Chapter Text
There were certain phrases you just kept out of your mouth when working in some professions.
Like how actors abstained from saying Macbeth in a theatre. Or a bouncer never calls any night quiet.
Soldiers refused to label any mission a milk run if they had any sense.
Got rightfully pissy when superiors did it, trying to sugarcoat what was bound to be an utter shitshow.
Ghost was pretty sure he could add a new sentence to his particular list: “Gonna get you boys some decent downtime once this is done, promise.”
Price had muttered those words, rubbing his neck and looking proper bashful when he woke him and Soap in Ghost’s quarters. At five in the fucking morning. After he caused them to fall into bed with each other, however unintentionally, not even twelve hours before.
And just like that, after months of dancing around each other, shit communication and jealousy so intense it had taken a toll on Ghost’s dental health, all they got was half a day before their jobs caught up with them immediately. Fucking figures.
Ever since then, everything had been a right mess. The mission was never advertised as a milk run, but neither had any of them expected to spend almost four bloody weeks in the field.
Normally Ghost had a lot more patience for missions like this. Missions took as long as they took, there wasn’t any use in bitching about it. Would be glad that they could take their time to act coordinated and play to their strengths. Fucking hell he’d be happy, doing something that felt like it actually had a purpose instead of training rookies or being forced into leave.
But normally he wasn’t dangled a Soap shaped carrot in front of him either.
For four weeks it had been nothing but heated glances, small touches and quickly stolen kisses when the rest was asleep. Both of them too tired and worn to even think about starting anything even if they’d a small moment to themselves. And even that was rare.
Ghost longed to hold Johnny in his arms, wanted to take him apart in his bed. Yearned for nothing else to matter but their lips on each other.
He was fucking pining for John MacTavish.
Good thing that he’d already come to terms with the fact that the man wreaked havoc on his heart and brain or it might have seriously thrown him off in the middle of enemy territory.
It was like there was a small but persistent thing in his chest that hungered for contact with Soap constantly. Started an unreasonable upheaval every fucking time he came into view, with his dopey wide smile and his stupid hair. It refused to let itself be caged even in the heat of a firefight, but it at least agreed to sit at the sidelines, waxing poetically about the competence with which Soap broke through enemy lines, turning what was a coordinated ambush into a scrambling mess within seconds.
It was ridiculous, wasn’t like him at all to think about anything else but the objective.
That fucking scot had broken him.
And he would break everything and everyone that tried to get between whatever it was that they had between them.
There was also the promise of all kinds of toys waiting in Soap’s flat. The glint in Johnny’s eyes when he had invited him, voice still sex-rough, promising such sinful things.
A promise that had a tendency to make not only the wait harder. Had him seriously consider throwing himself into a snow drift more than once to compensate for the lack of a cold shower.
It was a good thing he had his mask, shielding the larger world from knowing about his pathetic internal monologue. Specifically, Gaz, who was propped up on a makeshift cot across from him in the shit hole they’d called their safe house for the last week now.
Unlike Ghost, he had actual reasons to be miserable and pissy, seeing how he had gotten shot and benched a few days ago. Considering it was just the meat on the outside of his thigh he had been lucky. A slightly different angle and he might have had a whole other host of problems than just being benched.
There was a dark cloud to that silver lining though, for a manageable injury like that they couldn’t risk detection by exfilling him before completing their objective. So Gaz lived with the joys and comforts of highly addictive military-grade painkillers and the medical expertise the four other men around him could scrounge up. Which was enough to keep him alive and his wound clean but far from the comforts a proper stay in medical might have afforded him.
Soon though Gaz could have his fluffy pillows and probably not so fluffy detox. And Ghost could stop pining.
They were supposed to get ready for exfil any minute now, once their captain was satisfied with his check-up on Nik.
Ghost didn't complain, despite his impatience, the last thing he needed was dropping out of the sky while finally on his way to what he’d been waiting for all month.
“Gonna check on the Captain.” Ghost got up, sharing a quick nod with Gaz and mentally admitting that okay, maybe he was getting a little more impatient with each passing minute.
“Take your time Lieutenant,” Gaz shook the small plastic container holding his medicine “Chances are I won’t notice how long you’re gone!”
Bloody hell, they really needed to get him off that stuff.
Ghost stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him, avoiding the creaky floorboard next to it, and the second one two steps later. Knocking softly on the door to the bedroom that the Captain was occupying and repurposing as a makeshift command centre.
When he got no answer, he opened the door silently by habit and froze immediately.
