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Missions didn’t always go wrong, but it seemed like when they did, they went nuclear. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission– in and out, no more than six hours and they’d be heading home. Of course, that wasn’t what happened. Instead, Ghost and Soap were running as fast as possible, ducking and dodging bullets whizzing past their heads as they fled. The exfil point was only a few hundred meters away, Nik shouting encouragements as the helo blades spun rapidly. Bullets hit the doors with a metallic clank as the two tumbled in, harsh pants tearing from their chests. Everything had gone tits up.
“Nik, get us out of here,” Ghost barked, breathless and worn. The Russian man smoothly lifted the chopper up, effortlessly piloting them out of the reach of the people so deadset on killing them. Without danger breathing down their necks, the pair could take stock of injuries and at least attempt to return to a normal heart rate.
Soap was the first to move, half-pulling Ghost over to him on the floor. They hadn’t bothered to get into the bench seats of the helo, too exhausted from sprinting to move further. Once the lieutenant was close enough, he was feeling over his mask, checking for blood or obvious broken bones. There was blood on his kit, but everything seemed to belong to the hostiles they’d been fighting, not Ghost. Soap breathed a sigh of relief as he completed his examination, allowing his head to fall forward onto Simon’s shoulder. Even before they got together, Soap worried whenever he saw blood on Ghost’s clothes. Now that they had finally confronted the elephant in the room? His heart stopped after every mission.
Once Soap was finished with his inspection, Ghost moved to do the same. He gently pushed his sergeant’s head from his shoulder, cupping his face in one gloved hand as he wiped the smeared blood off as best he could. There was a cut over Johnny’s eyebrow that would need to be addressed when they got back, but it wasn’t anything serious enough to warrant major concern. For the most part, the blood on his clothes belonged to other people. Johnny, his Johnny, was safe.
Twin sighs echoed over the muffled thumping of the chopper blades as they basked in their survival. It went without saying– if one died, the other would inevitably follow. There was no Simon without Johnny, and there was no Johnny without Simon. God help anyone who tried to get between them on the battlefield. Ghost was Soap’s well-trained guard dog, a feral monster who bowed to no one but the Scottish sergeant with a heart of gold. John MacTavish had successfully tamed Death itself.
Picking themselves up from the floor, the pair settled into the uncomfortable bench seats, quietly intertwining their pinky fingers. It was a tiny point of contact that was barely enough to hold on to, but it served as a reminder that the other was alive and was still there. Had there been anyone else in the helo, they probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable with an open display of affection, even such a small one as this. However, with just Nik in the pilot seat, they knew they were safe. He had just as much incentive to return home as they did– their other sergeant was undoubtedly waiting on the tarmac for his return next to Price and Laswell with their typically-dour faces. They’d undoubtedly be waiting for an immediate report on the mission, especially since Ghost had radioed about things going south. Debrief was a bitch, but it was a necessary evil in the military.
It didn’t take long for the helo to reach their temporary base and touch down. As soon as the runners were on the pavement of the airstrip, the usual hustle and bustle of base life overtook the temporary peace Soap and Ghost found on the evac ride. Their hands parted and the proverbial masks went back up, stony expressions glued back on as they went to talk to their superiors. Their intel hadn’t necessarily been bad, just a bit off. Laswell hadn’t properly estimated the number of people that would be guarding the compound they were surveying– the extra few bodies threw a wrench in their plans and eventually got them seen.
Recounting the mission details to Price and Laswell was never enjoyable. Soap could feel his skin tingling with leftover adrenaline, the cut over his eyebrow starting to scab and itch. Dried blood was leaving a sticky residue on his face, the reddish-brown crust staining his cheekbone and eyelid. For all the world, he looked like a reanimated corpse standing there in the briefing room. Ghost could feel his patience at the debrief waning– Johnny was injured and bleeding; they could do this later.
“Price…” It only took one word for the captain to look at him with a critical eye, seeing past the mask to what Simon was saying.
“Go. Get him to medical, we’ll finish tomorrow.” Ghost nodded once, a brief dip of his chin, before practically dragging Soap from the room. He knew the cut wasn’t life-threatening, hell, it probably wouldn’t even need stitches. Even still, standing in a conference room while Johnny was still covered in blood didn’t sit right with him.
