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Their mission had gone so horribly to shit by the time Johnny had decided to blow the enemy base. Ghost and Soap had been dispatched together, not particularly on the books, to hunt down a few select HVTs that Price and Laswell had been keeping their eyes out for. Safe to say the mission directive changed when someone tripped the wire on one of Johnny’s traps that he hadn’t meant to arm at that moment; Ghost had lost sight of him and the misdirecting echoes in the building were doing nothing good for Johnny’s already-shot hearing. He’d had to give himself credit–John MacTavish sure knew how to rig one hell of a C4 trap. It’d busted several load-bearing beams just as he had planned, granted that it’d happened way earlier than he’d planned.
He was halfway through setting off his second set of C4 on critical structures when he saw dust fluttering down before him. He cursed under his breath and looked up, hearing an unsettling noise that sounded distinctly like something giving way when he noticed a small but dangerous crack that was spreading along the ceiling above him.
“Aw mon tae fuck!” Soap yelled, abandoning his precious stash of explosives as he hauled himself up and towards the nearest exit.
“ What ?” Ghost said into his mic, hearing a garbled string of expletives as Soap undoubtedly got compromised. He could faintly make out crashing sounds and more curses as Johnny spouted off something into his mic, directing Ghost’s scope to the farthest window on one of the lower levels of the building.
Then, Ghost heard the sound of the structure giving way, and his heart jumped into his throat. He saw through his scope as the load-bearing beams nearest to where Johnny was supposed to be started to crumble, his blood running cold as he watched for Johnny to come bursting through the doors. He could hear the Scotsman hollering in through their private comm line, footsteps thundering as he took off through the corridors Simon had lost sight of him in.
“Cover me, Ghost!” he finally registered, and a breath was punched out of his lungs as Johnny smashed through a window on the second floor, his body thrown farther out as the rest of the bombs blew the enemy base. Simon’s mind was still lagging behind, but his fingers were already popping off at the trigger, downing one, two, and then three men who had somehow made it out after Johnny, who was disarmed and frankly saved by the hair of his chin. He’d landed roughly on his back and was just lying there, chest heaving after he’d gotten his breath knocked out of him, resting uncomfortably with his tac vest rucked up to his throat.
“Soap– Johnny, ” Ghost called, shooting up and abandoning his station when there were no other threats as he ran towards the man. The building leveled itself quickly, throwing up ash and dust and flames as it crushed everything and every soul beneath it.
“Johnny, how copy,” He yelled, making it to him after a good trek, dropping heavily to his knees as Soap still hadn’t moved to sit up yet. He was coughing, but breathing, however roughed up he looked.
“How copy,” Ghost said again, moving to pull Johnny up and onto his ass by the strap of his tac vest, looking him back and front for any signs of bullet or stab wounds.
“‘M fine, Ghost,” Soap got out in a daze, rubbing his shoulder. He’d taken the landing hard, no worse than in Las Almas, and certainly not that high-rise. After Hassan, Soap figured two stories was a blessing.
Ghost wasn’t satisfied until he’d entirely looked Soap over, straightening his tac vest up and smoothing out his shirt. He had a couple of nicks here and there and a nasty gash on his brow, but he looked to be right, and Ghost let out a nervous breath.
“You had me there for a minute, Johnny.”
“Shite, thought Ah was about to see God himself. Soon as the bombs went off.”
“But you’re okay,” Ghost murmured, hands holding Johnny’s shoulders snugly, keeping him securely in place. His eyes, usually calm and piercing in their gaze, were darting all over Johnny, searching for any new signs of distress.
“Righ’ as rain, Lt,” Johnny tried for a smile, wincing as his split brow tugged at the gash. Ghost was fast to thumb away a stray blood trail, eyes locked with Johnny’s. He swallowed thickly, heart still racing from adrenaline, and a bit of heat rising to his face from all the extra attention.
“Simon,” Soap murmured, tongue slipping out to wet his lips. He could feel Ghost’s breath, hot and heavy against his face, and was beginning to think the sweat dampening his shirt wasn’t just from the mission. “Ah’m solid. Promise ye.”
Ghost nodded stiffly and dropped his face to Johnny’s neck, blood still thrumming in his ears as he enveloped the shorter man in a bone-breaking hug, hand tucked into the nape of Johnny’s neck.
Johnny was shocked shitless, hands still sitting limp at his sides, before his rationality kicked in and he hugged his lieutenant back, his heart warming at the feeling.
“So ye do like me,” Johnny laughed softly, pressed close even with their cumbersome gear on. Ghost hugged him a bit tighter, the times he’d nearly lost him replaying in his head clearer than crystal.
“I like you alive, Johnny.”
Even with how badly Johnny had fared in Mexico, Ghost couldn’t get that damned skyscraper out of his head. And now, he’d almost been killed yet again, and with Ghost being forced to watch it go down. His fingers still shook, nearly digging into Johnny’s sore bicep.
He startled a bit when the Scot gently put a hand over Ghost’s, smoothing his thumb over his messy gloves, relaxing the death grip he’d had Johnny in. It had startled him enough to pull back, his still-racing heart nearly pounding through his chest as he locked eyes with Soap, eyes searching his again.
He looked the man over, eyes searching his face even as Johnny tried to smile weakly, pawing off a gob of dirt still caked to his cheek. His hair was tousled this way and that, stray strands falling over his forehead, gel disrupted. There was blood caked to his brow that was still oozing, and he was covered in dust and grime from the aftershocks of the building collapsing. His tired, big blue eyes, nearly bloodshot but nonetheless captivating, stared right back.
Johnny was a right mess from the fall. And yet…
“We need to get out of here,” Ghost said suddenly, prying himself off of Johnny just as fast. Johnny pressed his mouth tightly shut, color flooding into his face, but Ghost wasn’t looking at him even as he held an arm out for Johnny to take.
If Ghost hadn’t moved, he was sure he would’ve kissed him. He’d been gaping like a teenager, and now he was fumbling like one as he hurried off toward the nearest abandoned enemy vehicle with his lieutenant. His fingers itched as he kept them tucked into his lap, feeling far too aware of their closeness in the small suburban Ghost was driving.
