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Soap was always unlucky. On missions, he always got shot, stabbed, or broke a bone or two. Or all three at times. He wasn't even doing it on purpose, pain just has a thing for him.
Gaz even made a joke about it once. Speculating on how Soap might be cursed. But he's fairly certain that you can't curse humans. He's been in the military for far too long to not notice how silver burns a wraith's skin, how iron affects a banshee, and how holy water scares any supernatural being shitless.
Soap, unlike the rest of the 141 Task Force, was a human. Ironically the only one. But that didn't make him any less useful, for a human among supernatural creatures, he was fast and agile. He even won a race against Price– who is a dragon.
But he lacked a healing factor, couldn't fly, couldn't breathe fire or whatever, and he didn't have advanced durability. He was nothing more than a human being. So when the bullets hit his body, of course it hurt.
But he was lucky in some way. He couldn't be poisoned by blessed bullets or burned by iron. The blood that would seep through the hole in his chest would not burn him, but it would cause him discomfort.
Somehow, to make things worse, he even got hurt on base. He'd trip and sprain his ankle, or scrape his knee or elbow; most people thought he was clumsy and careless. But no, Soap was actually good at stealthy sneaking into places he shouldn't be and he had an uncanny ability to find where everything was going to go wrong.
It was just.. this bad habit of getting hurt that ruined it. Because he was accustomed to being hurt on the job. In general, getting hurt. That sort of thing happened all the time. He didn't usually pay attention to it. However, when he fell down the stairs after attempting to sneak back to his room from another mission, his foot slipped on a loose tile and his shin became entangled in the next step. It hurt like hell.
Yet another injury to add to his list.
Price even considered putting him in a hamster bubble to make sure Soap wouldn't break his neck the next time he trips. Even Ghost stared at him whenever Soap would accidentally bump his head on something, always pulling up bad jokes from his sleeve.
He remembers being stabbed in the arm and Ghost deciding it was the best time for one of his jokes.
"What do you call a stabbed pig?" He could visibly see the man's smug expression beneath that mask.
"What?" Soap responded, already predicting the response.
"Porkchopped."
To say the least, his lieutenant had a thing for dark jokes.
And this mission was no exception. They were supposed to infiltrate a warehouse and look for potential weapons of mass destruction, primarily bombs. The area wasn't heavily fortified, but there were several patrols around the perimeter.
But something went wrong during their retrieval. A bomb exploded, prompting several others to follow suit. The explosion was powerful enough to injure half of the team. But they all recovered quickly, thanks to their supernatural abilities.
Well, almost everyone.
Soap was against a wall, gasping as the air burned in his lungs, coughing blood. He was relatively close to the explosion, having been shivered back into a wall with such force that he thinks he has a concussion.
He gradually begins to groan and look down. A large piece of metal has become lodged in his hip, and another piece of shrapnel has impaled itself in Soap's chest. His left side is covered in deep slashes that ooze a thick red fluid, while small shards protrude in random angles, leaving blood trails behind. He winces and takes a few deep breaths.
He doesn't even notice someone leaning over next to him until the person grunts. Soap snaps his head up to see Ghost staring at him, eyes wide.
"Ye alright L.T?" He inquires, his voice hoarse.
Ghost does not respond directly; instead, he closely examines Soap's injuries, taking in every detail.
"Ghost." Soap rasps once more. The man finally looks up, his worried eyes glinting.
"It's okay," Soap says, giving Ghost a small smile. He realises it must have dawned on him that this wound is fatal.
The silence continues, with Ghost looking at Soap as if he's trying to figure out how to move him without the metal embedding itself further or the shrapnel in his chest reaching his heart.
"Fuckin' hell Johnny.." Ghost mutters as he rubs his gloved hand across his face. As Soap slumped further against the wall, the pain began to itch throughout his body, and the blood beneath him expanded in range.
The longer he waits, the more tired he becomes; he hears Ghost speak to him, but he is exhausted. As the darkness tries to drag him under, his head feels heavy and his vision blurs. He fights it.
"Fuck! Soap stay awake for sakes!" Ghost yells at him and grabs his shoulder.
"I'm so bloody tired." His words are slurred, and his eyes flutter shut. His body aches in pain, and the metal bar pressing against him causes dizziness.
"Johnny-" Ghost's voice is desperate, and despite the constant buzzing in his ears, he can hear it.
He barely registers Ghost tugging at him, the world swaying around him. "Please, Johnny, open your eyes. You must keep them open." Ghost's words seem distant, but Soap opens his eyes anyway.
