empressaraceli1992 - Tumblr blog

empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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Four Little Words pt 2

Whoosh…beep…whoosh…beep…whoosh

Soap's awareness came back slowly. The gentle whoosh almost lulled him back to sleep if it weren't for the insistent beeping racket. He could feel the thin sheets of a cot beneath him. A gentle hum of machinery told him he was inside again.

Blinking slowly, Soap took stock of his surroundings. It was dark, the blinds to his small window drawn shut. The only source of light was a small lamp on the bedside table. There was an IV in his left hand and an oxygen mask on his face. That explained the whooshing.

Groggy Soap lifted his hand to the mask - he didn't need this anymore. A hand shot out of the dark, latching onto his wrist, and stilling his motions. Ghost appeared above him, emerging from the shadows like a wraith. Soap blinked at him.

"Leave it on." Ghost's voice was rough. Soap cocked his head at the lieutenant. "You almost died." Ghost growled, releasing Soap’s wrist he flung himself away - pacing angrily. "The hell were you thinking letting that little shit almost drown you?!"

Soap frowned, pulling the mask below his chin. "I dinnae understand."

"I said keep it on!" Ghost grabbed Soap's hand, gently guiding the mask back up to cover his nose and mouth. "You don't understand how he almost killed you?"

"I dinnae - " Soap attempted to pull the mask back down - Ghost fought him pressing it firmly against his face. Exasperated Soap pushed Ghost's hand down so he could speak. "I dinnae understand why yer angry." Soap said at last, then relented allowing Ghost to press the mask back against his face.

"That fucking wanker almost killed my Sergeant." Ghost snarled. "Of course I'm angry."

His Sergeant…of course Ghost didn't care about Soap. He cared that he almost lost his subordinate. Soap felt his chest ache as his rib cage was split open again. How stupid to think Ghost might have cared about him. Teammates…just teammates.

"Johnny? Johnny, hey, hey easy." Ghost sounded panicked. The whoosh of the oxygen had picked up whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh. "Johnny, you have to relax."

Relax? How could he? The ache in his chest turned into a burning coal. Shoving Ghost's hands away Soap yanked the mask off and threw it. It didn't go far thanks to the tubing, but Soap didn't care.

"Why do ye care?!" Soap wheezed, his lungs burned with every word. "Why are ye even here?" Soap doubled over as a fit of coughs overtook him. Ghost grabbed him by the shoulders forcing him, gently, back onto the bed while pressing the mask back onto Soap's face.

Soap fought him weakly at first. He wanted to hit Ghost, to hurt him the way he had hurt Soap, but Ghost was faster and stronger. Pinning Soap's arms to his side, Ghost forced the oxygen mask back onto Soap's face. Exhausted, Soap slumped back into the pillow glaring at the lieutenant. Soap felt like a petulant child - the familiar prick of tears welled up along his lower lashes. He refused to let them fall. Not here, not now, not in front of Ghost. Not again.

"You think I don't care?" Ghost's eyes were unreadable for the first time since Soap had become close to him. Carefully, Soap reached a hand up to Ghost's patting it twice. Ghost warily lowered the mask.

"We're just teammates…" Soap blinked back the tears. "So you dinnae need to be angry at Parker."

Ghost lifted the mask back up to Soap's mouth. Soap accepted he wasn't going to be free of the damn thing until Ghost left and let the lieutenant do as he would. He did however leave his hand wrapped around Ghost's wrist in a selfish moment to prolong contact. Even if it wasn't skin to skin.

Ghost was silent for several minutes, turning something over in his head or simply making sure Soap didn't remove his oxygen mask again Soap wasn't sure. Then-

"You think I don't care…about you?" Ghost asked at last. A clarification. He helped Soap lower the mask slightly.

"Why would ye after the…ye were angry at the bar." Soap rasped, looking at the lieutenant as though he had lost his mind. Ghost lifted the mask back up to Soap's face.

"Just because I don't…" Ghost paused, Soap's heart fell as he watched Ghost chewing on his words. "Just because I can't…ugh." Ghost growled.

Soap felt his heartbeat in his chest slow, bu-bump…bu-bump…bu-bump. He lifted his hand to the mask, pulling it down.

"It's fine." Soap's voice sounded foreign even to him. "Don't worry about it L.T." Ghost eyed Soap warily - concern coloring his features. Soap couldn't feel anything past the mind-numbing pain in his chest. Letting his hand fall limply to his side Soap watched through hollow eyes as Ghost secured the mask back to his face - completely unaware of Soap's internal turmoil. Ghost watched him for a moment longer before nodding, and then got up and left as quietly as he came.

Though his eyes remained open, Soap knew he didn’t sleep, he did not see anything that happened for the rest of the day. He was aware of the coming and goings of the nurses as they checked his oxygen mask and his IV by sensing their body heat nearby, but he didn’t shift his gaze to look at them. He didn’t greet them when they entered nor did he answer their questions past the simple one word reply. Eventually, Price came to see him.

“Afternoon son.” Price slid into the empty chair next to the bed, his hat in his hands. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Soap answered, his voice strangely level. “The doctor said they’ll release me soon, and I should be cleared for duty, sir.”

“Are you sure you want that son?” Price patted Soap’s knee. “There’s no rush to come back in.”

“‘Course I am.” Soap huffed. Price watched him carefully for several long seconds, as though waiting for something to contradict his words. When that didn’t occur Price let out a weary, very fatherly, sigh.

“Alright then, when you’re released come to my office. We have a mission, and I think we could use your particular skills in.”

“Gonna blow something up Cap?” Soap asked mildly. Price looked at him like he had grown three heads. Soap LOVED demolitions.

“Well…actually no.” Price shifted in his seat, appearing somewhat uncomfortable. “I was hoping to utilize your…”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

GHOST POV:

Ghost was pissed. He was pissed at himself. He was pissed at the situation. He was really fucking pissed at Parker. When he saw a recruit barreling through the hall like the building was on fire he shouted at him to stop. The terrified recruit–he couldn’t even remember the man’s name–sqeaked that Sergeant MacTavish had been injured and he was supposed to… Ghost didn’t hear the rest. Storming back the way the recruit had come from, Ghost flung the door open to the training yard. The door slammed against the bricks, but he didn’t care. He had to find Soap.

Making a b-line for the obstacle course where Soap had been charged with training the recruits he saw the rest of the recruits circling around something on the ground. Ghost could just make out Soap’s mohawk peeking out between a pair of feet. Faintly he could hear Gaz shouting something. Ghost had never moved so fast in his life. One moment he was by the gym, the next he was shoving through the recruits demanding to know what happened. His eyes fell on Soap.

Why is he so pale?! Ghost almost didn’t hear Parker blubbering beside him, apologizing.

“You did this?!” Ghost snarled, grabbing Parker by the throat.

"Easy Ghost!" Gaz shouted. "It was an accident!"

Ghost ignored Gaz and tossed Parker like a sack of potatoes. “Get the hell out of my sight.” Kneeling next to Soap. Ghost took the Sergeant’s head in his hands, turning him gently to face up, and leaned over him, his clothed ear hovering just above his nose. Ghost shuddered with relief – Soap was breathing!

"Why haven't you moved him to medical?" Ghost demanded, lifting his head away. Soap’s mouth was bleeding from a busted lip, but there didn’t appear to be any other outward physical injuries.

"'M fine." Soap coughed. "Just let me sleep…"

"No Johnny." Ghost argued, tapping Soap's face gently. "Don't go to sleep. Not yet."

Not yet. Not until I know you’re safe.

"Pffff. What d'ye care…" Soap sighed. Ghost felt like he’d been slapped. Of course he cared. He wanted to kill Parker for hurting Soap. Didn’t Soap know that? Soap rolled to his side. Bracing his arms beneath him he carefully pushed himself up to his knees, then to his feet. Swaying unsteadily, Soap tilted, a hand pressed against his head. "Fucking hell." Soap groaned.

"Johnny?" Ghost leapt to his feet placing his hand on Soap’s shoulder. "Johnny, hang on."

"I dinnae need–" Soap shook off Ghost’s hand turning to glare at him – his eyes rolled back up into his head. Ghost caught him before he struck the ground. Lifting the Sergeant up into his arms, bridal style, Ghost sprinted away from the training field.

“You’re going to be fine Johnny.” Ghost growled. “You hear me?” Soap muttered something unintelligible, probably in Scottish.

Ghost stayed by Soap’s side until he woke up in the middle of the night in medical. The thick headed Scot kept trying to remove his oxygen mask and give Ghost a heart attack.

Ghost mulled over their last conversation in medical. How Soap had said it was ‘fine’, but then Soap…Soap didn’t look fine. Ghost felt like such an arse. He had meant to tell Soap he wanted him, of course he did, but he couldn’t have him. Couldn’t taint him. Ghost had no idea how to do relationships. It was hard enough to be Soap’s friend with his less than – or more than in this case – friendly feelings for his Sergeant.

The past few weeks had been hell for Ghost. Soap was polite as always, amenable, but he avoided Ghost. He wouldn’t spar or workout with Ghost anymore. Hell, Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Soap in the mess for dinner. It hurt — it hurt a lot, but no less than he deserved after he hurt Soap at the bar already…

That was five days ago. Soap was safe, he was healthy, but Ghost hadn’t seen him since. Ghost wondered where the sergeant had disappeared to.

“Ghost?” Price’s voice cut through Ghost’s spiraling thoughts. Ghost blinked. He had forgotten he was in Price’s office in the middle of a briefing for their next mission.

“Hmm?” Ghost made a non-committal noise hoping Price didn’t realize he hadn’t been paying attention.

“You’re far from a field son.” Price laughed, patting Ghost good naturedly on the shoulder. “I was saying, are you good to go in without the mask?”

Without the mask…? Ghost glanced over the plans in front of him on the table. It looked like a club of some sort. No doubt Price had some sleazy drug lord on the chopping block.

“Affirmative.” Ghost didn’t see the point. It wasn’t like anyone in the club would recognize him anyway.

“Good.” Price handed him a folder. “I’ll have your suit dropped off at your room.”

Suit? Ghost groaned internally as he took the file. He would have to read up on the operation since he hadn’t paid any attention to the brief. It was going to be a long night.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Laswell had secured them a hotel room just a few blocks from the target’s club. Each member of the 141 had been given their own room. Ghost had done his research properly this time. The target was Dimitri Parkarov - a regular mafia wanna be with his hands in the local police, drugs, sex trafficking, and other such underhanded practices. Problem was he was too big for the local authorities to take out on their own without serious backlash. So the 141 had been brought in to not only take Dimitri out, but to also get intel on his support system.

Ghost met with Price and Gaz in Price’s room to go over the final plans for the operation. When Ghost inquired where Soap was Price simply informed him that the Sergeant was doing recon for the team, and had been doing so for the past several days. This irritated Ghost more than he was willing to admit. He couldn’t even rationalize why it bothered him so much. Hell Soap was almost as good as he was at stealth ops, almost. But that wasn't the point.

"Alright boys," Price leaned over the table gesturing at the blueprints of the building. "Once we're inside, Ghost will make his way here." Price traced his finger to the center of the room in front of a large stage like area. "Where he will get eyes on our target. While Ghost is front and center: Gaz, you and I will head up to the VIP room to keep watch from above for Dimitri's partner. When we have both targets in sight, Soap will create a distraction so we can take out the targets. Ghost you are to grab Soap once Dimitri is incapacitated, and move to the office. Gaz and I will cover you."

“Please, for the love of all that is holy tell me you did not give Soap explosives.” Gaz groaned.

“Perhaps.” Price chuckled. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Now go get dressed, both of you.”

Ghost didn’t know who Price’s stylist was—if he had to hazard a guess he would say it was Laswell—but even he had to admit they had taste. The suit Price had delivered to his room was nice. A solid black suit with a matching silk button up, and dress boots that made it easy for him to move in. To his delight Ghost discovered several hidden pockets inside the suit jacket for his various knives. Ghost showered, shaved, and put on an amber musk cologne that had been sent along with the suit. Once dressed, Ghost met Price and Gaz out in the hall.

Price wore a suit similar to Ghost’s, but where Ghost’s was black, Price’s was navy blue with a cream colored button up shirt. Gaz had chosen to wear a mesh shirt over black jeans, a wide belt, and heavy boots.

“Damn Ghost.” Gaz’s jaw dropped. Ghost gave him a withering look.

“He cleans up nice.” Price agreed, crossing his arms. “Come on lads, the car is waiting.”

Laswell had an expensive sports car waiting for them just outside of the hotel lobby with Nikolai behind the wheel. Price and Gaz climbed into the back while Ghost slid into the passenger seat. The drive to the club was less than ten minutes, but Nikolai took a detour to give them a layout of the surrounding buildings.

The club itself was carefully hidden between two larger industrial buildings. Nikolai dropped them off at the front door. The bouncers were—if they could even be called that—well paid bodybuilders with poor training if the eight knives Ghost managed to sneak in were anything to go by. Unfortunately for Ghost his suit jacket was taken at the door.

Thankfully Ghost kept other knives hidden in other places along his body. Price led them through the dark hall to the main area of the club. Dimitri kept his establishment lit with black and red lights–leaving plenty of shadows for Ghost to be able to slip into once he put his mask, currently hidden in his pocket, on. Though if everything went according to Price’s plan that would not be necessary. Price paused just inside the main room turning to Ghost.

“Go introduce yourself to our host.” Price ordered, reaching up to unbutton the top three buttons of Ghost’s shirt. “Get in position on the large couch, and I’ll signal Soap. Whatever you do, don’t lose Dimitri. Got it?”

“Affirmative.” Ghost waved them off. Price took Gaz by the arm and led him up to the VIP room. Ghost made his way through the crowd to the center stage with a large lowered curved red leather couch. Ghost would have preferred to sit in a darkened booth out of sight of onlookers, but he needed to get Dimitri’s attention. So instead he sat in the middle of the large red couch facing the large stage. Leaning back, Ghost crossed one leg over the other and watched the room out of the corner of his eyes.

After a few minutes a waitress approached him and set down a glass of dark liquid in front of him on the small round table.

“From your friend in the VIP.” The waitress explained when Ghost gave her a questioning look. Of course Price would order him a drink. Ghost resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Picking up the drink he took a tentative sniff: bourbon. Humming his approval, Ghost took a sip just as a slim man took a seat next to him. A greasy haired man with pinched lips, a hooked nose, and soft jaws settled pompously next to Ghost eyeing the sniper greedily.

“Hello, my handsome friend.” Dimitri crooned as he motioned for a waitress to bring him his own beverage. Ghost lifted his glass slightly with a non-commential hum. “Strong silent type? I like it.” Dimitri slid closer. “I have something that might loosen that tongue of yours. A saucy little minx I found.” Dimitri gestured to the stage signaling the DJ.

