Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Solitude is an addiction. 

Ghost has been alone for most of his life. Price was the closest person he could count as a companion, but trust that he is not going to burrow in Price’s arms if he wants to cry. 

But then again, it’s not like anyone wants to be attached to him. 

He gets it. Some people think that having a killing machine as a significant other is pretty cool, but once they realise it can’t do anything other than ‘killing’, they throw the scrap in a corner. Leaving it to rust and decay. 

Ghost is just glad he doesn’t have to go through it. Can’t be left behind if you were never picked.  

And it’s fine. He has survived by himself for, like, what, 32 years? He doesn’t need an ‘other’ or the TV slop they called ‘romance’. He knows he’s capable at his job, so he certainly doesn’t need another person to be worshipful towards him, either. 

Being with himself is nothing new nor difficult. He is perfectly comfortable with his lifestyle choices. No amount of glitter or roses is going to protect a soldier from death, so why bother chasing them? 

At least, that’s what he thinks until he meets Johnny . 

It wasn’t always rose-tinted glasses. When they first met, Ghost had thought he was annoying as hell. Always fucking chatting in his earpiece, crackling during briefings, boasting how he’s gonna fillet some targets. Arrogant bastard, he was, but he had a reason to be, though. Youngest recruit of the SAS, demolition expert, loyal to the bones and takes risks like no others. 

He’s a damn good soldier, but an even better friend. 

He memorises the milk-to-sugar ratio of Ghost’s tea, cheers on Gaz’s combat skills, and reminds Price of his medical check-ups for his joints. He is strict with the recruits but never fails to hype them up for the next day. 

Ghost wonders how no one has tried to go after Soap. Sure, Soap stays on base during leaves, and he doesn’t wander outside the 141 circle, but surely someone has to have noticed how amazing he is, right? 

Come to think of it, people probably do know how good Soap is. Not less than once had Ghost noticed some girls and guys eyeing Johnny. And during an undercover mission, some blonde bird tried to chat him up, completely oblivious to how the next building is being used as a torture chamber. 

She did help make both of them less suspicious, though, so props to that. Ghost might have been more appreciative if she had stopped fucking rubbing her hand over Soap’s shoulder. 

He’s not jealous; he just feels awful for Johnny, who has to suffer through unsolicited physical contact. Yep, that’s it. If Johnny liked it, he wouldn’t have pried her hand off while grimacing. And if Johnny pressed closer to Ghost after that, that’s just more proof that Johnny felt uncomfortable. 

Also, no offence to the lady; she looks nice and probably wouldn’t have approached if she knew what was going on, but it’s obvious she’s not the right fit for Johnny. He has a dangerous job. He’ll need someone who’s can protect him when he’s resting, and someone who can understand what he goes through. Also, a military job is depressing as shit. Johnny deserves someone who can make him laugh, help him takes his mind off the gunpowder and blood. 

Ghost had lifted the pint to his mouth, ‘Not up to your standards, Johnny?’ 

‘Not my type, sir’. 

Huh. 

‘Then what’s your type?’ 

Ghost watches Johnny’s throat bobbed. Then his eyes meet Ghost’s.

‘Competence. Really into the idea that I can count on them to watch my back’. 

Ghost nodded and drained his cup.‘Not bad, Johnny. Hope you find that person.’ 

~ 

Tonight is a good night. 

The 141 and Laswell were out at a pub, finally allowing themselves to indulge in better booze. The chill outside is relentless, making the stuffiness of the pubs feel like a warm embrace. Not to mention that Soap easily got cold hands, so he had scooted even closer to Ghost. Rarely does he give credit to the cold, but this is nice, really nice. 

Laswell puts her glass on the table, The thick glass bottom making a loud ‘thud’ as it meets the table with more force than necessary. 

Price glances at her, ‘You broken, Kate?’ 

Laswell digs her palm into her temple. ‘I’ve got a severe case on my hands, boys, and it may just cost my life.’ 

The entire table tenses. They agreed not to bring up international terrorism at the table, but maybe Laswell has hidden this for a long while. 

‘Who’s the target?’ Gaz readied himself to take out the unknown targets. 

Laswell took out her phone, and thefour men leaned forward, preparing themselves to read the most lethal file. 

She then turned her phone, showcasing a necklace. Diamonds encrusted in a thin laurel circlet, and right in the middle was a 2-carat diamond pendant shaped into a droplet. 

The boys frowned. Maybe this was a trade that funds a terrorist organisation, or maybe it’s a piece of evidence? 

Laswell swiped right, a photo of an ivory-coloured harp, no less majestic than the previous photo. 

These terrorists really like their luxuries, huh? 

Price grabs the phone to zoom in on them, ‘Laswell, what is this?’

‘Well, Valentine’s Day is coming up, and I still haven’t decided which one to buy for my wife.’ 

Ghost stared at her, not believing his ears, ‘You’re taking the piss.’

Laswell leaned back, her hand resting palms up in defeat, ‘This is no joking matter, gentlemen. I have been having a headache over this for weeks.’ 

Price takes another sip, ‘I’m sure either of them would do the job.’ ‘That’s not how it works, John. I want it to hit her hard, make her think that she’s so important that I can’t live without her.’ 

‘Uh oh, mum’s getting soft.’ Gaz snickered, receiving an exasperated look from Laswell. ‘At least I know how to keep it fresh. You boys have no idea how to keep a partner.’ 

‘That is a faulty field observation! You have no idea how good I am.’ 

Laswell glanced at Price and shifted her eyes back to Gaz before he caught her. ‘Oh, do tell, sergeant.’ 

‘Well, Priiiii- um,’ He clears his throat, ‘ Prior partners have told me that I’m charming. I satisfy them so much that they’re irresistible to anything I ask for.’ 

Soap coughs into his fist, and the corners of his mouth twitch uncontrollably as he lifts his glass. It’s honestly a miracle how he’s managed to not choke on his scotch.

Gaz continued digging his grave, ‘You wouldn’t believe how easy it is for me to get one of them on top of - I mean under me.’ He rambles on, only stopping when Price pats him on his thigh, fingers curling into the flesh, ‘That’s enough, Garrick.’ 

Johnny let go, laughter getting even louder as Gaz’s face reddened, ‘Oh ye a reallll charmer, Gaz. I’ll be sure to -hic- ask ye for tips.’

Gaz squints at him, ‘Oh please do, it’s obvious that you fucking need some.’ He takes another sip, ‘Your so-called ‘efforts’ have gone no fucking where and I’m tired.’ ‘Ye dick head-’ 

‘What “efforts”, Johnny?’ 

Johnny’s head swivelled to him. His face flushes under the influence. 

‘They’re nothing. Just, uh, dumb stories from secondary school.’ 

Gaz furrows his brow and shakes his head, ‘Tav, what the fuck are you on about?’ 

Johnny glares at him, ‘Ye know, the old stories I told ye? The stories from a looooong time ago ?’ 

Gaz stares into the far wall of the pub as if the peeling brown paint would give him the answers. ‘I’m lost.’ 

‘Yer drunk. That’s what ye are.’ 

‘I’m not-’ 

The more these two argue, the less chance Ghost’s gonna get to hear about this. ‘Kyle, just shut up.’ He nudges Johnny’s shoulder. ‘Go on, what stories?’ 

Johnny rubs his hand on the back of his neck. ‘Agh.. they’re nothing. Had a couple of girlfriends and boyfriends back then. I don’t even remember their names now. I’m sure they forgot about me too. It’s been a long time, after all.’

Nonsense. 

‘Johnny,’ Ghost’s voice came out unexpectedly soft. Oh well, he could always blame it on the alcohol. ‘I don’t think anyone could forget about you.’ 

He watches as Johnny’s lips part, eyes glazing over, it feels like the world is only reduced down to John ‘Soap’ Mactavish. 

Laswell clears her throat. 

Oh, right, there’s people around them. 

