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The bed was perfectly positioned so that the 6 AM sunlight shone right on Soap’s face- a harsh thing to wake up to, the only upside being the pleasant warmth it brought. Soap frowned at the fact he’d forgotten to close the blinds before falling asleep. Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. He blinked blearily at the ceiling, his hand coming to rest in Ghost’s hair, who miraculously was still asleep.
Internally, Soap was somewhat happy to be awake before Ghost. Usually the man was up at the ass crack of dawn, and while he’d never leave Soap, he would shift away from him- always saying it’s so he wouldn’t wake Soap. So Soap cherished mornings like this, where he woke before the other man. Ghost was almost always more peaceful when he slept- and Soap liked to just stare at his face. Usually Ghost wore his mask, even around Soap. And Soap was fine with that. He knew the man was beautiful, and he took every opportunity to tell him- but he knew wearing the mask made Ghost more comfortable, and that’s what Soap loved more.
Soap turned towards the man beside him, taking his time so as to not disturb him. He held Ghost’s face in his hand, thumb brushing a newly-acquired wound from a recent mission. He studied the man’s pale lashes, the scars, the miniscule details Soap was proud to be the only one to know so intimately. While Ghost was certainly a man, he was Soap’s boy. Always had been, since the first moment Soap laid eyes on the mountain of muscle that was Ghost- and he always would be.
Last night had been like most of the others- the two of them had returned to their shared room, quiet. The moment the door shut, however, Ghost’s face was pulled down to Soap’s, and they kissed enough to make up for all the times they couldn’t throughout the day. They’d each showered, and upon donning clean underwear, climbed into the same bed they slept in every night. Like two kids at a sleepover, they complained about the other’s cold extremities, or started a tickle fight that ended in kissing.
Ghost was a peaceful sleeper- he found a position and stayed in it, usually with an arm slung over Soap or being used as the man’s pillow. Soap was the opposite of that- basically a whirlwind riding a bike in the middle of a hurricane. He flopped and tossed and turned and shimmied, but somehow always kept some part of his body touching Ghost’s- who was basically a pillow for Soap whenever he wished.
Soap was suddenly aware that Ghost was awake- he knew because he’d memorized Simon’s breathing patterns. He didn’t say anything, though, hoping for a few more moments of cuddling before they had to truly exist outside of their little bubble.
“Mornin’, love.” Soap whispered to the semi-conscious being beside him. This was met with a barely-audible grunt, and the shifting of the bed as Ghost laid his head on the Scot's chest.
Soap just smiled, a hand returning to his lover’s hair. This was met with a satisfied hum and a half-hug-half-squeeze from Ghost.
Both men were content to remain as they were, and so they did. Soap played with Ghost’s hair, occasionally letting his touch stray, brushing a thumb over Ghost’s lips or just holding his warm cheek. Ghost would let Soap do as he pleased, let him move him whatever way he wished. For Soap, he’d do anything, and let him do anything. He would occasionally tilt his head so the other man’s hand would scratch just the right spot, but otherwise was putty in Soap’s hands.
Once Ghost was more conscious, he let his hands wander over Soap’s body. He grazed the scar on Johnny’s side from a knife wound sustained in combat, long enough ago that sometimes Soap forgot it was there. Ghost hadn’t, though. He often found himself running his fingers over it, because no matter what position he’d end up in, that scar was always within reach.
He let his hand slide down Soap’s side, over his stomach and to the inside of his right thigh. Soap quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. Ghost had touched him in far more intimate places before anyway. Ghost squeezed Soap’s thigh before pulling Soap’s left thigh closer to him, until they were pressed flush together. Soap’s arms wrapped around Ghost’s head, who was letting himself breathe in Soap’s scent. He wanted more.
Ghost tapped Soap’s thigh to let him know he was going to move, before pulling the man up and onto his knees when Ghost rolled onto his back. Soap was pretty like this- legs spread over Ghost’s, the muscle of his thighs particularly appetizing and on perfect view. Soap’s stomach was another thing Ghost could stare at, with the muscle of a soldier but with the perfect amount of cushioning. Soap wasn’t clean-shaven, either. It wasn’t practical for their occupation, and both Ghost and Soap preferred a more… natural look. Happy trail indeed.
Soap merely watched Ghost’s gaze wander his body. Sometimes Ghost just liked to stare, and Soap was all too happy to be the subject of his affection. He watched as Ghost ran a hand up his leg, and Soap let himself be pulled down to the man when that hand ran up his back, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders to stay somewhat vertical.
“Touchy today, are we?”
Ghost didn’t reply, just looking at the man.
“You want me to stop?”
“Never, Sir.”
A moment of silence passed between them.
“Have I ever told you I love you, Johnny?”
“Once or twice, I reckon. Never get tired of it, though.”
“Well then, I’ve got something to tell you.”
“And what would that be?”
Ghost pulled the man on top of him closer, kissing his forehead softly.
“From the moment I first set eyes on you, even before I’d said a word to you, I knew one thing.”
Soap raised an expectant eyebrow.
“Your haircut is the dumbest thing I’ve seen in my entire life.”
“I love you, Johnny.”
“And I you, Simon.”