“Ah prefer this to the last time Ah rode in a car with ye,” he tried in the shared silence, risking a glance at his superior. Ghost’s shoulders shook a bit and the corners of his eyes wrinkled.
Johnny’s heart swelled.
“Less obstacles, for sure.” This time, Johnny snorted as Ghost adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, letting his hands rest just above his lap with his fingers hooked into the bottom of it.
“Still solid?” He asked, and Johnny looked over at him again. Ghost’s shoulders were still tense as ever, so Soap grabbed it in an affirming grip.
“Solid, Lt.”
“Good lad.” Ghost was keeping his eyes locked on the road, but Johnny could feel the tension radiating from him.
“Thank ye, Simon.”
They had been on the road for at least an hour, and Soap was grateful that they were well on their way away from the active war zone. The car they’d chosen was ambiguous, and he finally felt like Ghost was beginning to relax.
“What for?”
“Gettin’ me on my feet. Jes’...fer jes’ bein’ there.”
Ghost hummed in response, and Soap had figured that was the end of it.
“I should be thanking you, Johnny.” The scot furrowed his brows sharply, twisting in his seat to fully see Simon.
“Tha hell d’ye mean?”
Ghost shrugged, slightly. “You got out of there alive. Was gonna beat your ass myself if you hadn’t.”
Johnny snorted, shaking his head as Ghost slowed the car down to take a left onto another thoroughfare, getting them closer to the hotel they’d managed to find on the outskirts of a nearby city.
“Ah dinnae think I’d wan’ an ass whoopin’ from beyond the grave, no?”
“No. Not if I got ahold of you.” Ghost cast a glance at Johnny, this time, even briefly, and that was enough to send shivers down his spine.
“I’d haunt ye, y’know.” Johnny said lightheartedly, nudging Ghost’s shoulder.
“I don’t need you anywhere but here, Sergeant.” Ghost was almost a bit too fast to speak, but his voice was controlled. “Dirt nap’s not as cozy as it sounds.”
For a moment, Johnny was going to laugh, but as he looked at his lieutenant, his smile dropped. Something in Ghost’s tone–in his expression, made his heart split in two. It clicked almost instantly; he’d been speaking from experience. Simon had been through horrors that Johnny couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“Steamin’ Jesus, Simon,” was all he managed, hesitating before he placed a hand on Ghost’s forearm that wrested against his thigh, hand still hooked into the steering wheel.
Ghost only shrugged a bit, eyes trained on the asphalt. He didn’t say anything further; Johnny couldn’t help but try to soothe him. He rubbed his thumb gently along the inside of Ghost’s wrist, eyeing his tattoos in their silence. He knew it was Ghost’s past, and he’d likely figured out his own way of dealing with his demons, but in that moment Johnny felt the overwhelming urge to heal him; to give him peace.
“Ah’d rather ye be righ’ by my side, Lt. No’ goin’ anywhere,” he said at last, having tucked his hands back into his lap. “‘Sides, ye’re my favorite. I can tell ye ‘get tae fuck’ withou’ havin’ tae drop an’ give ye fifty.”
Johnny could tell that Ghost was smiling as he spoke.
“You still might, Sergeant.”
Later, they were only about a good half-hour out from the hotel, and they’d settled into silence. Johnny had been lost in thought, still hanging onto what Ghost had said. He was honestly shocked at how he’d learned bits and pieces of Simon, unaware of the hell he’d likely been through. One didn’t earn the callsign Ghost for nothing. His mind brought him back to Las Almas; how painfully soft Ghost had been. Johnny had thought him an asshole, at first–leaving him behind.
He’d been bitter about it in the moment. And then Ghost had apologized in his own way and had helped him through it all, even doing so much as to keep him calm and laughing. Ghost had been so kind to him, and he had absolutely no reason to. He’d experienced far worse than Johnny’s dilemma, yet he chose to help him keep his wits about him.
He laughed a little, remembering their conversation when he’d finally made it to that godforsaken bar, just before the Shadows had nearly found him.
“Something on your mind?” Ghost asked, merely glancing at him.
“Think ye can cough up tha’ drink ye owe me from Las Almas when ye’re patchin’ me up later?”
Ghost’s laugh was a wonderful thing. “If you’re good, Sergeant, I just might.”
“Helluva incentive, Lt, but ye migh’ have tae sweeten the deal a bit.”
“Yeah?”
“Aye. Thinkin’ cranachan migh’ do it. I did bust my arse gettin’ all tha’ intel for ye.”
Ghost chuckled again and nodded. “‘Course. Price’s paying for it.”
“Ye wee bawbag, skimmin’ Cap’s wallet.”
“Only the best for my favorite Sergeant.”
“Aww, makin’ me blush o’er here, Lt.” Truthfully, Johnny was blushing. Ghost had said my. Not ours, not his , my. It could’ve easily been a slip of the tongue, or Ghost was simply humoring him.
“Ye really mean that?”
“‘Course I do.” Ghost looked over him for a good few seconds, then back to the road. Johnny couldn’t have read the look in his eyes if he tried.
“I take it back. I can already see it going to your head, Johnny.”
Johnny snorted, a blush creeping onto his neck, but he pushed at Ghost’s shoulder lightly. “Jes’ happy, is all.”
Ghost looked over at him again, as Johnny fidgeted with his tac vest. “Happy?”
Johnny’s eyes connected with Ghost’s just before his eyes darted back to the road, having drifted in his lane a bit.
“Aye.”
Ghost’s lips parted beneath the mask, and Johnny’s eyes were drawn to it, his own falling open. He saw Ghost’s hand twitch, slightly, and he wanted so badly to take it, to ease the tension he saw there.
“Permission tae speak freely, Sir?” Johnny said, finding a new bout of courage somewhere deep inside him. Ghost nodded, head turning slightly and catching his eyes again. He didn’t miss it when his eyes darted toward his lips.
That was when Johnny went for it.
Ghost made a sound as Soap grabbed the strap of his vest, quickly pulling him in and closing the distance, lips moving into soft cotton. It was only a split second before Ghost’s lips moved back against his own, the fabric wetting a bit between them before a horn honking behind them startled Johnny back. Ghost chased his lips before reality hit him hard.