Ghost brings his glass up. He feels like his blood is boiling under his skin, and everybody can see it. He catches the ice with his teeth and swirls it around with his tongue. Hopefully, this will cool him down and, most importantly, shut him up.

He doesn’t look up until Laswell calls him again. 

‘So, Ghost, any stories about your... boos ?’  

Laswell has never heard a table of men groan any louder. 

Price sighs disappointedly, ‘I regret working with you.’ 

‘Mum, did you forget to take your meds today?’ ‘Gaz!’ 

Ghost chuffs, ‘Laswell, that was terrible. And that’s coming from me.’ 

‘Oh, whatever, Ghost. Don’t change the subject.’ 

Ghost reaches for the plate of chips, only to have it taken away by Gaz. ‘Uh uh sir, no treats til you spill.’ ‘I’m going to kill you, Kyle.’ 

Price chuckles, picking one of the treats and dramatically chewing on them. 

Ghost glares at him. ‘You too? What are you, five?’ 

This old, senile fucking man just grins, with a tilt of his head, ‘I’m always up for info about my men.’ 

Fuck it, how bad could it be. 

‘I’ve never had any relationships. Nor have I been pursued.’ He confessed. It’s not that bad, plenty of people don’t have a partner. 

‘That’s not true.’ Soap counters, ‘The last time we went for a drink, this brown-haired kid came up and kept fucking batting his eyelashes at ye.’ 

Ghost has no idea if this even happened, all he remembered was that Soap spilt water on his shirt and Ghost had to fight himself from ogling Johnny’s tits. But Johnny never lies, especially not to him, so that must’ve been true. 

He shrugged, ‘So?’ 

‘So? So??? All night he was going,’ Soap clasps his hand together and shifts into a high-pitched voice, “ Oooh, you’re sooooo strong, so tall, so coolllll, take me to bed good sirrrrrr. Annoying fuckin’ cunt.’ 

‘Language, Soap!’ Laswell scolds, which grates him even more. He throws his palms up like he has been accused of a heinous crime. ‘What? He was! He wouldnae fuckin’ piss off, fuckin’ clinging te Simon like he was some fuckin’... fuck, what’s the animal that hugs the tree all’da time? Fuck it, he was that! Thank Christ that Simon told him te fuck right off, I swear to God, I woulda fuckin’ batter him!’

Ghost smiles, ‘I don’t even remember talking to that guy.’ 

‘Fuck off, Simon, ye damned growled at ‘im.’ 

‘Guess he really was annoying then. To be fair, I don’t even know what the whole ‘wooing’ thing looks like. I just didn’t like strangers pretending to be close to me.’ 

Soap huffs, swirling the ice in his glass, ‘Get used te it. You’re too fuckin’ pretty te not have weird twats drooling at ye.’ 

Ghost thinks of the shiny sports cars, how they’re advertised to go to 80 km/hr in 8 seconds, something his heartbeat is uncomfortably similar to. 

‘Pretty? Me?’ 

‘Aye, Si. Yer a real fuckin’ sight.’ Soap pins his eyes on Ghost’s. Modesty has seemed to leave after he ranted about the unimportant man. ‘There’s no way ye don’t know that.’ 

Ghost craves another ice cube in his mouth. 

He picks up a chip, ‘Not really. Isn’t that a word for models or something?’ 

Johnny reaches over, stealing the cold chips from his fingers, and pops it into his mouth. ‘Nae. Ye know yer pretty when you had people chasing after ye like a dog.’ 

‘Oh yeah, I’m sure that one annoying guy is good evidence.’ 

‘Stop hogging the chips,’ Gaz complains, pulling the plates to himself again, ‘Also, no offence, Lieut, but you’re dense as bricks. You’re ripped as hell, tall, and the whole mystique really sells it.’ He grabbed another chip, but lost his grip when he was moved horizontally, pressed right up to Price. 

The captain grumbles, ‘Should I be concerned about your compromise to other beneficiaries, soldier?’ 

Maybe Price did have a little too much to drink tonight, Ghost mused. 

‘Nah, Cap, you know I always like you best.’ Gaz grinned before turning his attention to Ghost again, ‘Annnnyways, as I was saying, there’s plenty of people that would want you on top of them.’ 

‘Oh yeah, name one, sergeant.’ 

Gaz opened his mouth, caught something out of the corner of his eyes, and closed his mouth again, ‘I ain’t a  fuckin’ snitch.’ and then giggled . 

Ghost brings the glass to his mouth, treasuring the last sip of the sweet bourbon. 

‘Fucks’ sake, let’s get out of here. Kyle is out of control.’ 

Laswell exhaled, ‘Thank God, I can’t do this anymore.’

~

Ghost woke up the next morning feeling a slight headache pulsing at the back of his head. Really shouldn’t have drunk that much last night. 

The memories come rushing back. Last night felt like a hazy dream of dim lights, cold chips, and Johnny. The things he had told him… fucking hell, Ghost might as well have been confessing his love. 

He needs to keep himself in check next time. Also, he should probably punch Kyle for probing so much, none of the lovey-dovey gooey shite would’ve come out if he had just stayed quiet on Price’s lap. Well, it’s Ghost’s turn to train with the sergeant today, so maybe he’ll just push him a bit further. It’s always good for a soldier to push beyond his limits.  

But… Kyle also pushed Soap into revealing more about his romantic past. Thinking about it causes an uneasy feeling in Ghost’s stomach. Johnny mentioned partners with an ‘s’. So many people had loved his Johnny and had probably ‘woo’ed him too. 

Yet here is Ghost, having absolutely no clue on what to do. 

What did the guy do that made Johnny hate him so much again? Oh yeah, he was ‘batting his eyelashes’. Is that something that Johnny would like? 

Stepping into his tiny ensuite bathroom, Ghost looks at the cracked mirror above his sink and tries to replicate the action. 

Blink blink blink blink. 

He frowned, this doesn’t look good at all. And maybe it’s some problems with his eyelashes? They’re a bit lighter than his hair, so it doesn’t even look like he has any. He tries again. 

Blink, blink, blink. 

What is he doing? This is stupid. He looks stupid. Even if he knows how to do this type of stuff, why would Johnny even like him for it? This is useless. 

The faucet turns on with a squeak, and Ghost splashes his face with cold water. 

He really should just stick to his day job. 

~ 

‘Jesus, Ghost, I never want to train with you, ever again!’ 

Gaz plops down onto the sparse grass. Small rocks dug into his skin, and dirt clinging to his hair. He’s sprawled out, gasping and panting through it all. 

‘It wasn’t that bad, Kyle.’  

‘Wasn’t that bad? Ghost, I’ve fallen out of a heli before, and it hurts less than this! I can’t feel my limbs, but I can also feel pain everywhere .’ 

Ghost snickers, ‘Good.’ 

Kyle lifts his head to glare at him, but the intimidating tactics don’t work when you look like a melting starfish. 

‘Enough rest, sergeant. On your feet.’ 

‘Ugnnnnnh, ’ Gaz groaned, using the little energy left to push himself on his hands and knees. ‘Help me, sir.’ 

‘No.’ 

‘I hate you.’ 

With an even longer whine, Kyle pulls himself up. Ghost guides him back to the locker rooms. As Kyle started to catch his breath, Ghost leaned in and whispered, ‘I told you I was going to kill you.’ 

‘Oh, you fuckin’ dick-’ 

Ghost raises an eyebrow, ‘Oh, so you still have the energy to cuss me out. Drop and give me 30 pushups.’ 

He barely conceals his grin as Kyle cries out but begrudgingly gets on the ground. 

Maybe another night of getting drunk and probed by Kyle won’t be so bad. 

After Gaz is finally done, they walk back to their rooms. Well, Ghost was walking, the most accurate word for Gaz was crawling. 

They quickly took a shower and collected their stuff. When Ghost clears out his locker, though, an envelope flies out. 

