Work Text:
Soap knew that he was interested in Ghost. Maybe more than interested. Obsessed. Soap couldn’t keep his eyes off of Ghost. Tall and broad and strong. That inescapable aura of mystery that surrounded him was constantly drawing Soap’s attention. Soap hadn’t ever seen Ghost’s full face, only glimpses of his lower jaw, but the knowledge he did have made his desire to see Ghost unmasked even worse. He’d been given a taste of the forbidden fruit and he’d kill to gorge himself on it. That angelic visage was withheld by its keeper.
Ghost’s face, or what Soap thought of as his face, haunted his dreams, waking and sleeping. Soap would be distracted as Ghost gave orders, wondering what expression was hidden by black fabric and hard plate. Blond hair and scarred mouths danced around Soap’s skull as he slept. Soap could almost picture those scarred lips curling up in a smirk when the two of them joked over the radio. Stupid jokes and jibes to pass the time, almost saying, I’m here, I’m still here, are you?
They had become close. Well, close was extremely relative, Soap had to admit. Close for Ghost still seemed to be firmly at arm’s length. Closer than strangers, but what did that leave them as? Friends? Not quite. Close enough to joke, close enough to spend quiet moments smoking together, the lighter passed between them. A few nights spent together, beds and bodies shared. Not close enough for Soap to see any more face than was necessary for the man to eat and drink and smoke. Rarely close enough to touch.
Soap took every scrap he could.
He noticed so much about Ghost. The way he’d smooth his mask down after he’d eaten. The way that he went stone still on transports. The lamp light that always shone under the crack to Ghost’s bunk no matter how late at night it was. How smoothly Ghost could kill. Up close and personal to the enemy or far away as Soap spotted for him. Never flinching, almost reflexive.
Ghost was the type to vanish after missions. Off into his bunk or wherever else he liked to disappear to. Soap knew better than to follow. If Ghost wanted Soap in his bed he'd ask. Soap was happy to oblige when Ghost wanted him.
Ghost actually wanting him was a confusing enough experience. After the first night, he thought it was a one time thing. Men blowing off steam. It kept happening, though, and what a treat it was when Ghost asked Soap to join him. The Ghost that Soap knew on the field was a completely different person than the Ghost he got to see in the bedroom. Work Ghost was cold, stoic, and strong. The Ghost that Soap got to fuck was sensitive and praise-hungry. Soap getting to see this hidden side of him, more than just the side that he showed to the world, was a gift he didn’t dare squander. Soap knew that Ghost valued his privacy and didn’t want Ghost to feel like Soap was expecting sex out of him. Soap may have wanted more, so much more, but he let Ghost set the pace on what they did.
“Ghost, how does the building look?”
“Clear to enter. Some movement on the second floor, I count three hostiles. I can take out two, you’d have to drop the third.”
“Not a problem.”
“Make entry.”
“Yes sir.”
Soap knelt hidden several meters from the target building. He and Ghost had been sent into Al Mazrah to recover vital information on AQ movements. Ghost lay far above him, watching him through his scope, rifle at the ready. The sun blazed high in the sky, an endless expanse of cloudless blue. Insects buzzed noisily around Soap and it took everything in him to not bat them away. He was deep in the marshlands. Buildings leaned half sunken into the water, tall green grasses a counterpoint to the brown, sandy expanse of desert that surrounded it. Soap was more miserable than normal, heat and humidity making him a sticky, sweaty mess. The sooner he breached this building, the sooner they could call for exfil and get the fuck out of here. He had laid charges around the building just in case things went south. Better the information didn’t exist at all if they couldn’t retrieve it.
Soap crawled to the building, grass and mud further making him a mess. He paused at the door, one hand on his rifle. He couldn’t fully trust that there wasn’t a person on the other side. He hadn’t seen anyone, and neither had Ghost, but nothing could be certain until proven with his own eyes.
“Breaching in three, two, one, now.”
Soap entered, silently creeping around the building. This had once been someone’s home, now it was just bullet marked concrete. He worked his way to the stairs. Soap was careful as he climbed, each step calculated. The last thing he wanted was to alert the enemies above him to his presence with an ill-timed squeak of the floor boards.
Soap peered around the corner. Three men, just like Ghost had promised. They stood around the table, speaking to one another, gesturing at the pile of documents spread out before them. He aimed his gun, and spoke to Ghost in a low voice, just enough sound for his throat mic to pick up.