Ghost almost gagged at the scent of Dimitri’s cologne. Whatever poor woman he had in mind to dance in front of him wasn’t going to easily distract him enough from that. Thankfully for Ghost an associate of Dimitri’s drew his attention forcing the man to slide away momentarily. Ghost took a deep breath of fresh air. Holding his bourbon up to his mouth he used it to filter out the filthy smell. A slow beat began as foggers filled the stage with mist. From the back a lithe form sauntered forward. The glass in Ghost’s hand cracked.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soap was seriously going to have a discussion with Price about utilizing his ‘skills’ in the workplace. Going undercover wasn’t an issue. Dancing around half naked with a group of strangers wasn’t even the issue. Hell, getting groped by Dimitri’s sleazy clients wasn’t even the worst – a quick knife under the chin quickly deterred that treatment. No, what Soap had an issue with was that Price expected him to show his specific ‘skill-set’ off to Ghost and Gaz.

Price had sent word a day ago that Ghost and Gaz would be joining him to help take out their target. Soap was tasked with causing a distraction for the team while Dimitri and his client’s were eyes were glued on stage. Soap wondered idly what Ghost would think when he saw his Sergeant perform. Gaz no doubt would rib him tirelessly, but Ghost…Ghost there was no telling.

“You thinking about your boyfriend again?” Eric teased sliding next to Soap as he applied the last line of his eyeliner. Soap rolled his eyes in the mirror. Eric was cute: tall, blonde, but too lean for Soap’s liking. Eric’s boyfriend James was more to Soap’s taste—much taller with broad shoulders, and thick muscles fit for crushing. On more than one occasion Eric had offered to share James in a night of fun, but Soap had declined.

“I told ye.” Soap huffed picking up the leather choker off the counter. “I dinnae have a boyfriend.” The choker was a simple piece he had found in a nearby shop. A thin band of leather with a metal skull pendant that set snugly in the hollow of his throat. Call him a sentimental fool, but the choker made him think of Ghost.

“Here let me.” Eric plucked the choker from his fingers. Unlatching the choker he slipped it around Soap’s throat and gently closed it into place. The choker latched very much like a dog collar. Soap found that he liked that best, as the snap on chokers when he had to perform the more physical moves on stage. “You’re awfully dolled up tonight.” Eric commented. “Who are you getting all pretty for?” Eric secured the choker with a fond pat on the back of Soap’s mohawk.

Soap gave himself a once over in the mirror. Eric was right; he had actually dressed up a bit more than usual tonight. He had selected a nice pair of black leather jeans that hung low–too low for him to wear underwear beneath, but he wouldn’t tell Eric that—and for tonight he had chosen to put in his nipple piercings. Steel bars that glittered in the low lights. He’d even applied a sheen layer of body oil across his chest that made him smell good, and (if he did say so himself) look good.

Eric had chosen a pair of red pants with a matching vest and bowtie—the upper pieces he would traditionally strip and toss into the crowd as the night progressed—and even a pair of red studs for his ears. It was all really rather flashy to Soap.

“I heard Dimitri has some high end clients coming in today.” Soap admitted with an exaggerated eye roll. “He said we should look our best.”

“This lot better not be as handsy as the last bunch or I swear James will throttle someone.”

“I thought he liked to share?” Soap teased.

“He’d like to share you.” Eric laughed.

Together they made their way out to the back of the stage. James was already there selecting the music with Dean—the resident DJ—wearing a similar outfit to Eric’s. As they drew nearer James looked up, raising an arm to accept Eric in a half hug.

“You should see the beast that Dimitri has sitting with him tonight.” James smirked, kissing the top of Eric’s head.

“Beast?” Soap asked incredulously, peeking through the curtain. “What beast?”

Soap’s eyes swept the dark room taking in the dim lights, and waitresses fluttering around. He spotted Dimitri easily enough—the man really was ugly with swallowed jaws, and a hook nose. It didn’t stop him from thinking that he was hot shit, but hey when you had dirty money you could do what you wanted Soap guessed. Following the line of patrons next to Dimitiri on the ghastly red couch Soap searched for Jame’s supposed ‘beast’—and choked. Sitting a few feet away from the slimeball was the most gorgeous man Soap had ever seen. His man. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley in a black silk button up and dress pants never looked more edible.

“I dinnae what yer worried about James.” Soap whispered.

“Then you can handle the beast.” James laughed, slapping Soap on the shoulder.

Gladly. Soap thought.

Dean flipped a couple of switches—on stage the foggers kicked on filling the area with mist. Together the three of them took their positions behind the curtain as the music began, a low sultry bass that really got the blood pumping. Soap stood in the middle facing the crowd, while Eric stood to his left, and James on his right. All three had their heads tilted down, chins to their chests. Soap took a deep calming breath—as he let the music wash over him. He ignored the fact that his lieutenant was sitting a few meters in front of him. He forgot his feelings for the man. He forgot that his captain and his fellow sergeant were also watching somewhere nearby. Instead he focused on the two men next to him and began to move.

The first part of the dance was simple: the three of them walked to the end of the runway where a pole had been installed. Two chairs had been set out prior to the left and the right of the pole for Eric and James—while Soap took the pole. Moving to stand in front of the pole, Soap grasped the pole behind him with his right hand above his head and with his left below his waist. For the first time since he stepped out Soap locked eyes with Ghost as he began to sway his hips—big mistake. Ghost’s eyes were blazing, the whiskey glass in his hand was at serious risk of being crushed between his long fingers.

Shooting his CO an impish grin Soap lifted himself in the air with his arms alone. Twisting until he could wrap his legs around he swung, and then let go with his hands and hung upside down by his legs facing Ghost. Stretching his arms out behind his head, Soap stuck his tongue out. The glass in Ghost’s hand shattered. Luckily for Ghost he had been holding the glass slightly off to the side so it didn’t splash all over his pants. Tearing his eyes away from the shocked expression on his Lieutenant’s face, and hiding his own smile, Soap completed the next set of moves including an aerial split, and a drop that stopped a hair's breadth just before he struck the floor.

Landing lightly on the balls of his feet, Soap saw Ghost’s dark eyes bore holes into him as he sauntered over to Eric and James to complete the last part of their dance—where Soap was ground between the two men in an almost erotic sandwich.

“I think beasty likes you.” Eric whispered. “Should we make him jealous?”

Soap rolled his half-lidded eyes. Ghost, jealous? Yea right. Ghost wouldn’t be jealous of anyone laying hands on Soap. “Do whatever ye like.” Soap sighed. “He won’t notice.”

“Let’s see about that.” James agreed, mouthing at Soap’s shoulder, careful to not leave a mark. As much as he might tease Soap about joining in the fun with Eric, James would never mark Soap without his consent. Soap appreciated that. Peeking under his long lashes, Soap watched Ghost—rigidly sitting against the couch now—watch the three of them with renewed interest, his dark eyes trained on James with murderous intent. Soap tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach as the music came to an end.

Slightly breathless, Soap bowed with Eric and James. Together the three of them stepped down from the stage. Dimitri motioned them to stand in a line in front of Ghost and his two legitimate clients. Dimitri made a grand gesture with his hand at the three of them, while leaning towards Ghost.

“Feel free to take your pick, my friend.” Dimitri purred. “They will service you in any way you like.”

Soap felt Eric and James stiffen considerably next to him. Dimitri had never offered any of them like this before. Thankfully the other two clients did not appear particularly interested in the three of them, but that did not settle Soap’s unease.

“Sir, I–ugh.”

Dimitri’s decorative cane shot out striking Soap in his side. Eric and James groaned in sympathy beside him.

“Quiet.” Dimitri snapped, turning back to Ghost. “I apologize sir, I assure you the other two are very well…” Dimitri’s voice died in his throat. If looks could kill Ghost would have killed him a thousand times over.

“I’ll take him.” Ghost growled, gesturing at Soap.

“Excellent!” Dimitri shot Soap a look. “Take our esteemed guest up to the VIP room and see to his needs.”

“Yes, sir.” Soap inclined his head. “Right this way sir.”

#john soap mactavish #ghost #gaz cod #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #soap cod #ghost x soap #soap x ghost

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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#cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #ghost #soap cod #ghost x soap #price cod #gaz cod #simon ghost riley #soap x ghost

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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Inspired by @valadarts on Twitter

Four Little Words

Soap never felt like he belonged anywhere. Sooner or later people would always tire of him and his antics. Whether they were family or friends, eventually everyone got tired of the energy ball that was John MacTavish.

After being thoroughly beaten, and banished from his home in Glasgow after his father caught him kissing a boy: Soap attempted to join the military. His first few attempts were unsuccessful, but eventually he managed to get in. Unfortunately, even trained as a demolitions expert Soap still had too much energy. After irritating his third bunk mate in a row Soap learned to tone it down, being only slightly annoying, carefully reserved. Until he got comfortable.

That's how it always started if he was being honest. Unfortunately, Soap had always been an honest person. He knew why he had been removed from his last team—he was too annoying. He had gotten too comfortable with them. Too close. All of his previous teammates told him so:

John talks too much. John's too clingy. John is so annoying. John should just shut up. Don't invite John, he's too excitable. John isn't worth it.

Soap had taken the first beating in the military with ill grace, going straight to his superior to report it only to be chewed out for annoying his teammates into doing it to him. The second time, when they held him down with his sheets, and bludgeoned him with soap bars in their pillow cases Soap bit his lip so hard it bled. He didn’t bother telling his CO the next morning. He didn’t bother tending to the many black and blue bruises that littered his body. Soap had doubted then that the nurses in medical would give him or his injuries a second glance. So when his CO told him he was no longer a good fit for their team Soap accepted it quietly.

When Price snatched him up immediately after Soap took it as his second chance. Accepting the position eagerly, Soap met the first of his new teammates: Ghost. Ghost was a mysterious man. Stoic to say the best, cold at worst, but Soap was pleased as punch to meet him. Greeting the Lieutenant with a soft punch to the shoulder Soap eagerly offered to save him a seat. Ghost didn’t seem particularly keen on his new Sergeant, but Soap didn’t take it personally.

Instead he worked slowly to open the older man up. Ghost reciprocated slowly with his awful dad jokes—then there was Las Almas. Soap thought his CO had finally started warming up to him after Ghost helped remove the bullet from his arm.

The fact followed him like a living shadow made Soap feel like the man actually cared. Ghost had even taken to calling him ‘Johnny’---something Soap never allowed anyone else to do. Soap had to admit his crush on the lieutenant was a little pathetic, but he kept himself in check. Most of the time.

Every so often Ghost would cross an invisible line and brush his bare hand against Soap’s. Or would leave a hand resting on Soap just a tad longer than necessary. Soap adored these touches, these small embraces. He felt comfortable in them.

That’s where Soap messed up. He got comfortable. He felt safe. He felt wanted.

—-----------------------------------------

They were out at the local pub after a successful mission. Soap sat next to Ghost at the bar enjoying the older man's company, and chatting away amicably. Ghost's eyes gleamed in the low bar light. He looked bemused. Happy for once.

Then Soap screwed it all up: he opened his mouth.

"Hey, I've been thinking about us." Soap said with one hand around his drink and the other laying, he hoped, casually on the bar.

"Us?" Ghost hummed, swirling his bourbon in one hand. He turned to look at Soap over his shoulder. "What about us? You've been a great teammate if that's what you mean."

"Common Si, you know what I'm talking abo–"

"NO." Ghost growled. "I don't think I do."

"W-what do you mean?" Soap asked quietly, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

"Exactly what I said." Ghost snapped. He kept his eyes down, examining the now half empty glass.

"Si…you can't be serious." Soap gave a nervous chuckle. "Think about us–"

"THERE IS NO US MACTAVISH." Ghost snarled, getting to his feet. Soap could feel the pain in his chest as his heart broke. "I'm heading home now; it's late." Soap could feel the silent tears slipping down his face. "Get home safe, Sergeant." Ghost's voice softened, only slightly, and then he was gone.

Soap didn't acknowledge Ghost's statement. How could he? 'Get home safe.' Sounded like a cruel joke to Soap as he sat there the last of his scotch watering down considerably the longer he sat. He couldn't bring himself to lift the glass to his lips. To drink the burning liquid, and chase away his pain.

Instead Soap sat there until the bar closed. The bartender gently showed him out. She apologized, and said she hoped he made it home okay. Soap didn't acknowledge her statement either. He was too numb. The night air was cool against his skin. Ignoring the well meant suggestions of getting a ride, Soap started back to the base on foot. It would take at least an hour.

Not that anyone would notice. No one would care that annoying John 'Soap' MacTavish was late. Or missing…not even Ghost. Especially not Ghost. Soap felt the tears begin anew. He sniffled as he angrily wiped the tears away. No one would care, he cried. They didn't want to know. He wouldn't let them know.

An eternity later Soap collapsed into his bunk freezing. Curling beneath the thin blanket he fell into a fitful sleep.

—-----------------------------------------------------

He snuck around the offices with his hand gun at the ready. Hissan would not escape him this time. He had stopped the missile, now he would stop the man. A sudden crack, a blinding pain in his temple, and the world went black.

He could feel himself being dragged. Jagged pieces of glass cut into his hands and bare arms as he fought the grip on his vest. In the distance he could hear gunshots. Fighting against the hand that held him, Soap jerked as the large window loomed nearby—the glass long since shattered.

"No, no, not again." Soap whined. Where was his rifle? His body hurt so bad. There was a hand wrapped around his vest dragging him forward. Black gloves with white accents covered the fingers….no that wasn’t right. Hissan wasn’t wearing gloves when he— Soap's eyes snapped up. A dark skull-plate mask stared down at him. Ghost lifted him to the window. Soap could feel the void behind him yawning wide to accept him. Accept his death. Soap struggled clawing at Ghost's forearm.

"Ghost?!" Soap panicked. "Ghost please, don't!"

Ghost glared at him through the sockets of his mask.

“Ghost please!” Soap wept. “I’m sorry, please, please, don’t—”

Ghost threw Soap out onto the pavement below.

Soap screamed.

—-------------------------------------------------

Soap shot up out of bed, a scream lodged in his throat. Acid churned in his stomach clawing its way up his throat. Soap rolled quickly to the side he grabbed the small bed by his end table and threw up noisily into it. Soap's throat was raw - he must have been screaming - his heart hammered painfully in his chest. Gasping, Soap pulled back onto the bed just far enough to bury his face in the crook of his arm.

What the hell? He hadn't dreamed of Chicago in months. He attempted to swallow, but found his throat was too sore, and his skin felt too sensitive. As though there was a thin layer of electricity keeping his nerves on a razor's edge. Soap felt a shiver wrack his body.

He was damp, covered in a cold sweat. Despite the heat of the base, Soap shivered. Rubbing a calloused hand through his mohawk, Soap tried to ground himself. The clock on his bedside table told him it was only a few minutes after two in the morning. Feeling the tackiness of his own sweat, Soap knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep easily.