This was one of the first times Soap heard Ghost's voice in this manner. Desperate, worried, and concerned. He looks Ghost in the eyes, the demon's shoulders tense. He appears to be thinking about something important, and he looks at Soap as if he is a lost puppy.
The Scot would be lying if he said he didn't have a massive crush on his superior. He felt like a schoolgirl at times, with the small acts and touches he gives Ghost to support the idea. The thought of Ghost feeling the same way made him weak, his stomach knotted in loops.
The man never shoved Soap away when he pressed his leg against Ghost's during debriefs, and he never shoved Soap away if he fell asleep on Ghost's shoulder. In fact, he'd clutch him tightly, his body so close they'd probably both feel their chests rise and fall with every breath. Nevertheless, the other man never seemed to reciprocate.
He'd just stand there, staring at Soap with those intense brown eyes, before gently stepping back and allowing Soap to rest. Ghost never said anything. Never tried anything more than that casual contact. It was fine.
And Soap never crossed any lines; he liked the casual gentle touches and always gave Ghost space when he needed it. He never wanted to push it any further, to make things awkward between the two.
However, now...
Ghost's distressed expression told Soap everything. Those eyes always told Soap everything, and Ghost allowed it. Ghost's protective walls were frail whenever the Scot was around, revealing a softness he never showed anyone else.
He wanted to reassure Ghost- reassure Simon. He wanted to comfort him, tell him it was all right, that he wasn't the monster Ghost claimed he was.
"Simon," His accent is thicker.
"Shut up Soap, I'm thinking.." Ghost immediately silenced him, fearing that if he spoke, he would die right then and there.
Soap remained silent for what seemed like an eternity. Even in his final moments, nevertheless, remaining silent pushed him over the edge.
"Ghost. Ah ken you're tryin' to keep me awake.." He came to a halt and groaned.
"Ah'm no making it out."
There was another long pause, Ghost didn't know what to say, didn't know what to think. Despite this, he kept staring at the Scot, unable to take his gaze away.
Finally, Soap let out a small painful chuckle that made Ghost shudder at the sound, the sound that only he could hear.
"Johnny. Make a pact with me."
Soap's eyes widened.
"Aye? What do ye mean?" Soap's tone was calm and inquisitive. He hoped to hear a joke at some point, but the solemnity in his lieutenant's voice told him otherwise.
"A pact." He repeated.
"A pact? Why? Ye hae no reason ta make this deal."
"Just trust me, Soap." That desperate tone had returned. He wasn't sure if he imagined it or it was genuine but whatever it was burned his chest.
"How would a pact help-" His sentence was cut short when he brushed up against the wall, the metal ball gradually sinking deeper into his hip. In pain, he clenches his teeth and bites the inside of his mouth so hard that blood flows.
"Soap," Ghost's voice faded slowly, tilting the Scotsman's head to ensure he was paying attention.
He grimaced as the constant headache thumped in his head like hellfire. He couldn't concentrate on what Ghost was saying because his head hurt so much. His body felt sluggish as well, as if it weighed thousands of pounds.
A demon's pact spoke for itself. It occurs when a demon decides to grant a request in exchange for what it desires from you. If a demon doesn't want something, it won't bother asking for it. It takes what it needs and then leaves.
But Simon was different, and Soap knew. He would never make him suffer or take advantage of him.
"I'll grant you safety," Ghost spoke, his voice softer.
"And in return?" Soap mumbled.
He doesn't have much to offer Ghost, especially now that he's in a situation where he might not survive. The question hung in the air awkwardly, neither of them moving an inch.
"Johnny.." He tried once more.
"I'll ensure your safety in exchange for your body; I won't take advantage of you, and I won't throw you into the deepest pits of torture." Oh, how he wished he could express his desire to cherish the Scot. But he couldn't because doing so would require him to acknowledge the man's feelings for him. He'd have to admit how much he loved him, which he wasn't ready to do. Not when every emotion he felt for Soap caused a lump in his throat.
Ghost was a patient man, but not right now. He was on the verge of taking Soap's hand in his own to seal the deal. He wanted to keep him alive as he was his only source of light and strength. A sense of belonging.
Nonetheless, he kept his hands by his sides.
The yearning to show Soap how much he meant to Ghost was vast. Every second he waited, every second that passed, was killing him. And he couldn't stand it any longer. At this point, he was about to plead with Johnny. Please just fucking say yes, don't wait any longer.