“Eyes on tha road! Jesus, Ghost,” Soap moved the steering wheel for Simon, whose eyes were wide and his chest heaving a bit. He’d been swerving into the other lane, as well as slowing down. Johnny started to laugh, even as he could see Simon’s face flushing well into his warpaint.
“If I knew ye could kiss like tha’, I’d have done it ages ago.”
“Do it again.” At that, Johnny barked out a laugh.
“Nae–cannae trust ye no’ tae run us into a tree. We’re almos’ there, Simon.” Ghost shifted and choked out a sound of agreement, swallowing thickly.
They’d settled into a comfortable quiet, and when they finally made it to the hotel, the exhaustion was starting to weigh in on them. Still seated in the car, Ghost turned to him, eyes lidded with sleepiness, but that other look was there, too. Simon looked hungry .
Johnny smirked.
“Wha’s tha’ look for?”
“You know damn well,” he deadpanned, shifting his whole body towards Johnny, whose eyes flickered down past his lips, to the hem of Ghost’s mask. The man himself lifted it to settle just over his nose, and Johnny’s heart fluttered. He’d never get tired of seeing Simon’s face, even if it was just a portion at a time.
“Fair,” Johnny conceded, looking into Ghost’s eyes again, his own falling shut as Ghost initiated this time, pressing into him softly, rough gloved hands framing his jaw. Kissing his lips and not just the mask blew Johnny’s mind; it was so intimate. He’d seen Simon before; knew what he looked like, but touching him was an experience.
Ghost captured his lips feverishly, catching his lower lip in the process; Johnny couldn’t help the sound that rumbled low in his throat, and he had to push Ghost away to keep himself from going mad.
“Tha’ a glock in yer pocket, or are ye jes–”
Ghost was bright red, and Johnny wet his lips before Ghost flipped the mask back down haphazardly, straightening himself.
“Shut the fuck up, Soap.”
Johnny went into the hotel first, tac-gear abandoned in the vehicle with Simon. He looked like shit, for sure–he’d merely thrown on Simon’s jacket that was exponentially less bloody, but he’d rather look like he’d been in a car accident than a fully uniformed soldier just outside of enemy territory.
As he was busy getting them a room at the front desk with Ghost still in his ear, his superior was getting their gear together in a tight backpack they’d found in the trunk of their acquired vehicle. Soap could hear him rustling, as well as the sound of clasps clinking and finally the sound of a zipper.
Ghost and Soap reconvened outside of the hotel and took one of the back entrances; the elevator ride with a random family of three was awkward, but when they finally got to the room, Johnny was fast to spread across the bed. Ghost didn’t seem too bothered by the one-bed arrangement, but he figured what happened in the car had helped a bit.
At least the feeling was absolutely mutual.
“Soap, get off your arse. I need to get you fixed up.”
“Och, Ah’ll live. Take a shower; Ah wan’ tae soak in tha’ tub after ye.”
“Fuck’s sake…Fine, I’ll be quick.”
Johnny waved him off and tucked his hands behind his head, legs hanging off the end of the hotel bed. He shut his eyes and listened as Ghost moved around beside him, setting the bag down beside his head and digging through it. He seemed to procure whatever it was that he needed, because he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Johnny to drift off to the soft humming of the air conditioner.
He woke back up with a start, hand flinging out for a gun that wasn’t there–but Ghost was. He relaxed a bit, letting out a long breath as he fluttered his eyelids, trying to regain some semblance of consciousness.
“Let’s get you sorted, Sergeant,” Ghost murmured, a firm hand guiding Johnny to sit up. Johnny still looked a mess, especially as he looked blearily around, having just drifted off to sleep, but he went willingly as Ghost guided him over to the bathroom, as Johnny gradually woke himself up. Sitting down on top of the toilet lid, he cast tired eyes on Ghost, who was simply knelt in front of him with the med kit in hand, in nothing but a damp towel and unruly wet hair that had obviously been toweled off.
“Jes’ ge’ it o’er with, ye can’ hurt me more than tha’ fucken’ glass did.” Johnny mumbled, yawning as Ghost popped open the med kit and withdrew what he needed for stitches, and to clean up the rest of Johnny’s wounds.
Johnny leaned his face into Ghost’s palm as he dabbed at the gash over his brow that was caking up with blood, still oozing a bit as Ghost held pressure on it. Ghost made quick work of taping the gash to keep it from pulling itself open, in hopes that it would clot on its own without stitches. Then, he moved to roll up Johnny’s shirt where it had been ripped open, dry with blood. He’d had a pretty good gash from getting kissed by a bullet, but it didn’t go deep.
“This one’s not gonna feel pretty.” He did the best he could with the little amount of topical anesthetic that he had before he threaded the needle and began stitching the gash closed, stopping when Johnny jerked too hard. “Easy, Serg.”
“Tryin’,” Johnny grit out, looking away with his face pushed into his hand. When Ghost finished, he paused for Johnny to pull his shirt all the way off, hearing it hit the floor somewhere behind them. He laid a piece of gauze and waterproof tape over the wound, figuring the sting of hot bathwater would be less than welcome.
Johnny was littered with freckles and a few bruises along his front, but Ghost hadn’t yet gotten to his shoulders. Luckily, nothing was obviously dislocated, but there was a nasty bruising he could see creeping up over his left arm. Johnny shifted for Ghost to examine his back, facing away from him on the toilet.
“Bloody fuckin’ hell, Johnny.”
Johnny’s shoulders slumped, the tanned skin that spanned his shoulders was phasing into angry-looking purples and reds, worse on the side he’d landed on. On the back of that side of his body that hadn’t been protected by the tac vest were several bits of glass that hadn’t fully dislodged themselves. He had red marks and divots where the vest had jutted up into his ribs; Johnny flinched as Ghost moved to run his fingers along the worst of it, checking for any fractures. Small streaks of blood trailed from the largest bits of glass, and Ghost urged Johnny to lean forward onto his elbows as he began to gently pick out the glass with a pair of tweezers. Johnny flinched, hard, every few moments, eyes squeezed shut and his breathing uneven.