The walk to medical was a short and tense one. Neither man spoke much, Soap too busy following Ghost as he was essentially dragged by the wrist through the halls. Once they reached the infirmary, the lieutenant refused the nurses’ offer to leave and clean up, choosing instead to stay firmly by Soap’s side as he was checked out.
“I’m fine, Simon. You can go shower. You’re still covered in blood yourself,” Soap spoke in a low voice only meant for him.
“Hush. I’m not going anywhere.” The tone of his voice left no room for debate. He was going to sit with Soap as he got patched up, even though it was just a minor injury. Ghost stood in the corner of the exam room with his arms folded as nurses bustled around him, shooting him the occasional glare and confused look. It was evident they weren’t used to having spectators over such a simple wound, but no one was brave enough to tell Lieutenant Riley he couldn’t be there.
Within a few minutes, the blood was wiped from Soap’s face and butterfly strips were applied to hold the sides of the cut closed. All in all, it wasn’t a bad wound. The knife that had grazed him had missed his eye, only cutting the flesh of his browbone and the top of his cheekbone. There would likely be a scar, but Soap already had plenty of those. What was one more right?
Paperwork signed, aftercare instructions received, and the two operators could finally get back to their barracks. The walk back to their shared room was far less tense than the walk to medical now that Soap’s injury was patched up. The tension had bled from Ghost’s shoulders, the knots that had formed there slowly easing their way out after he saw the blood be washed away from his partner’s face. He would never truly be at peace until Johnny was fully safe and out of military life, but that would likely never happen. They were both too stubborn for that.
The door to their room creaked softly as the pair walked through. Once it was closed and locked, another shared sigh filled the empty space. Now that they were alone, physical and metaphorical masks could come off. With a soft look in his eye, Soap stepped forward and ran reverent hands from Ghost’s shoulders to the hem of his balaclava. The taller man gave a quick nod of affirmation, permission for vulnerability, and the face covering was slowly removed. As his skin was bared to open air, Simon took a deep breath, allowing his face to rest in Soap’s warm palm. He was safe here, safe in those protective hands.
“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” Johnny breathed, voice soothing and quiet. Ghost dipped his chin and allowed himself to be pulled toward the attached bathroom. He loved Johnny’s hands; he never minded them tugging him around.
Barracks ensuites weren’t anything special, but it was better than going to the communal showers. Dirty and bloody gear was haphazardly tossed to the floor, both men too tired to care where it landed. Once they were fully bare, they climbed into the shower, turning on the faucet and letting the warm spray cover their bodies. Simon stood behind his sergeant, blanketing his smaller frame with his chest. He was usually clingy after a mission– the prospect of losing the one thing keeping him going left him needing as much contact as possible.
Soap knew his boy needed touch, and he didn’t mind that fact in the least. Showering together was one of his favorite ways to come down from the adrenaline high. Getting to wash the dirt and blood off of Simon helped his own hands stop trembling, and kept the lieutenant from dissociating for too long. Plus, he couldn’t say he disliked the view. Ghost was gorgeous. All thick muscle and freckled skin. In Soap’s eyes, the myriad of scars littering his form only added to his charm.
The water went from reddish brown to beige to clear as they scrubbed off, rinsed, and repeated. After a couple of rotations, there was no more physical residue of the battle, only the butterfly strips on Johnny’s forehead and the few bruises between them. With another squeak, the shower turned off and the last of the water gurgled down the drain. It was a difficult squeeze to get two full-grown men through the shower door, but they managed with only a few annoyed grunts. After drying off, the towel was thrown to the floor with their kits– a problem for later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was each other.
In a mirror image from their earlier walk, Soap pulled Ghost gently from the bathroom, his strong hand wrapped softly around the lieutenant’s wrist. Simon let himself be guided; Johnny would never lead him astray, especially not here– in this moment, in their room. The two made their way through the small space until the back of Ghost’s knees hit the bed, the taller man sitting down instinctively. He spread his legs slightly, allowing Soap to stand between them, his other hand coming to tangle with Simon’s.