So instead he grabbed his shower bag, rolled up his sheets, and made his way to the basement laundry. Chucking his sheets into the wash with some detergent Soap left his sheets to wash, and made his way to the communal showers. No one in their right mind would be up this early. Soap was fairly certain he would have the showers, and the hot water to himself for at least another two hours. Not that he intended to shower that long, but he needed to get out of his head.

—---------------------------------------------------

Scrubbed raw head to toe, and neatly dressed in his fatigues, Soap was the first to arrive in the mess. A first for him. Usually Ghost was the first to arrive. The giant of a lieutenant would sit in the comfortable silence at their table, carefully selected in the back of the room where he could see both entrances, a hot tea in hand. It used to be a comforting thought.

Making a fresh pot of coffee, Soap prepared himself a mug, and sat down at their usual table. However, instead of taking his normal seat- which would have been to the right of Ghost - he took Gaz's usual seat across from the lieutenant and right next to where Price would sit.

When his fellow sergeant entered, Soap eagerly waved him over.

“Gaz! Have breakfast with me?”

“Of course mate.” Gaz gave him a concerned look. “But Jesus did you even sleep?”

“Yea…” Soap gave a weak laugh. “I kinda over did it with the drinks.”

Sitting down together with their trays in hand Soap only half listened as Gaz went on about the most recent rugby game. Pushing his food around on his plate, Soap had only taken a bit or two. He could feel his stomach roll. Soap knew he was hungry, but his body wasn’t willing to eat just yet.

“Hey…” Soap’s head snapped up. Gaz’s tone had changed. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been getting distracted.”

“Yea…” Soap caught movement over Gaz’s shoulder. Ghost had entered the mess. Soap watched him through bleary eyes as the lieutenant got his food, and made his way to their table, pausing just behind Gaz.

“Good morning, Sergeants.” Ghost’s baritone greeted them. Gaz gave Soap a knowing look, which Soap quickly dismissed.

“Morning, L.T.” Soap said, proud of himself. His voice barely wavered.

“Yeah…” Gaz crossed his arms. “Good morning Lieutenant.”

Soap knew that look. Gaz had been his best friend since day one of their time together. He could tell something was bothering Soap, even if he didn’t say it out right. He probably wouldn’t say it outright, and instead interrogate Ghost. Soap couldn’t allow that. Not this time. Standing quickly, he scooped up his tray.

“Here L.T. you can take my seat.”

“Ah, that’s not—” Ghost’s voice was quiet, meant only for Soap. Soap ignored him. Instead turning to lay a hand on Gaz’s shoulder. “Gaz, you up for some sparring later?”

“Sure, but…” Gaz glanced at Ghost, who had remained standing. “I thought Ghost was your sparring buddy?”

“Yea, but it’s no fun if you don’t shake it up. Aye?” Soap gave what he hoped was a convincing smile and made his way out of the mess. Ghost didn’t stop him. Gaz didn’t ask. None of the recruits noticed.

No, no one knew that John 'Soap' MacTavish was breaking.

—--------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day was a blur. Soap went through his normal workout routine, and even sparred with Gaz while studiously ignoring the shadow of Ghost as he stood just outside the sparring ring. Soap was for all intentions and purposes treating the lieutenant like his callsign: a ghost. Unseen, and unheard floating about the base.

Soap no longer sought Ghost out during his down time. He didn't eat lunch with any of the 141 anymore, choosing instead to return to his room. He even changed his workout schedule to avoid Ghost’s - as they had been workout buddies before. The only time Soap saw Ghost now was in his dreams, as the same nightmare played over and over again every night. This pattern continued for a little over a week before Price became fed up and dragged Soap into his office.

Much to Soap's chargen Ghost was already inside. The lieutenant stood against the far wall, arms crossed, head down. Soap ignored Price's gesture to take the seat in front of his desk. Instead opting to remain standing as far away from Ghost as possible. Price groused under his mustache taking his own seat behind the desk so he could glare at the two like a disappointed father.

"I don't know what the issue is between you two, but it stops now." Price growled. "You two were my best team, and now you can't stand being in the same room! What the hell is going on? Soap?"

Soap felt his stomach plummet. Price was blaming him. Of course he was blaming him. It was Soap’s fault after all. He was stupid enough to get comfortable. Stupid enough to believe that he was cared for. That he was wanted. Soap felt himself begin to tremble.

"I'll transfer in the morning." Soap rasped, gripping his own wrist behind his back to keep the others from noticing.

"The hell you will." Price snapped. Soap flinched, shoulders shaking. He was too keyed up, too anxious. "I don't care what you two do in your personal lives, but you were friends. I expect you to be teammates even if you can't be friends. I expect you to be cordial and work together. Do you understand?"

Teammates…isn't that what Ghost had said? He was his teammate, nothing more. Soap felt the acid churn in his stomach again.

"Yes sir." Soap turned, without waiting to be dismissed he flung the door open and bolted. He made outside, only just, and threw up noisily into the bushes. Wiping his mouth with the back of his head, Soap leaned back against the cold brick wall behind him. Or he would've if he didn't find himself flush against a pillowed surface.

Strong hands wrapped around his shoulders from behind.

"Easy Johnny." Ghost's voice rumbled in his ear.

"Dinnae call me that." Soap winced at how rough his voice sounded. He tried to shake off Ghost's hands, but the lieutenant's grip was unforgiving. "Lemme go." Soap complained as Ghost spun him around and led him forcefully back inside. Soap tried to shove the taller man off, but Ghost simply rearranged his hold and forced Soap to keep pace with him as he turned down the familiar hallways.

Ghost paused outside of a door, releasing Soap with one hand to fish for his keys while the other held tight to the back of Soap's neck. Soap twisted free of Ghost's hold and stomped back down the hallway they had come from. He got about two feet away before he was rudely slammed into the wall next to him. His breath left his lungs in a whoosh. Ghost glared down at him, a thick forearm pressed against his clavicle.

"You listen, and you listen well." Ghost snarled. "We are going in that office, and we are going to talk."

"Got nothing you want to hear." Soap half-gasped trying to snarl back. Ghost applied more pressure. "You made that clear, sir." Soap spat the honorific out through gritted teeth twisting to look pointedly at the floor. He didn't want to see Ghost's eyes. Didn't want to remember the warmth of Simon behind that mask. Ghost didn't care what he had to say, not really.

"Just because you couldn't get your dick wet–" Ghost grunted as Soap's fist made contact with his face. He took one step back, but no more, whipping his head back around to glare at the Sergeant. Soap met Ghost's withering look without flinching his blue eyes blazing.

"You don't know a damn thing about me." Soap hissed. "I can get shagged whenever I want. It didn't have a damn thing to do with sex and you know it. You're just too selfish to understand that other people have feelings for you." Wrenching Ghost's arm away from him, Soap shoved his superior hard. Soap paused as he turned to leave, glancing over his shoulder. Ghost stood there, unmoving, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

—---------------------------------------------------

The next few days were better in many ways and worse in others. Ghost and Soap communicated only when necessary and with short clipped tones. Soap quit avoiding Ghost, but still did not actively seek his lieutenant out unless directed to by Price. Ghost remained as stoic as ever.

Since he hadn't been dragged into Price's office to explain why he struck his CO, Soap assumed Ghost was either too ashamed or too proud to admit he - the great Ghost - had been struck by his Sergeant. Soap suspected the latter since the man never bothered to talk to him about the night at the bar.

Soap's nightmares continued despite every effort he made to abate them. His sketchbook was becoming a homage of Ghost flinging Soap from a skyscraper against an inky blackness. Soap woke up violently ill every time to the point he stopped eating dinner so he could just dry heave in the morning before breakfast.

It wasn't a perfect fix, but it was working. The rest of the 141 was none the wiser. If they noticed Soap losing a little weight they never said anything. Perhaps they believed his pride in his body was the reason. No one noticed. No one cared. Until…

Soap was running the recruits through the obstacle course—which started with the basic crawling under the wire and ended in an underground pool the recruits had to swim through at the end. The deepest part of the pool was ten feet. The goal for today was for the recruits to complete the course with full gear on. Soap would be observing, along with another sergeant, to make sure no one got hurt. The recruits were to enter the pool at the deep end, tread water, and make it to the shallow end, and out within the time given.

The first group of five completed the course no problem. The second group, however, had an issue. One of the youngest recruits, Parker, was having trouble treading water. Soap gave him a second, seeing if any of the others would aid him, when they did not Soap ran to the side of the pool.

“Come on Parker!” Soap shouted. “You got this.”

Parker was pale, spluttering. The kid was panicking.

“Shit.” Soap jumped into the pool grabbing Parker by the vest and attempted to steer him towards the side of the pool. Panicked Parker swung his elbow back clocking Soap in the face, and splitting his lip.

"Oi, ye shit." Soap growled cursing under his breath Soap struggled, fighting with Parker to get him to safety. Where the hell was the other sergeant? As they neared the edge of the pool Parker flung himself towards the edge inadvertently slamming Soap’s head into the concrete side.

Dazed, Soap let go of Parker’s vest, inhaling sharply in pain. Unfortunately for Soap that meant inhaling a mouth full of water. In his panic to get out Parker used Soap as a ladder and stepped on his head forcing him beneath the water. Soap felt what little air he had escaped as he began to sink. Soap swam for the surface, only to be kicked in the sternum by a flailing boot. All of the remaining air escaped him in a whoosh of bubbles as Soap slowly began to sink.

He was drowning. He was fucking drowning like a damn greenie on their first day. Strangely, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. The damn pool was only ten feet deep, and yet…Soap felt like he was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. He was so tired. Two weeks of barely eating, hardly sleeping, and working out as though nothing was wrong left him irrevocably weakened. Soap would have laughed at that if he had any air. He felt his lips turn up in a rueful smile as the edges of his vision darkened. Through half lidded eyes he watched the water shift in the sunlight above him. It was strangely peaceful considering his current predicament. He wondered if they would notice if he was gone…

“Don’t you die on me you Irish bastard!" Gaz shouted in his ear. Soap was forcibly rolled to his side while a large hand thumped on his back. Soap felt the water burn its way back up--rolling he threw up. The chlorine burned his nose and lungs as he gulped in fresh air. "Oh thank God!" Gaz leaned over Soap easing the Scot onto his back.

"'M fookin Scottish ye smarmy cunt." Soap wheezed. Black spots danced across his vision making it hard for him to focus. Groaning Soap closed his eyes, turning his head to the side he focused on taking scorching breaths through his nose. There was rustling all around him, Gaz was busy fussing over him as a low murmur he couldn't quite place, surrounded them both. Soap let himself slip back into the ether.

"Go get a medic now." Gaz snapped at someone unseen. Soap barely stirred, he still felt like he was floating. How strange. A recruit yelped an affirmative and scurried off. The murmurs grew - the recruits were whispering Soap realized. Somewhere off to the side, a door slammed open, and heavy boots slammed into the ground towards them.

"Easy Ghost!" Gaz shouted. "It was an accident!"

Ghost? Soap thought sluggishly. No…Ghost shouldn't be here...

Then he felt large hands wrap around his face, turning him up as something soft skimmed his nose.

That tickles. Soap sighed.

"Why haven't you moved him to medical?" Ghost demanded, the soft thing moving away from Soap's nose.

"'M fine." Soap coughed. Why was it so hard to talk? "Just let me sleep…"

"No Johnny." A gloved hand tapped Soap's face. "Don't go to sleep. Not yet."

"Pffff. What d'ye care…" Soap sighed, his chest felt so heavy. Ignoring his screaming body, Soap rolled to his side. Bracing his arms beneath him he carefully pushed himself up to his knees, then to his feet. Black spots filled his vision again. "Fucking hell." Soap groaned.

"Johnny?" Ghost didn't sound right. He sounded worried. "Johnny, hang on."

Soap felt Ghost's hand on his shoulder.

"I dinnae need–" The world tilted on its axis. The ground rushed up to meet him - then he felt his body being lifted - weightless he really did float. He could still hear Ghost calling his name distantly. He really wished Ghost wouldn't worry so much. He just needed to sleep…

#ghost x soap #cod mw2 #price cod #ghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #gaz cod #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

Text

Kiss Me Kill Me part 2

I was asked for a part 2. I wrote this at 12a.m. so please excuse any errors.

It’s been a month since their thirst in the shower led to an all nighter in Ghost’s bedroom. Soap is thrilled with how their relationship has grown. Ghost is—unsurprisingly—a very possessive man. If you didn’t know the lieutenant as well as Soap did—which many didn’t—one would just assume that Ghost was simply more aggressive around Soap. One such unaware recruit—Daniel Adams—made such a mistake in observing this aloud.

Soap was sitting in the common room on the sofa with his knees curled up, and his sketchbook balanced precariously on the arm of the sofa. Ghost sat next to him reading his latest leatherbound book: the collectors edition of the Lord of the Rings lore—a gift he had received from Soap. Several recruits sat around the room in chairs, or on bean bags chatting admirably. Price and Gaz had been there earlier, but when Price fell asleep in the recliner Gaz helped their Captain up and moved him to his room.

Adams had been watching Soap and Ghost out of the corner of his eye for a long few minutes when Soap groaned. A charlie horse was creeping up his calf causing him to vocalize his discomfort. Stretching out his offending leg Soap hissed in pain as the muscle tightened even more causing pain to race up his leg into his thigh. Long fingers wrap around Soap’s ankle pulling his leg straight. Adams had moved to kneel in front of the Sergeant—no doubt to help out. At least Soap did not doubt it, but Ghost was not at all pleased with the notion.

Before either Soap or Adams could blink Ghost was on his feet startling the hell out of both of them.

“Sergeant, with me.” Ghost snapped. Without stopping to see if Soap was following, Ghost made his way to the door. Soap scrambled to follow, wincing as he put weight on his leg. He heard Adams grumbling to his fellow recruits “The hell is his problem?” Soap ignored the recruit, and hobbled out of the common room cursing in Scottish.

There was no sign of Ghost in the hallway. Soap sighed. Ghost had already stormed off to his room no doubt. Shaking his head, Soap stepped forward, forgetting momentarily about his Charlie horse, only to hiss in pain as he put weight on the wrong leg. Large hands gripped his shoulders, turning him carefully. Soap glared up at his assailant ready to fight—

“Ghost—what are ye—” Soap yelped. Ghost yanked him up in his arms bridal style. Instinctively Soap wrapped his arms around Ghost’s neck. Ghost walked swiftly back to his own barrack. It was tricky getting his key out without putting Soap down, but Ghost managed. Kicking the door shut behind them, Ghost set Soap down carefully on the bed. Soap watched Ghost move about his room, locking the door, grabbing a bottle of water from his mini fridge, and snatching a small jar of tiger balm from his bedside table. Without preamble Ghost knelt in front of Soap.

