face before getting out of bed and dressed.
“Find me before our mission.” Ghost’s words echoed in his head. It made Soap giddy, a little nervous. (It DEFINITELY wasn’t because Soap had a crush on Ghost. Not at all). He’d never actually seen Ghost before a mission, the man not being seen any sooner than four hours before a mission. With how early they were leaving, he wouldn’t be seen all morning. Except now Soap had to find him. Which was fine, it’s not the first time he’s had to find Ghost on base. But he knew Ghost well, probably better than anyone.
Soap decides to check everywhere, despite him already knowing where Ghost would be. (Perhaps he’s still trying to convince himself he doesn’t, for some irrational reason). While walking to the canteen, he briefly thinks of checking the Task Force’s rec room, but quickly dismisses the thought. He knows Ghost wouldn’t be there. Ghost isn’t in there, but Gaz is, so he grabs breakfast and sits next to him.
“Dae ye ken where the L.T. is, Gaz?”
“I beg of you to start a conversation with English for once, Soap.” Gaz sighs.
“That was Eng- nevermind. Yer an eejit, ‘m not going to argue with ye. I ask again: Ye seen Ghost? He’s meant to help with my Eye Black but I don’t know where he is.” (Liar) .
“You know where he is. You always know where he is. I don’t know why you keep acting like you know him less than you do. Why don’t you tell him you like him already?”
“What!? I do not! Why would you even-”
Gaz holds his hand up, effectively cutting Soap off, before shaking his head with a sigh. “Soap, you’re the only person who always knows where he is, you know his favorite alcohol, his favorite tea, you know what he needs before he’s realized he needs it. You act differently when he’s around, in a good way. You seem happier, more smiles from you. And you practically eye-fuck him when he’s not looking. You like him.”
Soap looks down, he’s silent for a long moment. “I don’t like him,” he mumbles, then sighs, “I think- no, I know, it’s more than like. I love him…” He looks up at Gaz, who does not seem surprised. “Which you already knew, and I’m an idiot. Okay, yeah. But I’m not telling him! At least not yet. Maybe I’ll be more flirty, more forward, but I need to sit with it for a bit. And you’re right, I know exactly where he is, I’ll see you later when we’re getting our gear on!” He says back to Gaz as he’s leaving, food now abandoned.
“Wait! Your food… and he’s gone. Idiot.” Gaz sighs.
Soap practically sprints through the base, dodging around the occasional person, before slowing down when he turns down a specific hallway. It’s not abandoned or anything, but there’s nothing really important in it, some unassigned offices that get used when a CO from another unit stays on base, a single bathroom and, at the very end of the hallway, an old locker room. The base had gotten a new, bigger, nicer one long enough ago that most of the people on base have forgotten about it, or are new enough to never know of it, but it’s still kept clean and running.
And Soap knows it’s exactly where Ghost will be. (Because of course Ghost would know about a room like that). Soap takes a deep breath before cracking the door open, knocking twice. “L.T.?” a cautious question.
“You can come in Johnny, just me in here.” A low voice-Ghost- replies.
Soap pushes the door open the rest of the way, entering the small room, seeing Ghost on a bench. Maskless. It makes him stop dead in his tracks. Sure, he’s seen Ghost’s face before, the first time was back in Las Almas, and he’s seen it a few times since, but it never ceases to amaze him. But he’s never seen it like this. Never alone, never just the two of them. ‘Bonnie’ he thinks to himself.
“Take a picture, Johnny, it’ll last longer.” Ghost says, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Soap’s face flushes red with embarrassment, he didn’t realize he was staring. “Uh, sorry, sir. Just don’t see yer face that often is all.”
Ghost smirks, then pats the bench. “Sit. Only just started with my Eye Black, I’ll do yours then finish mine so you can get out of here A.S.A.P.” (Soap would be in this room forever if Ghost asked).
Soap nods, and sits next to Ghost, on his left, turning towards him. He sat a respectable distance away, but apparently it wasn’t close enough, because Ghost scoots closer, making Soaps breath hitch in his throat. They’re closer than they’ve ever been, and with Ghost being maskless, it only intensifies the indescribable feeling Soap is having. (Love) .
Ghost fully turns, essentially stradling the bench. Without a chance to let him prepare, he grabs Soap’s right leg, twisting his body so he’s facing towards himself, before very unceremoniously dropping his leg between Ghost’s own and the bench, trapping it.
Soap can feel his face burn again, now from a little more than embarrassment. He rubs his nose with his thumb, hiding his face the best he can until he feels it cool down a little.
“How do you want it?” Oh god, why did Soap talk to Gaz earlier. Ghost doesn't have any idea what he’s doing to Soap. (Yes he does).
Soap has to clear his throat before speaking. “Uhm, whatever ye think would look good. Nothing extravagant, but still there.”
Ghost nods and pulls the cap off the Eye Black stick. He stares at Soap for a moment, clearly thinking. He starts above Soap’s right eye, dragging once at a diagonal, stopping right before hitting his right ear.
Soap’s eyes fluttered closed, both from the proximity and the coldness of it. “Cold.” He mutters.
“Sorry.” Ghost says back, before using his thumb to blur the color, making it less of a solid line. Soap keeps his eyes closed as Ghost drags another diagonal line across his face, this time longer, from above his left eye, through his eyebrow, crossing the bridge of his nose, and stopping to the right of his mouth. He repeats the action of blurring it, pressing hard enough to be effective, but gentle enough to not hurt him. His thumb drags across the corner of Soap’s mouth, and he can feel him tensing at the touch. He huffs a small laugh before apologizing again, which makes Soap open his eyes.
“Why’d you apologize then?” Soap asks, a confused look on his face.
“You tensed when I touched your lip because it was cold, did you not?” Now Ghost’s confused.
A hint of recognition flashes on Soap’s face before he nods. “Right, yeah, really cold…”
Ghost seems suspicious but accepts the answer. “Close your eyes again, one more line and we can call it good, and you can go back to Gaz, or whatever you do before missions.” He smiles
Soap smiles back, rolling his eyes before closing them. The smile stays on his lips as Ghost does a final line, next to his left eye, stopping right above his upper lip. He rubs that in too, touching his lips more than he did before. He uses both of his thumbs to rub it in a bit more. Soap’s smile becomes contagious, his own lips turning upwards. He wipes a thumb on the scar on Soap’s chin, the only scar he has that wasn’t caused by his profession.
“There. All done.” Ghost says. Despite saying he was done, he keeps his hands on Soap’s face.
Soap’s eyes open slowly, looking into Ghost’s eyes. But Ghosts isn’t looking back at him. He can tell. It’s Simon. So many words on the tip of his tongue, such a strong urge to tell him how he feels, how Johnny feels about Simon.
And then Simon drags his thumb across Johnny’s lips, Johnny sees Simon glace down, right at his lips, before his entire demeanor changes. His hand drops and he slides back, clearing his throat before speaking. “You can go now, Soap,” (Not Johnny…). “I’ll see you on the airstrip.”
Soap stands up quickly, nearly tripping over his feet as he stands. “Right, yeah. Yep. See ye there, L.T. and uhm, thanks, for doing all this…” he motions to his face before leaving. He doesn’t get very far before leaning against a wall, head tipping back. “Gaz is going to freak out.”