Who the fuck is shoving an anonymous envelope into a military officer’s locker? Most importantly, why do they know what time Ghost would be unavailable? 

Glancing at Gaz, he knew the sergeant was sharing his thoughts. 

Using his dirty shirt as a makeshift glove, he covers his mouth and nose with another hand and picks up the envelope. He turned it under the light to see if there was any powder on it. 

Nothing. Nothing but a line of typed words: ‘ To Ghost ’

He frowns even harder. Whoever made this has access to the bases’ computers and printers, which are only in the superior’s offices, such as his and Price’s. Must be familiar with the base and specialises in stealth. He turns the training program list in his head, who would be good at this? Private Ruth? He’s fast but noisy when clearing targets. Sergeant James, maybe? He’s been here for years, and he did talk back to Ghost last week on a mission. 

Gaz takes a step closer, ‘Well, sir, are you going to open it?’ 

Ghost figures he’ll only get more information once he opens it. He tentatively rips along the seal flaps, only finding a folded paper. He braces himself for a death threat or something that would compromise the base. 

Reading the words, Ghost’s eyes bugged. 

‘Oh my days,’ Gaz’s grins become wider and wider. 

‘Roses are red, 

Skulls are white, 

I am no damsel, 

but you could be my knight. 

Not good at writing poems, 

more interested in gunfights

And if you let me, 

I would treat you right.

Love, 

Your secret admirer’ 

What. What the fuck is this.  What does Ghost do with this? 

‘OH, congrats, sir!’ Gaz laughs, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘Oh - ha- this is too good, I can’t stop!’ He sits on the floor, covering his eyes, his shoulder bouncing with his giggles. 

Ghost stares blankly at the paper. He thought this only happens in movies, but… this is real. He got one. 

‘Oh, I’m dying,’ Gaz exhales, his voice unsteady, he looks up at Ghost, unaware of Ghost’s crisis. ‘So, sir, how are you?’ 

‘I… I don’t know what to do with this.’ 

‘Oh come on - ow,’ Gaz stands up, his muscles reminding him of the gruelling training. ‘Obviously, you go and find out who this guy is and kiss him, or something.’ 

Ghost turns to him, ‘How’d you know it was a guy?’ 

‘I - uhh, just a hunch?’ 

So much for ‘admirer’. The idiot was brave enough to write him a corny love letter but can’t show who he is. How the fuck does he expect Ghost to like him back? And, even if Ghost does know who he is, they can’t just expect Ghost to return his feelings. 

If the guy was Johnny, though… then that’s different. But it can’t be. 

Johnny is bright, honest, and loud. If he liked Ghost, he would just tell Ghost, right? He would give some really clear indicators, right? 

So, this can’t be Johnny. 

He moves towards the bin in the corner. 

‘Wait, Ghost, what the fuck?’ Gaz exclaimed, shooting a hand out and took the letter away. 

‘The guy couldn’t even tell me who he was. I’m not going to like someone who can’t even tell me directly.’ 

Gaz looks like he is one step from committing insubordination and assault. ‘Okay, but hypothetically, what if it was from someone you also like?’ 

Ghost shakes his head, ‘That’s not going to be the case, sergeant.’ 

‘Okay, fuck, fine,’ Gaz ran a hand through his hair, ‘I can’t tell you for sure if that’s true. But just… at least keep the paper? For memory’s sake.’ 

Many soldier has a problem of being stubborn. They want to be a hero and show off chest candies to strangers in bars, so they’ll think their way is going to be the best one. And in most cases than not, it gets them killed. And Kyle is a model example, except he gets off unharmed every time. Sometimes, Ghost doesn’t understand it, but he trusts Kyle. 

‘Fine.’

~ 

Johnny’s jittery. 

He doesn’t shake or bounce his legs like some of the recruits who just finished their first kill. Instead, he has these small twitches on his face. Eyebrows would furrow and relax, and he’d bite his lip but quickly release it. But the telltale sign was how much water he was drinking. For the record, hydrating is fine and all, but the occurrence of Johnny sipping water is getting ridiculous. 

‘Soap, you wouldn’t believe what just happened!’ 

There goes the thought of keeping this a secret. 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘Ghost got a love letter from a quote-unquote “Secret Admirer”!’  

‘Oh? Oh!’ Soap smiles and widens his eyes, ‘That’s, ah, great LT! What’d ye think about it?’ 

Ghost shrugs. 

‘What- that’s it? Ye don’t feel anything about it?’ 

‘It’s nothing important, Johnny. I don’t see why you and Kyle are so hung up on  it.’ 

‘Nothing important???’ Johnny screeches, drawing attention from a couple of guys nearby. 

For fuck’s sake, why is he caring about this so much? It’s not like he wrote the letter. 

‘I didn’t even know who wrote it, Johnny. They should be glad Kyle stopped me from putting’ it in the bin.’ Johnny opened and closed his mouth, looking like a fish out of water. Whatever he was going to say, he decided to wash it down with dry rice. 

Oh, so Johnny finally learned to think before he spoke, how cute. 

Too bad Ghost wanted to hear his voice. Makes the letter easier to read when it sounds like someone he wants. 

Chapter Text

Ghost didn’t have time to think about the strange letter afterwards. He shoved it in the bottom desk drawer, among Lipton tea bags, clothes hangers,  and an empty notebook. 

Whatever hopeful feeling that letter evoked, it’s best buried under. 

Can’t be disappointed if you never hoped, can’t be left if you were never picked. 

He sighs, no use thinking about it now.  He has a recon sniper mission tomorrow, so he should just go over blueprints again. Yep, that’s all he needs to do. 

~

Recons are no walk in the park, but for the most part, it’s just an immense amount of focus and not being stupid. While waiting for his target to appear, Ghost can’t help but let his mind drift towards the letter. The content was corny as hell, which… is pretty up his alley. So whoever wrote it must have at least worked with him a couple of times. 

A fleeting image flashes across his mind of Johnny typing the little words on the screen, his bottom lip bitten in concentration. Ghost can almost hear his little chuckles at the words.

But even in indulgence, Ghost must admit he can’t imagine where Johnny would write this. He wouldn’t do it in Price’s office, that’s for sure, and never has he seen Johnny using his computer. Wait, can Johnny get into his office? He can’t remember if every time he lets Johnny in, if Johnny has asked for permission first, or if he just barged in. 

But could he get into the office when Ghost’s not there? Is that possible? Wait, why is Ghost thinking about this possibility when he doesn’t know if Johnny is the one who wrote it? What is he thinking- 

Creak. 

Ghost turned and quickly took out the guy behind him.  A bullet grazes him on his arm, the pain quickly sizzling over his skin. Ghost tsked, half relieved that the idiot that took the shot couldn’t aim right at his head, half disappointed at the shite shot. 

‘Watcher, Bravo 0-7’ 

‘Go for Watcher,’ 

‘Hideout spotted by enemies, over.’

‘Bravo 0-7 report enemy numbers in the house, over’.

‘One upstairs neutralised. Will check out the rest of the house over 

‘Exfil in 30 minutes. Take cover in the cabin 2km east after you’re done, over. 

‘Roger, out’. 

Ghost quickly packs up all his gear. He curses himself. He’s in an active warzone, and he’s distracted thinking about Johnny, like some lovesick teenager. 

He sticks to the entrance and listens for any noises downstairs, then moves out of the room, staying in the shadows. He peeked over the railings. Seeing five snipers guarding. Ghost honestly felt pretty bad for the guy who shot him. Poor guy had the whole team with him but was the only one sent to finish up the job.

Still crouching, Ghost fit the barrel through the underside of the railings and took the shots. The men below were quick enough to change their position, but it wouldn’t have made a difference if they did or not. 

The house was dead silent. 