When his gaze fell on Soap's bright blue eyes, he felt a warmth spread throughout his entire being.
"I trust you L.T." The light glinted off the silver metal as the Scot smiled sweetly.
He shakily lifted his hand and extended it to Ghost. He didn't hesitate to grab it, finally sealing the deal.
A sudden wave of electricity rushed through Soap when Ghost grabbed him. His wrists were suddenly burning, and the sensation was burdensome. And the sight made him sick. A strange heat rose from his hands to his chest, and he felt it spread across his skin. The energy coursing through his veins was like fire.
He had forgotten about the shrapnel in his chest and could no longer feel the metal in his hip. They didn't lie when they said a deal with a demon burns sparks into your skin– all he could feel was a stinging sensation on his body.
But it stopped as soon as Ghost let go of him. The numbness in his hands returned, and he could feel the metal in his back fade away, along with the sharp ache in his shoulder and back, leaving behind a comforting warmth that spread throughout his entire body.
"Still with me Johnny?" Ghost let out an amused huff.
"Aye, still wi' ye.. Thank fuck." As the pain subsided, Soap chuckled lightly.
He sat up and looked down at his own body, his shirt ripped into pieces and the wound has been completely healed with white scars decorating it.
Surprisingly, the shrapnel appears to have vanished as well; he could see the wound in great detail, but there was no trace of it ever being there.
"Ah feel like I'm a newborn babe." The same smile Ghost wanted to get drunk on was back on his lips.
It caused something to stir in the Brit's gut, an emotion he couldn't name but couldn't quite place. Was it happiness, love, affection, lust, desire... Whatever it was, he felt it in his bones, a feeling he'd always craved. This feeling kept him awake at night, kept him from forgetting his responsibilities.
"Carry me back to base?"
"Soap." Ghost warned, but John appeared to be back to his old self. Still grinning like an idiot.
"A'right, a'right, jus' takin' my shot." Soap paused briefly before continuing.
"Please–"
"Sergeant."
Johnny laughed.
The last few weeks have been vexing. They were, at least in Soap's opinion. Simon had avoided him like the plague since they returned, and the Scot was furious.
Was it because of the deal they made? Soap had yet to repay him, and he was looking forward to it as well, stalking around Ghost's office hoping to catch the man, but he was always dismissed.
Since their agreement, two skulls have been tattooed on his wrists as a reminder of the deal the Scot made between him and Simon. The marks almost resembled tattoos if it weren't for the fact that if he dared to contradict his lieutenant's words, his wrists would burn the shit out of him.
Worse, it seemed as if Simon didn't want to see him anymore. It hurt. He tried for years to break through Ghost's protective walls and embrace the man who hid behind them. Only to be pushed back.
Perhaps Ghost finally realised that their relationship was sending mixed signals and decided to end it. They no longer acted like friends, but as Ghost described, teammates.
He wanted to chase him down, find him, drag him back, and force a kiss on him until they both forgot what happened between them in the first place. Until their bodies stopped remembering too.
Ghost had been giving him paperwork in an attempt to keep John "occupied" and quiet so he wouldn't seek him out. It's not like he had much of a choice either.
When Ghost told him to do something, he had to do it.
He spent one night drinking his sorrow away, and he's pretty sure he started crying at some point, though he can't remember exactly what happened.
Soap just missed Ghost, their small touches, their looks, everything about the man. The feelings longed to be let out, and the more he clung to them, the more ferocious they became.
They clawed their way out, pleading to be let go. He was sick of clinging to them. Tired of waiting. He wasn't sure how much longer he could take it. Soap noticed Ghost's shoulders tense everytime he entered the room. It was as if having him there was physically painful for him. As if he despised having him around.
He wanted to break the silence, to break the tension between them, but he had no idea how. Ghost was actively ignoring him. His eyes fell from his, he didn't dare look at him. They didn't talk much anymore. Even when their team was going on a mission together, they barely exchanged any words. And whenever they did talk, it was always about missions.
He wished and prayed for those simple moments when they shared a small smile.
Ghost hasn't taken his mask off in front of him ever since. He spent hours drawing that same face. It's as if the world got lost within it. His eyes, nose, mouth, and all the other details he had learned to remember. Every feature he adored was deeply etched into the covering. Each mark made him fall more in love with the man.
He missed those smiles, the way his brow furrowed when he was confused, or the way his lips moved when he told him a story. Everything about him is perfect. How long had it been since he had seen him smile or laugh? Reality was tearing apart the memories he treasured the most. He knew he shouldn't feel angry, angry at Ghost for shutting him out. But he can't help it, he feels betrayed.