“On your shot.”
A man dropped, then the second, the sound of the shots ringing out as their bodies fell. The second Soap registered the first man dying; he fired his own gun, killing the third. Quick and clean, just how Soap liked.
“Floor secured, Ghost. Great shots as always.”
“Yeah, yeah. Grab the info and get out of there.”
“Can I at least get a ‘good shot’ too?”
“It was just alright, Soap. Could be cleaner.”
“Oh fuck you.”
“Just get the data and get out, I don’t like this. Something feels off.”
Soap moved as fast as he could, grabbing every scrap of paper on the table and stuffing it into a hard case. Maps and what Soap could only presume were plans, both typed and scribbled onto lined paper. He wasn’t paying much attention to what anything said or indicated. That wasn’t his job. His job was “Get in, get out, don’t die.” So far so good.
“Soap! You have enemies inbound. A fuck ton of them, Christ where did they all come from?” Ghost’s voice crackled in his earpiece, a slight, worried edge to the man’s voice.
“Can you drop them?”
“Not all of them, it’s at least ten, fuck.”
Soap stood, holding the case in his hands. They needed to come into this building to get him, how had they been notified of his presence? It must have been the sound of his gun going off, an alarm to any surrounding forces.
“I’ve got an idea, let me know when they’re all in here.”
“Soap, what the fuck are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I’m going to jump out of this here window and blow this whole building sky high.”
“Are you insane? You will kill yourself!” Ghost shouted in his ear.
“Nah, I’ll be fine. Worst possible outcome I’ll be thrown clear.”
“That is not the worst possible outcome!”
"Just be ready to move,"
"Johnny do not-"
"Let me know when they're all in, Ghost, you have a better fucking idea?"
Silence. "Fine."
Soap took the remote out of his vest. He was so glad that he had placed those charges. Nothing a little bit of explosives couldn't fix. He climbed into the window that Ghost had shot through, hand on the trigger. Below him he could hear yelling, could hear the pounding of footsteps as people raced inside the building. Come on, come on, just a little closer.
"Soap, now!"
Soap threw himself out the window and pressed the trigger. Everything exploded into noise. Pain buzzed in his skull, his brain a blinding, high pitched ring. He was hurting, he was alive. Amazing. His face was wet, why? Soap shifted, fuck, he was in the mud again. He tried to climb to his feet, digging around him for the case he’d worked so hard to retrieve. There it was, now where was Ghost?
The roar of an engine shocked him out of his shaken state. Ghost sat astride an ATV, his rifle slung across his back.
“Get on!”
The rapid sound of gunfire rang through the area, bullets spraying at his feet.
“Soap! Get the fuck on!”
Soap climbed onto the vehicle, holding onto Ghost, the man taking the case from Soap and holding it to his chest. Ghost revved the engine, spinning them quickly away. Bullets zinged past their ears as they raced out of the marshlands.
“Where the fuck did you find this?” Soap shouted over the roar of the ATV.
“How is this the important question right now? We need to get the fuck out don’t bitch about the fucking method! Call Nik!”
“Sir, yes sir, Jesus.” Soap called over the radio. “Nikolai? How soon can you get us in the air? We’re coming in hot.”
“Sergeant? Why is the marsh smoking? I can land and have you up in a minute, reach the site.”
“On our way.”
Ghost and Soap rushed through the land, zigzagging through buildings, dodging around enemies the best they could. They heard the rotors of the helicopter as it started to descend. They abandoned the ATV and sprinted on the second the helicopter was close enough for them to enter.
“Get us up, get us up!” Ghost shouted.
“Oh, really, I thought I’d just sit here,” yelled Nikolai.
Soap stood chest heaving. They lived. They fucking lived. He watched as the city below them shrunk, massive structures becoming tiny as the helicopter rose into the air. He couldn’t believe that they’d made it out alive this time, that was insanity. He turned to Ghost - who was leaning up against the wall - wild grin painted on his face.
“We made it, eh, L.t.?”
Ghost nodded, dropping the case he was holding. “Yeah. Fuck.”
Soap watched Ghost sit down. It was like watching a mountain collapse, the sheer bulk of Ghost crumpling in on itself. Soap couldn’t blame him. That mission had been hell. A success, but Jesus Christ if Soap never had to visit Al Mazrah again it would be too soon. Exfil passed in silence, both men too exhausted to speak. Soap looked himself over, mild scrapes and bruises but nothing too concerning. He was more dusty than bloody, Soap brushing rock fragments out of his hair.