After more inspection, Ghost moved out of the hideout and moved to the cabin. He still has at least 10 minutes until exfils. It's not enough to do a whole wound patching and disinfecting procedure, but it’s better than nothing. Hitching up his sleeve, he presses a gauze on the wound, hastily wraps bandages around it, and secures it with pins. He knows that it should probably get looked at by medics after he returns, but the new medic guy seems fucking terrified of him for some reason. It might be better to just deal with it the old-fashioned way. Alone in his room, with bourbon barely concealing the pain. 

Exfil came, and he was back in base in 2 hours. Which isn’t that long, but the surrounding skin of his wound has become unbearably itchy. Alongside the pain, Ghost has become tired, and all he wants to do is just lay down and let sleep take away the feeling.  

He goes to Price’s office for debriefing, only to see Johnny already there. 

‘I’m fuckin’ telling ye Price. The comms are fuckin’ rigged. Last mission with Thompson already showed that- Oh, LT. Yer back, already?’ 

‘Yeah, the hideout got outed. Just came back for a debrief. What’s this about rigged comms?’ 

Price rubs his forehead, ‘Soap kept requesting for a new set of comms. He believed the current comms are rigged. We’re still trying to see what caused all the leaked info lately, but I’m not sure about the comms’. 

‘But sir-’ 

‘Enough Soap, we need a more concrete answer before we go ahead and replace a new set of equipment. I appreciate your work, son, but we just can’t.’ 

Ghost’s brow furrowed, ‘I think you should trust Johnny on this one, Price.’ He looked at Johnny and quickly glanced away. The light in Johnny’s eyes is almost suffocating.

 ‘My position got outed despite so few people knowing about this mission. Johnny’s instinct has saved people before. I don’t see how it won’t this time.’ 

Price’s eyes darts between Ghost and Soap, then sighed, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ 

‘Fuck yes! Knew I could count on ye, LT’. Soap was practically beaming at Ghost, and Ghost greedily drank it in. 

Ghost swallows, ‘No need to thank me, Johnny. Just doing my job’. 

But fuck if Johnny’s smile didn’t do something to his heart. 

Price clears his throat. ‘Glad to see my soldiers ganging up on me. Ghost, how’s the mission?’ 

‘My spot got outed even though I was only there for an hour. Considering I had a team of 6 snipers waiting to take me out, they probably knew and planned for it. May have to check for info leaks.’ 

Soap frowned ‘Fuck, LT, they sent a team after ye?’ 

‘Not the first time someone did.’ Soap shook his head,‘Still should’ve been there with you.’ 

Ghost doesn’t miss the way Price raises his eyebrow. 

‘Well, I’m glad you came back to us, Ghost. I’ll talk to Laswell to figure something out. Go to the medic for your arm, yeah?’ 

Ghost looks down, ‘No. It’s just a small wound. It’ll get better.’ 

‘No. I can literally see the fluids leaking through the patch-’ ‘I’ll get Johnny to take a look at it. Happy?’  

Ghost could feel his face getting red. What? What the fuck? Why did he say that? The exhaustion must be getting to his head, seeing how he’s barely thinking before speaking. 

He keeps his eyes on Price’s, fearing that if he accidentally meets Johnny’s, his heart may just explode. 

Price presses his lips tightly as if holding back a laugh, ‘Sure. You’re both dismissed.’ 

Ghost has never left a chair so quickly. 

He walks to his room without looking back, knowing damn well that Johnny is right behind him. Which would have been fine if that whole thing didn’t happen or if Johnny isn’t so fucking quiet .  

Ghost opens the room to his door. He doesn’t dare turn around yet, afraid to see what Johnny’s face looks like. What if he thinks Ghost is too clingy? What if he’s annoyed that he had to deal with Ghost’s injury now? What if - 

‘Simon,’ Johnny touches  his elbow delicately, ‘let me see it.’ 

And Ghost lets him.

He sits on his creaky office chair and peels back the sticky bandages. The bleeding had stopped, but the ruptured skin and dried drainage stuck to the gauze, pulling on his wound. It wasn’t that bad compared to what Ghost had been through, but Johnny still gasped, as if it was the most fatal thing he had ever seen. 

Johnny grabs the rubbing alcohol and cotton balls, ‘Are…you feeling any pain? Any unusual sensation around the wound?’ 

‘Not really. It doesn’t hurt much.’ 

The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Johnny, though. He cups the underside of Ghost’s forearm with one hand while dabbing on the outskirt of his wound, wiping away any dried blood or cotton residue. His eyes zeroed in on the wound, frowning down at it as if the wound would stitch itself back under Johnny’s fury. It’s kinda… cute. 

Ghost jolted at the thought. What the hell is he thinking? Soap is just caring for another soldier and doing his job, and here’s Ghost, sighing and kicking his feet like this is some special treatment from him. 

Mistaking Ghost’s movement as pain, Johnny looked up at him, eyes softening ‘I’m sorry, I know it hurts. Just hold on a little longer for me, yeah?’ 

Fuck. 

Ghost nods, not trusting his voice. 

Johnny continues, checking the wound for any signs of infection and wrapping it up in new gauze. Securing the last bit of medical tape, Johnny gently rubs circles on the tape with the thumb, the heat of his hand searing into Ghost’s skin. 

They’re too close. Some time in the wound dressing, Ghost has leaned towards the other man. He could feel Johnny’s breath grazing his skin and smell Johnny’s vanilla shampoo. 

He needs to move, but he can’t. He didn’t want to leave this bubble of warmth and security. Maybe he should tell Soap to go so he can go rest or something. 

‘Johnny, ’ He murmured, and Johnny looks up. 

Whatever he was going to say was lost, lost in Johnny’s blue eyes and his straight nose, his lips.

Soap’s throat bobs. He inches closer and- 

Someone knocks on the door. 

Ghost reels back so fast that he knocks his chair over. He has a brief moment of ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck’ before he hits the ground. 

‘Simon! Shite!’ Johnny exclaims, shooting up to help Ghost. ‘Fuck, Si, you good?’ 

Ghost grunts, ‘I’m fine.’ The only thing that hurt more than his head was his ego, anyway. 

The knocking on the door ceased. Ghost was almost glad that he didn’t need to deal with it, but what he heard next made his blood run cold. 

‘Um, Soap, are you in there?’ 

Nice, fucking Kyle is at his door. 

Johnny whispered, ‘Permission to open the door, sir?’ 

Fucking hell, why not. 

Ghost nodded, slowly standing and setting his chair up. Embarrassment from the fall and Johnny’s care has heated his face so badly that he couldn’t even stand to be in his hoodie. He reaches up to pull his hoodie off. 

‘Oh fuck-’ 

Ghost turned, only to see Gaz's mouth hung open. His wide eyes fit between Soap’s face, the rumpled bedsheet, the bottle of clear liquid on Ghost’s desk, and Ghost, who is taking off his hoodie… fuck. 

Soap tried to explain, but Gaz beat him to it, ‘I don’t even want to know. Just… meeting at Price’s office in 20’.

And as if the situation wasn’t bad enough, right when Gaz’s about to step away, he puts a hand on Soap’s shoulder, flashes him a shit-eating grin, and just nods slowly at Soaps. 

For what, though, Ghost has no idea. 

Chapter Text

‘How’s yer arm?’ 

Ghost really shouldn’t be startled at Johnny sitting down next to him anymore. He doesn’t remember when the tradition started, but he’s not complaining about the extra warmth. 

After yesterday, though, the presence of Soap becomes electric, prickling his skin and giving him shivers. It’s strange and terrifying, and Ghost doesn’t like how his face heats up just by having Johnny around. 

He lifts his mug. ‘It’s fine. No signs of infection.’ 

‘Ah, good. Good.’ 

Then, it was silent. Too silent . 

Normally, Johnny would have something to say, about the recruits, about an annoying major, a fucking bird on his windowsill. 

But he’s quiet. Granted, he is eating, but this is different. 

Did Ghost do something wrong? Was yesterday a mistake? An that their friendship couldn’t handle? 

Noticing Gaz walking over, he sighs in relief. He never thought there’d be a day when he would be grateful for Kyle’s interruption.