“Simon?” Soap laid his hand gently on Ghost’s shoulders. “Are ye alright?”

“M’fine, Johnny.” Ghost groused. “Drink.” Ghost shoved the water bottle into Soap’s hands. Soap takes the bottle, carefully opening the lid and taking a tentative sip as he watches Ghost. The lieutenant slowly rolls up Soap’s pants leg. Taking Soap’s ankle in one hand, Ghost massaged up Soap’s calf. Soap groaned as his muscle jumped beneath Ghost’s fingers. Ghost worked his way from the ankle up to the knee kneading the muscle beneath with gentle, but firm fingers slowly rubbing the Charlie horse out.

Soap leaned back on his elbows enjoying the sensation. Ghost worked tirelessly for several minutes before reaching for the jar of tiger balm. Removing his gloves, Ghost scooped out some of the gel, and began rubbing it into the sore muscle.

“Ye got magic fingers, L.T.” Soap said, smiling down dopily. Ghost looked up at him from beneath the rim of his skull-plate’s eye sockets. Ghost grunted, a non-commential noise as he screwed the lid back onto the jar. Soap cocked an eyebrow at that. “What’s up yer bum?”

“Nothing.” Ghost snapped, standing to return the jar of tiger balm to his bedside table.

“Yer bum's oot the windae!” Soap grumbled.

“English MacTavish.” Ghost growled, sitting down on the bed next to Soap the older man leaned back folding his hands beneath his head. Soap rolled on his side, scooting up to look Ghost in the eye. The lieutenant stared past him to glare at the ceiling above. Gently, Soap took Ghost by the chin turning him—deep amber eyes met crystal blue.

“What’s the matter?” Soap asked softly. Ghost frowned beneath his mask.

“Didn’t like his hands on you.” Ghost growled, his eyes slid down to Soap’s lips.

“Ye got jealous?” Soap grinned, pressing a soft kiss to Ghost’s lips through the mask. Ghost snorted, lifting his mask up above his nose for a proper kiss. Soap complied easily, pressing into Soap, half laying on top of him. The kiss was chaste at first, slowly building up as Ghost leaned up into Soap’s lips. Opening his mouth Soap accepted Ghost’s tongue as the older man claimed his mouth. All too soon Ghost broke away. Soap pouted, absently drawing patterns on Ghost’s chest with his finger.

“I don’t get jealous.” Ghost growled. “I get even.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soap was not dissatisfied with his relationship. He really wasn’t, but a week after Adams had the nerve to put his hands on Soap, Ghost had become somewhat distant. At first Soap assumed it was because he was simply busy—Price had given them both full plates as they prepared for their next op. But when Soap would seek Ghost out after hours more often than not Ghost turned him away—albeit gently—at the door telling Soap he was tired. Soap respected this. He knew Ghost could get easily overwhelmed, but…

But Soap missed kissing him. Soap missed sleeping in his arms as the sound of Ghost's heartbeat chased away Soap’s looming nightmares. Part of Soap had thought his presence had one the same for Ghost. Soap knew Ghost had his quirks when it came to his relationships, but that didn’t stop him from feeling depressed.

Alone in his room Soap began packing for their upcoming mission. Price had ordered both Ghost and Soap to head out the following morning for—what Soap hoped was—a simple recon mission. Pawing through his top draw for his favorite knife—Ghost’s knife, the one he had pulled from the neck of a dead Shadow—when a small glass bottle rolled into view. Soap picked the bottle up examining it. The pheromone cologne… a sly grin crept up on Soap’s lips. Pocketing the cologne Soap finished packing quickly, his heart a lot lighter than when he began.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ghost was already on the tarmac with Price when Soap arrived. Grinning like a bandit, Soap approached Price first, giving his Captain a firm slap on the shoulder. Price grunted, turning to glare at Soap.

“You bloody muppet.” Price growled. “You made me almost drop my cigar.” Said cigar was clenched between Price’s teeth. Price took a deep breath through the nose, then snorted. “Bloody hell, Soap, the fuck are you wearing?” Price shoved Soap away, fanning a hand in front of his face.

“What d’ye mean?” Soap grinned mischievously. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Ghost go rigid as the wind shifted.

“I know you’re prissy about your looks, but bloody hell Soap.” Price growled. “A little less cologne next time! The target is going to smell you from a mile away.”

“I thought ye loved the way I smelled.” Soap put his hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Get on the transport you muppet!” Price swatted Soap’s shoulder.

Laughing Soap made his way onto the helo. Ghost stalked behind him, his movements rigid as he sat down hard next to his Sergeant. Soap grinned at his partner as he belted himself in. Ghost belted himself in, pretending to need to lean closer to Soap to belt a second loop.

“The hell are you doing?!” Ghost snarled in Soap’s ear. Soap felt a thrill run up his spine.

“Dinnae ken what yer on about.” Soap lied, shrugging. As the helo’s blades began to swirl above, Soap’s pheromones filled the belly of the carrier. Ghost groaned, clenching his jaw, he readjusted himself in the seat. “Ye alright there L.T.?” Soap elbowed him playfully.

“I will stab you.” Ghost hissed. Soap laughed.

The rest of the helo ride was made in complete silence. Ghost sat rigidly next to Soap the entire ride, taking deep, slow breaths through his mouth. Soap grinned like a mad man the entire time, until his jaw hurt, as he doodled aimlessly in his sketchbook. Every few minutes Soap would peek under his lashes at his lieutenant. If Ghost noticed his covert looks, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he glared holes into the side of the carrier as sweat dripped down his temple. Soap noted the not-so-subtle tenting of Ghost’s cargo pants.

The helo tilted forward, forcing Ghost to slide into Soap, as the helo began its descent. Soap placed a steadying hand on Ghost’s thigh, his pinky sneakily sliding against the bulge. Ghost’s hand latched onto Soap’s wrist, almost painfully. Soap retracted his hand carefully, waiting until the helo had landed before he began rubbing his wrist with the opposite hand. Ghost leapt out of his seat the moment the helo touched down.

“Sergeant with me.” Ghost shouted, reminding Soap oddly of the moment in the common room. Sighing, Soap scurried to his feet. Gripping his rifle close to his chest he followed a few steps behind Ghost. They would be making a sniper’s nest in the woods east to the compound they were sent to gather intel on. As usual Ghost set about clearing the area, making sure the small shack that they would be using wasn’t compromised.

Only when Ghost was certain the area was clear did he lead Soap inside. There were two rickety wooden chairs positioned next to the window they would be using. Ghost took the one in the corner and began robotically setting up his sniper rifle. Soap pulled out his own rifle, piecing it together quietly, glancing at Ghost all the while.

Ghost’s shoulders were rigid as he slammed the pieces of his rifle together with ruthless precision. Soap swallowed. Had he messed up? Had he made Ghost angry? Chewing on his bottom lip Soap finished putting his rifle together, and set it barrel up against the wall closest to him. Ghost had already finished and was now staring through his scope at the target, a small notebook in his lap.

Soap sat patiently for thirty minutes, bouncing his leg as he watched Ghost through his lashes. The lieutenant did not acknowledge him in any way, it was almost as bad as when they first met. Soap could feel his unease growing as he twisted his fingers beneath his gloves.

“Sergeant.” Ghost growled. Soap looked up hopefully. “Go take a nap. We rotate in a few hours.”

“Yes sir.” Soap huffed. Leaving his rifle behind Soap flung himself onto the single mattress in the shack. Lying on his back Soap turned his head away from Ghost, throwing his arm over his eyes. He had really screwed up. Jerking through the pouches on his tactical vest with his free hand Soap searched for his wet wipes. Ignoring the burn of tears building up behind his eyelids Soap pulled a wet wipe loose and began rubbing the side of his neck where had put the pheromone cologne. As it was an oil based product, Soap wasn’t entirely sure a wet wipe would do much, but he didn’t want to make Ghost any angrier than he already had. Tossing the used wipes Soap rolled onto his side, his back to Ghost, and fell into a fitful sleep.

A firm hand shook Soap awake. Groaning, Soap rolled over, and sat up rubbing his eyes.

“Morning L.T.” Soap mumbled.

“You’re up.” Ghost grunted, taking Soap’s place on the mattress. Soap eyed Ghost’s back warily as he took his place. With one last longing look at his partner Soap turns and presses his eye against the scope. There was very little activity in the compound below. Soap was only half watching the compound–his other senses were acutely trained on the sleeping man behind him. Clearly, Soap had overstepped, and now Ghost was angry at him.

Soap worried at his lip until it bled as he replayed the entire interaction over and over again in his head. Ghost was clearly interested, if his bulge was anything to go by, but he wasn’t pleased with Soap’s actions during the mission. Was that it? Was Ghost upset with him because he felt Soap was trying to distract him during an op? Soap would never do that, Ghost had to know that. Grumbling to himself, Soap resigned himself to complete the next eight hours on his own. He would let Ghost get his much needed rest.

Almost ten hours later Soap’s throat mic chirped. Pressing his forefinger and thumb to the necessary buttons, Soap flips his com on.

“Soap, Ghost, sit-rep.” Price’s voice crackles through the link.

“0100, small shack, no movement in the compound below.” Soap muttered into the com. He could hear Ghost stirring behind him.

“Any updates Captain?” Ghost growls, placing a firm hand on Soap’s shoulder. Soap blinks up blearily at his Lieutenant questioningly. Ghost grabbed Soap by the front of his tactical vest, and manhandled him back to the mattress. Soap mumbles under his breath. Ghost grunts pulling Soap’s legs straight so he can lay more comfortably on the mattress before returning to his sniping spot.

“We’re going to pull you two out in a couple hours.” Price said calmly. “You two be ready to reach exfil at 0500.”

“Affirm.” Ghost glanced over his shoulder at Soap, his eyes dark and unreadable. Soap blinked at him slowly.

“Yer mad at me.” Soap grumbled. Ghost pressed his eye back into the scope.

“What makes you think that?” He asked without turning.

“Ye know what yer doing.” Soap whined. “Ye dinnae want me to touch ye. Ye won’t talk to me. Ye won’t kiss me…” Soap felt a tear run down his temple.

“Get some sleep, Soap.” Ghost sighed. Soap, better than Sergeant, but it wasn’t Johnny. Soap didn’t bother rolling over. He threw an arm over his eyes and dozed. True to his word, Price pulled them out a few hours later. Soap rolled up onto his feet as soon as the words echoed through the coms. Snatching up his gun he made his way to the exfil location—very aware that Ghost is following silently. The entire helo ride back Soap sulked, and Ghost broodied, neither looking at the other.

When the helo landed back at the base Soap leapt up and nearly bolted from the tarmac. Ghost no doubt made his way to Price for the debrief. Soap ripped off his gear, tossing it haphazardly onto his desk, before snatching up his shower caddy, and making a beeline for the communal showers. Soap scrubbed himself until he was red before turning off the water. He was drying off when the doors to the showers opened again.

Ghost lumbered in silent as ever, his own shower caddy in hand. Soap ducked his head, yanking his sweats on.

“Got the showers to yerself.” Soap said lightly, as he tugged on his gray wife pleaser. Ghost hummed, setting his caddy down on the metal bench. Soap turned to the mirror with his face oil in hand. Through the reflection he watched Ghost approach him slowly, a large hand sliding around Soap’s hip. Ghost nosed Soap’s head to the side so he could rub his jaw against Soap’s neck. Soap hummed, pleased with Ghost’s sudden interest. Ghost squeezes Soap’s hip briefly.

“Go get some sleep.” Ghost released Soap, and turned to the showers. Soap felt his heart twist painfully in his chest. His face fell in the mirror—Ghost didn’t see. Soap snatched his caddy and stormed back to his room without a word. Slamming his bedroom door behind him Soap locked it, and flung himself onto his bed.

Soap couldn’t make heads or tails of it. What was Ghost’s angle? Why was he so distant, then giving him little crumbs like that in the shower? Ghost wanted him right? Ghost was happy in their relationship wasn’t he? Hell, Ghost was possessive when Adams touched him! Soap blinked at the ceiling. A plan formulated in his mind. Grinning to himself, Soap rolls over and lets the darkness take him.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning Soap woke up early. Muting his alarm he pulled out his favorite t-shirt, a dark green number that clung deliciously to the muscles of his arms, and chest. He found a well worn, but nice fitting pair of cargos, and his boots. Grabbing his long lasting gel he combined his mohawk, and twisted it carefully against his skull before securing it in place. He even put on a thin layer of facial cream to bring out his sharpened face. Satisfied that he looked good, because he did damn it, Ghost would just have to deal with it. Lastly, he dug through his upper draw and pulled out the pheromone cologne. If Ghost wanted to play hard to get then Soap could too. Appling liberal amounts behind his ears, down his neck, and on each wrist Soap gave himself one last once over in the floor length mirror attached to his door.

Damn. Soap thought. Snatching his watch up off his dresser he fastened it onto his left wrist—the one Ghost had inadvertently left a bruise on in his haste to remove Soap’s hand from his thigh. Careful not to tighten the watch too much, as to aggravate the bruise, Soap made his way to the canteen. Pausing in the doorway of the canteen Soap was pleased to see that Adams was already there in line for his breakfast.

Soap sauntered up to Adams plucking up his own tray with ease.

“Adams.” Soap greeted the younger man with a slight twerk of his lip.

“Sergeant MacTavish.” Adams greeted enthusiastically, eyes roaming Soap’s form openly. “How’s your leg?”

“Much better.” Soap gave him a crooked grin as he grabbed a plate of eggs. “Thank you for trying to help with that the other day.”

“Of course.” Adams preened. “Hope the Lieutenant didn’t give you too hard of a time.” Soap frowned. Adams wasn’t going to workout if he was going to disrespect Ghost. Adams seemed to catch on to the sudden shift in Soap’s mood. “No offense, of course!” Adams said quickly. “We all know the Lieutenant can be a hardass.”

Soap hummed. Adams gave him a jovial elbow to the side, leaning in close, he caught a whiff of the pheromones. Soap watched out of the corner of his eye as Adams stiffened noticeably, leaning slightly closer Adam took another tentative sniff.

“Alright there private?” Soap chuckled. Adams snapped up straight, eyes wide.

“Yea, o’course.” Adams cleared his throat noisily. “Want to sit with us?”

“Sure.” Soap felt a smile creep up as he turned to follow Adams. Standing in the doorway of the canteen was none other than the lieutenant himself in all his dark glory. Soap gave Ghost a slight nod as he continued to their normal table with Adams in toe. Soap sat down in his usual seat while Adams took the seat to his right. Gaz and Price were already seated across from them with their morning coffee.

Price raised a brow at Soap as he sat down with Adams at his side, but didn’t comment, and returned to his newspaper. Gaz looked between Soap and Adams curiously, his brow furrowed, until he caught sight of something over Soap’s left shoulder and paled. A heavy hand landed on Soap’s shoulder, squeezing him harshly, before releasing him. Ghost slid into his normal seat silently.

