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Soap's apartment is quiet. There's not much noise besides the hum of the TV in front of him. It's peaceful, and Soap almost feels wrong for being able to relax.
After months of missions after missions, nights where he stayed up late, gun plastered to his hand while he held watch, days without sleep, it felt wrong to just sit.
Price had insisted that one-four-one took a long, "necessary," break.
Soap was pleased, at first, at the prospect of getting to live for once. He could go shopping as Johnny, could go outside in sweats and a t-shirt as he jogged around the neighborhood. He didn't have to feel the constant pressure of his gear pushing down on his muscles. He could sleep, without a gun resting on his nightstand.
It was lovely, perfect, so Soap didn't know why he hated it so much.
Perhaps it was the fact that in the near two weeks that he's been here, he has only spent time with other people once.
It was nice, but it wasn't much. He met up with a couple of friends at a nearby pub, they drank and watched a game, laughed loudly at whatever joke was said. It was fine, fun even.
But that was nearly a week and a half ago now, and Soap is feeling more and more stir crazy with every second that passes.
He misses his team. Not the constant battle, or worry about them getting hurt, of course, but he misses their presence. Soap misses the smell of Price's coffee in the morning, or Gaz humming throughout the hallways.
Soap thinks that he might just miss Ghost the most.
Soap spends the majority of his time watching the other man. Ghost tries his hardest to blend in, to back away any sort of attention that may be thrown his way, which Soap takes as a challenge to seek him out. He watches Ghost's eyes, notices the way they widen during debriefs, or twitch into a squint when he's angry. Soap likes his eyes. It's hard not to get lost in them, sometimes.
Soap likes to think he can read what Ghost is thinking pretty well.
He sort of has to, with the mask, his only window into the man is his eyes. Soap can't help but want to know more.
Soap stands up quickly from the couch, shaking his head. It does no good for him to think about Ghost now. The man is somewhere on the outskirts of London, hours away from Soap's temporary home. Thinking about Ghost will only make things worse.
He walks to the bathroom, turning on the sink to splash cold water on his face. He needs to get a grip. He's only here for about a month more, he can handle being away for such a small amount of time.
He looks at himself in the mirror. His hair has grown out a bit in the last few months of missions, and he hasn't gotten around to cutting it again. His eyes look less sunken in, which is nice, the bags are less visible. He looks normal.
He wonders what Ghost's eyes look like. Wonders about the mask, if he wears it in his small apartment, or to the grocery store. He hope's hes getting rest, too, hopes that the next time he sees him he looks more alive.
Soap knows it's pointless to care so much about Ghost. He's learned the hard way that trying to do things for him never works out. He's been shoved to the side, rushed words of "I'm fine, Sergeant," thrown at him when he tries to help. Soap tries not to be upset, he knows that that's just how Ghost is. How he always will be.
It's futile, falling in love.
Which is why Soap should not be sulking the way he is. It's pointless, to be so upset over someone who will never care for him.
At least not in the way Soap needs .
His Lieutenant does care , Soap can see the efforts Ghost makes to keep him safe, keep him relaxed. From cracking jokes to always choosing to accompany Soap on whatever task he needs to complete. Soap appreciates it, he knows that it's just Ghost's way of caring for his Sergeant, and even if it doesn't mean much to Ghost, it means the world to Soap.
But Soap wants more. He wants to wake up with Ghost next to him, wants to be able to take the man's face into his hands and kiss him. He wants to hold his hand, go on walks and eat dinner together. He wants everything that Ghost has to offer, every burden, every scar.
He wants Ghost to be happy, above all, and he wants to see Ghost happy. Which is why he's not going to ruin their friendship (if you could even call it that) by telling him any of this.
He shakes his head again, snapping himself from his thoughts. He turns off the light in the bathroom and takes slow steps back to the living room. The room glows softly from the light of the TV alongside the shine of the moon through the windows. It's late, around 11, but Soap knows he won't be able to sleep for a while.
He grabs the remote, flipping through the generic channels the antenna brings in. There's nothing too interesting, a lot of old shows or news broadcasts that do nothing but fuel his perpetual boredom some more. He turns the volume down, now simply a low hum for background noise.
It's nice to relax, but living in his thoughts for so long is debilitating.
He closes his eyes and lays his head on the back of the couch. He sighs, defeated. He hopes that the next month goes at least a little fast, so he can get back to training and missions, the team. So he can get back to Ghost.