A soft smile crossed Johnny’s face as he leaned down to kiss Ghost, the feeling of his warm and chapped lips comforting against his own. Simon sighed at the contact. Kissing Soap felt like coming home– there was nothing so truly healing and calming.
“I could’ve lost you,” he murmured, removing his hands from Soap’s hold to stroke a thumb over the cut on his eyebrow. It was the truth. Every day they walked onto the field, he was in danger of losing the one person that mattered to him. Johnny was as bright as the sun and as vibrant as pure radiant life. Without him, Ghost felt like his existence would be hollow and meaningless.
“I never would’ve let that happen, Simon. Nothin’ on earth could keep me from comin’ home to you.” He pulled back slightly to kiss the palm near his face before continuing. “Besides, how could I leave my Valentine’s date alone?”
“Wait, today?”
“Yep,” Soap replied, popping the p dramatically.
“I for- I didn’t get you anything.” Ghost looked down at his feet, almost ashamed that he had forgotten the date. Sure, they’d been off-base for a few days, but it still felt like he should’ve remembered. A single finger under his chin tilted his head back up, bringing his eyes to meet sparking blue ones filled with warmth and adoration.
“You’re all I need, love.” Johnny smiled down at him like he was the entire world, and Simon believed him. He had never really loved himself, he barely even liked himself some days. But with Soap? When he was with Soap, it was easy to believe that he was worth the effort, that he was worth the devotion. Johnny had his entire heart, and god knows he’d give it to him on a silver platter if he asked.
“Lay back for me, baby. I want to touch you properly,” Soap whispered, his voice honey-rich and smooth. Ghost couldn’t help but comply, back hitting the scratchy military-issue blanket with a soft rustle. Their skin was still damp from the shower as Soap climbed over him and straddled his waist, the warmth from their shower only adding to the heat rolling from their bodies.
From his new perch, Johnny looked down as if he was studying Simon, gentle hands coming to cradle his ribs where a large purple bruise was forming. He had been kicked by one of their targets on the mission, leaving the vague shape of a boot on his side. Ghost gasped quietly as Soap’s fingers traced the mark, the warmth leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The hitched inhale became a breathy whine when Johnny leaned down and kissed the mark, gentle lips meeting the discoloration with hardly any pressure behind them.
Soap laved kisses over the large bruise, each one dragging another small noise from Simon’s mouth. While the smaller man worked, he tangled one hand with Ghost’s and let the other rest on his ribs, keeping him from moving too much. The light stimulation already had the lieutenant squirming– he needed more, needed everything. Once the bruise was sufficiently covered in warm affection, Soap moved his lips upward, pressing feather-light kisses to each ridge of Ghost’s ribs until he reached his collarbone. A light bite was placed on the skin there– not enough to sting, just enough to mark the skin.
“God, you’re beautiful, Si,” he whispered between each lick and nip on Ghost’s skin. The compliment had the man blushing and fidgeting in Soap’s hold. After all this time, he still wasn’t used to the kind words and reverent touches that Johnny loved to give him. Even the mildest pet name would bring heat to his cheeks, no matter where they were when Soap said it.
“C’mon, Johnny, don’t tease me,” Ghost whined, pushing his body up into Soap’s hold. The arch in his back put pressure from the sergeant’s hand on the large bruise, wrenching a hiss from his lips. At the slight noise, Soap leaned back from his worship of Ghost’s neck, arching an eyebrow at the man’s desperation.
“Lay still for me, baby boy. Let me take care of you properly, yeah?” Two words and all the fight left Ghost entirely. Baby boy. Johnny knew what that name did to him, and he used it mercilessly. As soon as Simon settled into the mattress, Soap’s lips were on him again, tracing from his throat down to his broad chest, leaving gentle bites and kisses in their wake. The mix of barely-there pain and wet presses of tongue and lips had Simon’s head reeling– no one had ever been able to take his body apart like this before, and no one would ever get the opportunity to again.