“Nearly there,” Ghost murmured, trying his best to soothe each of the tiny wounds that marred him. When the last of the glass was out, he made quick work of cleaning each wound, putting band-aids over the worst few.
“You got a thing for windows or somethin’?”
Johnny laughed for the first time in an hour, shaking his head.
“Nae, no’ at all. They seem tae like me , though.”
Ghost chuckled a bit and smoothed over his handiwork, then ever-so-softly rubbed Johnny’s injured shoulders, trying to gently ease some of his tension. Soap was quick with a gasp and wince, but Ghost could tell it still felt somewhat alright. He let his thumbs dig into the unaffected meat of his muscles, trying to provide him some comfort from all the pain he’d endured for the last hour.
“I’ll get the water started,” He said finally, face flushing against his will. He tightened his grip on the towel around his waist and did so, focusing on the sound of the water and certainly not eyeing Johnny as he undressed, belt clattering to the floor. He averted his eyes as soon as Johnny cast him a glance, lips pulled into a soft smile.
“Why don’ ye take a look at tha room service, Simon?”
“Sounds bloody fuckin’ brilliant,” Simon nearly tripped over their clothes that shared a space on the floor together as he made it over to the table. He was fast to call in the request, being sure to include a portion of dessert for Johnny. Setting the phone down with a click, he hesitated before he padded back into the bathroom, knocking slightly on the doorframe before he took a seat on the toilet lid. Johnny was already settled into the tub as the water rose just past his thighs, and Simon kept his eyes glued to the floor.
“Nothin’ ye ain’t seen before, Simon,” Johnny said softly, sinking low into the warm water, flinching a bit here and there. He let out a sharp sound as his aching shoulders started to make contact with the water, snapping Simon’s eyes towards him. “Feels like Ah go’ beat with a fucken’ club.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t get a concussion.”
“Aye, couldnae handle a headache on top’o all this shite.”
Simon’s eyes drifted over when Johnny started to move in the water, reaching lazily with his foot for the soap on the little side shelf. He managed to knock it into the tub with him, grinning after he made the small sound of an ‘a-ha!’ He couldn’t help but follow the length of Johnny’s toned muscles with his eyes, forcing himself to turn his head, a blush rising to his cheeks.
“Hand me that washrag, Si?” Johnny said, holding out a dripping hand toward him. Simon obliged, handing over the rag without really making eye contact, his light freckles highlighted by the redness of his face and ears. Johnny regarded him for just a moment, mouth opening and closing. He couldn’t help but steal a good look at Simon, sitting there in just a towel, hair touseled like that of a wet cat, his leg crossed over to his knee with the towel stretched dangerously over his broad thighs. His eyes traveled over the whole of Simon’s build, committing his scars and the details of his skin to memory. He thought about the kiss, fighting the urge to touch a digit to his lips, alternatively choosing to wet them. Instead of voicing his curiosities, he settled back into the water and fiddled with the soap, scoffing at the blatant 2-in-1 label.
“Fucken’ bastards an’ their two-an’-one’s…”
“Fuck off; comes in handy on the field.” Soap gasped at that, eyes landing on Simon.
“This abomination is yers ?”
“Hair’s clean, innit?”
“Fuck oaff it, fucken’ bampot… Ye know this typ’a shite makes yer hair all frazzled?”
Simon merely made a nonchalant sound and Soap grumbled nonsense as he inevitably gave in, choosing a clean body to the prospect of sleeping in dried blood and dirt. He started to wash his hair, first, and Simon handed him things occasionally, laughing softly when Soap made a comment about waterboarding himself.
He sat back in the tub again, wiping his face with the wet washcloth, before he finally spoke up again.
“Ye kissed me back,” He murmured, eyes searching Simon’s face. He couldn’t help but snort when Ghost stared at him like a deer in headlights, his already-bright blush deepening and spreading to his neck and chest.
“Dinnae look a’ me like tha’,” Soap chuckled, shaking his head but not breaking eye contact. “How long, Simon?”
“...What?”
“Fer how long,” Soap repeated, gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips briefly, “have ye wanted to do tha’?”
Simon was silent, averting his eyes as his eyes started to track Johnny’s free hand settling atop his own stomach amidst the light sheen of bubbles.
“Fer me, it’s been…Since Las Almas, reckon. Maybe earlier.”
Ghost seemed a bit shocked at that, and his eyes returned to Johnny’s, but he couldn’t exactly find the words to put together.
“Och, it’s nothin’, I guess. Jes’ wonderin’.” Simon felt his heart hurt a bit at that, but he moved to sit on the edge of the tub as Johnny gestured to his shoulders, looking at Simon in a gentle plea. Simon immediately dipped the washrag into the soapy water and gently ran it across Soap’s shoulders, whisking away a bit of loose dirt and dried blood. Johnny tensed visibly as Simon had to go over his nasty bruises, water dripping over the tub a bit as Johnny gripped onto the edge of it.
“Before Mexico.” He said, finally, face hidden from Johnny’s. He didn’t feel so exposed; it was easier to be honest with Johnny’s eyes not boring into him, no matter how soft and well-intended they were. Johnny eased at the confession, fingers relaxing a bit as Simon swiped the hot rag around Johnny’s neck, merely keeping his hands busy.
“Been thinkin’ about it for…so long, Johnny,” Simon murmured, hands stilling as his blush deepened. “Among other things…Finally figured it out when I almost lost you the first time.”
Johnny looked up over his shoulder, wincing a bit from his soreness. Simon finally met his eyes, looking for whatever it was the Scot was thinking. Johnny reached up over his shoulder for Simon’s neck, giving him the chance to pull away. When he didn’t, Johnny leaned into his lips, kissing him softly, eyes falling shut. It took Simon’s breath away. Frankly, he had to grip the tub to keep from slipping into it.
“Among other things, ye say?” Johnny murmured against his lips, barely parting from him. Simon’s eyes lidded a bit, but despite his blush, his voice was steady.
“I’ve had some ideas,” Simon admitted, and Johnny’s hand curled into his dry hair, pulling him closer, to where their foreheads were touching. Johnny twisted a bit to face him, eyes dark.