Before his thoughts can delve further, a quiet knock has his eyes shooting open and his head turning to the door.
Soap is frozen, for a second, as he stares in the direction of the noise. He stands apprehensively, and takes a few cautious steps to the door. On the way, he grabs the small handgun that he had on his counter, just in case.
He knows that no one knows his location. Not his friends from the area, not even Price knows.
He takes a deep breath, his grip on the gun tightening. He opens the door, and can feel the way his stomach tightens at the sight.
It's Ghost, he can see immediately, but he looks so small. The tall man seems to be shrinking into himself. He's wearing normal clothes, some black sweatpants and a hoodie that's placed over his head. Over the bottom of his face is a bandana, hiding everything but his eyes. If Soap didn't spend so much time staring at them, he wouldn't have even recognized that it was Ghost.
"Ghost?" Soap whispers, his voice low.
Ghost's eyes twitch a little, but he stays looking at Soap.
Soap doesn't know why he's here, how he's here. But he is standing, meager, and Soap can see that something is wrong. "Ghost, what's wrong?"
Ghost inhales sharply, "I don't," his voice gets caught in his throat, "I don't know,"
Soap is even more lost, and he doesn't really know what to do. "Okay," he remembers, suddenly, that they're standing outside in the dark, "well, come in then," he steps to the side.
He walks back inside and steps to place his gun back down. He hears the soft click of the door shutting and locking. He faces Ghost again, and Soap is once again shocked at his dismal appearance.
Ghost stands stiffly by the door. His eyes are focused on his shoes, and Soap can see the way his hands are fidgeting in his hoodie pocket. "Ghost," his voice sounds so loud in the quiet apartment, "are you alright?"
Ghost looks up at him, and even though he isn't carrying himself with as much confidence as normal, it still makes Soap feel nervous to be under his gaze. "Um, yes?" Ghost sounds confused himself.
"L.t, if things were alright you wouldn't be here right now," Soap continues, "Did Price send you? Do we have to go back to the base? This early?"
Ghost eyes widen almost comically, "No," his voice was louder this time, "no, he um, he didn't send me,"
Soap is, somehow, even more confused than before. "He didn't?" When Ghost shakes his head, he continues, "Why are you here, then?"
Ghost closes his eyes, and Soap can see how his face flinched a bit at his words.
"Not like that, L.t, I'm happy to see you," Ghost opens his eyes again, "I just mean why? Why did you come here? And how? Not even Price knows my location,"
Ghost looks at the ground when he speaks, "I um, called around the relocation team. Told them that the reason for me coming here was classified, but important. I don't know. I just," he pauses, "I needed to see you? I guess? So I um, took some trains here,"
"You needed to see me?"
Ghost doesn't know how to respond, and for once Soap can't really see what he's thinking.
"I'm confused, Ghost, what do you mean?" Soap tries.
"I just. I felt like I was losing my mind, Johnny,"
The use of his first name sends shivers up his spine. Ghost doesn't use it often, but he's the only member of one-four-one who does, and it catches Soap off guard every time.
"I don't know," his voice turns darker, more rough, "this is stupid,"
"Ghost," Soap's voice commands the attention of Ghost. His eyes lift and their gazes lock. "You gotta be honest with me so I can understand what the hell is happening,"
Ghost nods his head, and Soap can tell by the way the bandana moves around his mouth that he lets out a heavy breath.
"What's the matter, L.t?" Soap encourages him.
"I feel like I don't know what to do with myself when you're not around," Ghost's words are rushed, "like, I felt like I was just laying around with nothing to do, no um, no purpose,"
Soap can just barely hear the way Ghost's throat catches as he speaks, and with his eyes darting frantically scanning Soap's face, Soap desperately wants to help, somehow. He just doesn't understand , "No purpose?" He questions.
He sees Ghost's hands move more frantically in his pocket, so he steps a bit closer and reaches his hands forward.
"Hey, it's alright, Ghost,"
Ghost presses his eyes closed tightly, like he's desperate to hide from what he's seeing.
Soap takes the hint, mumbling a "Sorry, sorry," as he steps back.
Before he can make it far, Ghost's feet are stumbling closer to Soap, his eyes are open again, scared, and he rushes out a "No!" as his hands push forwards to tighten around the front of Soaps shirt.