Even though Gaz is… acting a little different. 

He puts the tray on the table and gingerly sits himself down. Squirming left and right before finding a better position, all while wincing like a puppy that got kicked out of the master bedroom. He tries to conceal his discomfort once he realised Ghost and Soap were both watching him. The effort was recognised but futile. 

‘Gaz, ye alright?’ 

‘Hm? Oh yeah, everything’s fine, don’t worry about it.’ 

‘Ye look like yer dying.’ 

Gaz nervously chuckles, each sounds hard and plastic. ‘Yeah, uh, Ghost’s trained me too hard, so uh yeah, still recovering.’ 

Ghost sips his tea, ‘Bullshit, Kyle, you were walking just fine yesterday. Also, I have never planned a program that results in a painful arse.’ 

Wait. 

Ghost snaps his head to Johnny, just to see the same disbelieved look in the brunette’s eyes. 

It took at least 5 minutes for the two military professionals to shift their faces into a somewhat neutral expression. 

‘So uh, Kyle.’

‘Hm?’ 

‘Did you have a nice sur-price last night?’ ‘Pftt-HAHAHAHAH-’

Gaz looks up from his toast, ‘...What?’ He turns to Soap for an answer, but that man is already banging his fist on the table, hyena laughs slowly turning into painful gasps of air. When he finally stops, he claps his hands together and steadys himself. ‘Gaz, there’s -hic- no way you don’t get it!’ 

‘Okay, I’m pissed, what are you on about?’ 

Ghost smiles, signalling Johnny to go ahead. 

‘Ghost asked if you had a nice sur-price, like you know, ‘surprise’  kinda sounds like the combination of “sur-” and “Price”.’ 

‘Uhhh-’ 

‘You know, cause Price shagged y-’

Gaz throws a paper towel at Soap’s face. ‘First of all, that was fucking terrible, and you know it! Second, of course only you-’ He shoves his finger at Soap, ‘ would laugh at that. And third of all, how… fucking dare you laugh at me when you two were fucking yesterday?’ 

Any traces of mirth instantly vanish from Ghost’s body. Fuck, why did he have to bring yesterday up? 

Johnny took the punch. ‘Gaz, we weren’t fucking.’ 

‘You sure?’ 

‘Aye, I’m fucking sure. I was there!’ 

Gaz looks at Soap, then Ghost, then Soap again. He drags out, ‘Okay, sureeeee…’ As if he knows the truth better than the pair. 

This is getting too weird, Ghost needs to leave now .  

He leaves his tray, knowing Johnny would want his leftover mandarin. ‘I’m done with this. Gonna train the recruits.’ Gaz nods, ‘Have fun torturing them, sir.’ He makes a salute sign while Johnny reaches over for the fruit.  The balaclava barely muffles Ghost’s groan. ‘More like torturing me. I have to deal with those idiots for 2 hours.’ 

Johnny’s hand stops. ‘2 hours? Don’t you have a meeting with the colonels at nine?’ 

‘It got pushed back. And Price wants a more comprehensive training with them.’ Johnny hums and pops a slice of mandarin in his mouth. 

Gaz raises an eyebrow at Johnny. ‘Well, you’re familiar with Ghost’s schedule.’

‘What can aye say? I’m a good friend.’ ‘I'm a good friend, and I don't want to memorise your fucking timetable.’ 

Ghost reaches and steals a piece of cheese from Gaz’s tray. ‘That’s because you memorise Price’s night routine instead’. He fist-bumps Johnny as Gaz flip them off. 

~

Ghost didn’t have time to rest after the training. He had gone into a meeting with another lieutenant and his damn sniper training. By 12:30, he was tired as hell and was ready to slam into his bed. But he was hungry, so he must slam the mess tables before his equally hard bed. 

He sits down at his usual table, this time only Gaz is around. Gaz said hi, but Ghost was too busy shoving rice into his face to have a proper response. 

‘Damn, Lieut, you look like shit.’ 

Ghost swallowed. ‘Thanks, Gaz. Always nice to hear from you.’ 

‘No, it’s no offence, mate, but those recruits did a number on you, huh?’ 

‘Fuckin’ hell, they were the least of my problems. I had so much shit to do this morning that I barely had time to drink water.’ Ghost grumbled, stabbing his fork into a piece of overcooked beef. 

‘Ohhh.. that sucks… so you haven’t had time to go back to your room?’ 

Ghost’s head snaps up from his plate.

Gaz raises his hands, ‘Nothing happened!’ 

Ghost raises an eyebrow, ‘Sergeant, I am your superior. You will tell me what happened because I’m not asking, I’m commanding.’ 

‘Ouch, he’s pulling rank on me! Never thought I’d see the day you betray me like this-’ 

‘Kyle!’ 

‘Okay, fine, Jesus. I- I can’t say much, okay? Tav will kill me-’ 

What? What does Soap have to do with any of this? 

‘What did he do?’ 

Gaz winces. He shuts his eyes and curses himself.

‘I saw Soap dropping off something in your room earlier. He wouldn’t fucking tell me what it was, and he shut the door too quickly for me to see.’ Gaz continued, ‘ But you know what, I don’t even want to know what he gave you. For all I know, it could be a fucking vibrator.’ 

The noise of metal scraping ceramic puts an end to Gaz’s tangent. Ghost clears his plate and stands up. In his hurry, he forgot to be careful around the too-short tables. Pain blooms across his kneecap as he stands up. 

Gaz chuckled, ‘That excited, Ghost?’ 

Ghost didn’t answer him and headed straight back to his room. 

~

Ghost almost sprinted back to his room. He turned the doorknob, but it stayed budged. 

He blinked, trying to understand what was going on. If Soap could get into his room, then his room must have been unlocked since the morning. But now it’s jammed shut. He frowned, fishing out his keys and pushing them into the keyhole. 

Push, turn, open. 

As the door unlocked, so did the memories of him pushing a spare set of keys onto Soap’s palm. 

‘In case of… you know… if you had a nightmare or something, you could come get me.’

Johnny’s voice was strained when he answered, ‘Yeah, sure. Um thanks, LT.’ He caressed the ridges of the key blade, deep in thoughts. When Ghost turned back to his room, Johnny stopped him. 

‘Wait, Si.’ He reached back, fishing his room key from his pocket. He shoved it into Ghost’s hand. ‘If anything happened, just know I have your back too.’ 

Ghost nodded and thought of wearing Johnny’s key on his dog tags. ‘Good night, Johnny.’ 

‘Good night, Simon.’ 

As Ghost opened his door now, he thinks about how many times Soap has probably entered his room when he was gone. Instead of the familiar anger, all he felt was excitement.

The door closes with a soft click, and Ghost heads straight to his desk, where a small brown box sits. It’s one of the mail package boxes, the same kind that he sees other soldier uses to ship souvenirs or personal items back to their family. He has always seen those boxes held by other men, but it’s the first time he has one in his arms. 

Stuck to the lid of the box is a small white card. The margins of the card were filled with doodles of skulls and tea cups, and right in the middle was Johnny’s scraggly handwriting. 

‘Dear Simon. Sorry that I couldn’t prevent the wound, but I hope this little package can help it get better. Yours, Johnny.’ 

Johnny could’ve put a bomb inside the box, and Ghost would have died happy. He’s had countless injuries on his body, and all of them had got the same treatment. Cold ointment, pale gauze and carelessness. But this one, this small little tear of skin had made Johnny so concerned that he made a fucking care package . 

It’s funny how Johnny doesn’t even care about his own injuries this much. 

Ghost carefully set the card down on the desk and lifted the cover of the box. 

Inside were painkiller tablets, Whittard Earl Grey bags, a package of Munchies and a… are those flowers? 

Ghost cups the flower stems, afraid to crush the petals. The soft violet petals are a stark contrast against his gloves, so small, so delicate, so out of place on a military base. Ghost knows that the commissary has some flowers. Most of them are discoloured sunflowers or lilies, always half-wilted and stored in the shadowed corners. Bright yellow tags on the plastic packaging, begging for sorry family members or half-hearted soldiers.