While his mouth worked on the warm skin of Ghost’s torso, Soap grabbed the lube from under their pillow, opening the bottle to spread the liquid on a few of his fingers. Even a task as simple as prep was reverent and possessive; Johnny’s fingers entered Simon gently and carefully, spreading once his tight muscles relaxed. Between every curl and thrust of his hand, the sergeant placed more kisses along the inside of Ghost’s thighs, teasing the sensitive scarred skin there. Once he was assured his boy was properly ready, he removed his hand and wiped the excess lube on his own cock, kneeling forward to position himself between the cradle of Simon’s hips.
“You ready, love?” Soap’s thumbs were rubbing soft circles on the skin of Ghost’s thighs where they were pressed to his chest, the motion repetitive and soothing.
“Ple- fuck. Please, Johnny. Just need you,” Simon whimpered in response. He needed Johnny. Not just to fuck him, but to stay by his side through every moment of their lives, however short they may be. Soap had been the only person to truly see through the skull mask to find the man that lived behind; he would never let him go again.
Soap didn’t make him beg anymore. As soon as he had Simon’s consent, he was pushing forward steadily, filling his love while a symphony of moans backed him. Ghost’s head was tossed back against the pillows, throat exposed with his pulse racing visibly under the skin. His heart was pounding out of his chest, each beat causing more blood to race to Simon’s flushed cock. God, the sight was intoxicating. Soap couldn’t help but move one of his hands from the back of Ghost’s leg up his chest to that neck, resting his open palm against the skin there- not pressing or squeezing, just feeling the sheer force of Simon’s life underneath his hand.
“Fuck, baby, you feel so goddamn good around me,” Johnny groaned, his eyes closing as he kept fucking his hips in at a steady pace. Each buck of his hips had the head of his cock pressing hard against Simon’s sweet spot, dragging another wounded noise out from his kiss-bitten lips.
“Jo-Johnny, fuck, harder. I need you I need you I need y-” Simon couldn’t finish his sentence, too overcome by emotion and overwhelming pleasure.
His simple plea was enough. Without preamble, Soap began moving his hips faster, angling them so he ground against Ghost’s prostate on the backstroke of every thrust. The change in angle had Simon reeling– his head thrashed in Soap’s hold, throat trying to swallow around the hand gently placed there. Johnny squeezed down slightly, keeping his head still while he fucked into him; the slight constriction of air only served to elevate the feelings rushing through Ghost’s body. Every nerve was alight and focused on Soap. He could’ve died right then and not noticed. Soap was the sun and he was stuck in his orbit, but he’d never been so satisfied.
“You gettin’ close, baby? Come on, love, let me feel ya’,” Soap chanted, breathless voice cracking over the words as he pounded harder into the warm body below him. Simon could only nod in agreement, the pleasure coursing through him leaving him speechless. When Johnny’s other hand dropped his thigh in favor of wrapping around his cock, that was it.
Ghost’s back arched off the bed in an elegant bow, a shuttered whimper forcing its way from his chest as he came all over his torso and Soap’s hand in white lines. Johnny stroked him through it, each pump of cum bringing another round of trembling to Simon’s exhausted body. The lieutenant wrapped his thighs around Soap’s waist, pulling him in deep as he turned his bleary brown eyes up, silently begging him to fill him up. Between the desperate look on his boy’s face and the rhythmic clenching around his erection, Johnny couldn’t hold on anymore. With a harsh grunt, he fucked in as deep as he could and painted Ghost’s insides white, claiming him in the most intimate way possible.
As the aftershocks ran down both their spines, Soap collapsed on Ghost, uncaring of the drying cum spreading onto his own skin. Amid simultaneous pants, Simon reached up to card his hand through Johnny’s mussed and sweaty hair, gently dragging his face up to meet him in a soft kiss. This was what they needed– it wasn’t the sex, although neither one would ever complain. The closeness, the intimacy, that was what they craved. Soft tongues and lips tangled in a choreographed dance, one as old as the stars themselves.
Their heartbeats slowed down to a calmer pace, bodies relaxing after the outputting of frenetic energy. The kiss continued, soft passion giving way to the easy affection that made living through a military hell worth it. No day was a certainty, the new scar along Johnny’s eyebrow was living proof of that, but they would walk into whatever afterlife awaited them hand in hand.