“Morning L.T.” Soap said easily, giving Ghost a brilliant, crooked smile. Ghost glared down at his sergeant. His normally warm amber-brown eyes were dark. Soap felt the familiar warmth weave its way through him until it pooled in his lower abdomen. Soap was careful to not let his face fall, lest Ghost catch onto his nervous energy. Instead he tucked into his food, making small talk with Adams. “What’s your schedule look like for the day Adams?”

“Got training with Lieutenant Riley.” Adams nodded to Ghost. Ghost just glared back. Adams continued on undeterred. “Are you going to be there too?” Adams asked warmly, leaning closer to Soap—his nostrils flaring slightly.

“‘Fraid not.” Soap chuckled, taking another bite of his eggs.

“But you have so much to teach us.” Adams pouted, not very convincingly Soap might add, leaning into Soap’s personal space. Soap could feel Ghost stiffen next to him. Careful to not lean away from Adams, though equally careful to not lean towards Adams. Soap gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Ghost is a great teacher.” Soap clapped Ghost on his shoulder, putting his wrist close to Ghost’s exposed mouth as he ate.

“Don’t get handsy, MacTavish.” Ghost snapped, shrugging off Soap’s hand. Soap felt the heat in his stomach turn to ice. Pulling his hand back Soap gripped the edges of his tray. He could feel the rejection turning sour in his veins. Again. Ghost didn’t want Soap to touch him in the helo, and now he didn’t want Soap to touch him at the base. Soap could feel the cold sneaking its way up his throat making him nauseous.

“You alright?” Adams grabbed Soap’s wrist. Soap gave Adams a cold smile.

“Peachy.” Soap lied, patting Adams hand in a subtle, but firm way to remove his hand. Soap couldn’t stand being touched right now. Adams got the message, removing his hand a second later. Soap stood slowly, careful not to touch Ghost by mistake, not even to brush his arm against the older man. “Enjoy yer training, aye.” Soap mumbled.

As he dumped his tray, Soap heard Adams hiss “The hell did you do?” Soap didn’t turn around. He let the door swing shut behind him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next several hours Soap bumped into Ghost periodically. Price ordered him to take several files to the Lieutenant in his office. Why the Captain didn’t do it himself, or have a recruit do it Soap didn’t know.

Soap stood outside of Ghost’s office for a solid minute, trying to force down his unease before knocking sharply.

“Enter.” Ghost’s gravely voice wafted from behind the heavy door. Soap entered slowly, holding the files aloft in one hand like a peace offering.

“Captain Price said to give these to ye.” Soap said, voice falsely light. Without looking at the broad figure he knew was behind the desk Soap set the files down within reach.

“Soap?” Ghost’s voice was soft. Soap glanced up. Ghost forward in his chair, legs open, hands clasped together thoughtfully while his elbows rested on his desk.

“Yeah?” Soap’s throat felt dry. He cocked his head slightly. Ghost rose from his seat, stalking towards Soap with silent movements. Ghost stepped into Soap’s personal space, forcing the sergeant to look up at him. Lifting his mask above his nose, Ghost leaned down running his nose along Soap’s throat.

“What did I tell you if you wore this again?” Ghost growled.

“Ye promised to fuck me all over the base.” Soap groaned. His body reacted naturally, excitedly to Ghost’s interest. But his heart sank. Ghost hadn’t been interested in him recently. Taking a deep breath through his nose Soap stepped back, eyes fractured as he looked up at Ghost. “But ye made it clear ye dinnae want me anymore.” Soap stepped around Ghost and walked out the ice in his stomach turning to stone as Ghost remained unmoving.

Soap shuffled through the rest of his day in a daze. He caught sight of Ghost in his peripheral, but by the time he turned to look, Ghost had slipped away again. Soap did his best to not let it affect his work.

“What’s wrong with you?” Gaz asked him as they sat down for dinner. Apparently not well enough.

“Nothing.” Soap lied, taking a small bite of his food.

“Oh, cut the crap.” Gaz pressed. “You look like a kicked puppy.”

“I dinnae not!” Soap growled, stabbing a fork at Gaz. “Why don’t ye mind yer own business?”

“Because you’re my friend you muppet.” Gaz swatted his hand down. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I think I messed up.” Soap sighed sadly. “Ghost really enjoyed the first time I wore this.” Soap gestured to his neck. “But now…” Soap shrugged. “He doesn’t want me to touch him.” Soap could feel his eyes prick. Gaz laid a comforting hand on Soap’s shoulder.

“I’m sure that’s not it.” Gaz assured him. “Ghost was really upset when you left this morning.”

“Yea right.” Soap groused.

“He was.” Gaz insisted. “So much so he punched Adams in the face.”

“What?!” Soap yelped. That wasn’t possible—no it was entirely possible. Ghost was well known for his history for being volatile enough to knock any one for a loop if they got cheeky with the lieutenant. What was unbelievable—at least to Soap—was that Ghost would do that for him. Soap replayed the morning in his head. “Nae, it’s not possible.” Soap muttered. “Ghost was just mad at Adams for running his mouth. It wasn’t because of me.”

“Whatever you say.” Gaz conceded. Soap shook his head. Gaz was crazy. Neither Ghost or Price joined them for dinner. No doubt in a meeting of some sort. It didn’t make the twinge in Soap’s chest lesson any. Saying a quiet goodbye to Gaz Soap made his way to his room.

That night Soap threw himself into bed without bothering to shower or remove his clothes for the day. Too emotionally exhausted to pick apart Gaz’s insane comments Soap wrapped himself up in the itchy thin blanket and crashed.

He was so out of it he didn’t hear his bedroom door open. He didn’t hear the nearly silent foot falls as someone approached his bedside. He didn’t even wake up when a large hand touched his face with the back of bare fingers. Unconsciously, Soap leaned into the touch, a soft whine escaping his lips.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soap woke slowly. The sun shined down on him through the curtain keeping him surprisingly warm. He was so warm he didn’t want to get out of bed. Groaning, Soap reached for his phone.

“Bleeding Jesus!” Soap swore, scrambling out of bed. He was late. He gave himself a quick once over in the mirror on the back of his door, pushing his mohawk flat, and barreled out of his room to the training yard. Ghost was already there putting the recruits through their paces. Soap trotted up to Ghost’s side slightly winded. “Morning L.T.”

“You’re ten minutes late, Sergeant.” Ghost growled. Soap faltered. Ghost was still pissed. “Do ten laps with the recruits.” Ghost ordered without looking at Soap. Soap winced, but didn’t argue. Trotting up to join the recruits on their last few circuits, he found himself next to Adams who was now sporting a black eye.

“What happened to ye?” Soap asked, gesturing at Adams’ face.

“None of your damn business.” Adams snapped, speeding up to leave Soap behind. Flabbergasted Soap shook his head and pushed on. He completed his ten laps with relative ease. Thankfully the run had not only warmed up his muscles, but forced him out of the fog of just waking up, so by the time he was back at Ghost’s side Soap was feeling pretty good. Together he and Ghost put the recruits through the obstacle course, and taught them some hand-to-hand moves which lead to Soap being pinned on his back more often than not. As Ghost pinned him for the final time, Soap’s hands above his head, Ghost leaned down into him breathing hard.

“Alright, ten more laps then head to lunch!” Ghost shouted, climbing off of Soap. Reaching down he helped Soap onto his feet. Soap clapped Ghost on the back of his arm.

‘Nice work L.T.” Soap huffed, trying to withdraw his hand. Ghost had not let go yet. Instead, Ghost yanked Soap close to him and pressed his clothed mouth to Soap’s ear.

“Go shower, now.” Ghost snarled.

“The hell is yer problem?” Soap snapped, yanking his arm back. Ghost let him go without a fight. “First yer all over me, like ye want me, and now ye cannae stand being around me!” Soap shoved Ghost—which hardly jostled the larger man. “It’s not right! Ye don’t get to play with my heart like that!” Annoyed Soap jabbed a finger in Ghost’s chest. “Fuck you Simon Riley.”

Soap stormed off back to his room. Pacing angrily, Soap began throwing things against the wall. Who the hell did Ghost think he was? His sketchbook slammed against the wall above his bed. Was it all Soap’s fault for believing that Ghost wanted him? His case of pencils bounced off the wall next to his door. Or was it Soap’s fault because he tricked Ghost into wanting him with the pheromones in the first place? Soap swept everything off his desk before throwing himself into his desk chair defeated. The fuck was wrong with him? He should have just let Ghost come to him naturally no matter how slowly he took it.

Stripping down to his underwear, Soap sent a text to Price telling him he was sick, and crawled beneath his blankets. Folding his arms under his pillow Soap mulled over his relationship with Ghost. He must have dozed off at some point, because he dreamed there was a large warm hand on his lower back. Soft lips traveled up his spine, peppering his back with kisses. Soap moaned content. It was a nice dream. He gave a languid stretch, like an overly relaxed cat basking in a patch of sunlight. The lips traced his shoulder, dipping into the crook of his neck, nipping gently.

Soap moaned nuzzling back into the touch he felt the brush of soft stubble against his own. A firm hand tilted his chip up, so soft, chapped lips could press against his own. Soap kissed back eagerly, sliding his tongue across the lower lip of his companion. He knew these lips, knew the taste of the tongue that slipped inside his mouth.

Simon…Soap sighed. How he had missed these lips. How he has missed the soft compassion between them. It made his heart ache that this dream was the closest he had been to Simon in weeks. Turning on his side Soap chased the lips, his own hand snaking up to curl around the soft curly hair at the nape of his dream-Simon’s neck. Soap whimpered as a single tear slipped out. Pulling back for air, Soap pressed his forehead against his dream-Simon’s. A single tear slipped free. A rough hand gently wiped the tear away.

“Johnny?” Simon’s dream voice sounded gravely, as though he had just woken up. God how Soap missed his voice.

“I wish this was real.” Soap whispered as another tear slipped free.

“What makes you think that?” Dream-Simon cupped Soap’s face.

“The real ye is in the training yard.” Soap huffed. “Yer angry at me…ye dinnae want me anymore, and it's all my fault.”

“What’s your fault?” Simon asked, stroking Soap’s cheeks.

“I tricked ye…” Soap hiccuped. “Now ye dinnae want to kiss me…”

“Of course I want to kiss you, idiot.” Ghost chided gently pulling Soap’s lips back against his own. Soap sighed into the kiss allowing Ghost to press him back down onto his stomach. Ghost pulled the blanket aside to slip in and lie onto Soap keeping their lips locked. Blanketing Soap’s body with his own Ghost carefully slid one hand under Soap’s chest to cup his chin, while the other slid to the hem of his boxers. Soap lifted his hips for Ghost to slide the boxers off his legs. It took some maneuvering, but Ghost also slipped his pants and boxers off allowing his length to slap sinfully against Soap’s back, hot and heavy.

Soap heard the tell-tale sound of the lube cap popping. Breaking their kiss, Soap moaned, tilting his hips up to meet Ghost’s. Nipping Soap’s shoulder, Ghost pressed his lover's hips back down. Curious, Soap spread his legs for Ghost to settle down more comfortably, and waited eagerly for the other’s fingers. The fingers never came. Instead Ghost slicked up his member, and preseed its bulbous head against Soap’s entrance. Guiding Soap’s lips back to his with one hand, Ghost slowly began, so deliciously, agonizingly slowly, pressing in centimeter by aching centimeter.

Soap moaned, fisting the sheets above his head. Kissing the edge of Soap’s jaw, down his throat, Ghost slid one hand up to lace his fingers with Soap’s. Pulling out slowly, then pushing in gently, slowly, Ghost created a delicious burn as he nipped at the back of Soap’s neck. It was so different from their first time. Ghost was attentive—treating Soap like he was made of glass, something delicate, worth savoring. It took nearly ten minutes for Ghost to bottom out, but Soap loved every moment of it. Ghost leaned up grabbing a spare pillow.

“Lift your hips love.” Ghost coaxed gently. Soap tilted his hips up, aided by Ghost’s comforting hand on his hip. The change in the angle made him moan wantonly as Ghost slipped the pillow beneath him, kindly readjusting his member to lie comfortably against the pillow. “Back down, there you go.” Ghost praised, encompassing Soap with his weight he slipped both arms beneath Soap’s to entwine their fingers together beneath the pillow at Soap’s head.

“Fuck, Simon, please move.”

Ghost buried his nose into the nape of Soap’s neck. Pulling back until only his head remained inside, Ghost snapped his hips forward. Soap gasped as Ghost slammed into his prostate. Clutching Ghost’s fingers between his own Soap cantered his hips back, meeting each of Ghost’s thrusts.

“Fuck Johnny,” Ghost growled slamming home again. “You take me so well.”

With every thrust Soap’s member ground deliciously into the pillow beneath him. All he could feel, smell, think of was Simon. Simon blanketed around him, a comforting weight. Simon inside him, driving him closer, and closer to the edge of oblivion. Simon’s teeth at his nape as he licked the sweat off of him, and peppered him with achingly sweet kisses.

“Simon, Simon, Simon..” Soap whispered his name like a prayer. Ghost met each of his gasping prayers with a growl. The wet slap slap slap slap of skin against skin filled the room. Soap could feel the tightening in his abdomen. “Simon, fuck…harder please, ‘m close.” Ghost growled into Soap’s neck, pulling their arms together beneath Soap’s chest he changed his angle, and slammed into Soap.

“Ah! Yes!” Soap moaned. “Fuck, Simon, yes….yes…ah ah ah ah ah!”

“That’s it love,” Ghost grunted. “Let go, come for me.”

Ghost slammed home again, biting into Soap’s shoulder as he did so. Soap’s vision white out as he came, hard. Ghost kept moving, once, twice

“Fuck!” Ghost pushed himself in as far as he could, filling Soap up. Soap floated in bliss as Ghost moved above him. Unlatching his jaw from Soap’s shoulder, Ghost ran his tongue over the mark to soothe the inflamed flesh. Uncurling their arms, Ghost carefully tucked the pillow beneath Soap’s head between his neck, and chest. Without pulling out, he then carefully slid the second pillow out from under Soap’s hips. Carefully pulling the blanket around both of them, Ghost pulled Soap onto his side–chest to back, Ghost buried his head into the crook of Soap’s neck, with one arm beneath his lover’s head, the other he wrapped securely around his waist.

#ghost x soap #mdni #cod mw2

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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Am I the only one that thinks Ghost/Soap's pet name for the other is "My favorite asshole"?

