Chapter Text
Simon "Ghost" Riley was known for covering as much skin as he possibly could, no matter the weather. Even in suffocating, blistering heat he was sporting a breathable long sleeve compression shirt. No one dared question it, most because of fear of the mans reputation and others just minding their own.
Soap had to admit, he was curious what was under all that fabric. Helplessly crushing on his CO did crazy things to his mind, and Soap refused to let anyone near his sketchbooks for that exact reason. When every thing is left to the imagination, pretty much anything is free-reign. Soap never commented on the long sleeves, even in abysmal heat, when the sweat he could see dripping down the small expanse of skin around the eye hole of his mask had him worrying for Simon's hydration levels.
Soap had heard rumors of Simon's past, he knew it wasn't something the man wanted to talk about and Soap would never push him to– no matter how close they had gotten. If Simon wouldn't tell, Soap wouldn't ask. He respected Simon, more than most of his peers. He followed him through war, having his six and always knowing Ghost would have his too.
Soap was restless. He'd been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, his body itching to move and do something even in the late hours of the night. Eventually he groaned in frustration, deciding there was only one thing that could burn this energy off. He got up, packed a small gym bag and made his way to the base gym.
He paused momentarily at the doors to the gym, one door cracked open and held that way by a dumbbell. The lights were on, and he heard a grunt from inside. He knew that rasp anywhere.
Ghost.
Soap sucked in a breath, pushing the door further open as he stepped inside. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him. Simon was sat on a bench, curling a weight towards his chest before slowly lowering it back down. No long sleeves or trousers covered his skin, clad in a black fitted tank-top and gym shorts. He wasn't even wearing a mask, and over ear headphones rested on his head and dented the platinum blonde curls that were clearly too long to be regulation.
Soap had seen him without the mask before. Many a time, actually. He'd teased Simon for getting away with non-regulation hair, only for a gruff comment of 'cant punish a dead man for non-regulation.' What Soap hadn't expected was the tattoos, covering the entirety of his left arm. He had expected the scars littering his visible skin, for the most part, but there was one that stood out to him. The scar covering his right forearm.
Soap stepped further in the room, speaking louder than probably necessary- but he could very faintly hear loud rock music from the headphones over his head so he deemed it better safe than sorry.
"Christ, L.T, where'd you get the time for all that ink?" He joked, wincing as Simon nearly jumped out of his skin and pulled the headphones off his ears to lay around his neck with his free hand. His right hand, holding the dumbbell, faltered and he lowered the weight to rest on his thigh.
"...Sergeant. Wasn't expecting you at this hour." Simon was stiff, more tense than Soap thinks he'd ever seen him- and thats saying something. The Lieutenant was always on edge, a certain guard to him that silently said he was always prepared for the next fight.
"Cannae sleep, sir. Too much energy. Figured I'd punch the crap out of a bag an' call it a night." Soap shrugged, dropping his bag to a bench and pulled out some hand wraps. "You mind giving me a hand? I can do it myself when i have tae, but its never as good as someone else."
Ghost sighed, deep with exhaustion as he set the dumbbell down. His shoulders relaxed just the slightest bit as he stood and took silent steps towards Soap, not noticeable to anyone that wasn't said sergeant. Soap watched the man like a hawk, followed him like a lost puppy, he was bound to pick up on every one of Simon Riley's minute tells. He took the hand wraps with his left hand, swinging a leg around the bench to straddle it before lowering himself to the seat.
"Yer alright if I stay, aye? I'm not bothering you?" Soap found himself double checking, chewing at his lip. He didn't want to intrude on Ghost's private time, and he felt he had already overstepped an unspoken boundary by seeing this much of his L.T.
"Sit." He was short with his words, but Soap knew the tone meant he wasn't upset by a long-shot. It wasn't a bark– hell it was hardly an order– It relieved the Sergeant and told him everything he needed to know. Simon was okay that he stayed. Soap listened, following the same motion as the Lieutenant and scooting forward till their knees brushed.
