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It was the evening, and the Task Force were having a formal gathering. People were in their suits and gowns, the glamor of formality present in each individual. The atmosphere was pleasantly relaxed, the intermingling of soldiers and officers, sometimes with their own dates, was vibrantly simple. Everyone was expected to be proper and polite at the ballroom, one that the officials of the Task Force rented for a recent overwhelming victory in a major mission.
People conversed politely, each with their own circles gathered around round tables and seats. Some preferred to talk by the walls, leaning on it as they had their more casual talks. Then there were those that moved their bodies on the dancefloor, taking in their steps as they excited and intrigued the ballroom.
In a corner of the room, Soap was having some light conversations with his fellow soldiers. The conversation of the day was about what their last mission was like, given that Soap was at the forefront of it with Price at lead. He had laughed for bits of it, drinking some champagne to fit in better. He wore himself a nice black suit, while a bit stuffy, had clung onto his body very well. He had the purple bloom of a thistle on his suit jacket’s pocket and a red necktie fashionably worn. Completing it were the tartan suit pants and some comfortable pair of dress shoes. In all, he looked dapper. He enjoyed the way he looked, having styled himself before this evening. He took great care of his mohawk, trimmed his stubble to his usual, and kept his outfit clean and free from wrinkles.
It’s not that he had anybody to impress with his appearance, really only wanting to be presentable on such a rare occasion for the Task Force. But with the way he gazed over a man at the far end of the room, standing by the wall quiet and intimidating, he decided that it would be that man he had to impress.
Sauntering over other people mingling and chatting, around dancers having the time of their lives, and through the plethora of tables, he reached his target.
He saw him in a black suit, just like him, complete with a black tie over the white shirt worn underneath the suit jacket. He had a rose pinned on the left side of his chest while his tattoos could be barely seen from the cuffs of the jacket. To complete it, he wore comfortably baggy black suit pants and black dance shoes.
“Lt.”
The man stared at him, his usually cold demeanor replaced by a little more warmth. He had his golden brown hair in a somewhat kempt manner, but his stubble wasn’t trimmed. In addition to this, there were traces of black eyeliner on his eyes. “Johnny.”
“You enjoying yourself here?” Soap tried to keep it light at first.
“Yeah. I’ve been having the time here.” His voice was quiet and gruff, a hint of bored sarcasm in it.
“You sure you don’t want to do anything, Lt.?” He wiggled his eyebrows tauntingly, wanting to elicit a bit more life and some sparks from Ghost.
“Positive, Johnny.” The taller man crossed his arms and laid back on the wall, looking down to himself.
“I think you should try what’s been happening here, sir. Get a bit more fun and excitement.” He danced for a second to demonstrate what’s fun in the gathering.
Ghost snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t think dancing is on my agenda, Sergeant.”
“You should probably find someone else to dance with, Soap. You’ll only find two left feet with me.” He chuckled lightly, staring at Soap with some amusement.
The Sergeant hadn’t answered, staring at his superior’s outfit closely from top to bottom. “What are you bloody looking at, Soap?”
“You’re supposed to dance, Si!” He pointed to the shoes below.
“So?” The man replied in confusion.
“Oh come on now. Dance with your favorite guy.” He pointed at himself with a smile, dancing again briefly to demonstrate. “Plus, you’re supposed to dance with shoes like that, sir. It would be a whole damn waste.” The cheekiness of his words were apparent.
He took Ghost’s hand and ran towards the middle of the room, making the other wide-eyed and grumbling at the suddenness. When they arrived in the middle of the ballroom, there were already other dancers enjoying the music. “Seriously? This is what they have right now?” Soap laughed, the choice of music being too cliché for a formal gathering. It was of a moderate pace and rhythm, not too upbeat to make the gathering some mosh pit or too slow that the only dances to do were actual ballroom dances.
“Soap.” He felt the cold gaze of Ghost by him.
“What? Just loosen yourself up, Si.” He reassured the taller man, patting him on his arms. “If you want, I can guide you with some of the steps.” He smiled at his face.
The Scotsman at first received a long grumble, and then an exasperated sigh, and eventually a reply. “Fine. Lead the dance Johnny.”
Taking Ghost’s hands with his, he guided him through some basic steps of a dance he knew to the music blaring in the background. He took each step with grace, the ebb and flow of rhythm working with them wondrously. “So just do this,” Soap’s left foot moved to the side, and Ghost mirrored it. “And then take a step like this,” His right foot stepped forward, making Ghost move backward from it. “And finally take my hand like this,” Their fingers crossed with one another as they continued to dance. “And repeat!”
It was slow at first, but Ghost had picked up the rhythm with his movement, now dancing with a dash of grace. He still held Soap close through the dance, the repetition allowing him to learn more. Soap was glad to let loose, it’s not every day some gala happens for them. His grin conveyed his satisfaction pretty well. He looked at Ghost for a brief moment, their movement now in good synchronicity. His brown eyes staring at his own blue with unexpected warmth, and his lips pursed into a small rare smile.
“You enjoying yourself, Si?” He repeated his question from minutes ago, the same exact chuckle leaving his mouth.
“Suppose so, Johnny.” Ghost’s one hand went to the side of Soap’s torso, the other enveloped with the other’s hand at their extent. They moved to the music still, completely accustomed to it.
