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Dare me

Summary:

Soap has never backed out of a dare in his whole life. When Gaz dares him to ask Ghost for a kiss will he find the nerve?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

 

 

Gaz was sweating, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He pressed his hands flat to the tabletop in an effort to keep himself still and willed himself to swallow the last, blistering bite. Soap couldn't understand why he'd eaten the chilli laden crisp in three small bites rather than whole thing in one go, extending the agony as over 2 million scovilles of California reaper chilli heat got to work on his tastebuds, but rules were rules, the whole crisp had to go. 

Unless, of course, he wanted to forfeit the dare.

Another few seconds of his throat working painfully to swallow, Gaz lifted up his head and opened his mouth to prove that the last of the crisp was gone, then promptly snatched up the carton of milk which sat on the table in front of him and downed half of it. Soap grinned as the other man laid his head down on the table and let out a pained groan. Looks like their challenge was still on.

It wasn't that Soap enjoyed seeing his friends suffer, but honestly, after a year of this kind of nonsense Gaz should know better than to go up against him in a game of dares. When it came to dares there were no holds barred as far as Soap was concerned, and ordering the World's hottest chip, a single crisp coated in California reaper chilli had been his best idea to date. 

He and Gaz had hit it off instantly when Soap joined the 141. Soap quickly realised that for all Kyles efficiency on the battlefield, his easy going energy hid a propensity for mischief and he didn't need much persuading to join Soaps shenanigans, to the exasperation of their superior officers. Less fortunately as it turns out, the pair of them also shared an infuriatingly stubborn competitive streak. Their current situation has started a couple of weeks back, coming down from the adrenaline of a painfully drawn out and frustrating mission, what began as a drinking game in the pub had turned into dares, each one more ridiculous than the last, neither man prepared to be the one to tap out. Not to brag, but Soap had never been outdone yet, he was just the right combination of shameless and fearless, which is how he got hauled into Price's office three days ago for running a lap of the training ground wearing just his boots and a grin.

When Price found out that they weren't even playing for cash, simply the gloating rights, he declared them a pair of fucking Muppets and said if he saw anyone else's bare arse again he would be writing them both up.

Soap leaned over and thumped Gaz on the back, grinning "ah dinnae think that was goin' down mate, if ah'm honest. Well done."

Gaz let out another long groan, rolling his forehead on the rec room table, arms clutched round his middle "I don't think it's gonna stay down. Ugh,  my stomach feels like it's literally boiling. I think I'm sweating out of my eyeballs Tav"

"Bit dramatic. Aren't ye always complainin' that yer foods never spicy enough?" Soap folded his arms with a smug grin, "Anyways, when you've finished whining ye can let me know what ah'm doing next. Try to make it a challenge this time aye?"

Gaz gave him a filthy look as he finished the rest of the milk. He was looking kind of green around the edges, but he sat up a little straighter as an idea came to him.

"Alright I've got one" he said, wiping the sweat off of his face with the hem of his t-shirt, "and this one's gonna make you hurt even worse than my insides right now."

"Do yer worst"  Soap smirked.

"Ask Ghost for a kiss."

"Fuck off!"

Gaz looked pleased with himself and Soap glared at him. Why, oh why had he confessed his crush on their Lieutenant to Gaz of all bloody people? Soap blamed the half a dozen tequila slammers they'd had lined up on the bar that night. This is exactly the reason why he shouldn't be allowed to drink, couldn't be trusted not to run his mouth, obviously, and now he was going to pay for it with some broken bones. That's if he was lucky.

 Because obviously he was doing to do the dare. 

Anyway, who could blame him for drooling over their Lt? The guy was a 6ft 4" wall of solid muscle and scathing attitude, but the ever present skull mask? Steamin Jesus the mask was hot. It probably spoke volumes as to how royally fucked up the wiring in Soaps brain was, that Ghosts poorly veiled contempt for him had him biting back groans as he frantically worked himself over in the showers after training sessions. Grip tighter than normal, rougher, imagining it was Ghosts huge slick palm stripping his cock as he stared impassively down at his Sergeant.

Embarrassingly, the fantasy had him shooting his load in minutes like a damn teenager.

Ok, so Soap had some issues that probably ought to be worked through, it was a low blow to use that against him like this though. He was about to say as much when Gaz's eyes grew wide, staring beyond him. Suddenly a low rumble of a voice just behind his shoulder made him leap out of his skin.

"What's this Sergeant?"

Fuck. Ghost by name ghost by nature. For a man built like a bloody Titan, he moved around like a cat, graceful and unnervingly silent. Soap couldn't count the times his soul had nearly vacated his body when he turned to find the Lieutenant unexpectedly looming over him. 

So frequently in fact that Soap started to suspect it happened by design more than accident, though the flat gaze Ghost always levelled at him gave no indication that he'd done it for the craic. Now that he thinks of it, Soap's never seen him stand nearly that close to anyone else. Either way, If Ghost were the enemy Soap would undoubtedly be dead a hundred times over by now, another fact that really ought not to have his dick giving a curious twitch at the thought.

He realised he'd been stood like a deer in headlights when Ghost cocked his head to the side questioningly. He was dressed casually in a well worn black hoodie and sweatpants, and his mask was one of the skull print balaclavas that he wore around base, it revealed a little more of his expression, a raised eyebrow, brown eyes narrowing slightly.

"Er, nothing sir just Gaz being a prick" Soap said, making a valiant effort to meet Ghosts gaze but not quite managing it, took to staring at his own boots, feeling heat creeping up his neck.