“Do tell,” Johnny said, kissing his lips once more before moving to stand with a pained groan. Simon was fast to get him a towel, gently drying his shoulders before Johnny took it and roughly toweled his hair, water flicking every which way.
“Been thinkin’ about havin’ you all to myself, like this.”
Johnny moved to wrap the towel around his waist, then turned to press Simon into the damp tiled wall, moving close into his space.
“Thinkin’ about yer favorite Sergeant like tha’?” Johnny purred, and Ghost wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in close. “‘Bout takin’ me, or lettin’ me take you?” Simon groaned softly as Johnny pressed into him for a kiss, bare skin against skin.
“Both ways,” he admitted against his lips, groaning softly as Johnny put a thigh between his, then flinched as Ghost gripped onto his shoulders, fingers flailing for purchase.
“Shit, ‘m sorry, Johnny–,” Johnny shook his head, a blush rolling onto his cheeks in embarrassment.
“No, it’s fine... Shouldnae have gotten us riled up like this, knowin’ I’m not quite up to par, yet.”
“How about this… We wait for room service, you can get your sweets, and then we’ll…See where the night takes us. Even ordered some Scotch for you. Just a glass.”
Johnny smiled, still a bit embarrassed. “Ah’m no’ used to feelin’ pampered like this,” he said, stepping back and away from Ghost. When Ghost waved a hand in dismissal, Johnny snatched one of the hotel robes from the hanger and wrapped himself in it, moving to lay across one side of the bed, his neck and shoulders nestled into the pillows.
What he didn’t expect, though, was for Ghost to grab the neighboring robe and tie it loosely around his middle before knee-walking onto the bed, leaning over Johnny.
“I can still show you a good time, y’know. You don’t have to try and prove yourself to me, Johnny.” Johnny went red, nodding slightly as Ghost leaned down to kiss him again, comforted by the fact that Johnny couldn’t hurt himself with the way he was nested into the bed. He gasped a bit, moving to wrap his arms around Ghost’s broad shoulders and pulling him in close, moving his lips against Ghost’s like they’d done it for years.
“Cannae believe ye’ve kept all this from me… Fer this long…” He murmured, moving a hand to tangle into Simon’s hair, running his fingers through the thick locks of hair.
“I wanted to tell you so badly, Johnny. When you…You’ve nearly been taken from me, three times now…I couldn’t stand it anymore.” Ghost kissed him again, pressing close into Johnny’s chest. Soap massaged circles into Simon’s hair, nodding and pulling him close. Simon couldn’t help but smooth a hand over the scar of Johnny’s bicep, where he’d been shot before.
“Ah’m glad it took a buildin’ nearly crushin’ me for ye to act on it,” Johnny whispered, a smile cracking at his lips.
“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny.” At that, Soap turned Ghost’s cheek to kiss him properly, and he lost himself in those lips, moving to crawl over Johnny’s waist, slotting a thigh between his legs. Johnny drew him in by the lapels of the hotel robe, and Simon didn’t hesitate to lean down over him, wrapping his arms around Johnny’s middle.
Johnny groaned with a blush as Ghost was quick to tug his lower lip, licking into his mouth with ease. Committing his mouth to memory, Simon moved a hand to Johnny’s unruly mohawk, gently tugging at the wettened strands, eyes widening when Soap flat-out moaned, quick to bite back his own sound.
“Did I just learn something about you, Sergeant?” Ghost snickered, kissing along Johnny’s stubble.
“No’ a feckin’ word, Lt. No’ a word.” Johnny was red, but Simon merely continued to kiss along his jawline, then down to his neck, carefully pushing aside the robe to reveal Johnny’s shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating off of Johnny; his intense blush coloring the expanse of his cheeks and neck.
“You’ve got freckles,” Simon said suddenly, and Johnny made a sound.
“Ye gonna shut up an’ kiss me or no’?”
And then Ghost was at it again, pressing their lips softly together, moving against one another. It was quick to turn hungry and desperate, teeth nearly clashing, saliva breaking repeatedly between them.
They’d just gotten back into it when a soft rapping sounded from their room’s door, announcing room service.
“Och, fer fuck’s sake,” Johnny groaned, lips chasing Simon’s as he quickly shuffled off of him, tripping over his pants on the floor and nearly eating the carpet before he answered the knocking, tugging his robe tightly together as he accepted the food, bringing in a small room service tray as the hotel staff member went on about their way down the hall.
Johnny moved to sit back up, robe disheveled and leaving nothing to the imagination as Simon moved to hand him over a plate that looked far fancier than what Johnny was used to in the mess hall.
“Reckon Price can ge’ us a set o’ these beauties? Fer mess?”
Ghost snorted softly, settling onto the bed beside Johnny with his own plate. Soap forked a piece of the whitefish, beginning to realize just how starved he’d been feeling. Ghost was a bit slower with his dinner, even whilst Johnny had already begun scarfing down his dessert, taking meager sips at the glass of Scotch as he ate.
“Well, Ah did always say tae buy me dinner before ye try tae ge’ intae my pants, aye?” Ghost went red and elbowed him gently in the ribs, working at his own food.
When plates were emptied, Johnny leaned back into the pillows, hands folded comfortably atop his stomach, listening to the soothing sound of Simon’s voice; Simon lay facing him on one elbow, telling him some silly joke he’d learned once from a bar in Manchester.
“C’mere,” Johnny murmured, soft laughter subsiding, and Simon scooted closer until Soap turned to kiss him again, eyes falling shut in a comfortable sleepiness.
“I could get used to this,” Simon murmured against kiss-drunk lips. Johnny merely made a sound in reply, tugging him closer and kissing him deeper, chasing his lips when Simon had to gasp for air at last.
“Ah ken. Dinnae think Ah could ever keep ma hands off o’ ye, after today.”
“Then don’t, Johnny.”
Johnny flushed but obliged and slung an arm lazily around Simon’s neck, the other moving to his shoulder, gently tucking the robe off of it to expose his tattoo, just peeking over the top of the terry cloth. He urged Simon to get closer, and when Simon finally got the hint, he crawled between Johnny’s legs, laying his body over Johnny’s middle and kissing him slowly. Slotting a thigh back between Johnny’s, he moved easily against him, drawing a sigh from his lips. Simon repeated the action, drinking up Soap’s soft moan.