This is… different. 

Ghost sucked in a large breath, his chest rising despite the heaviness he felt. 

Who knew a tiny box could weigh so much on his heart? 

He put away everything in his drawer, right next to his med kit. But right before he closed it shut, he looked at the flowers again, and he hesitated. 

Flowers need water and sun, right? 

Fuck, he doesn’t have a vase to put them in. What kind of crazy person keeps a vase in their room anyway? 

Ghost searches through his room, finding anything worthy to put the flowers in. In his bottom drawer, he finds his stash of booze. 

Bingo. 

Grabbing a glass, he dumps the content down the sink, money be damned, and rinses the glass multiple times until the glass carries only a faint scent of alcohol. He fills it with water and put the flowers in it, hoping that his limited knowledge about plants could keep the flowers alive for at least a few more days. 

Ghost places the makeshift vase on the left side of the desk, where the most sun rays land. He reaches out again, stroking the petal with the tip of his gloved finger. 

He had seen soldiers giving flowers to their lovers, whether they were temporary or long-term. The recipients always looked delighted, the dazed look in their eyes wouldn’t go away for the rest of the day, and only the gruelling training session would keep it down for a few minutes. 

Ghost had always thought they were dramatising it, but now he could boldly claim that none of them could be as happy as him right now. Even though those people had got the flowers from their lovers , not their best friends. 

Ghost didn’t know that you could give flowers to your best friends, but guess that’s just one more thing that his Johnny taught him. 

Fuck it. Those people don’t matter. He’ll take anything that Johnny gives him, even if Johnny only gives him a rock, he’ll die defending it.  

Chapter Text

It’s frustrating. 

Johnny has always had a soft spot for Ghost, but lately, he has been extra sweet, and Ghost cannot, for the love of fuck, find a way to return the sentiments. Nothing so big that makes Gaz runs his mouth again, but just… he just wants to thank Johnny, that’s all. 

Maybe some food will do him good, sparks up his mind or something. 

As he stands in line to fill his tray, the soldier in front seems to realise his presence. The kid immediately increased his pace, his shaky hands shoving food on his tray, barely checking if they were secured before quickly pacing away. In his panic, a yoghurt cup tilts over the tray, falling to the ground with a ‘thud’. Fortunately for the kid, the lid was still unopened, saving the kid from the embarrassment of mopping the floor in front of Ghost. 

Ghost zooms onto the cup. It was one of those blueberry protein yoghurts, a favourite of Ghost, and a rare find on the base. He looks ahead, seeing that there is only one left on the cook line. He rushed forward and grabbed the last one. His heart blooms at having something sweet. 

He almost skipped to his table over this little delight. 

Ghost settles down, digging into his oatmeal and eggs. He had to hold himself back from tearing open the yoghurt cup several times. He likes his sweets, but he also has to save the best for the last.

The longer the wait, the sweeter the fruit. 

‘Morning, LT - aw ye lucky bastard ’ 

Ghosts turn to find Johnny looking at his yoghurt cup, pouting . ‘I saw the yoghurt on the guys’ tray.’ Johnny sighs, ‘But I couldn’t find any. Apparently, they ran out.’ 

Ghost didn’t even think before he put the cup onto Johnny’s tray. 

‘Si-’ 

‘Just take it, Johnny’. 

A red hue dusts over Johnny’s cheeks, he pushes the cup back, ‘Nae sir, ye like them too much.’ 

Ghost scowled. He rips open the aluminium foil and grabs Johnny’s spoon. Putting the spoon in front of Johnny, ‘Open.’ 

Johnny just stares at him. 

‘Did I fucking stuttered, Sergeant? I said Open.’ 

And Johnny did. Wrapping his lip around the silverware, all while looking at Ghost. Once he pulled back, Ghost tosses the spoon back onto Johnny’s tray, ‘There, you ate it, so it’s yours now. I’m not eating your leftover.’ 

Johnny wipes his mouth with the back of his palm. Clearing his throat and looking down, ‘Right, uh- thank you, sir’. Ghost hums. 

A moment later, Ghost feels a hand on his knee. He looks over, and fuck, when did Johnny get so close? 

Johnny tilts his head up, his eyelashes fluttering. In a voice that Ghost could only describe as the incarnation of sin, Johnny spoke, ‘Thank you, Simon, for looking after me. You’re too good to me.’ 

Ghost thinks he’s going to pass out. He is going to lose feeling in his legs and kneel at Johnny’s feet for eternity. 

He nods fervently. ‘Always, Johnny.’ 

His personal brand of torture blinks, smiles and pulls away. 

No, wait- 

In Ghost’s haze, he distantly clear Price’s voice. ‘Christ almighty, I  did not need to see that this early.’ Gaz snickers next to him, but his attention quickly changes. ‘Oh shit Soap, you got the yoghurt?’ 

‘Mmhm’. Soap, whose face was still tinted pink, shoved a spoonful in his mouth. His tongue darted out to catch the drops on his pouty lip. 

Price’s eyes gleamed. His voice low and serious, ‘Sergeant, surely you would not mind sharing with your captain, right ?’ 

Ghost barks out, ‘No.’ 

The three heads turned to him at record speed. 

You know what, 141 was cool and all but maybe it’s time Ghost asks for a transfer, or he should just make his document more accurate by burying himself again. 

Soap’s thigh nudges his under the table. Biting back a smile, Soap attempts to look somewhat apologetic to Price. ‘Sorry sir, my LT gave me it. He has authority over the distribution.’ 

Prize side-eyes Ghost, ‘ Your LT, huh?’ 

Ghost shrugged, ‘He’s not technically wrong.’ 

Gaz interjected, ‘That’s unfair! I’m never sharing my puddings with you lot again’ 

Soap huffs in amusement and shakes his head, and shoves another bite into his mouth. He has never been a clean eater. Even now, he somehow manages to miss his mouth. The pale drops landed on his finger, some stayed on the outskirts of his lips. 

Ghost is going crazy, he’s sure of it.  His hand is shaking from how hard he’s gripping the spoon, all because he needs to stop himself from licking Soap’s finger clean. He could show Johnny he can take care of him, keep him clean, happy, fed. He can show be good- 

Luckily, Johnny just took care of that impulse for him, considering he just sucked his own finger clean. 

Someone gagged, who thought, Ghost didn’t care. 

‘Jesus, Tav, there’s paper towels on the tray!’ 

Soaps looks at Gaz, mischief gleaming in his eyes, ‘My mouth does a better job.’ 

‘You’re fucking unbelievable! Ghost, tell your dog to behave.’ 

Ghost blinked at his name, finally shifting his gaze to the opposite pair, ‘Pardon?’ 

Price sighs and rubs his temple. 

~ 

As much as Ghost loved spending time next to Johnny, he needed a break from it all. 

Sometimes Ghost thinks Johnny isn’t human. He is like one of those mythical creatures told by old people. Conjured up from awe and fear, reinforced by the fools who claimed they were lured by the creature, until the creature becomes so legendary that it’d take your breath away just from hearing its name. 

Ghost distinctly remembered one story, there’s these mermaid things in the ocean, who will sing to you and seduce you. Then when you think that you have found your true love, the mermaids tear you apart with their teeth. 

Getting torn apart by Johnny doesn’t sound bad, honestly. 

But still, it shook him to his bones to see how deep he was in. It’s dangerous, how Johnny could sit next to him, and the entire world vanishes. No gunfire, no soldiers, not even his fucking superiors. 

Ghost ponders as he clips the magazine into his rifle. What if he becomes unprofessional? He’s a soldier, he can’t afford to leave his team behind, or sacrifice the mission just because something happened to Johnny. And what if someone knows about his… affliction and uses Johnny against him? 