Ghost turned to look at Gaz who, Soap was pleased to note, suddenly looked less bloody delighted with himself. A few shades paler in fact. That'll teach the bastard, he thought and glared at Gaz, giving his best death stare and willing him to not to repeat it. Gaz's eyes flickered to Soap's briefly then back to Ghost's, an expectant silence strung out between them for another few beats before the bloody feartie caved.

"I dared him to ask you for a kiss sir" he admitted meekly, looking like a schoolboy caught passing notes in class.

Warm whiskey gaze cut back to Soap, as Ghost regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowed, concidering. Before Soap could gather enough wits to beg for his life, Ghost raised a hand to pull up the hem of his mask, settling it on the bridge of his crooked nose and revealing the bottom half of his face.

Soap stared. 

It's not like he hadn't seen this before, but it always felt like stolen glimpses as Ghost took a swig from his canteen, or a drag on a cigarette. Now it was intentionally revealed to him, the strong jaw, the silver slash of a scar which pulled at his top lip and ran up toward his cheekbone, disappearing beneath the mask,  giving him that permanent smirk, and sweet Jesus, Soap intended look his fill. Pure selfish to keep a face like that concealed. 

Eyebrows raised further still.

"Well Mactavish? I don't have all day"

Soap tried to read the taller man's expression through the mask. He'd gotten pretty good at it with all the time he'd spent staring at him these past few months, but Ghost kept his face neutral, honeyed eyes watching him so intently that Soap could feel a traitorous blush warming his ears. He looked to Gaz for help but found him watching the scene before him with morbid fascination of a man about to light up a building he'd just laced with explosives. The bawbag.

Oh shit.

He was definitely going to pay for this, but a dare was a dare, and if he backed out then Gaz would never ever let him hear the last of it. And besides he reasoned, dying with Ghosts hands closed round his windpipe was about the best way that Soap could imagine himself checking out, conscidering his line of work.

"Steamin Christ, please don't hurt me for this" Soap mumbled, then stepped up, pressed his lips against his Lieutenants. Ghost didn't incline his head. It forced him to virtually press against the man to close their difference in height. He was certain Ghost must be able to feel his heart slamming against the confines of his ribcage as he tried to think about anything other than the soft lips and hard body pressed against him. Those ridiculously broad shoulders. The way he'd seen Ghost snap a man's neck, drop him and keep moving forwards like it was nothing at all.

Jesus.

He was so fucked.

After a couple of beats, metered out by the pounding of his heart, he pulled back and glanced over triumphantly to see Gaz wide eyed and dumbfounded.

Ghost made a disgruntled sound. "Not much of a kiss Sergeant" he growled, "Hardly worth pulling the mask up for"

As he spoke, Soap suddenly felt a large hand grip the back of his neck. He gasped in surprise at the hot skin searing into his nape as Ghost pulled him back in close and then Ghosts mouth was on his once more, those soft lips slowly, firmly, moving against his own, sending lightning bolts of heat down his spine. Too overwhelmed to do anything other than let himself be kissed, Soap closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the heat radiating from Ghost, the faint musk of him. Slowly Ghost began to increase the intensity, lips pressing firmly, demanding, and finally Soap rallied enough wits to respond. He returned the kiss and Ghost hummed his approval, Soap felt the rumble of it where the planes of their bodies met. Teeth grazed at his bottom lip, the tease  of a tongue. Soap groaned and opened for it, and Ghost licked up into his mouth slow and filthy, and Soap was gone. Completely wrecked. And then with a last lingering kiss, Ghost's mouth, and hand, and heat were gone.

The sudden withdrawal of that blistering presence pulled the rug from under Soap. He stood panting, eyes still closed, knowing that if he looked Ghost in the eye right now he couldn't stop his face giving him away. Suddenly the thought that he might look at Ghosts face after a kiss like that and not see his own enkindled desire reflected back was more than he could bear. Soap tried to calm his breathing, maybe if he just stood here long enough the man would leave, or the ground may open up beneath him. Either of those would be just fine.

"I think you short circuited his brain sir" Soap heard Gaz say, with barely contained glee.

"Hmm, didn't take much did it" Ghost drawled, but there was a tone to his voice that Soap had never heard before.

Reluctantly he opened his eyes and found that Ghost had only taken a step back, he was still agonizingly close. The mask was back in place once more but those brown eyes danced with rare amusement.

"Back with us Johnny?" He asked fondly and Soap felt a jolt of heat down his spine at the nickname. And then, as if absolutelynothing had just happened, Ghost stepped around Soap and continued on to the kitchen. The rattle of the kettle as it began to boil snapped Soap from his daze. 

"Feel like I need a cigarette after watching that" Gaz lsughed now Ghost was safely out of earshot, fanning himself with both hands. 

"Ye fuckin basturt!" Soap hissed. He aimed a savage kick at the leg of Kyles chair which almost toppled him onto the floor.

"Calm down, Johnny" his shit eating grin growing even wider." I only said to ask him, I never said to kiss him. That was all you. I just thought he was gonna clean your clock to be honest mate, but maybe you should be thanking me"

Soap sputtered a stream of pure garlic outrage. He was still describing in bloody detail how he planned to dispatch Gaz and dispose of him when Ghost came back past them with a steaming mug of tea.

He looked down at Gaz with his regular unimpressed expression

"Sergeant Garrick, if you're about to vomit go do it elsewhere"

"Yes sir"

Ghost paused as he reached the door and looked back at them. "And he," he growled, pointing at Soap "is sergeant Mactavish or Soap to you. Understand?"

"Yes sir" Gaz repeated meekly, and with that Ghost gave a satisfied nod and left them staring after him in disbelief. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Another silly little fic that sat in my notes forever because I couldn't think how to wrap it up. Open to suggestions!