“Si, Ah don’ think Ah can… Right’ noo. Shoulders are righ’ fecked.”
“You won’t need to move a muscle, Johnny.”
Johnny flushed red, hesitation visible in his eyes. “Ye…We’re really… Gonna do this?” Simon chuckled softly, kissing him again, with a nod.
“If you’ll have me.”
“Och–aye, o’course Ah will.” Johnny was fast to wrap his arms around Simon and bring him in close, joining their lips with another deep kiss that quickly evolved into chaste, open-mouthed kisses, fueled by desire. Ghost pressed into Johnny’s abdomen, laying lazily atop him as their lips moved desperately with Johnny’s hands tangling in the damp mess of hair on Simon’s head.
It was the way they kissed so fervently, with years worth of pent-up desperation that had them in a mess of each other, and even as they parted, panting and gasping for air, Ghost was drawn in by the beautifully tanned, freckled skin of Johnny’s shoulders, pressing hot, long kisses along it. Johnny practically keened under his touch, back arching off the mattress as Simon sunk his teeth into the flesh wherever his lips found purchase, leaving the impressions and sucking deep bruises to the surface, taking a moment to admire it coloring up nicely, mottled with deep reds and purples.
Soap choked out a moan, head tipping back into the pillows as Simon’s mouth latched onto his jugular, sucking his way over to press a kiss over his Adam’s apple that bopped with the movement.
“Didnae take ye fer a biter,” Johnny’s laugh ended in a moan as Simon bit down over the tendon that ran along the underside of Johnny’s jaw, leaving a good mark before kissing over it apologetically. Just when Johnny’s chest was heaving, sweat pooling at the base of his spine, Ghost lifted himself up and moved lower, pressing kisses to Johnny’s collarbone, along his sternum, then ghosting his lips over his pectorals.
Johnny damn near whimpered at the feeling, eyebrows drawing sharply together as Ghost took to worshipping his body with chaste kisses and love bites, marking him up. Johnny patted Ghost’s shoulder just enough to catch his attention, letting Johnny suck in a desperate breath.
“Bleedin’ Jesus,” Soap managed, flushing at the way Simon smiled; proud of himself, with his eyes crinkling a bit, light freckles drawn out by the movement. “Wannae make sure ye have somethin’ too, tae remember it fer days tae come.”
Simon gave a soft chuckle, moving to press his body back over Johnny, wrapping his arms comfortably around Johnny’s midriff, finally settling his face into Johnny’s other shoulder, tipping his head to the side and opening up his neck. Soap dove in, hands tangling in his hair as he held Simon in close, suckling, biting and kissing to his heart’s content. It was when Soap sucked at Ghost’s pulse point that he moaned brokenly, hips moving of their own accord into Johnny’s, grinding slow as Johnny abused the place with his kisses, basking in Simon’s touch as the man’s hands roamed aimlessly, nails raking gently down his skin before grasping Soap’s hips for leverage.
“Ye look pretty like this,” Johnny murmured, breath hitching at the friction of Simon’s movements, sucking hard at a new place, looking over Simon’s flushed neck, decorated now with patches of hickeys. He could see the hard lines of the strong muscles of Simon’s back just beneath the robe, letting his hands move down and sneak under, hands framing the man’s rear.
“Oh,” Simon moaned with surprise as Johnny squeezed a handful of his ass, massaging apologetically over his skin, kneading absentmindedly into the plush flesh. Johnny could feel the way his cock had jerked at the feeling, and he smiled, nibbling at the lobe of his ear as he gave another squeeze, firmer this time, Simon’s hips jolting with the movement, his body flushing in Johnny’s view.
“Want to kiss you…” Simon murmured, letting out a few unsteady breaths, breath hitching as his hips provided some much-needed friction. Blessedly, Johnny released him from his grip, gasping when Simon crashed their lips together, kissing him messily and fast, eyes blown wide and lidded. His lips were puffy and red when he finally pulled back, not before pressing a kiss to the scar across Johnny’s chin.
“So pretty, Simon.” He flushed at the way Johnny smiled, lying back so comfortably in the pillows, cheeks red and his eyes glistening with desire. His messy, unstyled mohawk splayed out beautifully over his forehead, scattered strands making it out of the bunch and hanging just above his brows.
“You’re quite the charmer, aren’t ya?” Ghost chuckled, settling lower on Soap’s body and dragging his tongue teasingly over Johnny’s pectoral, letting his breath ghost over the nipple and pull a strong shiver from him. Settling there, Ghost took his time teasing his tongue over it as it stiffened under his touch, letting his fingers move to the other pec and rub in slow circles, enjoying the way the stimulation made Johnny’s hips roll slowly against Simon, desperate for attention.
Simon couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he teased Johnny with his mouth, watching attentively up through his lashes. Soap's chest rose and fell rapidly, breaths catching in the Scot's throat as he gave gasps and soft, quiet moans. When their eyes met, Johnny's mouth dropped open and a blush broke out hot across his face.
“Need you,” Soap gasped, as Ghost sucked at the nipple, letting his tongue swirl before he finally detached himself from the man’s chest. Johnny swallowed thickly, throbbingly hard against Ghost’s abdomen, separated only by the terrycloth between them.
“Tell me how you want it, Johnny.” Simon’s voice was low and sultry, dripping with desire as Johnny squirmed under his weight, using the short break to try and catch his racy breath. He was practically steaming from Ghost’s touch, and the combined scent of his musk and sweat had Simon hanging on his every word.
“Wanna feel you,” Johnny started, head tipped back into the pillows, stomach jumping as Simon wordlessly let his hand sneak under both robes, took both their aching cocks in one hand, and squeezed, kissing his sternum as Soap attempted to make sense of his jumbled brain. “Want ye to take me.”
“Keep it goin’ then, yeah?” Simon whispered, his breaths ghosting over Johnny’s sweltering skin and eliciting a shiver. Johnny nodded and unraveled his arms from Simon’s waist, moving one of his hands to meet Simon’s. Simon took it on the way up, pausing only to spit into it, letting the saliva trail off his tongue as Johnny took to grasping them both with that hand, stroking experimentally before letting his hand slide back and forth, sliding with an oh-so-good slickness.