He needs to change. He needs to establish boundaries between himself and his subordinates. He needs to be Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. 

Yeah, that’ll work. 

He pops off the safety guard, and aims for his targets. 

The familiar ‘BANG’s ring against his ears, and he falls into the comfortable rhythm of aiming, pulling, and feeling the counterforce knocking into his shoulders. This is what he is built for, what he should strive for. The feeling of keeping a team safe will triumph over any euphoria that his sergeant brings. 

It will and it has to be. There is no doubt about it. It is better for the health and morale of the team if they come back safe, especially with the intel safe. Even if it cost him his life, or Johnny’s- 

No. 

No, Johnny’s life is paramount. 

He pops the empty magazine out, watching the oil residue sticking the fibre of gloves together, and he’s reminded how Johnny would smear the gun oil into his mohawk. It’s unsanitary and it’s awful for his skin but Johnny loved it. 

‘Zoning out in a shooting range, LT?’ 

Ghost snapped his head to the voice, wondering if it was really Soap or if his mind had finally caught on fire.

Johnny came closer, his hands cupping Ghost’s, rough palm brushing over gloved knuckles, easing the rifle and mag into his arm. 

Set the mag down, clip in the new one, and pull the bolt. All done faster than Ghost can blink.  

A mass tool for destruction has never looked more natural on anyone but Johnny. 

Blue eyes meet his, with a gravelled voice that makes Ghost weak in the knees, Soap ordered, ‘Go another round, Si.’ 

And Ghost does. 

As the last ‘bang’ rings out, Ghost pulls up the safety guard, and settles down the gun. His heart beats rapidly and his breath was uneven, like he had just run a marathon. 

‘Not bad, LT.’ Johnny smiles, as he loads another mag, and aims.

All headshots. 

Ghost hums. He is no stranger to Johnny’s excellency, but few times does he have the luxury of feeling it up close. 

Johnny could handle any enemies with ease, he knew it, had seen it, and had depended on that belief. There’s no sacrificing himself or Johnny for the team because he doesn’t fight alone. Johnny will always be there, protecting the team, protecting him.  

Ghost loads up the rifle with the last mag, torturing the mummies as he aims at their hearts. Targets would lose their blood quickly but still have to suffer through their neuro’s blaring warning sign of ‘PAIN PAIN PAIN’. 

He looks over at Johnny, whose eyes are nothing short of admiration. With the biggest grin on his face, he turned to Ghost. 

‘Beautiful, sir.’ 

Ghost clenches his jaw and breaks eye contact. He feels like he’s walking on a plank. One wrong move, and he’ll fall to his death, with his heart ripped out and laid bare.

He set the rifle down and took a deep breath. ‘That was just expected performance, soldier.’ 

‘Yeah,’ Johnny steps closer, ‘but no one can do it and looks as good as you do.’ 

Ghost steps back, trying his best to stabilise his voice, ‘Flattery won’t get you anywhere, sergeant.’ and Johnny dares to tilt his head, pretending to think things over. 

His bottom lip pursed, as if he understood. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t understand that if he keeps slipping those honeyed words, Ghost may just become obsessed, and if Johnny wants to tear him apart, he’ll make sure to wretch Johnny’s heart away first. 

He’ll eat it in front of Johnny, and he’ll possess him. Leaving Ghost would not be an option. 

Johnny steps forward again. 

‘But it got me here though,’ Johnny raises his hand, playing with - No, Johnny, stop- his dog tags, thumbing at the engraved ‘Simon’, ‘It got me right where I wanted to.’ 

Ghost went to move but found his back pressed against the wall. He tentatively places a hand on Johnny’s waist as if a touch as gentle as that could keep Johnny in place. He croaks, ‘What if you can’t leave?’

Johnny looks up at him with amusement, as if what he had just asked was silly. Silly, silly Simon, why would you ask something like that? You already know the answer, don’t you? 

Johnny presses closer to Ghost, his breath tickling Ghost’s lips, ‘Who said I want to leave?’ 

Ghost wishes he could say that he had an appropriate response to that, but he was frozen, feet planted firm on the concrete, hand barely grasping Johnny’s shirt. He should probably do something, but do what? Should he kiss Johnny? Is that too forward? Should he ask? Wait fuck does his breath smell bad? What if Johnny doesn’t like it- 

Johnny sighs. 

Oh no. He must have fucked up. What did he do? What didn’t he do? 

Johnny sighs again, a feigned disappointment paints his face, ‘But I guess ye can’t stop me if I do, huh?’ 

And he turns . Moving away from Simon, leaving only the searing heat on his skin-  

Ghost’s arm darts out, grabbing Johnny’s wrist with more force than he should have, shoving him into the wall. 

Johnny’s not getting away from him. 

Ghost pulls up his balaclava and crashes his lips onto Johnny’s. He could hear their teeth knocking together, Johnny’s moan (whether pain or pleasure, Ghost doesn’t care), and Ghost doubles down. 

He tilts his head, barely giving Johnny time to breathe before he pries open Johnny’s mouth with his thumb, shoving his tongue inside Johnny, licking over every crease and molar ridge. He could feel his spit and Johnny’s spit dripping down his chin. 

He pulls away to breathe, but his attention quickly turns to the liquid on Soap’s chin, reflecting the ceiling light, calling out, no , begging for Ghost’s attention. He grabs the other man’s chin, and licks across it, cleaning his Johnny up. 

After he’s done, he looks at his work. Somehow, Johnny’s chin is even wetter now, but at least the moisture isn’t dripping anymore, but seeping into his every pore. Satisfaction rises in Ghost’s chest.

Ghost coos, eyeing up Johnny’s neck. Large water beads roll down on tan skin, and every drop smells like ambrosia. He lowers his head, continuing his cleaning duty, collecting and swallowing each droplet.

A hand pulls on his hair, ‘Fuck, Simon, hnng-’ 

He looks up. 

Johnny has the most beautiful flush on his face. It stretches from one tip of the ears to the other, his face hot and pink. His lips are swollen and red . What makes it all better is the way he pants, his quick inhales and exhales do nothing to quell his embarrassment. He opens his mouth, ‘Ye-’ 

‘You’re so pretty, Johnny,’ Ghost beats him to it. 

So what? It’s the truth. The truth is always the most important on the field. You don’t win a battle with politeness and respect. 

‘Ye- ye cannae just say that!’ Johnny’s face turned impossibly redder, and with his only free hand, he covered his face, head turning to the wall. 

He’s hiding. How dare he hides from Simon? 

Ghost harshly bites down on Johnny’s neck, punishing him for his crime. 

Johnny yelped, though the sound was muffled, it’s good that he knows what’ll happen. 

Ghost continued his bites, leaving one after the other, all at the places that Johnny’s slutty little T-shirts won’t conceal. He won’t be able to leave this room without people knowing that he’s Ghost’s. 

Ghost didn’t stop until Johnny’s voice became clear again, the hand originally covering his face came to pat Ghost’s shoulder, letting him know he’d had enough of the bites. 

The blonde rises to his full height and presses a light kiss on his lips. 

‘Don’t hide your face from me. Understand, Johnny?’ 

Johnny nods his head weakly, and Ghost rewards him with another kiss. 

‘Fuck, Ghost-’ Johnny grabs onto his bicep, ‘Fuck- touch me, please -’ 

Without a second thought, he sank to his knees. Holding Johnny’s hips in his hand, he looks up through his eyelashes, ‘You sure?’ 

‘Yes! Fuck, Simon, I’ve never been more fucking sure, just-’ 

‘Bang!’

Next thing Ghost knows, he’s standing up and covering Johnny with his own body. Whatever comes next, he’s not letting Johnny be the primary recipient. 

A  flustered private stands at the entrance. His hands flailing around, and his mouth hung open. ‘Oh shit, uh sorry sir, I- uh’

Great. Cockblocked and caught by a fucking newbie, how nice. 