Ghost shuffled off the second they landed back at base. He didn’t speak to Soap, didn’t say a word at all. This wasn’t out of character at all, it’s not as if Ghost was chatty. What was out of character was Ghost leaving that case behind. They had gone through all the effort of retrieving the damn thing, why hadn't Ghost taken it with him? Soap moved to grab it and saw smears of blood in Ghost's seat.
He must have gotten hit, he's probably going to medical. Ghost hadn't even said a word to Soap about being injured. Soap didn't realize that he was hurt. No cries of pain, no change in his attitude, not even a flinch the entire flight back. The things adrenaline will do, thought Soap as he picked up the case. Best get this to the captain quickly; Soap wanted to poke his head in to check on Ghost.
He strode his way across the base. It was always so full of activity, men rushing back and forth, constant noise. Soap jogged up the steps to Captain Price's office, bouncing on the balls of his feet until he was called inside.
"Here you are sir, one case full of AQ Intel as promised."
"Well done Soap. Where's Ghost?" Price asked.
"Ah, probably at medical by now. He got hit. Spooky bastard didn't even say anything."
"Medical, okay, wait…probably medical? You didn't see him go in?"
"No sir. I was going to go check in with him after I got this to you."
Price looked at him. Soap couldn't quite figure out the expression. Concern?
"That's likely for the best, go make sure he made it okay."
"Yes sir."
Soap walked away, slight worry building in his gut. Maybe he should have checked in with Ghost first. What if he collapsed or something on the way? Soap reached the infirmary and ducked inside. A mix of occupied and unoccupied beds, Ghost nowhere to be seen. Where was he? Soap approached a nurse, asking if they had seen him or if he'd already been released. They hadn't seen him at all.
Soap was becoming properly worried. Was Ghost hiding away somewhere instead of seeking medical attention? He wouldn't be that stupid, would he? He worked his way over to Ghost's room. Best to check the place that Soap knew he would hide before turning the entire base upside down.
He knocked on the door to Ghost's room. He didn't want to intrude, but he was worried. There had been a concerning amount of blood in that seat.
"Ghost, you in there? L.t.?"
Moments passed in silence before Soap got a response. "I'm fine, Soap."
"I know you're bleeding. Why didn't you go to medical?"
"I'm fine."
Soap stood outside the door, trying to decide what to do. He couldn't very well leave Ghost in whatever state he was in, but it felt so wrong to just barge into Ghost's space uninvited.
"Can I please come in?"
"Johnny I promise I'm-"
"You stubborn bastard just let me check on you," said Soap, more commanding than he probably should have.
"Okay," said Ghost. There wasn't any fight in his tone.
Soap opened the door and the sight inside shocked him. Ghost’s gloves were gone, hands red with his own blood. An IFAK lay open beside him and the supplies inside were a messy scatter on the floor. Ghost sat with his hand pressed to his thigh, blood soaking his pants.
“Christ, Simon, you need to go to medical.”
“No. I’m fine, I can handle it.”
“You’re obviously not handling it, here, I’ll come with you.”
“No!” Ghost yelled, shocking them both. “This isn’t life threatening, I can handle it, it’s just my, fucking, my hand is fucked up, something’s dislocated and it’s too slippery to put back in myself so I can’t stitch myself up.”
“Okay, let me help you at least, can I do that?” Soap approached Ghost with his hands in the air. “Let me see your hand.”
Ghost held out a shaking blood covered hand. Two of his fingers were splayed out at an awkward angle. Soap looked them over before digging for a rag. He wouldn’t be able to reset them without getting Ghost’s hands clean.
“I’m going to clean you up and set these, okay? Then I’m going to help you the best I can. If I think it’s too serious I’m taking you to medical and I’m not taking no as an answer, got it?”
“F-fine, just do it already.”