So he devised a strategy: he'd knock on Ghost's door tonight and force his way into the man's room. Then he'd pour his heart out, making Ghost realise how important he is. He would confess everything he kept hidden in the depths of his heart. He'd let go.
Something tugged at his heart every time he looked at the marks on his wrists. Was Ghost ashamed because of them? Because he struck a bargain with Johnny?
Whatever it was, it's over tonight.
He pushed doubt, fear, and anger aside as he walked towards his lieutenant's room, focused on his goal. Soap was restless, and the longer Ghost wasn't nearby, the more he wanted to explode. Toss out his heart like a grenade and watch it flutter with emotions.
He took a deep breath as he stood outside Ghost's door. He raised his hand and paused for a moment before knocking. Soap heard shuffling inside the room and the door slightly opened to reveal a tired Ghost.
"Soap–" The Scot shoved him aside and entered the room, fists clenched.
"Listen, I've had my fill. I need you ta tell me what's happening here now."
"What?"
"Stop fuckin' dodging my question!" Ghost remained silent, staring wide-eyed at Soap, whose breathing was rapid and erratic.
"I've been waitin' for this moment for a really long time ya prick."
"What are you talking about–"
"You've been actin' weird! You don't speak to me, you don't even look at me." Soap's voice cracked, and his accent became thicker.
"Johnny."
"Deh Johnny me Simon! Ye fuckin' owe me a proper answer or whatever the fuck yer thinkin'." Ghost didn't respond, instead staring at Soap's eyes, which burned bright blue like a sea of boiling lava.
The Scot let out a sigh.
"Simon, you cannae keep doing this to me."
"I'm not doing anything to you."
"Aye yer leavin', aye yer avoidin'. It doesna feel right." Soap took a step closer to Ghost.
He wanted Ghost to just tell him, hell reject him even. It might save him from all those suffocating feelings he felt.
Ghost suddenly let out a growl. But not the sexy kind that gets you hard. An inhuman sound that made Soap freeze. A sound that chilled him to the bone.
"Wanna know why I've been avoiding you Johnny?" Ghost asked, then approached him.
"I've been battling feelings and emotions. The desire to rip you apart and claim you as mine. They are devouring me from within. I can't stand them." Ghost grumbled and reached for Soap's collar.
"Your stupid grin, those lovely blue eyes, and the mark..." His voice lowered dangerously, a whisper that shook Soap's soul to its core.
"It's driving me insane. I dreamed about shredding you and loving every inch of your body until it became too much."
Soap took a deep breath and swallowed.
"I fight the beast inside me to take you right there and then. To cherish your body, to worship every part of it until it is nothing but mine."
The room was silent except for Soap's heavy breathing.
Soap felt his entire body heat up as Ghost continued to stare at him. He gently touched Ghost's balaclava and looked at him. He nodded, and Soap got to work right away.
Ghost looked as good as ever. Scars covered his face, but they defined him. He was unique to Soap.
His gaze was drawn to the other man's face. From his high cheekbones to his thin lips, down to his jawline and those deep brown eyes, he has it all.
"You're just feeding the monster more fuel, Johnny." Ghost broke the silence.
"Aye if that's what I want?" He smiled.
Ghost pressed his lips against Soap's, closing the gap between them.
His arms encircled the Scot's neck, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, his tongue sliding over Soap's bottom lip, inviting him in.
The Scot returned his kiss, tilting his head to deepen it.
It was rough, desperate. Like they didn't have a second to waste.
They tried to draw closer, to melt into each other's heat. They eventually came to a halt, panting heavily against each other's mouths.
Soap cupped Ghost's cheeks in his hands, caressing his jaw with his thumbs as he ran them down his throat slowly.
Ghost's hand slid down to Soap's hips, drawing him in closer.
Soap could feel the heat radiating off the other man's chest as they pressed together. It felt like it was burning him from the inside out. Wanted more. Needed more.
Simon backed Soap up against the bed, both of them grinding like feral animals.
Ghost's hand slid under his shirt and found his waist, pressing it against his own torso more firmly. The touch was electric, far superior to anything Soap could have imagined.
The Scot whimpered low, breaking the kiss.
"Stop with the teasin'." As Ghost pushed him onto the bed, he whined. The Brit hummed as he pushed John's legs apart quickly squeezing between them.
Soap watched intently as Ghost began to remove his clothes one by one, revealing his skin.