Soaps body instantly tenses, and the two men are standing only about a foot apart now. Ghost's eyes look frantic, scared. Soap is so nervous , He stands firm with his hands by his sides. He doesn't want to overstep, he can't risk it.
"Sorry, Johnny," Ghost whispers, eyes dancing across his features.
"I don't understand, Ghost," Soap searches his eyes for something, anything, to aid him in understanding what Ghost is trying to say.
Ghost doesn't take his eyes off of his, "I missed you," he inhales shakily, "so much,"
Soap feels the way his stomach tightens at the admission. His eyes widen, and stare further into Ghost's. He lifts one of his hands to hold Ghost's where it stays gripping Soap's shirt. "You missed me?" He cringes at the sincerity in his voice. He shouldn't be so hopeful over those simple five words. He can't let himself.
"Every day," Ghost's words are firm.
Soap doesn't really know how to feel. One part of his brain knows that Ghost just misses his company, but a smaller, more optimistic part hopes that Ghost misses him in the way that he missed Ghost. Still, he mutters out an, "I miss you too," and tries to ignore the way his heart flips when Ghost's gaze softens.
Soap also tries to ignore the dizziness he feels when Ghost's hands move, sliding around Soaps back to tug him into his chest.
Soaps ears are ringing, and he stands firm until he realizes that Ghost is hugging him. Ghost is hugging him . Soap wraps his arms around Ghost's torso, tightens his arms, and tries to settle his breathing so as to not be so frantic. Soap doesn't think he has ever felt better, more content. He wishes he could stay wrapped in Ghost's arms for the rest of his life. Soap wishes he could be selfish.
But, Ghost's arms are loosening, and before Soap can have one last, savoring moment, the man is stepping at least 3 steps away from him. He's further than he was before, and Soap finds his skin prickling with goosebumps that he blames on the cold.
"Sorry," Ghost's body looks tense, his voice quiet.
"Why are you apologizing, Ghost?" Soap finds it hard to get the words out, he feels breathless despite nothing even happening.
Ghosts hand raises to scratch at his chin under the bandana, "I showed up at your door unannounced," he chuckles humorlessly, "just, sorry for bothering you,"
Soap feels Ghosts words tugging at his heart, "You're not bothering me," he assures, "promise,"
There's a bit of a lull in the conversation, Ghost's eyes are locked to the ground and Soap is again confused on what to do. Ghost looks so tired, and Soap can't bring himself to think about how Ghost is still not sleeping
"C'mon," Soap gestures with his hand for Ghost to follow, "you need to sleep, Lieutenant,"
Ghost doesn't follow immediately, but when he takes a step forward towards Soap, he leads him down the small hallway to the bedroom.
"You can sleep here," Soap takes note of the fact that Ghost came here with nothing , "I um, I can try to find some clothes for you to change into if you wanna shower,"
He turns to start rummaging through his bags, but pauses at Ghost's voice, "I'm not taking your bed, Johnny,"
Soap faces him again, he sees the heavy bags under his eyes that almost seem to have gotten worse. He sees the way that Ghost's shoulders seem to just hang at his sides, slumped, "Respectfully, Sir, I think you need this sleep more than me," Soap assures.
"I'll sleep on the couch, then," Ghost challenges.
"Don't be daft," he can't help but smile at Ghost's insistence, "You're taking it,"
Ghost groans, "No, Sergeant," he insists.
"God, Ghost, don't pull out the ranks on me. Let me be a good host. Take it,"
Ghost is silent for a minute, and Soap takes the opportunity to finally turn and pull out some of his oversized sweaters and pajama pants. He can hear Ghost shifting on his feet from behind him, and Soap can't figure out what is bothering him so much.
But still, he stands and hands the pile of clothes to Ghost, "I promise it's fine," he reassures when he sees Ghost hesitate to take the clothes. "Feel free to use anything you need,"
Ghost's eyes are a bit wide, looking at Soap with an earnest expression that makes him feel dizzy, "Thank you,"
Soap smiles, small and genuine, "Of course, Ghost. Get good sleep, okay?" Ghost doesn't really move, just traces his eyes back and forth between Soap's own. Soap takes that as an answer, stepping backwards towards the door, "Goodnight, Ghost,"
Ghost's response is quiet, "Night,"
Soap nods, and finally turns to exit the room, closing the door behind him. He reaches the living room, and all but falls backwards onto the couch. He tries to steady his heart, to stop it from beating so fast like it has since Ghost knocked on the door. He can't do much to stop his mind, though, and with the buzzing of the water from the bathroom, Soap is consumed in thoughts.