Not in a sexual sense (though there certainly that), but because they annoy the heck out of each other so they're like "You're my favorite asshole"

#cod mw2 #price cod #ghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #gaz cod #call of duty mw2 #konig #simon ghost riley #call of duty

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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Small fun comic of Ghost going all out with "I'm yours forever"

Inspiration from this twitter post

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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a night out on the town with the 141 <3 (get prints of these here)

gain early access to art + nsfw exclusives on my patreon

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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Kiss me Kill me

GhostxSoap

NSFW 🔞 MDNI

Soap is tired of Ghost taking it slow...

Soap knows Ghost likes him - the man's not blind. At first he's patient. It has only been a month or so since Mexico. Ghost has warmed up to him slowly with gentle, lingering touches, soft words, and all around following him like a living Shadow. The first time they kiss Ghost nearly loses his mind. He kisses Soap like he needs the man to live. Soap is his oxygen and his lips are the only source he can get it from. This leads to hot and heavy makeout sessions all over the base (usually in a utility closet, the corner of the gym or the privacy of their rooms). To Soap's great frustration, however, it never goes any further.

He knows Ghost wants him - the hard on the man leaves with after every makeout is proof enough - but Ghost won't initiate. It's as though he's afraid he'll run Soap off or hurt him. Soap is more than okay with that. Can't work in his profession without enjoying a little pain. He's not a sadist, but know what Ghost can do? That gets him hot. Finally, Soap has had enough. Talking to Ghost is like pulling teeth (Only said patient would murder him if he tried to force it).

So - Soap makes a plan. With a little help from Gaz he orders some aphrodisiac candy (in Ghost's favorite sea-salt caramel flavor) and a pheromone based cologne. Gaz -who is all for pranks, but fears for Soap's safety - insists he also purchase the biggest plug he can find.

Better to be ready and waiting in case Ghost loses his senses and forgets to prep. Rough sex is enjoyable, internal bleeding not so much. Not that Soap thinks Ghost would hurt him on purpose, but the man does run on instinct 99.8% of the time.

With all the pieces in place Soap puts on his favorite black wife pleaser and short joggers that reveal the curve of his ass when he bends down just right. Plug in place, and pheromone cologne smeared beneath his chin, behind his ear, inner thigh, and wrist Soap heads out.

Finding Ghost in his usual spot behind his desk working on some report or other Soap presents him with the candy. Ghost accepts them with a confused look, but he does love his sweets. Soap sticks around long enough to make sure Ghost starts eating them before heading out.

Soap lays in wait in the gym. According to the research he did sweating helps the pheromone smell better. Shooting Gaz a text to be ready for Phase 3 of his plan, Soap puts in his headphones and starts his workout on the treadmill. So wrapped up in his fantasies of what could happen - Soap almost doesn't hear Ghost come in. Almost. Ghost flings the gym door open an angry twist to his eyes and much to Soap's pleasure a tightness in his walk. Storming over to his Sergeant, mouth open wide to start chewing him out, Ghost stops dead.

The weight of the pheromones hits him HARD. Soap almost feels sorry for the man when a low growl-whine slips from behind the mask. Ghost stalks forward his jaw visibly, working beneath the mask.

"Johnny..."

It's a threat. It's a promise.

Soap bites the inside of his cheek.

"Wh-"

"Soap!" Gaz shouts from the door looking winded. He must have missed his que when Ghost left his office. "Price wants you!"

Ghost's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Duty calls." Soap gave him a winning smile.

Soap pats Ghost's shoulder as he walks by. Purposefully putting his hand on the crook between Ghost's neck and shoulder. The older man flinches as though burned - turning his head sharply he tried to bury his nose against Soap's wrist. Soap pulls his hand away quickly.

"Let's spar later, eh L.T.?" Soap calls cheerily over his shoulder.

"We will, Sergeant." Ghost growled back.

Soap suppressed the shudder that twisted up his spine. Gaz led him out quickly - the usually dark skinned man suddenly pale. Soap raised a brow at him.

"You're going to die." Gaz rasped.

"What a way to go though, aye?" Soap laughed.

"You're insane!" Gaz groaned.

Soap ran into Ghost several times throughout the day. While he was training the recruits Soap sauntered up and leaned heavily against the older man shoulder-to-shoulder as they watched the recruits complete their laps. Ghost whipped his head around inhaling deeply through his nose. His large hands flexing before curling into fists at his side. Grinning Soap rubbed his shoulder against Ghost’s like an affectionate cat.

Before the larger man could snatch him up and carry him away, Gaz arrived again, calling Soap away to do something or other. The day continued in this pattern - Soap would find Ghost, tease him, and flit away before the Lieutenant could get his hands on him.

By the third time, shortly after lunch, Ghost had lost his patience with Soap's little game. As Gaz came to call Soap away once again:

"Get lost Sergeant." Ghost snapped at Gaz. "MacTavish owes me a match." Without waiting for a reply Ghost grabs Soap by the back of his neck, and all but drags him to the gym.

Ghost doesn't let go until he's pulled Soap past the sparring mat to the secluded corner between the showers and the gym. Hidden by three walls and a fairly solid door - Ghost slams Soap against the wall and presses his chest against Soap's back pinning him in place. Burying his nose in Soap's neck, Ghost inhaled deeply.

"The fuck are you wearing?!" Ghost snarled, using the hand not clasped to the back of Soap's neck to push his shirt up until he can spread his fingers against the muscles of Soap's stomach.

Loosening his other hand - just slightly - Ghost cupped the front of Soap's neck and chin. Moving his head more to the side to get a better angle. Somewhere in the in-between Ghost had shoved his mask above his nose. His lips trailed Soap's exposed throat feather light.

Soap could feel Ghost trembling against his back. Still maddeningly in control - still holding back - still worried about what he would do to Soap. This wouldn't do. Sliding his hand away from the wall Soap reached behind him to cup Ghost through his jeans.

Ghost snarled, nipping at Soap's throat he snatched his hand away from his groin and pressed it firmly against the tile in front of him.

"Don't move." Ghost hissed.

"No." Soap snapped back, shoving his hips back, he ground against Ghost.

Ghost slammed his hips forward, his hand digging half moons in the dip of Soap's hip.

"You're playing with fire, Johnny." Ghost gritted out, his mouth peppering Soap's throat with kisses and nips. Soap let out a low moan.

"Good thing -ah - that's my - mmm- job."

Every word Soap uttered had Ghost rutting against him, pressing his own erection against the tiles in front of him in glorious friction. Twisting his head from Ghost's grasp, Soap caught Ghost's lips as he made another pass. What a kiss it was! Taking the lead, Ghost curled his fingers into Soap’s mohawk. Soap moaned, and Ghost pounced, slipping his tongue inside, swallowing every sweet noise Soap made as his ground, his aching member against Soap’s fabulous backside. Ghost was losing his mind. So, apparently, was Soap.

Grabbing Ghost's hand from his hip, Soap guided his lover's finger beneath the hem of his shorts (he had gone commando for this) and pressed his fingers against the hard, round plastic hidden beneath. Ghost's head snapped back, eyes wide, pupils blown. Ripping Soap's shorts to the side, Ghost leaned back to examine what he found there.

"Johnny..." Ghost sounded wrecked.

"All for ye, Simon." Soap said smugly, jutting his hips out a bit more. Ghost was lost. Ripping Soap’s shorts down he wasted no time yanking the plug out - and throwing it aside. Ghost all but ripped his own jeans off, showing them below his ass. Grabbing Soap by the hips, Ghost lifted his right leg by the knee for easier access.

"I'm - I can't- be gentle." Ghost warned as he lined himself up against Soap's hole.

Soap reached behind him, grabbing Ghost’s prick he slammed back taking him all the way to the hilt. Both men groaned.

"Dinnae want ye to be fucking gentle." Soap licked his lips. "Fuck me."

Ghost was always good at following orders. Pulling back until only his head was sitting inside Ghost snapped forward. Soap gave a husky half-shout half-moan. Finally! Wrapping his hand back around Soap's throat, Ghost pulled him flush against his chest, kissing him sloppily. Really, little more than their foreheads pressed together breathlessly breathing the same air - their lips touched lightly as Ghost slammed into him. Soap was in heaven. It would feel like hell tomorrow, but for now, he was in heaven.

The smell of sex filled the air - heavy, sticky, and hot as the slick slap of skin against skin drowned out everything else. Ghost swallowed every "ah ah ah" Soap made. Snaking a hand around Soap's waist, Ghost wrapped his hand around Soap's weeping prick. Jerking Soap in tandem with his thrusts, Ghost felt Soap trembling beneath his touch.

"Fuck - ah ah ah!" Soap gasped as Ghost bit down on the delicate flesh behind his ear. "I'm close - ah ah - Simon!!"

"Come for me Johnny." Ghost growled, jerking Soap's head back he shoved his tongue down Soap's throat as he shoved his prick in his ass. Harder. Faster. Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

Soap's vision went white as he orgasmed, so hard he nearly collapsed. Ghost held him up with strong arms ramming into his abused prostate over and over chasing his own high. Oversensitive Soap mewled into Ghost's mouth. Ghost's hips stuttered once, twice, then -

"Fuck, Johnny!" Ghost shoved his dick as far into Soap as he could, painting the younger man's insides. Claiming him once and for all.

Sweaty and trembling, Ghost caged Soap against the wall, releasing his leg, but holding him up with his body as the sergeant shuddered in extacy.

"If you...wear that shit again." Ghost panted against Soap's neck. "I will fuck you all over this base for hours."

"Hmmm, promise?" Soap mumbled, turning his head to kiss Ghost's temple. Ghost glared at him through the skull plate of his mask. Nipping Soap under the chin, Ghost stepped back. Snatching the butt plug off the floor he slipped it back inside Soap.

"Wear it again." Ghost growled. "And I'll make you wear this twenty-four-seven."

Soap huffed pulling up his shorts. Turning to face his Lieutenant he helped put himself away with a grin on his lips.

"Sounds like fun." Soap quipped, leaving up to kiss his lover. Ghost reciprocated, gently, almost an apology. Almost.

"My room." Ghost snapped. "Now."

Soap sighed: What a way to die.

#cod mw2 #price cod #ghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #gaz cod #call of duty mw2 #konig #simon ghost riley #call of duty

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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Nothing Chpt 4

One week later…

Soap still hadn’t regained consciousness. Ghost had found him sitting against the wall, a trail of blood smeared across the floor to where the sergeant sat with his thumb hovering over the detonator’s trigger. Ghost had tackled Soap to prevent him from bringing the building down on top of their heads. Soap’s head smacked the wall behind him with a sickening whack. Unconscious Soap released the detonator and let it roll. The problem was he wouldn’t wake up.

Ghost patched Soap up quickly, packing the injuries with gauze before lifting Soap over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Rudy and Alejandro met him at the humvee. Soap was loaded carefully into the backseat with Rudy cursing up a storm–demanding to know what the hell happened. Ghost almost stabbed the man. Thankfully, Alejandro reeled Rudy in.

Once they arrived back at the Vaqueros base Soap was whisked off by medics. It took Alejandro, Rudy, and three other Vaqueros to hold Ghost back from tearing the medics apart as they lifted the sergeant onto a gurney. Alejandro tried to convince Ghost it was for the best, he would see Soap soon, and got a black eye for his trouble. Infuriated, Rudy ordered another medic to sedate Ghost. That medic ended up with a broken wrist, and Rudy very nearly had a broken neck until the three other Vaqueros took hold of the Lieutenant.

Several hours later Soap was placed in his own room. Two minor surgeries had been done to tend to his bullet wounds, and a CAT scan was done to check his head. Then and only then was Ghost allowed into the room. The doctor—a petite woman with mousy brown hair—assured Ghost that Soap would recover—there were no signs of a concussion.

That was seven days ago. After day three and Soap still hadn’t stirred Ghost began demanding answers. A day later Price arrived. The doctor spoke with Price in Soap’s room while the Lieutenant sat next to Soap on his hospital bed holding the Sergeant’s hand between two of his own.

“There is nothing wrong with him, physically.” The doctor informed Price as she flipped through Soap’s chart. “His scans are clean. Both bullet wounds are healing as they should. His heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels are all within normal ranges.”

“Then why isn’t he waking up?” Price demanded.

“Has the Sergeant gone through any emotional trauma recently?” The doctor inquired.

“We go through emotional trauma every fucking day.” Ghost snapped.

“Easy, son.” Price chided. Turning back to the doctor: “Why do you ask?”

“I ask because all of the signs point to the Sergeant not wanting to wake up.”

“What do you mean?”

“The job puts you all through hell, eventually it catches up.” The doctor sighed looking at Soap. “The Sergeant is so young, and normally would rebound quickly from such things. However, I would hazard to guess his mental state has been in a sharp decline. Colonel Vargas has informed me that Sergeant MacTavish hasn’t been eating or sleeping with any regularity for weeks. That coupled with the recent injuries pushed him over the edge. His mind shut down.”

“Is there any way to wake him up?” Price asked, rubbing a calloused hand over his face.

“You could talk to him.” The doctor suggested. “We can keep him on the PN IV.” The doctor pointed at the large yellow IV above Soap’s head. “Parenteral Nutrition” She explained when the two men looked at her questioningly. “It will keep his body fed, and hydrated until he wakes up.” The ‘if he wakes up’ was left unsaid.

“Thank you.” Price sighed, moving to sit on the opposite side of Ghost—in a chair. Ghost was not keen on anyone getting any closer than that to Soap. He barely allowed the nurses around the Sergeant. Even now he eyed Price warily—the Captain met his gaze levelly with a glare of his own.

“I didn’t ask about what was going on between you two before, because I trusted you.” Price growled. Ghost opened his mouth to argue, but Price pushed on cutting him off. “Don’t you dare Simon. Don’t you fucking dare. That boy has been in love with you for months. All he wanted to do was share that love with you Simon, and you self-sabataged yourself into a fucking corner and took him down with you. Now you have to fix it. I am putting you on leave until Johnny wakes up—until you wake him up.”

That had been three days ago. Nearly two weeks total since getting Johnny safely back to the Vaqueros base. Ghost sat next to Johnny with his fingers laced together with his unconscious Sergeant. Ghost begged—silently—for Johnny to wake. He willed the younger man to open his eyes if only to curse him out and move on. All Ghost—all Simon—wanted was for Johnny to wake up. He didn’t care about getting his career back at this point. He would stay on leave indefinitely if it meant Johnny would wake up, but the Sergeant was as stubborn asleep as he was awake.

The doctor had told him to talk to Johnny, but Ghost didn’t know what to say.

A soft knock made Ghost turn towards the door. Gaz entered slowly, a small leather bound journal in his hand. Gaz gave Ghost a hard look as he stepped around to the opposite side of the hospital bed. Ignoring the Lieutenant, Gaz dragged a chair up to the bed, and took Soap’s other hand in his own.