Soft voices were audible from the other end of the L-shaped room.
"Don't worry Медвежонок it is just a few bruises a measly cut, I'm gonna get you and the boys home just fine." Nik’s heavily accented rumble was cut off by Price.
"It's still my fault you know that, shouldn't have asked this of you, should never have let you fill in for Gaz on that run.” The old man sounded agitated and exhausted at the same time, was probably running on fumes same as the rest of them, “I'm so sorry love."
Oh.
There was the unmistakable sound of kissing and something in Ghost's brain reactivated. Not usually one to freeze in panic he shook his head and stepped back as silently as he had entered.
"I offered to come with you John, it is hardly your fault. Now finish dressing that wound so I can get us out of here and we can have a fancy dinner in your fancy little house and then we can –"
The door closing when it did was a mercy, sparing Ghost from details he didn't care to learn. Instead, he stepped backwards, took a deep breath and centred himself.
Well, it certainly explained some things. Why Nik always dropped everything to bail them out. Why Price could excuse Soap and his behaviour. Was always easier to justify the actions of others if they mirrored your own, wasn’t it?
Before he could get lost in further contemplation a hand appeared from the shoddy alcove that pretended to be a kitchen. Grabbing Simon unceremoniously by one of the straps on his thigh and pulling him in.
The first time this had happened he’d almost headbutted Johnny instead of kissing him. By now he allowed himself that extra split second to decide a course of action.
“Can ye keep yer gob shut?”
Ghost huffed in answer, and at the ironic timing of the question. Soap, none the wiser to his troubles, seemed to take it as an affirmation and promptly sunk to his knees.
Suddenly the fact that his captain was apparently tied up in some kind of relationship with the leader of a Russian PMC seemed irrelevant.
“Been fucking dreamin’ o’ this,” Soap wasted no time, working his belt and fatigues open “Waking up with my whole pillow full of drool just from dreamin’ about your damn cock.” he was whispering but his words rang in Ghost’s ears loud as gunfire. When Johnny found his prize and dug him out of his clothes he was already more than half hard. The last remnants of sober thoughts fled rapidly and their complaints about possibly being caught like this turned from threats into enticing shivers running down his back.
Soap gave him a few quick strokes then he looked back up at Simon, that spark in his eyes that Ghost knew to be a warning of upcoming mischief, dropped his gaze again and spat on his dick.
Before the noise, located somewhere between a surprise and a complaint could even start to work itself out of Ghost’s mouth, Johnny leaned in and swallowed his cock down like he was starving for it.
Ghost could only bite his own gloved hand to suppress the moan that threatened to give the other men in the hut a clear understanding of what was going on, as he felt himself fully harden surrounded by the tight heat of Soap's mouth and throat. Soap who moaned silently at the sensation. The vibration of that almost enough to make Ghost’s knee buckle.
His back hit the wall with a slight oomph. Granting the much-needed support if Soap was going to continue like this. Unfortunately, the motion pulled his dick a mostly out of Soap’s mouth and throat. Earning him a complaint before he lets him slip free completely before scooting closer, closing the gap again.
“Told you I give good head,” he smirked, obviously pleased to have his superior week-kneed already.
Thankfully he doesn’t keep bragging, closes his lips around the tip of his cock and sucks on it, his tongue running over the slit again and again and Simon hissed with the effort it took him not to thrust forward. An effort it Soap apparently doesn’t appreciate, grabbing his free hand, and placing it decisively in his hair. “Don't hold yourself back.” he orders, before returning to where he had left off.
Ghost's heart was pounding in his chest now, and tentatively he grasped a fistful of the mohawk, cursing under his breath at the happy groan he got in response. Curses even more as Soap winks at him, and with a hard press of his own hand into the meaty part of Ghost’s thigh and a quick look mimes ‘harder’.
“Jesus Johnny, what am I going to do with you?”
The question was rhetorical really, more of a pause for him to collect his thoughts but Soap lets his mouth pop off the tip of his cock again, looking annoyed.
“Fuck my face, ya bampot no’ philosophise.”
There are only so many times Simon can be offered something like this before he's going to accept. Turns out that number is three when it comes to Soap.
So he yanks him back by the hair from where he was just about to get to work again.
Heat pools in his abdomen as he sees the frustration mount in those stormy blue eyes.
“Open your mouth. Tongue out.”
