Work Text:
The first time Soap sees Ghost's tattoos, he swears his brain short circuits.
They're in a pub, just the two of them and for once Ghost is wearing a short sleeved shirt. The lines of ink wrap around every avaliable inch of skin on his arms and Soap cannot stop staring.
Ghost sees his attention has wandered and his eyes crinkle behind the mask. "Like what you see, Johnny?"
Soap clears his throat, looking away from Ghost's heated gaze.
Ghost chuckles softly, taking a sip of his beer. "You are so fucking easy."
Soap wishes that wasn't the case.
Sometimes Soap traces the tattoos with his finger, especially if he cannot sleep. The ink on Ghost's arms are so intense and each one tells a story. He could spend hours just tracing each and every mark of ink on his skin.
Sometimes Ghost wakes up and just silently watches him, other times he stays asleep. Soap has no idea Ghost watches him.
Soap also has no idea how soothing Ghost finds it too.
Ghost adds to the ink from time to time. Especially when he wants to remember something.
He shyly shows Soap his new ink when they are alone together, curled up close with no space between them.
It's a little bar of soap, nestled against a skull.
"A reminder of you I can carry everywhere." Ghost murmurs and Soap swears he doesn't cry.
He does.
A few years later, Ghost is looking at the inked bar of soap as he faces down Price and wonders how his life had gotten to this point.