“Hey, mate.” Gaz set the sketchbook on the edge of the bed. “I brought your favorite journal. Doc says we got to talk to you to get your lazy ass up.” Gaz gave a wet chuckle as tears pooled up in his waterline. “I know you like jokes, but it’s time to get up. Come on sleeping beauty, you can’t leave us like this. Don’t leave me alone with this grumpy bastard.” Gaz pressed Soap’s hand to his face. When Soap remained impassive Gaz’s face crumpled. “Aw, come on!” Gaz stood grabbing Soap by the shoulders. Ghost shot up grabbing Gaz’s wrist in a near bone crushing grip. Gaz ignored him. “Don’t you see that he’s here?” Gaz demanded—Ghost froze. “The giant bastard is sitting right here, holding your hand! He loves you even if he’s too stupid to say it! He’s right here! Don’t you want to wake up to see him?!”

Gaz broke down burying his face in Soap’s chest. Ghost let his hands fall to his side, stunned. Gaz was arguing for him? Gaz spun, glaring over his shoulder at Ghost.

“Talk to him!” Gaz snatched up the sketchbook and shoved it into Ghost’s chest. “Almost every page is fucking dedicated to you! The least you could do is swallow your fucking pride and talk to him!”

Ghost held the sketchbook with trembling hands. Opening the book slowly, Ghost examined the many pages. He knew Soap was a good artist based on the piece he had gotten from Gaz, but this…this was unbelievable. Soap drew every member of the 141 in loving detail. Price with his cigar on the tarmac with Nikolai. Gaz laughing with the recruits. Then there were pages, and pages of draws of nothing, but Ghost. Ghost with his mask on a mission, Ghost with his mask pulled up over his nose as he smoked or drank tea, Ghost–no Simon without his mask with soft eyes.

“Get out.” Ghost croaked.

“Excuse me?” Gaz growled.

“GET OUT!!” Ghost shouted.

Gaz opened his mouth to say something then snapped it shut. Giving Ghost one last scathing look the sergeant stomped out of the room. Ghost set the sketchbook on the nightstand next to the hospital bed. Climbing into the bed next to Johnny, Ghost took his Sergeant by the shoulders and pulled him into his arms. Johnny’s face fell into the crook of Ghost’s neck. Reaching up, Ghost ripped his mask off and pressed his face against Johnny’s. Simon pressed his lips to Johnny’s ears.

“Please, Johnny.” Simon could feel the tears streaming down his face. “Please wake up. I love you. I know you don’t believe me, but I do. You are the only reason that I–that Simon not Ghost—is alive right now. I can’t do this without you. Please Johnny, I can’t face this world without you. Not again. I need you. I need your smile, your stupid mohawk, your shitty tea, everything. I need your lips on mine.” Simon pressed a kiss against Johnny’s cheek. “I need you next to me when I go to sleep each night and when I wake up in the morning. I need your awful jokes. I want you with me, always. I want to see you in a fucking kilt, damn it Johnny. Love, please.”

Simon sucked in a shuddering breath clutching Johnny’s limp form against him. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this alone. If they buried Johnny they would have to put him in the coffin too. For once Simon was willing to go into the earth. Simon sucked in another breath, finding it hard to breath with the way his lungs were restricted by the hug—the hug?!

“Ma mohawk isnae stupid.” Johnny muttered into Simon’s shoulder.

Simon jerked back to find clear blue eyes staring up at him. Johnny gave him a crooked smile.

“Hullo Simon.” Johnny sighed. “Yer as bonnie as ever.” Johnny’s brow furrowed as he noticed the tears. “What’s tae—-mph!”

Simon slammed his lips into Johnny’s. It was all tongue and teeth as his desperation bled through. Johnny was alive! Johnny was awake!

Soap broke the kiss gasping for air. Ghost didn’t let up kissing the edge of his mouth, his eyes, his nose, his chin. Ghost peppered every inch of Soap he could reach with kisses his mind on a constant reel of : Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Soap gripped Ghost’s shoulders firmly, rubbing small circles with his thumbs.

“Easy.” Soap chidded, catching Ghost’s lips on his second past Soap’s mouth. Soap kissed him slowly, his hands sliding up to cup Ghost’s face. Ghost whined into the kiss, almost choking as a sob built in his chest. “I’m here. Shhhh.” Soap assured him petting Ghost’s pale hair as he pressed a soft, but firm kiss to Ghost’s forehead.

Soap leaned back, slowly, suddenly very tired. Ghost gripped his upper arms, lowering him slowly.

“Stop yer panicking.” Soap muttered stroking Ghost’s cheek. “I’m just tired.”

“Don’t go back to sleep, not yet.” Ghost ordered. Slipping his mask back on Ghost slammed his thumb into the call button. Soap watched him curiously with a dopy, kiss drunk smile on his lips.

“I won’t.” Soap assured him as the nurses bustled in. Reluctantly, Ghost stepped back and allowed the doctor and nurses to do their job. It took a frustratingly long time to evaluate Soap. Once the doctor was positive he wasn’t in danger of slipping back into a coma she ordered the IV and the catheter removed.

“You will have to take it easy for a few days, Mr. MacTavish.” The doctor instructed. “You’ve had quite an ordeal. Make sure you eat, and sleep regularly. You will be weak for at least a week. Building up your stamina is important.” Soap cast Ghost a sidelong look when the doctor flipped through her clipboard.

“Nae tae worry. I know jus’ how to build that up.” Soap assured her with a devilish grin. Ghost felt himself flush, never more thankful for the mask.

“Good.” The doctor gave Ghost a skeptical look. “I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll inform Captain Price.”

Ghost didn’t bother watching her leave. He climbed into the hospital bed next to Soap wrapping his arms around the younger man. Soap curled into him eagerly burying his face into Ghost’s shoulder.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Ghost growled.

“Then ye better have meant what ye said.” Soap huffed.

“Every fucking word.” Ghost kissed the top of Soap’s head through his mask. Dissatisfied with that he ripped the mask up and pressed his lips to Soap’s.

#ghost x soap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #price cod #kyle gaz garrick

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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Nothing pt 3

He should have died when Graves’ put a bullet in his shoulder: as fate intended. Instead Soap fought against fate to survive, to live, with the voice of his guardian angel in his ear. That should have been enough. Reaching the church, getting to see the glory that was The Ghost should have been enough, but Soap was greedy. Soap fell in love. He wanted the powerful man who killed with ease, and slipped into shadows on silent feet. So when the behemoth of a man shoved him into a wall and kissed him hard enough to bruise Soap kissed him back. When Ghot—Simon—sighed his name Johnny moaned his back. For that moment, that single moment, they were one, and Johnny was lost.

All of his admiration, all of his friendship, his desire had turned into something more. As Simon lay sleeping in his bed Johnny pulled out his sketchbook and lovingly drew every detail of the man he loved. The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. Johnny would have to tell Simon—

“Soap?” Rudy touched his elbow, startling him. The four of them stood behind a thick treeline overlooking the warehouse. Ghost and Alejandro were a few feet away looking through their binoculars and discussing quietly.

“Yea?” Soap sounded rough, even to his own ears. He was careful to keep his eyes on the warehouse below.

“You’ve been crying.”

It wasn’t a question. Absently Soap reached up and touched the underside of his eye. His fingers came back smeared in the black eye paint. No doubt it had smeared when he cried in Ghost’s arms earlier. His eyes flicked to the lieutenant–he wondered if his lips were tinted black from where he kissed his tears away? Shoving the thought away Soap lowered his hand.

“It’s alright.” Soap muttered, pulling out the small canister of black eye paint from his front pouch.

“I should feed that pendejo to the coyotes!” Rudy snarled aggressively, readjusting his rifle.

“Please, dinnae.” Soap sighed. Twisting the lid of the eye paint Soap turned away from Rudy to apply it. Closing his eyes he pressed a finger into the eye paint and lifted it to his eyelid. He remembered the first time he wore this. When larger, warmer hands applied it to his eyes in a dark corner of the Vaquero base.

“Que? He deserves it!” Rudy whisper-shouted. “After everything he did to you—”

“Rudy, please.” Soap opened his tired eyes. He screwed the lid back on and stashed the eye paint. Turning he took Rudy by the hand. “IF anything happens to me, promise me you’ll get Ghost out of here alive. Promise, mi hermano.”

Rudy’s eyes scrunched up. With a sob he threw his arms around Soap’s neck. Soap hugged him back mechanically. Soap knew it was an awful thing to make his friend promise, but he couldn’t go through with this—couldn’t end himself if he thought Simon could die too. All of his plans to go out in a blaze of glory went up in smoke the moment he walked into the conference room.

Ghost said he knew what Soap ‘intended’ to do. Which meant Ghost has plans to stop Soap. Soap wished it was because Ghost loved him. That man had managed to reopen all of Soap’s old injuries to agonizing clarity and eased them with a touch. Ghost has kissed Soap—Simon had kissed Johnny—as though his life depended on it. As though Simon wanted Johnny. At that moment Johnny wanted to cry, he wanted to shout—Simon loved him.

But Simon didn’t love him. Ghost didn’t love him. Ghost was here because he had gotten Soap’s dog tags sooner than intended. Ghost was only here to stop Soap from dying so he wouldn’t feel guilty about it later. Soap was sure of it. Soap was nothing. Ghost has said so. Soap’s time was up. Ghost just hadn’t accepted it yet.

“Everything alright?” Ghost growled over Soap’s shoulder. Soap carefully untangled Rudy from him, patting the smaller man’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Right as rain, L.T.” Soap sighed, stepping back he gripped his rifle more comfortably. Alejandro sidled up to Rudy and subtly placed a comforting hand on the sergeant’s hip. “Orders?”

“We have to change tactics.” Alejandro speaks instead. “There are more inside than we were expecting. We’re going to have to separate into two teams and go in from opposing sides. You and Ghost will clear the main warehouse and set the charges. Rudy and I will handle the offices and gather the intel.”

“I can clear the warehouse with Soap.” Rudy offered.

“No.” Ghost snapped, stepping possessively closer to Soap. Soap clenched his jaw. This was going to be harder than he thought.

“You–”

“It’s alright, hermano.” Soap sighed. “I’ll be fine.”

Ghost shot him a look. Soap ignored him. If he was honest with himself Soap would have to admit he felt safe with Ghost even now. It wasn’t a matter of distrust. Rudy just didn’t want him to get his heart broken anymore.

Yea…Soap thought. As though that were possible.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

The intel was bad. Of course the fucking intel was bad. Valeria was a freaking liar.

The thundering of boots against steel stairs echoed throughout the warehouse. Soap darted down the stairs his rifle held aloft.

“Ale, Rudy get out now!” Soap shouted over the coms.

“Soap—Johnny where are you?” Ghost’s baritone grated across the com. It sounded like he was running too. Ghost and Soap had gotten separated after setting off a tripwire on the first floor of the warehouse. The blast threw Ghost back out of the building while forcing Soap further inside to avoid the falling debri. Ghost had ordered Soap to find an alternate route out. Unfortunately for Soap there were no more on this side of the ground floor. This forced Soap to go upstairs, startling a group of at least ten Shadows in an office, before barrelling back down an opposite set of stairs.

“No time to chat L.T.” Soap yanked the detonator out of his vest. “Get back as far as ye can.”

“Johnny—don’t you dare set that off with you inside!” Ghost roared.

Soap let out a bark of a laugh. His whole plan had gone up in smoke the minute Ghost arrived at the Vaqueros base. He really had only intended to blow up the building, but now with Ghost in danger Soap might have to destroy the building. Unfortunately, Soap didn’t see a way to get himself out in time.

A bullet tore through his side slamming him forward. Soap let out a shout of pain, clutching his side he rounded the next corner and descended the stairs. All he had to do was lure the Shadows down to the first floor and then he could drop the building on top of them. He would eliminate them and their entire operation. Not only would Soap take out the biggest pocket of Shadows to date he would give Alejandro and Rudy the breathing room they needed. Soap wanted them to be happy even if he couldn’t be.

“Johnny?” Ghost sounded winded. “I heard you shout. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, L.T.” Soap lied. “I—ahhh!” A bullet tore through Soap’s hip forcing him to the ground.

“We got him!” A Shadow shouted. Soap spun taking the Shadow out with a bullet to the head.

“Soap?!” Ghost shouted. “Johnny?!”

“Sorry L.T.” Soap sucked in a watery breath.

“No, no no!” Ghost snarled. “Don’t you dare apologize Johnny. You are getting out of there. You hear me?”

“It’s okay Simon.” Soap wheezed. “Tis what ah get for—gasp—asking to love ye.” Soap shuffled back against the wall. God, he was tired. Huffing Soap yanked the detonator out of the front of his tactical vest.

“The hell are you talking about?” Ghost demanded.

Soap flipped the cover to the detonator up.

“I was…greedy Simon.” Soap chuckled. “Ah prayed to just get me to the church. Just the church and ah would be happy, but then ah got greedy. Ah fell in love with ye.”

Something slammed above him—a Shadow screamed. Shots peppered the ceiling.

“Why was that greedy Johnny?” Ghost pleaded. He was trying to keep Soap talking, Soap realized. More Shadows were shouting—boots were thundering back and forth just above him. Were they fighting?

“Ye dinnae have to worry Simon.” Soap sighed. “Ah should have died before. Ah was too greedy, like Icarus…ah flew too close to the sun…ah survived and then dared to love ye anyway... Tis time to balance the scales.`` Soap held up the detonator up his thumb over the button—suddenly Soap’s head snapped back and his world went black.

#ghost x soap #soap x ghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #alejandro vargas #rodolfo rudy parra #price cod #kyle gaz garrick

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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"I'm hurt real bad, LT..."

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empressaraceli1992 · 1 year

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Nothing pt. 2

The first month was the hardest, because he had hope.

Shortly after arriving in Almas Alejandro and Rudy convinced Soap to join them for celebratory drinks. They were both so glad to have Soap with them again, even if it was for less than savory reasons. Soap knew it was a bad idea, but he didn’t care. He drank like a man dying of thirst until everything came tumbling out. For the second–and according to Soap the last time–he wept for everything he had lost.

Alejandro listened with glass in hand while Rudy stroked Soap’s back soothingly. Rudy assured Soap that Ghost would come to his senses. He had to. He wasn’t that big of a fool. Oh, but Soap was. Soap believed Rudy’s promise. He held out hope that Ghost would stride in any day now and make amends. That the Lieutenant would heal his broken heart with soft words, and gentle touches. Or maybe he’d fuck his bains out until he couldn’t remember any other pain. But Ghost never came…

Days turned into weeks, and Soap’s hope turned to ash in his mouth. The first signs were subtle, he didn’t want to worry Ale or Rudy. He stopped smiling as much, quit cracking jokes, until eventually he was nearly as quiet as The Ghost himself. Then Soap stopped eating. Everything tasted like ash in his mouth. He kept himself alive by drinking water and forcing himself to swallow small protein bars. Soap no longer spent time outside of his given room. If he wasn’t on a mission, wasn’t sitting at the command table discussing a mission with Ale and Rudy, or training in the gym for a mission–Soap slept.