He was already shocked enough at Ghost's words, he never thought he would hear his Lieutenant say he missed him, but he still can't quite process why that was enough of a reason for Ghost to travel hours here with nothing, only to show up at his door.
Soap desperately wants to know what made Ghost so nervous, so fidgety. If Soap didn't know better, he would have dropped his facade and held Ghost's hands in his to stop the panic. He wishes he could do more, he wishes that Ghost would let him in. Soap wishes he could be there for him.
He feels a bit useless. He tries so hard to get Ghost to open up, to trust him, but it seems like no matter what he does, he's pushed away.
Which is fine. Soap has accepted that. He's had conversations with Price about how pointless it is, at the end of the day his efforts will always be trivial.
But, Price's words cannot explain why Ghost showed up at his door, visibly distraught, with his only excuse being that he missed him.
Soap sighs, deep in his chest, and fixes the pillow on the couch. He grabs the throw blanket next to him, and shuffles a bit until he's lying sideways towards the tv. He leaves it on, finding that its glow gives him a bit of comfort. He doesn't think he would ever fall asleep if it was dark, right now.
He doesn't know what's on, but his eyes are focusing on the movements on the screen. He feels a bit dazed, and so he tries closing his eyes. He doesn't remember when the sound of the water stopped, or if he was able to hear Ghost shuffling within his room, but he hopes that Ghost is able to find some sort of comfort there.
He doesn't know how or when he falls asleep, but his eyes are twitching open to the sound of shuffling coming from behind him, he turns his head, and is startled for a minute to see someone standing there.
Ghost, he remembers, is standing awkwardly at the end of the hall, "Sorry," he whispers.
"Alright Ghost?" Soap's accent is thick with sleep.
"Can you just, I don't know, c'mere?"
It doesn't help that Soap has just woken up, but he thinks that even if he was wide awake he would still be puzzled over Ghost's question, "What do mean, Ghost?"
Ghost shifts on his feet, "I can't sleep, Johnny, I feel bad that you're out here," Ghost is practically mumbling now, and Soap questions if he's even hearing things right.
"Ghost I told you already," Soap sits up, his mind clearing a bit, "you don't need to feel bad,"
"I um," Soap can see how Ghosts hands are shaking at his sides, "I want you closer,"
Soap feels like he's been punched, his eyes widen and his head whirls with Ghost's words. "You," he doesn't even know what to say, "you what?"
"I want you to um, be closer," Ghost says again, "Like, next to me,"
Soap feels like his heart is going to burst straight out of his chest, if he wasn't awake before, he is now. "Um," he pauses. His eyes focus on Ghost's, barely illuminated from the TV. Even so, he can see the sort of worry they hold. If Soap knew better, he wouldn't agree. If he knew better, he would laugh off Ghost's request as a joke, tell his Lieutenant goodnight and go back to sleep. Soap should know better. But Ghost makes him stupid, blind, and desperate, "Alright,"
Soap can see the way Ghost visibly relaxes, shoulders dropping and eyebrows unfolding. Soap stands up, follows awkwardly behind Ghost's body as he leads him to the bedroom. His bedroom. He ignores the way his stomach flips at the thought.
He does his best to not look at Ghost, either, because he doesn't think he will ever get the image of the man wearing his own clothes out of his head.
The room glows softly due to the lamp on the nightstand. Ghost sits on the edge of the bed, and Soap walks around to the other side. He grabs some pillows and a blanket and starts tossing them to the ground.
"What are you doing, Johnny," Ghost questions.
Soaps eyebrows wrinkle in confusion, "Um, setting up my bed?"
"I thought um," Ghost hesitates again, "that you would be up here,"
"I'm not letting you sleep on the floor, Ghost,"
"Johnny," is all he says.
They lock eyes again. Ghost is looking at him, expression soft, and Soap finally understands what Ghost wants, "Like, together?"