Then he started taking Soap's clothes off, kissing his shoulder blades lightly. He trailed soft kisses down to the base of his neck, lightly sucking at his skin before continuing down. He took tiny bites along the way, grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth.
Soap was overcome with emotion by every single one of Ghost's touches, by everything they had just done and were about to do. All of his pent-up feelings from the previous weeks finally burst out of his chest.
He threw back his head, letting out a moan that was probably audible to everyone in the barracks.
Ghost came to a halt and looked into Soap's eyes, deep browns meeting bright blues.
"How far do you want to go Johnny?" He inquired.
Soap couldn't say anything; all he could do was gasp and nod. He wanted it. He always wanted it. And this exact moment, where he could have it all. It was perfect.
Ghost smirked. His hand reached up to stroke Soap's cheek and his thumb ran across his lower lip.
He gently pressed down on his lip and Johnny opened his mouth. The demon inserted two fingers into the Scot's mouth, causing him to softly gasp.
Soap felt like the mark on his wrist was calling out to him, urging him to be greedy. To stop thinking. To lose control. Just for a short moment.
Johnny knew what was about to happen when Ghost suddenly pulled his fingers out, something he had dreamed of, even wished for.
Ghost's gentle touches kept Soap relaxed around the two digits inside him. His mouth was open, his breathing was uneven, and his eyelids were becoming heavy.
He was getting close.
"Simon.." His voice came out as a whimper, Ghost's name coming out like a prayer.
There was a sudden sensation of Ghost's cock pressing against his entrance. It was firm and powerful, pushing Soap to the brink without mercy. He arched his back and moaned loudly, attempting to restrain himself.
He grasped Ghost's arm tightly and the man stopped pushing. They remained like this for a while, waiting for Soap to adjust to the sensation. It was delicate yet intimate. So fucking sweet and loving.
Simon's praises made his head spin with desire, and he could barely stand it. Every part of his body ached and begged him to succumb to his hunger, to unravel and beg for more.
Soap began to rock his hips, moaning at the feeling. Ghost immediately followed his movements, matching his own rhythm.
"Soap," He breathed.
"Aye?"
Ghost continued to push forward, his cock sliding further in and filling the Scot completely. He gasped and his hands fell from Ghost's arm, his nails digging into the mattress below him.
"You're doing so well Johnny." Ghost whispered again, leaning down and kissing Soap on the lips.
As Ghost slowly thrusted his hips upwards, Soap closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.
He groaned loudly when the pressure hit the spot he was craving for so desperately. He clenched his fists on the sheets and arched upward, pleading for more.
"That's it." Ghost said huskily and began to move faster. His hips were thrusting more forcefully now. He was practically pounding into him at this point.
Soap was already starting to tremble.
His entire body shook from head to toe as his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed against the mattress.
As he stared at Ghost, he panted heavily. That glint in his eye made his heart skip a beat.
He felt so damn good, just how he pictured it would feel. It wasn't at all painful or awkward. In fact, it was a total turn on. Soap extended his hand and took Ghost's. He had a wild and lustful look in his eyes.
Like a predator stalking its prey. His thumb stroking Ghost's palm soothingly.
Ghost smiled and leaned forward, once more capturing Soap's lips. This kiss was less passionate than the previous one. It moved slowly, softly, and tenderly.
As if Ghost was afraid of breaking Soap if he pushed too hard. Their tongues were perfectly in sync, and Soap let out a breathy moan as Ghost sucked his top lip into his mouth, nibbling slightly.
It wasn't rough, it was pleasant, it was pure. Soap let out another moan when Ghost's thumb brushed over his erection and he came, hitting Ghost's stomach.
The Brit came to a halt as he waited for Johnny to come down from his high. He wanted to worship this man, to stroke his hair and whisper in his ear until he could only hear him. Until his entire soul was consumed by his touch.
When he noticed the Scot's breathing slowing and his eyes fluttering shut, he smiled contentedly and leaned down again, planting a light kiss on the Scot's forehead.
When Soap gave him the go, he began chasing his own pleasure. As he buried his face into Soaps' neck, he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. His hands gripped tightly onto Soap's sides as he came, sending a wave of ecstasy through his entire body.
Johnny kept whispering praises in Ghost's ears, fingers rubbing circles on the man's back.
After the euphoria passed, the two lay still. Both too exhausted.
"Consider that your payment." Ghost hummed.
"Ye naughty Simon." Soap scoffed and hugged the man even tighter.