“You know,” Their shoes tapped on the glossy wood below. “They’ve called me this name back in secondary.” Soap recounted.
He looked down at his shoes, making sure not to step too much on Soap’s. “Uh huh, and what did they call you?”
He smirked, shifting their dancing dynamic to his more. “Mr. Dynamite. My moves were just that booming.”
“Are you sure they called you that?” Ghost teased, his one hand firm on the other’s torso. “Suits you though.”
The Scotsman’s smirk turned into a big smile, taking their dance a bit livelier than seconds before, while still bound to the gala’s formality.
A server dashed around the ballroom, offering flute glasses of some red-colored wine on a tray with finesse. When he approached Soap and Ghost, he presented the tray to them, inviting them to take their own glasses.
They were at first hesitant, stopping their dancing momentarily. Wine wasn’t something they always drank, and they exactly weren’t into its taste, preferring some harder alcohol. But they relented, the formal scenery and atmosphere tempting them to take it.
As the server moved away once more, they looked at each other, a bit amused. They moved away from the center of the ballroom to the sides of it. “We really have to drink the wine, Lt.? I mean alcohol’s alcohol.”
“We don’t have a choice. This isn’t some pub where we can just enjoy some beer. Or some good bourbon.”
“Or tequila.”
The both of them laughed lightly over the conversation. Eventually raising their glasses together and clinking it. “Cheers!” They proclaimed before sipping the wine in a polite manner.
The liquid tasted what it was supposed to taste, an alcohol with a goodness of sweetness, not too overbearing but not too tasteless. “Damn. That is some good ass wine they served here.” Soap felt slightly surprised.
“You’re not kidding, Soap. How old are these vintages to taste this fine?”
“Not a clue.”
They continued sipping on their glasses, liking the taste. Eventually they had downed all the alcohol, not bothered to call for more. They looked at one another warmly, the wine pooling on their stomachs already, adding more to what they felt.
“Soap, follow me.” It was all of a sudden when Ghost said these words, he even beckoned him to follow. Soap only nodded and followed him, curious as to what Ghost had in mind in going away from the gala.
“Where we going, Si?”
“A good place that I found, Sergeant.” Ghost slowed down his steps to meet alongside Soap, grabbing his hand as well as he dragged him along to where he wanted to go.
They both went outside, and found a small gazebo amidst the grass. Trees were around them and the sky was lit up by the half-moon and a few bright stars that pushed through the town’s lumination. The music from the ballroom faintly heard from their spot. It was a small park and it had its quaint appeal.
Soap looked astonished, amazed by the simple beauty of their surroundings. He let out a whistle before saying, “How’d you find this place?” He approached the gazebo, some simple wonder in his eyes. The wine made him feel warm and he felt his cheeks flushed.
“Thought you’d like it.” Ghost pointed out lightheartedly, eyes glancing on the other’s reddened face. “It’s a simple place I found earlier when I didn’t want to bloody mingle at the dancefloor.” He walked behind Soap as they both stepped into the gazebo.
Their eyes lingered around the area, the presence of each other still withstanding. Warmth exuded from their bodies, one out of the wine and the other for each other. Then their eyes locked on one another and it was a different tale than earlier.
“Dance with me, Johnny.” He offered his hand to Soap, extending with a mock bow and a fierce softness in his gaze.
“What happened to ‘two left feet’, Lt.?” He snickered lightly before accepting his hand. Ghost could only manage to roll his eyes in the moment, scoffing before smirking and leading the dance. The distant tune of the music accompanied them in their dance, each twist and turn done with surprising finesse.
With each push and pull in their dance, the beat of their hearts grew faster, despite the relaxed tempo. Every time they got closer, Ghost’s eyes turned lower to Soap’s lips before flicking up to meet his own, small intimate smiles forming. The waltzing slowly transformed to a much slower pace, their bodies in complete contact.
Soap rested his head on the taller’s chest, each of their hands resting on the side of their torsos, the other pair on their backs. He hummed a soft song to himself, cherishing the proximity and the moment completely. They swayed back and forth in this slow dance of theirs, the sounds of the night dissipating from their senses, as if they felt the world slow down for themselves.
In one final act, Ghost dipped Soap closer to the ground, surprising the Scotsman. “Simon, what the—” was the last thing he could react with as Ghost leaned in close and kissed him. Soap was wide-eyed at first, before melting into it, his hands reaching for his superior’s arms, gripping and holding onto it. The kiss lasted for seconds, their lips pressed together intimately, before having to regain balance for the both of them.
“There.” Ghost smirked, looking pleased at Soap’s surprise and fluster.
“You cocky bastard.” He came close to Ghost’s chest and embraced him tightly and Ghost could swear he could feel the twinge of a smile from Soap through his suit. “...Do that again next time.”
He put his hand onto the other’s hair, ruffling it affectionately. “I will Johnny.” He then embraced back, the comfort and warmth of their intimate hug substantial to them both. They broke off the embrace with loving smiles, now just relaxing on the railings of the gazebo. They took in the sight of the small park, and they chatted and laughed and grumbled and snickered. And as they had this comforting conversation, their hands were always intertwined, holding each other close. They didn’t need to look again, because it was there. It was apparent.