He can hear the way Ghost breathes in at that, "If that's um, alright,"
Soap should not be feeling as hopeful as he is. Ghost is upset, and he needs his comfort. He shouldn't be worrying about how close he will be. Or how it was Ghost's idea, or how if he got brave enough he could reach out and wrap his arms around-
"Johnny?" Ghost's voice brings him abruptly out of his thoughts.
"Sorry," he rushes out, "yes, 'course that's fine," He bends down quickly to hide the redness he feels in his cheeks. He throws everything back onto the bed, and after Ghost has laid down underneath the blanket, he lets himself lay back as well. He makes sure to keep a gap, and he can feel the way his body is tensed from his head to his feet.
He listens to the sound of Ghost's breathing, which is rushed and uneven.
They stay, stiff next to each other for a few painstaking minutes. Soap is about to open his mouth, ask Ghost what is bothering him so much when he hears a quiet, "Fuck it," from his Lieutenant.
Before his brain can fully process the movement, Ghost is reaching out across his torso, dragging his body closer to the middle of the bed. Ghost wraps his arms up and around his back, legs mixing with his own, and finally buries his head into the crook of Soap's neck with a heavy sigh.
Soap's arms immediately move to Ghost's shoulders, holding the man's body to his. He feels like all of the air has been kicked from his lungs, and he buries his nose into the hood atop Ghost's head. "Ghost," he starts.
"Call me Simon,"
Soaps head spins, "Simon," he tries. It feels odd on his tongue, he tries again, "Simon, what's wrong?"
"I don't know," He answers weakly.
Soap just tightens his grip on Ghost, tugging him impossibly closer. He knows it's dangerous, but he can't help himself when Ghost is so close to him. "Okay," he moves his hand back and forth on Ghost's shoulder.
"My brain is just so, messy," Ghost moves his fingers, delicately, like he's afraid that Soap might pull away at the action. "I couldn't stop thinking about you,"
Soap's suddenly worried about how close Ghost is to his heart. He wonders if the man can hear the way it's thumping in his chest. "What about me?" He challenges.
"Everything," Ghost whispers, "What you're doing, if you're with friends, if you're eating okay, or sleeping enough," Ghost's fingers grab onto Soap's shirt, "Just, you,"
"Simon," Soap scratches his nails along the top of Ghosts shoulder, marveling at the way Ghost's body shivers, "I couldn't stop worrying about you, too,"
"You never stop worrying about me, Johnny," Ghost replies as if it's obvious.
Soap's stomach clenches at that, he was hoping that Ghost never picked up on it, hoping that he never saw his desperate attempts to help him. "Putting it that way is embarrassing," he mumbles.
"It's appreciated," Ghost corrects. He buries his head deeper into Soap, "I appreciate you,"
Soap doesn't think that Ghost will ever understand what those words do to him. It makes him emotional, almost, that maybe Ghost feels that way. "Simon,"
Ghost nods his head in acknowledgement.
"I've missed you so much,"
Ghost's arms wrap even tighter around his body, and Soap wishes it were possible for them to melt together, to become one. He's reveling in the feeling of Ghost's body so close, and he wants to savor it forever.
They stay like that, for a while, just breathing each other in. Soap's hands trace shapes on Ghost's back. He feels happy, content, and though just a few hours earlier he was bored just sitting in silence, he doesn't think he could ever get tired of this. This is what he has been needing, craving, for longer than he can even remember.
"What are you thinking about?" Ghost's voice is soft, and it sends shivers down Soap's spine.
"I can't say," is all Soap manages.
Ghost hums, but not in acceptance, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Soap doesn't know how he should respond here. He can't tell him the truth, no matter how tempting it is. He can't bring himself to. "It's too much," he replies.
"I don't think it is, Johnny,"
Ghost's breath is heavy against his throat, his arms are tight around his body and Soap blames his lightheadedness for his words, "I'm just happy," he stops, takes a deep breath, "I've wanted this forever,"
Ghost stiffens, just briefly, but quickly relaxes his body again, "Wanted what?"
"You," his answer is fast, and it's too honest. He squeezes his eyes shut at his own words.
Ghost moves his head backwards, enough so he can look at Soap. "Hey," his voice is gentle.
Soap only tightens his eyes closed further, and feels the burn of Ghosts gaze on his skin. He can't bring himself to move. He knows that he's very suddenly crossed the invisible line he's had in place for months, and it hurts, the rejection he knows is coming.