“Fuck–just like that,” Simon groaned, bracing on one elbow and moving his free hand to Johnny’s cheek, caressing gently before pressing his fingers into his lip in request. Johnny’s eyes widened a bit, then fell lazily, pupils dilating as he took Ghost’s fingers into his mouth, lapping and sucking until they were nice and drenched with his saliva.
“Doin’ so good for me, Johnny.”
Johnny preened under the attention, soft moans and pleased sighs falling from his lips as he worked their cocks together in his grip, nice and steady. Simon had to withdraw when it got a little too good, feeling that familiar burn low in his gut, capturing Johnny in a deep kiss before sitting back on his knees for just a moment, parting the Scot’s knees further and letting his slick fingers circle Johnny’s rim, groaning softly as he saw it flutter.
“Fer fuck’s sake, Simon,” Johnny laughed, blushing darkly. “Dinnae ogle me like tha’--get on with it.”
Simon had half the mind to lean down and eat him out until Johnny was a breathless wreck. Another time, perhaps ; the idea of there being another time made Simon’s breath hitch, and he leaned down over Johnny, keeping his legs spread with his body. He pressed a chaste kiss to Soap’s lips as he slowly pressed the first finger in, letting him relax before moving in deeper. When Johnny began to moan as Simon set a steady rhythm of opening him up, he took that as a good sign–especially when the Scot started to grind back against it, almost desperately.
Simon added another finger. He let Johnny settle, kissing over his body in worship as he worked Johnny loose, thrusting his fingers in deeper and rubbing at his walls, pleased with the way it made Johnny arch, hips moving back against the digits.
“One more,” Johnny whimpered at last, body moving a bit restlessly as Simon stretched him out, pressing in a third finger and working him well, the quickened sound of Johnny getting himself off between them encouraging. Simon’s cock jerked as Johnny nearly came off the mattress, eyes squeezing tightly shut. He moaned out a mess of words, but Simon got the hint, rubbing at the bundle of nerves he knew he’d found, feeling Johnny’s hips stutter and falter. Johnny’s hand dropped pathetically from his own cock, grasping desperately onto the sheets and pulling them taut in his grip.
“Fu–Fuck…gonna lose it, Simon,” Johnny got out, voice already wrecked as he ground back into Ghost’s deft fingers. He smiled and pressed a kiss to Johnny’s lips, even as the Scot’s mouth dropped open as he started to come apart on Ghost’s fingers, stomach jumping.
Simon spit again over Johnny’s hole, slicking the path of his fingers over, thrusting them steadily back and forth as the man under him cried out, goosebumps trailing over his legs with his hair standing on end. Simon only slowed when Johnny seemed to pull back subconsciously, shuddering hard as he tried to stop himself from tipping over the edge.
“Want–Ah want you inside,” he pleaded, breath hitching in his throat. “Please, Simon. Cannae finish like this.”
“Y’sure about that, Sergeant?” Ghost tutted, rubbing teasingly over the nerves before stilling his fingers again as Johnny sucked in a hiss of a moan. “Seemed to be gettin’ off just fine. Already leakin’ all over these nice hotel sheets.”
“Steamin’ Jesus, Simon,” Johnny got out. “Need it. Please,” another moan stuttered out of him and he nearly had tears bubbling in his eyes from it all.
And Jesus, if that didn’t go straight to Ghost’s dick. He groaned and nodded, obliging and slowly removing his fingers, one by one, leaving Soap with an empty feeling while Simon gave himself a few heavy pumps, letting his cockhead tease tantalizingly slow around the ring of muscle of Soap’s entrance.
“You solid, Johnny?” Simon asked, voice soft as if he was giving Johnny an out.
“Fuck–yes, Simon. Please. Need you–only want you. ”
Simon sucked in a breath as heat furled in his stomach and he leaned down over Johnny, pressing him further into the pillows with his added weight, adjusting Johnny’s around him to keep his limbs loose and relaxed.
Johnny reddened with the movement, mouth opening to say something before the air was punched out of him when Ghost slowly began to sink in, eyes squeezing shut as a shaky sound passed from his lips.
“Fuckin’ hell, you’re tight,” he managed, cracking his eyes open as he let Soap relax before he pressed deeper, having Soap take him in an inch at a time so as to not cause him any major discomfort. Soap was quiet as it happened; his nails dug into Simon’s shoulders and he was breathing slowly as his body got used to the feeling. His mouth fell open when Ghost’s thighs inevitably settled against Soap’s ass, and Simon couldn’t help but lean down to kiss him.
Johnny mumbled something unintelligibly Scottish as he let his legs rise around Simon, guiding the Brit’s arms out of the way as he let his ankles meet in the small of his back, testing the new position with a smooth tightening of his calves. The movement drove Ghost in deeper, and they moaned in tandem.
“Fuuuck, Simon,” Soap breathed out, bringing Simon’s face in toward his own and meeting his lips in a hot mess of teeth and gasps as Ghost slowly started to rock his hips into Johnny’s, grinding into him slowly.
As quiet as Simon Riley usually was, rough, debauched moans spilled from his lips as he got into a smooth rhythm, rocking Johnny into the plush pillows as the man’s fingers scrambled for purchase. He locked his arms around Ghost and pulled him in close with their chests flush, craving every bit of him after restraining himself for so long as they’d danced around their feelings.
“Good?” Simon whispered, lowering himself onto his elbows around Johnny and grinding into him, abandoning the high he’d been chasing in favor of their closeness. Soap nodded quickly, catching his breath as Simon’s hips slowed.
“Fantastic,” John said, sucking in soft breaths and chasing Simon’s lips, catching him in a more proper kiss. “You’re fantastic,” he added, pressing his forehead to Ghost’s, whose blush radiated down his neck and flushed across his chest. He couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips as he let his face fall into the crook of Johnny’s neck, letting his kisses do the talking for him as he gave shallow thrusts, going for depth rather than speed.