Fuck he wishes he could be loud about this, could see that lovely moment again when Johnny's attitude melts at his command. He still obeys, even at the gruff whisper and Ghost will just have to make do in other ways. Let’s saliva gather in his mouth before pursing his lips and spitting on Soap's waiting tongue.
And oh, the effect of that is beautiful, even through his fatigues he sees Soap twitch, sees his pupils blow wide and hears the lovely choked-off groan.
“Swallow.”
He does, without hesitation adams apple bobbing visibly. But his eyes suddenly don't meet Simon's anymore and a lovely shade of pink decorates the tips of his ears. Ghost knows he has him where he wants him, and wastes no time dragging Johnny’s mouth back to his cock. Holding his breath to avoid the noise he knows he wants to make and Soap resumes his work, without being prompted, proving that to be a wise choice.
The wet heat around him is divine, the way Soap bobs up and down, eyes closed in concentration, taking Simon to the root like it’s nothing. Like letting Ghost’s cock slip down his throat as his face is starting to wet with spit and precum is something he’d done a hundred times before.
That possessive thing in him rears it's head again.
Wants to claim Johnny as his own, mark him for the world to see. It takes everything in him to restrain it.
Later. When they're alone because if anyone opens any door they’re fucked. Even though the thing in him thinks that letting everyone see Soap on his knees for him would be a wonderful idea. The last remainder of his sanity knows better, knows it's probably best to hurry.
Tightening his grip on the Sergeant's hair again, knows that must hurt by now but it just earns him another happy grunt. And when he is all the way down Johnny's throat, he keeps him there, dropping his left hand from his mouth to Soap’s neck, locking him into position. There’s a brief moment of instinctive struggle as Johnny gags when his rhythm is broken.
His eyes snap open as he looks up and the heat building in Simon's abdomen intensifies as he sees the fight melt out of them. That willing submission takes its place again even as tears start flowing freely. Ghost almost reflexively lets him go. Despite all his darker instincts, Johnny’s welfare being paramount to him. Will always come first.
But then he notices. Notices that while Soap is hanging on to his thigh straps his right index finger is insistently tapping away. Two longer taps and one short. Short, long, short again. Two short taps, a longer one and finally a short. A quick break before the tapping begins anew, repeating the pattern and Ghost almost laughs.
“Fucking hell Johnny, my cock not enough to occupy you? Gonna have to try harder, have I?”
Sees the corner of Soap’s mouth twitch in amusement, he looks fucking made for this kneeling there, keeping him in his throat all still and obedient, breaths shallow not fighting back.
The feelings shifting in Ghost's stomach feel tectonic in magnitude, his Sergeant willing to pass out on his cock, all the while telling him to keep going. The fucking trust Soap is putting in him leaving him lightheaded.
Adjusting his grip he starts rocking impossibly deeper into Johnny's mouth, interrupting the few shallow breaths Johnny was able to steal before. Lets his other hand come around his neck and nearly curses again when he feels himself moving in Soap's throat.
It is enough to let the switch in his brain flip, enough to allow himself to properly rut into Johnny’s face, with no way for the other man to escape.
In a bout of generosity, he slides his boot up to Soap’s crotch, offering some compensation by giving him access to some friction too. And Soap jumps at the chance, so eager an actual cruel chuckle slips from Simon's lips this time.
“Like a fucking dog Johnny.”
Soap just moans and nods frantically, shame and lack of oxygen painting his face red, tears and spit running, meeting, mixing before dripping to the floor.
“Give you something to work for then, like a proper whore."
Another silent moan, throat vibrating around his cock inviting him to punctuate each word of his next sentence with a thrust.
"You’ll get to breathe when I’m done.”
He knows Johnny likes it mean, still knows this one is a harsh one without having agreed on it first. But like so often with Johnny, luck and Soap’s own deviance, are on his side. The man whines ever so silently and redoubles his efforts. Working his tongue along Ghost’s cock through the brutal pace he has set, allowing him to go down as deep as he can every time. Remembering their last time together, he leans down slightly and gently whispers into Soap's hair.
"Such a good boy for me, aren't you?"
His pulse runs wild where one of Simon's fingers secretly rests on it, ready to take action if the steady beat should drop. That worry seems unnecessary, he clearly has enough air left to whine around his dick, redoubling his efforts as he nearly chokes over it.
Simon can feel the moment his control snaps, those last two brutal thrusts before he empties himself down Soap’s throat holding him in place while he comes and comes and comes in what feels like a neverending surge of relief. His sight going wide and unfocused like he's just taken a good hit.