Soap can feel Ghost's arm moving off of his waist, drawn back away from himself. It hurts, the emptiness, and he can hear Ghost shuffle a bit awkwardly on the bed. Then, Ghost's hand reaches forward to cup Soaps cheek. It burns, Ghost's touch, and it makes his stomach hurt, "Look at me, Johnny,"
Ghost makes Soap so incredibly weak. He cracks his eyes open slowly, carefully, afraid of what might come. It takes him a minute to process what he's seeing, and his eyes shoot wide to look carefully at Ghost's, no, Simon's face. His bandana is off, hood dropped down to his shoulders, and Soap is mesmerized by the sight. "Simon," he brings a shaking hand to cup Ghost's face, too.
"I want you, too, Johnny," Ghost says with a nervous smile, "If you'll have me,"
"If I'll have you?" Soap's asks incredulously, "Simon, oh my god,"
Ghosts smile only widens, and Soap can't believe the sight in front of him. Ghost looks so beautiful, so happy, and he's there with his mask off, smiling down at Soap, "I like you," his voice is light.
Soap's heart is racing, "Simon," he raises his other hand to cup the other side of Ghosts face as well, "I'm so in love with you,"
Soap tries not to pass out at the sight of Ghost's eyes fluttering closed, his light eyelashes lying delicately over the reds of his cheeks. His expression is soft, and Soap didn't ever think he would see Ghost like this. It makes him feel weightless, like he's floating.
"You're so beautiful," Soap adds, can't help himself, especially not when he can feel the heat rising up through the rest of Ghost's face, to the tips of his ears.
"Johnny," he breathes, "I love you too,"
Soap doesn't think he will ever be happier than he is right now, he can't take his eyes off of Ghost's face, not even when the man opens his eyes to connect their gaze. If it was before, Soap would turn his head, look away to hide from Ghost's watchful eyes. Instead, he asks, "Can I kiss you?"
Ghost nods, still smiling, and laughs breathlessly as Soap plants kisses across his face. His forehead, his eyelids, each cheek, his nose. He kisses each of the corners of Ghost's mouth, and moves to hover his own above the middle. He's teasing, so Ghost whispers, "Please," and suddenly their lips are together.
Soap kisses Ghost like he's starved, fast and needy and breathless. Ghost lets out a noise of surprise but returns the energy, nearly pushing Soap down to the bed with the force of it.
Soap teases Ghost's lips with his tongue, and even though Ghost has the power to pin Soap down and take the lead, he simply opens his mouth with a muffled groan and lets Soap pick him apart.
Ghost's hands are gripping desperately at the collar of Soap's shirt, and Soap has moved one of his hands to wrap around Ghost's back. Ghost moves one hand down, placing it on his chest, and pushes back a little to break the kiss. They're breathless, panting, and Ghost leans in to press a chaste kiss to Soap's lips.
"Woah," Soap breathes, a bit helpless.
"Yeah," Ghost pants.
Soap's thumb moves back and forth across Ghost's cheek. "Was that alright?"
Ghost nods, "More than alright, just needed to catch my breath,"
Soap smiles up at him. He feels warm, content. He can't believe the site ahead of him, and his brain feels mushy at the thought that he just kissed Ghost.
"Can I, um," Ghost gestures to their legs, and turns his body slightly towards Soaps. Soap must look lost, because Ghost swallows thickly before continuing, "Can I like, sit?
"Oh," Soap replies dumbly, "oh my god, of course Si,"
Soap is shifting to lay further on his back, and his hands move to Ghost's waist to steady him as he moves to sit on Soap's hips. Soap has to physically restrain himself from groaning at the sight. Ghost looks so good, and he's sitting prettily on his lap and smiling down at him, and Soap cant help himself, so he slides his hands to the back of Ghost's neck and tugs him down to another kiss.
Ghost whines, he whines, and Soap is gripping desperately at his hair, tugging him impossibly closer as he licks into his mouth. Soap prays that Ghost can't feel the way he's hardening in his sweats, but he can't help the small moan that slips from his throat when Ghost adjusts his hips.
Soap's mind goes empty when Ghost does it again, this time with more purpose. His hand moves down to hold Ghost's hip as he feels that Ghost is right there with him. It's dizzying, overwhelming, but he feels incredible.