It wasn’t long after Simon set his own pace that Johnny was coming apart beneath him, his hands tangling into Ghost’s hair and gripping, his eyes rolling up as heat built low in his gut, sending shivers through him. Simon’s breaths got more ragged and desperate, his head hanging low between his shoulders as he fucked into Johnny, leaning into his touch and groaning sharply when Johnny tugged his hair in just the right ways.
“Oh, shite,” Johnny gasped, his abs flexing as his back arched up against Simon, forcing their bodies even closer together. “Simon–righ’ there, please,” he pleaded, moaning out when Ghost obliged, adjusting to keep his hips comfortably moving at the same angle, drawing wrecked moans out of the Scot.
“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, Johnny,” Simon moaned suddenly, whimpers and breaths punching their way out of him with each movement that had him running hotter. Johnny’s eyes squeezed shut and he threw his head back with a cry, nodding jerkily.
Simon leaned in to kiss his jaw, sucking sharply at the stubble that ran along the underside of his chin. Johnny pulled him in for a proper kiss, moaning between quick gasps of air.
“So pretty for me, yeah?” Ghost sighed in pleasure, letting his fingers run through Soap’s unkempt mohawk, grabbing a handful of the damp locks and forcing his head back suddenly. Johnny let out a shout of a moan as his hair was pulled, whimpering when Simon’s mouth latched onto his throat, sucking and biting as he thrust faster, working Johnny good and deep into the mattress.
“Fuck me,” Soap yelped, his cock jerking hard as Simon detached his eager teeth from the base of Johnny’s neck, grinning wolfishly down at him before another sharp moan stole his composure from him and his body tensed as a particular wave of pleasure rolled through him.
“Working on it,” Simon laughed breathlessly, cursing in a low tone before Johnny clenched suddenly and they both let out yells of a moan.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” Simon panted, rolling faster and harder into Johnny, chasing his own high as Soap’s body shook with the effort it was taking him to stave off his own orgasm. It was a moot point when Simon’s fingers wrapped around his dick, jacking him in time with his thrusts, and quickly Johnny found himself babbling with curses, moans, and gasps as his hands tangled into the sheets and yanked.
"Simon!” Johnny shouted, his orgasm crashing over him fast and sudden. His body tensed all around Simon; his thighs locked him in, his hips jolted into his fist, and his hole grabbed Ghost tightly, clenching as Simon fucked him through it, gasping in breaths as he let out reedy moans.
“Fuck,” Simon growled, his voice pitching into a whine as his eyes rolled up. “Fucking–God, Johnny,” he grit out, his breathless moans accompanied by Johnny’s whines and whimpers as oversensitivity set in. “Gonna fuckin’ blow.”
Johnny’s hands found their way into Simon’s hair as he fucked senselessly into Johnny, his hips stuttering and a string of curses and whimpers falling from his lips as he tipped over the edge. His hips jerked and he whined out as Johnny kissed his face, guiding him even as Simon’s blood thundered in his ears and he lost himself in the high of it all.
It was a good moment or so before he registered Soap’s soft words and calming strokes of his cheeks, bringing him back to the sensible world as he came down from his orgasm.
“You still with me, Lt?” Soap smiled, his voice sounding positively hoarse. “Didnae think I was tha’ good a lay.”
Simon’s face flushed down to his neck and he kissed Johnny hard in revenge, pulling back just before Soap could get too lost in it and work them both back up to something his exhausted body absolutely could not handle.
“Too good,” Simon admitted, slowly pulling their bodies apart and sprawling out beside Johnny, curling into the scot’s side and throwing an arm around his waist as Johnny’s chest rose and fell, slowing to a more reasonable pace.
“Good. ‘Cause I’m…definitely gonna feel tha’ in the mornin’,” Johnny groaned, shifting a little as he pressed closer into Simon, ignoring their shared messiness in favor of the warmth and comfort in his arms.
“Sorry about that,” Simon laughed softly, his eyes falling shut as he breathed in. Soap let his fingers trail along the linework of Simon’s tattoos, dragging slowly along his bicep and running over the intensive shading.
“...Wanted t’hold you like this for so long.”
“I know,” Johnny said, sighing happily as Simon pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, just over the bullet scar from Las Almas. Johnny rolled his head to where his cheek pressed into Simon’s forehead, feeling the messy hair tickle his skin.
He was starting to doze off when Simon finally moved to sit up, rolling his shoulders and stretching. Johnny made a soft noise of distress, unable to raise up quickly how he would’ve liked.
“Shh,” Simon doted, pressing Johnny back into the pillows and smiling. “Go back to sleep. Only gonna get us both cleaned up. I’ve got you, yeah?”
Johnny nodded sleepily, his eyes heavy and falling shut of their own accord, pulling him under to the sound of Simon starting up the shower.
Johnny woke late in the morning. Somehow, he’d been maneuvered under the sheets and comfortably tucked away, surrounded by pillows and covered in blankets. For a moment he was startled, his hand grabbing the sheets around him looking desperately for Simon who was supposed to be right there with him.
“‘M right here,” Simon mumbled, his voice thick and rough with sleep. Johnny’s bleary vision came better into focus as he noticed the man in a heap of his own blankets, his face barely visible from the makeshift nest. “Not gonna leave.”
Johnny smiled warmly, his hand coming to find Simon’s beneath the blankets even as Simon drifted back to sleep, soft snores filling the air between them. Johnny finally reached blindly over for his phone with his free hand, unsurprised to see it was nearly dead. He did however have a few messages from Price, confirming their exfiltration in a few hours.
He let his eyes drift back to Simon from the phone, sending an affirm and then setting an alarm for them both, deciding to settle back into the bed and let sleep take him once more. It was time they started taking advantage of their time together without the threat of rules or prying eyes.
Later, they would go back to Lieutenant and Sergeant; the exception being a few extra touches here and there, chaste kisses in stolen moments. It would be against every code and rule in the book–grounds for dishonorable discharge or transfers if they got lucky. In the off-chance somehow they got away with it–keeping everything under Price’s nose and behind closed doors, then…They’d work with it. They always made it work.
For now–they were both safe and sound in each others’ arms, right where they were supposed to be.