‘At ease, soldier.’ Ghost grumbled. Looking at his watch, he realised it was almost 1700, about the time Gaz had to train his batch of victims. 

‘Come back after 5 minutes. And keep your mouth shut.’ 

‘Yes, sir!’ And the man scurries out the door. 

Ghost turns around. Johnny’s eyes were blown wide but refused to meet his own. 

‘Well, uh, I guess we had to get out of here, then.’ He tried to step out but Ghost stopped him. He took off his hoodie and hands it over the hoodie to Johnny, ‘You should, um, cover up.’ 

Johnny blushed, his hand flying up at his neck, where Ghost had spent the better half of the last hour leaving his mark. His fingers explore the sore spots on the skin, tracing over harsh bite marks. Someone would’ve thought he was attacked or… thought he let himself get fucked in a public space where any soldier could walk in. 

He puts on the hoodie,  readjusting the hems so they might cover the huge issue on his neck and an even bigger problem in his crotch. 

‘Do I look… alright?’ 

Ghost scans him from head to toe, sending shivers down his spine. 

‘Yeah. Let’s go, Johnny.’ 

Chapter Text

The walk back to Ghost’s barrack was.. uncomfortable, to say the least. They had dodged practically everyone, and what’s worse is that Johnny wouldn’t talk to him. The silence is grating on Ghost’s nerves, rubbing him raw. All Ghost could feel was the anxiety simmering over each inch of his skin. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed Johnny then. He didn’t ask if he wanted it or if he liked him like that. 

And fuck, if he had controlled himself better, Johnny wouldn’t have been exposed by a subordinate. He wouldn’t have to go through the embarrassment. Ghost fucked everything up, didn’t he? Johnny must hate him. 

After what feels like 10 years, they finally arrived at his room. Ghost held the door for Johnny.

Okay, Johnny isn’t that angry. He can’t be when he’s willingly walking into Ghost’s room- 

The next second, Ghost finds himself pushed onto the bed. He scrambles onto his elbows, but any chance of standing up is gone when Johnny straddles his waist and kisses him. 

Soap digs his fingers into the back of Ghost’s head, holding him in place. His mouth hot and hungry, eating up every whimper that comes up Ghost’s throat. When Ghost tries to pull away to breathe, Soap drags him back and licks a stripe at the corner of his mouth, mimicking Ghost’s earlier move. Instead of licking all over his chin, he opts to nip along Ghost’s jaw, stapling his mark over his territory. 

One of his hands comes down to rest on Ghost’s collarbone, rubbing hard as if he’s trying to engrave his fingerprint into Ghost’s very being. Only when Ghost winces at a certain too-rough press, does Johnny’s had venture down. 

Ghost shudders as a finger brushes against his nipple, he gasps when Johnny cups his pecs and squeezes . ‘Fuck!  Johnny-’

‘Love yer tits so much, sir. Had to-’ He bites over Ghost’s pulse point, ‘fucking- ngh- stop myself from touching them all the time.’ 

Ghost closes his eyes. He didn’t know about this, how many times has Johnny looked at him like that without Ghost noticing? Does he think about this often? When did that even start?

A hand on his crotch abruptly pulls him out of his thoughts. It rubs along his covered shaft - fuck, when did he get hard? And did he just get hard over a bit of groping? 

Johnny whined, licking over his neck. ‘Simon, stop fucking’ thinking.’ 

But he can’t stop the rambles in his mind. The shooting range, the walk, the silence. He doesn’t know what it all means. For all he knows, Johnny is only doing this due to the heat of the moment. Or - fuck, what if he’s only doing this because Ghost forced himself on him, and now he feels obligated to pleasure Simon? He should have asked Johnny first, or maybe - no! He’s Johnny’s superior, for fuck’s sake. He shouldn’t even do that in the first place. 

‘Wait, Johnny-‘

Does his pecs have a noise-cancelling function now? Why isn’t he stopping?

‘Johnny, stop.’

Johnny’s head snaps up like a dog halting at his master’s command. He loosened his grip ‘Did… did I hurt you?’ 

‘No, no, I just… we just…’ Ghost swallows, the taste of bile biting at the back of his throat, ‘Sorry.’

Johnny leans back, his hand falling to his sides. ‘What?’

Ghost mourns for the loss of touch. ‘I’m sorry, Johnny. I shouldn’t have done that. In the shooting range, I mean.’

He couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes. Johnny could continue being mad at him, but he needs to know that Ghost is sorry for pushing himself onto him, tainting him.

He feels the man shifts his weight on the bed. Johnny is going to leave, and it’s all his fault. 

‘Simon… what are you talking about?’

Johnny has always been direct. He sees bullshit, he calls out the bullshit. Even when there was a barrel digging under their chin, he’d spat the truth out. So why is he skirting around the topic? 

Ghost inhales. ‘I’m sorry for forcing myself on you like that. I should have asked you.’ 

A calloused palm lifts his face. His Johnny is so sweet, still being so soft even when Ghost had hurt him. 

He hears a chuckle. ‘That’s it?’

Damn it, he should have known a single apology isn’t going to suffice. 

‘I am sorry, Johnny. You don’t have to forgive me, but if there’s anything I could do-‘ 

Johnny pecks his lips. 

What. 

‘I- fuckin’ hell, Ghost, ye scared me to death. I thought I hurt you o’ something.’ He shakily chuckled. ‘Thank God it’s just that.’

He rubbed gently at Ghost’s crowfeet, ‘Ye don’t have to apologise for that, Si. Ye think I couldn’t kill you if I didn’t want it?’ 

He could, though. Ghost have seen Johnny break a man’s jaw with his bare hand. He won’t be surprised if he manages to strangle Ghost.

He dick twitched at the thought. 

No, bad. They are having a serious conversation. Down, boy. 

Seeing that Ghost is still unable to speak, Johnny sighs. He shuffles closer and wraps his arm around Ghost’s shoulders. ‘Simon, I promised ye, I liked it. And yes, ye didn’t ask, but it was fine because I was banking on you doing it.’

Very eloquently, Ghost said, ‘Huh?’ 

‘Steamin’ Jesus, Si. Ye aren’t usually this slow.’ 

‘...Thanks?’ 

Johnny combs his hand through Simon’s locks, ‘I've been trying to woo you for the past week. Kept thinking ‘bout how I could make myself more obvious.’ 

Maybe Johnny’s touch has officially fried his brain dead, or maybe Ghost is getting slower, but… Johnny has been ‘wooing’ him? 

‘Why didn’t you just tell me?’ 

Johnny sighs exasperatedly, ‘Because I didn't want to scare ye off. I had to make sure you were the one who took the first step.’ 

Well, now, the shooting range accident doesn’t seem so bad. The most Ghost thinks about it, he’s reminded of more moments where Johnny was pushing him, encouraging him, practically begging Ghost to just break through his layer of ice and let himself have Johnny. 

He nods in understanding, though his mind was still a bit hazy. ‘So… are we dating now?’ 

Johnny laughed, ‘God, I fucking hoped so! But um…’ his voice suddenly turned timid. ‘If you don’t want something like that right now, I’ll be fine with it. I know this may be a bit rushed for ye, but I’ll take anything you give me, really.’ 

Ghost presses his forehead to him, ‘I’ll give you the world then.’ He preened at Johnny’s blush, If it was this easy to make him blush, then Ghost had his work cut out for him. ‘And yeah, I want to date you. Want us to be a pair.’ 

‘Steamin’ Jesus, Simon…’ Johnny bowed his head, ‘Then, I guess there’s something you could give me to “make up” for your rude behaviour earlier.’ 

Ghost breathed, ‘Anything.’ He’s ready. Even if Johnny wants the moon, he’ll shoot himself up to space and grab it for him. 

Johnny lowered his eyes, ‘Kiss me again.’ 

And so Ghost did. Tackling Johnny into the mattress, kissing his forehead, his cheeks and lips, sending Johnny into a fit of laughter. 

Ghost has never heard anything better.