It was quiet for no longer than a minute as Simons hands raised and looped the fabric around Soaps hands with practiced skill, and Soap mocked watching as he did so. He wasn't paying attention to the wrap itself, no, he was looking at Simon's arms.
Sue him for wanting to gaze at places he'd never seen before on his L.T.
Soap was hung up on the scar on Simons forearm. It looked as if his entire arm from wrist to mid-elbow had been fileted away from his skin, the still pink-ish scarring doing little to hide the bulges of tendons and muscles working beneath it. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched Simon move about, inspecting the wrap before going to grab the other- still held in Soap's other hand.
"If you take a picture it'll last longer, you know." Simon gruffed, startling Soap out of his trance. "I can practically hear the gears in your head grinding. Just ask your questions, Johnny." He sighed this time, letting his hands fall into his lap with the wrap still folded neatly in one fist.
"Who did that to you? Who would- Christ sake, Simon, I know you've been through alot but fuck- thats a gnarly one, who do I have to go beat u-"
"You dont need to hurt anyone over that scar, Johnny, I promise you that." Simon surprised Soap by laughing, a light and breathy chuckle that had Soap's eyebrows scrunching closer together in utter confusion.
"What- Simon, have you feckin' seen that? Its- thats brutal, Si, inhumane, even. I'll kill the damn bastard that hurt you like that." He huffed in frustration, pulling Simons hand toward him and letting his fingers graze over the healed over scar.
"Johnny, shut up for a second, will you?" Simon rolled his eyes. "No one hurt me for that one. I paid the guy to do it. He deserved every penny. Damn good surgeon, he is." Simon refused to make eye contact with the sergeant currently inspecting every inch of his phalloplasty scar, his heart fluttering nervously.
"I dont follow..." Soap looked up, attempting to meet his eyes. "I dinnae ken what kind of surgery would do this to ye', L.T."
"A gender affirming one. Phalloplasty. Long before we met." Simon gently pulled his arm away from Soap, running his own fingers over it. "Best thing I ever did for myself."
"Phalloplasty? Hell, L.T. if I ken you were like me, I wouldn't've bugged you on it." Soap snorted, laughing loud. "I didnae put two n'two together. Haven't looked it up in years. Got busy, wasn't a priority anymore. Not like i'm gettin' any when we're deployed all the time, aye?"
"What?" Simon's eyes shot up, and it was his turn to be completely utterly confused by Soaps reaction.
"Aye! Small world, finding not one but two trans guys in the 141. Gotta admit, L.T., i'm jealous of your private shower. Props of being a CO, yeah?" Soap smiled bright, gently pushing Simons shoulder with his wrapped fist.
Simon sighed, allowing himself to laugh breathlessly at that. He didn't know what he was so anxious for, and now it felt all too silly to be worried about Soap's reaction to his assigned gender at birth. He would outwardly deny to anyone and everyone, but his Johnny's opinion did matter to him. Johnny was more than a sergeant to him, more than a subordinate. But Simon always held back, because he wasn't going to ruin Johnny's career with fraternization. He wouldn't court Johnny and ruin that for him.
"Could I see it?" Soap questioned out of the blue, and Simon choked on the inhale he was taking. Soap's eyes widened quickly when his brain caught up with his mouth, and he put his hands up in surrender. "Not like that! Fuck, not like that. I just- Like I said, haven't looked it up in years and I've never seen anyone this far post-op. Purely clinical curiosity, aye?" Soap tilted his head, putting on a bright smile that had the apples of his cheeks dusting with an embarrassed blush and the corners of his eyes creasing.
"Clinical curiosity, you say?" Simon raised a brow, a smirk finding its way to his lips. He was nodding before he even comprehended it. "I suppose that's alright. Pack up and meet me in my quarters." Simon stood up without another word, a hand patting against Soap's shoulder as he walked past him to the gym exit.