Johnny swallows around him eagerly while he ruts against Ghost’s boots like a fucking mutt, chasing his own high if the growing lack of coordinated movement is anything to go by.
A man of his word, Ghost pulls him off when he’s done, still holding him by the hair, and sees him shudder the moment he draws a proper breath again. The desperate sound he makes as oxygen hits his brain, setting him off is music to his ears. Johnny jerks forward, going limp in Ghost’s grip, whimpering as he's still grinding against him through his aftershocks.
Breathing hard they stare at each other for a small eternity, Soap still on his knees and Simon’s hand still in his hair. Neither of them willing to break the spell.
Simon knows that Soap sees through the mask, sees the stupid smile that spreads on his face as he tucks himself away and offers him his hand, helping him up.
He’s about to say something, about the mess on Johnny’s face and about the stupid leaps his heart is doing right now as the door to the bedroom opens and Price interrupts.
“Alright lads, let’s get the fuck out of there!”
*****
*****
"You know I love you mate, but if you do not stop fucking vibrating I might have to smother you."
Soap smiled brightly at Gaz, who clearly did not share his post-mission euphoria. Well to be fair, he'd gotten shot and was propped up in medical looking at the fun experience of being waned off of the painkillers they'd liberally marinated him in over the past few days.
Still, Soap couldn’t find it in him to keep the smile from his face.
"I'm sorry." he was aware he did not sound sorry "Just excited ye ken?"
"Well fucking ditch me then and ride off into the sunset with your man, why don't you?"
Mostly because Ghost was still holed up with Price. But Gaz doesn’t need to know that. He could pretend to be a good best friend for a while longer. And go for a counterattack.
"It's not like you don't fuck off to frolic wi' your sweethearts the moment ye get the chance, aye?"
"That's different!"
"How the fuck is that different? Ye left me stranded in the middle of fucking London once."
Gaz let out an indignant snort in reply, was about to add something else when a knock sounded at the door to the room and a nurse entered.
"Excuse me Sergeant Garrick, Captain Price and Lieutenant Ghost wish to visit you as well, will you be seeing them?"
The strained voice of the nurse was a good indication of the tone that wish had been worded.
Gaz raised a brow but nodded and the man vanished, only to be replaced seconds later by the familiar frames of their two commanding officers.
"Alright here is the plan lads," Price fished for a cigar and lit it. The fact that they were in medical was no apparent concern to him. Soap pushed himself up from the chair but Ghost's reflex beat him, both moving on on instinct to open a window. They all knew there was no use in reprimanding the man, might as well air the room.
"Kyle, son, you are supposed to stay on base until the docs are happy letting you go, should be fine soon enough though.”
Gaz just grunted, they all knew it wasn’t going to be fun for him, but at least it didn’t sound like a weeks long endeavour.
“The rest of us are off duty immediately after we’re done here and for at least two weeks. Four if Laswell can make some magic happen. And by that I mean make her people do some of the grunt work. But that’s not a promise, so I won't be going around making guarantees. Enjoy your two weeks and everything else is a neat bonus. And don’t grow lazy on me."
Soap tried his hardest to ignore the churning excitement in his stomach. Really tried to listen. But two weeks with Ghost? Four if they got extremely lucky?
Fuck what did the man even do with his time off? Not that Soap would complain if they spend the two weeks exclusively in his bed. But he wanted to be a good host. He wanted this to work. Whatever it was.
Unsurprisingly he found that he had missed most of what Price had just said. Could not help but notice that Ghost's eyes were resting on him instead of their Captain and he wondered how transparent his thought process had been to his Lieutenant. The blush he felt creeping up to his ears probably shot all his chances of being assumed innocent to hell.
Did Ghost also just think about their leave? He'd agreed to come to Glasgow with him but they'd never talked about a time frame. Price had interrupted them before they'd talked much at all. Maybe Ghost just wanted something casual out of this, some affection that men like them hardly ever got and some way to release all the stress. The thought made Soap feel weirdly stressed. He knew rationally that it probably wasn't just that. Not with all the things they had said during that night. Not with the secret kisses shared on their last mission. And even if it was, shouldn't he be happy? He'd always been the one to chase after relationships that kept the commitment low. Why was something he'd actively searched out in the past suddenly so disturbing when it came to Ghost?
Just because of the little crush he had on the man?
He shook his head, realising that he had managed to miss out on even more of Price's little speech by spiralling.
"Any questions?"
Well sure, like what the fuck the last few minutes had been about for instance. Instead of saying anything though, Soap just grunted non-committally. It seemed enough for Price. As he tipped his hat.