At first his sleep was filled with nightmares. Soap dreamt he was running through the rain soaked streets again watching women and children be murdered by the shadows. Soap attempted to get someone, anyone on the coms, but all he got was static. He was horribly, terribly, irrevocably alone. Soap would wake from dreams like that screaming for Ghost—for Simon–to save him. Those screams, much like his hope, went unanswered.

Soap stopped wearing as much color. He normally wore blues, and greens to bring out the color in his eyes. Now he only wore black–a man in mourning. Soap kept his once fun, and unruly mohawk carefully, and brutally trimmed down. The sides of his head were always shaved as close to the scalp as possible, and the mohawk itself was twisted and held down with hair gel. Soap’s once carefree gray-blue eyes turned hard as steel. Soap was never unkind, but he was no longer the bright light that everyone knew.

Now as the fifth week of his assignment came to a close Soap prepared for his next assignment–a group of Shadows had holed up in a warehouse making deals with rogue members of El Sinombre. Rogue according to Valeria anyway. She claimed to have no affiliation with the Shadows, but Soap wasn’t so sure. Alejandro still didn’t trust her. Rudy flat out refused to speak to her when she came to deliver information. Soap didn’t really care, so long as the Shadows were dealt with. He took immense pleasure in destroying them. It was one of the few things that dulled the constant ache in his chest.

Soap prepared his gear. Alejandro had taken Soap’s new found love of black, and had gear made for him. Everything from black shirts, cargos, boots, tactical vest, and fingerless gloves. Much to Alejandro’s–though not Rudy’s—Soap added a final piece to his ensemble: the Ghost team mask. He altered it, however, taking off the top and only having the bottom part of the baklava pulled up over his nose and mouth. Rudy supplied Soap with black eye paint which he carefully dabbed around his eyes, and across the bridge of his nose now.

Some–during the Ghost team–thought of the black eye paint was Ghost’s signature ‘war paint’. Now it was Soap’s. The Vaqueros never saw Soap without it anymore. Because of his extended time inside his room Soap was slowly, but surely, losing his signature tan, giving him a much more ghastly look. Soap didn’t care. In a couple weeks–if he didn’t manage to take himself out with a particularly impressive explosive—Soap would be a corpse and no one would care.

Because Soap was nothing…

“Hermano?” Rudy’s gentle voice broke through Soap’s dark thoughts. Soap turned, the lower half of his face already hidden behind the baklava. “Alejandro needs you in the conference room.” Rudy sounded angry. Soap raised a brow, but Rudy just shook his head. “It’s better if you let Ale explain.”

Soap nodded, holstering his pistol and made his way to the conference room. Soap didn’t know what Alejandro wanted, they had already discussed the mission, unless there was a new development? Soap rounded the corner to the conference room. So caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even notice the second humvee sitting outside the window. Soap opened the conference room door without knocking–and stopped dead.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The plane landed in Las Almas late in the afternoon just as the sun was setting. Ghost argued with Price for what felt like hours to allow him to go after Soap. Price was adamant that Soap was fine and could handle the mission alone until Ghost shoved the sergeant’s dog tags in the older man’s face.

“He left because he intends to die.” Ghost snarled.

“Why would he do that?!” Price demanded.

“Because this fucker–gasp–broke his heart–gasp–and told him he was nothing.” Gaz wheezed from the doorway.

“Kyle?” Price rushed to Gaz’s side. “What the fuck happened?”

“WE DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!” Ghost shouted

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me exactly what happened!” Price roared back as he helped Gaz into a seat.

So he did. Ghost told Price, and to his dismay Gaz as he refused to leave, everything that had happened since their first mission in Las Almas. Ghost admitted through gritted teeth his feelings for Soap—for Johnny—until he felt wetness behind his eyes. Price laid a hand on Ghost’s shoulder.

“Easy, son.” Price soothed. “Let it out.”

Ghost hadn’t cried in years. Now he cried harder than he ever had as fear sank its claws into his heart. What if he was too late? What if Johnny was already dead? Could he survive that? No. No if Johnny was dead, then so was he. Ghost didn’t allow Price to dissuade him. He would have stolen a vehicle and drove to Las Almas if he had to. He had to go see if Johnny was dead himself.

Ghost couldn’t believe that Price had agreed to send Johnny back, alone, to Las Almas. Even if he was meeting up with Alejandro and Rudy, Ghost knew that Soap still had nightmares about the night of Graves' betrayal. Soap had sought Ghost out for comfort late in the night when the nightmares got too hard to handle. Or he had before the night Johnny professed his love for Simon…

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Ghost exited the helo. He had sent word ahead to Alejandro that he would be arriving. Alejandro assured him that he would pick him up from the airfield, but asked that Ghost listen to him once he arrived. Ghost agreed immediately.

Sure enough Alejandro was waiting for him next to a Humvee –it was dark by the time Ghost arrived.

“Hermano.” Alejandro greeted Ghost with a gentle pat on the larger man’s shoulder.

“Ale.” Ghost nodded. The Colonel looked exhausted—there were bags under his eyes, and the crows feet were more prominent. “What happened?”

“We have much to discuss, Hermano.” Alejandro sighed motioning for Ghost to climb in. Ghost settled into the backseat—an unknown Vaqueros sat behind the wheel.

“Where’s Rudy?” Ghost had never seen Ale without Rudy. It was strange. Alejandro gave him a weary look through the rear view mirror.

“As I said, we have much to discuss.” Alejandro sighed. “Rudy is with Soap preparing for a recon mission.”

Johnny was alive! Ghost’s heart soared. So caught up in his joy he almost forgot the second part of the statement. Rudy was preparing to go on a mission without Alejandro—that was unheard of. The Colonel had been attached at the hip to his Sergeant. Just as Soap used to be for Ghost… Ghost tried to swallow rampant unease boiling in his stomach.

“You’re in luck Hermano.” Alejandro sighed. He met Ghost’s eye through the rear-view mirror with a knowing look. “What happened?”

Ghost knew what he meant, but feigned ignorance, and shrugged. He couldn’t survive another breakdown. Even if he trusted Alejandro. Alejandro sighed. Ghost doesn’t know what to say. There isn’t anything he can say. So he sits quietly in the backseat of the Humvee all the way to the Vaqueros base. When they arrive the door to the base flings open as Rudy storms out, eyes blazing.

Alejandro rushes out of the Humvee to intercept his partner as Ghost climbs out a little more slowly. Rudy starts spitting curses in Spanish too rapid for Ghost to follow. Alejandro places his hands on Rudy’s hips in an attempt to calm him. Rudy ignores him shoving with one hand while raising his fist with the other to shake at Ghost. Ghost steps closer, unafraid of the physical damage Rudy could do, and more than accepting of it. He knows he deserves it.

“Mi amor!” Alejandro wrestled Rudy away from Ghost. “Mi amor, go get Soap.”

“No!” Rudy spat. “I will not let this pendejo near him! Not after what he did!”

“Rudy, mi amor.” Alejandro grabbed Rudy’s face forcing him to look away from Ghost. “Fantasma is here to make things right.” Rudy stilled for a moment, then his eyes narrowed and he started punching every inch of Alejandro he could reach.

“You brought him here?!” Rudy growled. “How could you?! After what he did?!”

“Rudy, please I—” Ghost began, hands raised.

“NO!” Rudy spat swinging at Ghost. Alejandro caught his lover from behind, crossing his arms across his chest, and pulling him flush against his chest. “Do you even know what you did to him?” Rudy demanded fighting Alejandro’s hold on him. Ghost shook his head. “Soap stopped smiling because of you! He doesn’t eat, he barely sleeps, and if he does sleep he wakes up screaming for you!!” Tears streamed down Rudy’s face.

“Mi amor.” Alejandro kissed Rudy’s temple. “Ghost will not hurt Soap. IF he does, you can feed him to the coyotes.” Alejandro glanced at Ghost—he wasn’t joking. Ghost accepted that. “Go fetch Soap, do not tell him Ghost is here, just have him meet us in the conference room. I will be there, mi amor, do not worry.”

Rudy growled something in Spanish Ghost didn’t quite catch. Alejandro agreed to it. With one last scathing look Rudy went to search Soap out. Alejandro sighed motioning for Ghost to follow him.

“Please, Hermano, do not make me keep my promise.” Alejandro led him down the winding hall to the conference room they shared during their first trip to Almas.

“The bit about feeding me to the coyotes?” Ghost asked as he stepped inside the conference room.

“Si.” Alejandro took a seat. Ghost remained standing. “Rudy is…creative.”

“If I don’t make things right he has my permission.” Ghost leaned against the wall. He wasn’t as patient as he appeared. Secretly he wanted to scour the halls of the Vaqueros’ base to locate Soap. When he finally got his hands on the Scott—scenarios ran through his mind a million miles per minute.

Would Johnny let Simon hold him? Would he let Simon kiss the pain away? Or would Soap hit him, curse him for all he was, and declare his hatred for his Lieutenant? Ghost wasn’t sure what outcome he would prefer. Ghost knew he didn’t deserve Soap’s forgiveness, but he wasn’t here for himself. He was here for Soap, for Johnny, and if Johnny hated him after he saved him then…Ghost could live with that. As long as Johnny was alive he could hate Ghost—hate Simon—for the rest of his life.

The sound of boots drew Ghost out of his spiral. He knew those boots.

Johnny.

The man who entered the conference room was not the Johnny he remembered. This man was hard, wearing all black from his boots to his tactical vest. He even had half a baklava with a skull imprint on the bottom half and black eye paint around his eyes.

His eyes! Ghost barely suppressed the moan in his throat. Soap’s once beautiful pale gray-blue eyes were dull and steely. It was as though someone had snuffed out the sun.

“Johnny?” Ghost said breathlessly, stepping forward. Soap’s head whipped around—his eyes going wide. Shock, recognition, hurt, anger all flashed across his face in a matter of seconds before the sergeant—with apparent effort—forced his expression back to neutral disinterest. Turning on his heel, Soap stomped back down the hall. Ghost felt his heart break.

“Johnny?!” Ghost ran after him ignoring the warning look from Alejandro. Ghost followed Soap through the winding hallways. Soap glanced back once, catching sight of Ghost chasing him, and sped up. Soap made it to his room swinging the door wide open. Before Soap could slam the door shut Ghost slipped inside. Soap growled something is Scottish turning his back on the Brit. Ghost shut the door behind him.

“Johnny—”

“Nae!” Soap spat. “Ye dinnae get to call me that!” Soap hissed, yanking down his half baklava.

“Johnny, please—” Ghost reached out to wrap his arms around Soap.

“Sod off!” Soap shoved Ghost hard—yelping halfway through the motion he stepped back clutching his arm. The same arm he had gotten shot in during his first op in Las Almas Ghost realized.

“Soap are you injured? I order you to let me see!” Ghost snapped, grabbing Soap once again mindful of his injury.

“An I said sod off ye bawbag!” Soap hissed swinging uselessly with his left arm. Ghost caught his wrist. Johnny was so weak. It wasn’t like him. Was this from exhaustion? Why was he trembling? Jerking Soap forward, Ghost slid his other arm around his waist. “Get yer hands off me before ah kick yer ass!” Soap snarled. The light catches the sergeant’s face. There is a glint there. Ghost’s breath hitches: there are tears streaming down Soap’s face.

“Johnny…”

“Nae! Nae I dinnae want to hear it from ye!” Soap struggled against Ghost’s hold on him. “Ye said ah was nothing! So ah became nothing. Ah was fine!” Soap’s head fell against Ghost’s shoulder, his free hand curled into a fist around the fabric of Ghost’s hoodie. “Ah was fine…Ah was gonna…” Soap cried.

“I know what you intended to do.” Ghost snarled, his heart clenched. Soap shuddered as silent sobs escaped him. Ghost held him tight. Releasing Soap’s wrist, Ghost began rubbing soothing circles against Soap’s back. He knew Soap had been hurt. He knew it was his fault, but he hadn’t meant to cause this. Never this. Gaz was right. He was a fucking arse.

Gently, oh so gently, Ghost tilted Johnny’s head up. Pulling the baklava above his nose, Ghost leaned down. He kissed each trembling eyelid and tasted the salt of Johnny’s tears.

“Nae…” Soap whimpered. Ghost pressed on touching his lips to Johnny’s. “N—” Ghost slipped his tongue inside Soap’s mouth deepening the kiss. He could feel Soap’s heart beat thundering beneath his palm as he slid his hand around the back of Soap’s neck. Soap’s hands slid up under Ghost’s hoodie, his blunt nails dragging against the skin they found there as Soap tugged him closer. Ghost poured everything into the kiss. He kissed Soap like it was the only thing keeping him alive. And by God it was. Johnny was the only reason Simon Riley still walked this earth.

Soap broke the kiss first gasping for air. Ghost continued to pepper kisses against the edge of his lips, under his jaw, down the pulse of his throat. Soap moaned shifting his hands to Ghost’s muscled abdomen he slid his hands up to Ghost’s shoulders—

“Ye cannae do this.” Soap said, pushing Ghost back. Ghost held firm to Soap’s head, but stepped back a bit to accommodate the sergeant’s desire for space. “Please, just let me go.” Soap whispered. Ghost’s heart screamed at him, but he did as Soap asked, letting his hands fall to his side. Soap yanked his half-baklava back up in place. Without looking back Soap snatched up his rifle and left the room.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soap felt like his heart had been ripped open all over again. What the hell was Ghost doing here? Soap had worked so hard to bury his heart, to bury the pain, so he could die without his heart being a factor. Ghost wasn’t supposed to be here—he hadn’t bothered to come weeks after Soap left the 141 base. Why was he here now?

Soap’s mind spun as he grabbed the last of his equipment and made his way out to the waiting humvee. Rudy was already inside behind the driver's wheel.

“You alright, Hermano?” Rudy asked, turning the key. The humvee’s engine roared to life. Soap just nodded. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment. The backdoors to the humvee opened, Ghost and Alejandro slid into the backseats, and shut the doors behind them. Soap kept his eyes forward, he could feel Ghost’s eyes boring into the side of his head.

“What are you doing?” Rudy hissed in Spanish to Alejandro.

“Give him a chance, my love.” Alejandro chided. Rudy growled under his breath as he steered the humvee away from the base. Soap kept his eyes locked on the window—completely unaware of Rudy and Alejandro’s conversation.

“Fantasma, we will have you on overwatch for us.” Alejandro explained. “Soap, Rudy, and I will infiltrate the warehouse.”

Ghost hummed, his eyes still locked on the back of Soap’s head. Rudy cursed in Spanish.

#ghost x soap #simon ghost riley #soap x ghost #john soap mactavish #alejandro vargas #rodolfo rudy parra #mdni

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