Ghost continues the small movements of his hips, and Soap can hear the way his breathing quickens. It's frantic, needy and quick. Soap doesn't think he could ever get over the feeling of Ghost on top of him like this, taking Soap's kisses eagerly, hands gripping desperately on whatever is closest.
Soap moves his other hand down, gripping Ghost's hips and driving them down harder, faster, reveling in the way that Ghost whimpers above him.
They pull back, for a minute, and Ghost's eyes are immediately drawn to where Soap has his hands tight on his body. Soap cant take his eyes off of Ghost's face. His lips are glossy, swollen red with kisses. His eyebrows are creased upwards in pleasure, and his eyes are staring at the way their bodies are moving.
Soap is enamored, lost in the feeling of the man. "Is this okay?" He asks Ghost breathlessly.
"More than okay, Johnny, please," his voice breaks a bit on his last word, and Soap only tightens his grip on Ghost's hips, lifting his own to match the movement. Ghost groans, buries his head into Soaps chest and pants, desperate at the feeling.
"God, look at you, Si," Soap mumbles, more to himself, "You look so pretty like this,"
Ghost lets out a small whine, using his hands to pull himself further into Soap's chest. "Johnny," his voice is desperate.
"That's it, Simon, keep going," Soap encourages. He can feel the way Ghosts hips shake as they move, trembling from what he assumes is both exhaustion and pleasure, "take what you need,"
"Oh my god," Ghost lifts his head up to kiss Soap again, messy and uncoordinated. His tongue swirls with no direction alongside Soap's, and he's making soft noises into the kiss.
With Soaps encouragement, Ghost presses his hips downward more frantically, desperately. Soap moves his lips to the side, kissing Ghost's cheek, his jaw, down to his throat. He places a few bites on the skin below Ghost's ear. He whispers, "Cum like this?"
Ghost nods, "'M close,"
Soap bites down harder, and laps his tongue over the spot after Ghost lets out a particularly loud whimper, "Yeah? Gonna cum on my lap, Si?" When Ghost lets out a needy moan, he continues, "C'mon, baby, cum for me,"
Ghost's body freezes, and he lets out a breathy groan at his release. His body sags, shaking minutely at the aftershocks of his orgasm. Soap is close now, too, and he cant help himself when he grinds his own hips up into Ghosts, "Johnny," Ghost tilts his head to press a kiss to Soaps jaw, "keep going,"
Soap groans, grinds his hips up quickly a few more times before his hips are stuttering, shaking as he feels himself release in his underwear. "Good god, Simon," he pants.
"Was that okay?" Ghost asks, voice low and scratchy.
"It was so good, Simon, you're so good," he twists his head so he can kiss Ghost. It's different, now, relaxed, they're kissing just to kiss.
"I feel gross," Ghost's words accompany a small chuckle, "can we please change?"
Soap's mind seems to finally catch up to him as he remembers that they should definitely get up. He goes to his bag and pulls out two sets of clean clothes, and he hands Ghost one of them.
He doesn't know why he feels like he needs to turn around, but he does it anyway. He slips his clothes off, wiping himself with the pants before tossing them into the laundry basket in the corner of the room. He sees Ghost's clothes fly in there too, as he's pulling up his pajama pants.
He stays facing the other way, unsure of when Ghost would finish. He can't contemplate any further, though, as he feels Ghost step up behind him to wrap his arms around his torso. His touch is soft, tender, as he pulls Soap's body to his. Soap smiles, leaning his head back onto Ghost's shoulder.
Ghost leaves feathery kisses along his neck, and Soap feels warmth pooling on his insides. "You're sweet, Johnny," Ghost compliments, "always so caring,"
Soaps mind is buzzing, "It's hard to not care about you, Simon,"
Ghost hums, presses another gentle kiss to the point that Ghost's neck meets his shoulder, "You do so much for me,"
Soap turns his head towards Ghost's, "Didn't think you noticed," he whispers, bravely honest.
"Of course I noticed, Johnny," Ghosts arms tighten around his body, "I just didn't know how to handle it,"
"That's okay," Soap answers. It is, Soap understands how difficult it is for Ghost to open up like that. "Sorry if I was, y'know, pushy or anything,"
"No, Johnny you weren't," another kiss, "you're perfect,"
Soap doesn't know how, or really why, but he believes him. "You're everything," he whispers. They stand there for a moment, gripping each other. It's endlessly peaceful, the atmosphere in the room is light.