"I can't wait to see none of you for the next two weeks."
Ghost laughed in reply and Gaz rolled his eyes "We appreciate you too, Captain."
Soap just smiled and nodded. If he kept going like this for a moment longer he might not get into trouble.
The door fell shut and his relieved breath had barely left him when a large hand on his shoulder made him jump a little.
"I'll see you at 1300 at the parking lot." Ghost's gaze lingered on him for a long moment. One of his statements that still contained a question, that gave Soap a chance to back out if he needed it. The excitement and terror that had just stirred up started wrestling each other again. He definitely wanted to come to Glasgow then.
"Aye, do you know when the next plane leaves? I can get the tickets."
Whatever it was that Ghost wanted from their relationship, Soap realised he was in too deep to back out. Would take whatever crumbs of affection Simon saw fit to feed him and probably say thank you after, even if it wasn't all that he wanted.
Might as well book the proper ticket then.
"No worries about tha’ we're taking my car."
Caught up as he was it took Soap a second to register the words, by then Ghost had already crossed the room.
"Ghost that's a six-hour drive."
They’d both slept on the ride home but a dover during exfil hardly made up what they were all lacking from weeks in the field.
Maybe he just wants to be able to get away in case you turn to annoying and clingy.
That thought almost caused him to physically flinch.
"I'm well aware Johnny, it’s not gonna be a problem, I'll get you home safe."
Well, fuck him if that promise didn't make his guts twist all happy again, felt tossed around like he was unmoored in the sea of his own feelings.
Once Ghost had left, with a last nod at Gaz the other man immediately turned around to Soap.
"So what is the deal here? Shouldn't you two be happily glued to each other's mouths right now?"
"Ah," Soap faltered a little "I don't know man. We never really talked about what this is and I wasn't even sure he still wanted come with me."
He rubbed his neck, trying to stave off the embarrassment.
"Probably overthinking this. But I can't help it, I want this to go right."
"Mate," what followed was the most exasperated sigh Soap had ever heard from Kyle in his life "You spent the whole mission snogging whenever you thought you no one was looking. For fucks sake you ended up cuddling in your sleep more than once in plain view of everyone."
John just blinked, that last part was news to him. When the fuck had that happened?
"What I'm saying you idiot, is he likes you. Everyone can fucking see it. Price thought you were an item even before you, you know." he chose to end that sentence with an array of lewd gestures.
It wasn't like Soap would ever forget that assumption. Or the weird comparison to the ancient Greeks. Or anything about that day really.
"Is just," he knew he was fidgeting, couldn't help it "What if all he wants from this is sex Gaz? Because for fucking once I want more than just that, and I don't know how to tell him or how to even do this whole relationship thing cause it never mattered before, did it?"
"God Soap, you're a daft cunt, aren't you?"
Gaz groaned when he sat up a little more straight, annoyed gaze staying on Soap the entire time daring him to interrupt. He didn’t, just leaned over adjusting the pillows supporting Kyle's back.
"You sit down and you talk, it's like the shite you did every time you found yourself a new man to toss you around: here is what I like, what I dislike, these are my boundaries. Just less whipping and more feelings? Either you can make it work, or you can't. But if you let it run wild when you’re already torturing yourself over if’s and when’s is definitely gonna end in heartbreak."
"Fuck." he knew Gaz was right, on the fucking spot actually, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Actually, if he wasn't already in medical he might have given in to the urge to punch him.
"I hate you."
"I love you too brother, now fuck off and make good use of those six hours that you can’t shag."
"Aye, will do."
"And Soap? Text me when you make it home, will you?"
"I'll try to remember, care about one if he leaves me at a garage too?"
"Nah but tell him to send me a picture before he drives off, gotta see that look on your face."
Soap snorted and leaned over for a quick hug.
“You be good and no more drugs, yeah?”
The fact that he managed to place a mocking kiss on Gaz's cheek and dodge the fist coming his way soothed the sting of being called out before. As did the annoyed huff the other man let out.
"God, you’re such a fucking cunt Soap."
"Yeah? You're a fucking weapon yourself. Send me notes on whatever Price was blathering about?"
“Not if you don’t move your queer arse out of my sight immediately.”
With a mock salute, Soap did just that, before breaking into a run to his room.
Gaz was right, there was no use in overthinking things right now. Thanks to Ghost he have six hours to find his courage to talk.
Couldn’t be worse than RTI, right?