"Let's go lay back down, yeah?" Ghost pulls himself away.
Soap finds himself shivering at the loss of contact, so he all but rushes into the bed next to Ghost, pulling the blanket up and over them. They're facing each other, but Ghost's eyes are closed. Soap takes his time looking at the details of his face, savoring them. He prides himself on the content expression on Ghost's face, so he leans down to press a soft kiss to Ghost's forehead.
"What does this make us?" Soap asks, unsure of his words. He's still afraid of overstepping, saying something that Ghost won't like.
"Well," he opens his eyes, "I love you, and you love me," he smiles, "I think that's all that matters, no?"
Soap grins back, "Yes," he kisses him, "does that mean we're dating?"
Ghost tugs Soap's body close, and he just holds him there. "I think it does, Johnny,"
Soap kisses the top of Ghost's curls, and finally closes his eyes. He falls asleep to the sound of Ghost's breathing, even and slow. It's everything Soap has ever wanted and more.
When he wakes up, he's disoriented. The room is warm with the soft rays of sun coming in through the edges of the curtains. He turns his head, eyes immediately locking onto the pile of dirty blond curls that are buried into the pillow next to him. Ghost's shoulders rise and fall with his breathing, and Soap wishes he could see his face as he rests.
He is at least resting, though, which is a victory Soap celebrates.
Ghost looks small, curled up tightly under the blanket, his back pressing against Soap's side. He quickly rolls over, putting his arm gently across Ghost's body. He lays there, feeling the way Ghost moves under his arm as he breathes.
Soap tries not to move so much, but he wants to see Ghost's face again. He pulls Ghost's body to his, turning the man more on his side. From here, he can see the curve of Ghost's jaw, the way his mouth is parted around his breath. He can see his nose, crooked from being broken a few times. His eyes trace along the scar that falls over his cheek, stemming from the bottom of his face almost to his eye.
He's beautiful, and he looks endlessly peaceful while he sleeps. Soap lays his head back down and closes his eyes.
It's not as warm the second time he opens his eyes. Still, he smiles, but when he turns his head to find the spot on the other side of the bed to be empty , his face drops and his body shoots up from the bed.
He's panicking, he doesn't know where Ghost went and he desperately hopes that nothing changed when he woke up. He doesn't really think, just frantically opens the door to go down the hall. He's about to call Ghost's name when he freezes.
Ghost is moving around Soap's kitchen, still wearing Soap's clothes. He's still not wearing his mask, which makes Soap incredibly proud. The smell hits him then, of toast and some eggs. Soap finds it hard to keep his composure over the fact that Ghost is cooking for him.
"Simon?" He steps closer to the kitchen.
Ghost jumps slightly, startled at Soap's presence, "Hey, Johnny," He looks around the kitchen, "I um, hope this is okay. I figured you'd be hungry, I was just about to wake you up,"
Soap's face lights up with a smile, "Of course it's okay," He walks over to where Ghost is stood, "thank you,"
Ghost leans down to press a kiss to Soap's lips. Soap doesn't think he will ever get used to that feeling. He grins to himself as Ghost turns around to finish.
They eat in relative silence, and Soap finds himself staring unabashedly at Ghost. It's odd, now, knowing that he doesn't have to force himself to turn away, to stop looking. But it's nice, Soap loves being able to see Ghost for all that he is.
"Do you want to stay here for the last month?" Soap asks as they near the end of their meal.
Ghost's eyes widen a bit, shocked by Soap's question, "Um," he puts down his fork, looking at Soap's eyes, "Would you want me to?"
"I think I would want you around forever," Soap doesn't look away.
Ghost cheeks get red again, pretty and sweet, and he holds back a small smile. "I would love to, then,"
"Perfect," Soap takes another bite of his eggs. "We should probably call Price. Have 'em send over your things? Is that okay?"
"Of course," Ghost nods, eating again too.
Soap holds out his hand across the table, and Ghost laces his fingers with his. Soap looks at their hands, and watches as Ghost eats quietly across from him.
He doesn't ever want this to end, he thinks that he could see himself here, with Ghost, for the rest of his life.
Soap doesn't think about one-four-one, or the missions, or having to return to normal in just a month.
How could he think about anything else but Ghost.
It doesn't feel much different than before.
Except now, when Ghost sends him a quick smile over the table, Soap lets himself smile back.