Soap wiped off Ghost’s hands, red smears on white cloth. He moved as gently as he could, not wanting to jostle Ghost more than he had to. When Ghost’s hands were dry enough he took the injured one into his own. He readied two finger splints.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Two loud pops echoed through the room as bones moved back into their sockets. Ghost groaned, the smallest of reactions finally escaping him. Soap moved to get the splints onto Ghost’s fingers. Okay, now time to figure out the extent of the damage on Ghost. His mask and pants were wet and dark with his blood. Soap looked over Ghost’s leg first. Something had grazed the outside of Ghost’s thigh, not horribly deep, the way the fabric was absorbing the blood making it look worse than it probably was. Ghost had been trying to squeeze flesh together to do stitches himself and that had made the bleeding worse. The injuries to Ghost’s face and neck worried Soap more. The right side of Ghost’s face was completely soaked, fabric torn away above his ear and along his neck.
“I’m sorry Si, I need to get at your neck and head to bandage you up. You’re bleeding. You don’t have to take the mask completely off, but just let me at the side of your head, please,” said Soap, trying to be gentle and understanding.
Brown eyes met his own. Ghost’s uninjured hand came up to his mask, manipulating it the best he could to keep it on while letting Soap have access to his face. Ghost’s face was a mess of blood under the mask, red and brown, the creases of his skin so apparent. Soap didn’t have the time to ogle the new view of Ghost he had been given. This wasn’t intimacy, this was just medical attention. Not the time, not the place. Soap moved to work on the bullet graze above Ghost’s ear first, if he got that patched up then Ghost could lower the mask again. Wounds exposed, Soap could see that the graze over Ghost’s ear was the primary cause of the bleeding. Not deep, just bloody.
“Okay, this is going to sting.”
Ghost hissed as Soap cleaned the wound with an alcohol wipe. He bandaged the graze the best he could, sealing it with sterile strips.
“Hey, at least your ear is fine, you can keep listening to me bother you,” said Soap, trying to lighten the mood.
Ghost didn’t speak and kept his eyes squeezed firmly shut. Soap worked as quickly as he could. He didn’t want Ghost to be more uncomfortable with the situation than he had to be. He didn’t quite understand how Ghost felt about the mask, but it was important to Ghost; that was all that Soap needed to know. Satisfied with his work he tugged Ghost’s mask down over his face, leaving his neck exposed. This next cut was quicker to patch. He wiped at the blood before laying bandages down.
“Doing okay Simon?”
“I’m fine,” rasped Ghost.
Soap shifted so he could get a look at Ghost’s thigh and was confronted with the sight of a significant tent in Ghost’s pants. Ghost caught him looking, his eyes wide in panic. Soap spoke first, trying to reassure Ghost. Bodies reacted in weird ways, he wasn’t going to be a dick about an ill-timed boner.
"Hey, it’s chill Si, no judgment."
"Johnny, it’s, I'm sorry, I get like this, fuck." Ghost seemed genuinely embarrassed.
“Look, I'm not upset. I can work with this in whatever way you need.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can ignore it. I keep patching you up and we don’t have to talk about it. Or, I can help you out. There’s no wrong answer.”
Ghost was stone-still for an eternal moment. “Help me.”
"Well, be good for me then, Simon. Take off your pants and let me bandage that up."
Ghost shuffled out of his blood soaked pants the best he could, leaving his legs exposed to Soap. Thick thighs smeared red, erection even more apparent with Ghost just in his boxers. The gash on his leg was long and definitely needed stitches. Soap wiped his hands clean before taking the needle in hand.
"Ready? Keep your hands out of my way. Behind your head, that's it."
A gasping shudder went through Ghost at the first press of the needle. Silver metal working through hot flesh. Soap kept an eye on Ghost while he worked. Ghost never broke the position he was in, hands held behind his head, elbows pointed to the sky. Soap watched Ghost's cock twitch in his boxers with every new stitch, a damp spot more and more obvious as time passed.
"I knew you liked a little pain, but it looks like you're having an okay time considering I'm stitching you up."
"Please," said Ghost.
"Please what?"
"Please touch me!" Ghost jerked his hips up to emphasize his point. Soap, however, was only halfway done closing Ghost's wound up.
"Ohh, I see. Well, keep being a good boy for me and I'll think about it. Hold still and maybe I'll reward you when I'm done."
Ghost made a choked off sound and tossed his head back. Soap looked at him and smiled before turning back to his task. When Soap was satisfied with the long line of stitches he'd created he moved to wrap bandages around Ghost's leg. Cotton white against pale scarred skin, the sound of shears cutting fabric the only noise in the room. Soap took Ghost's chin in his hand, tilting his face down. Blown out brown eyes met his own.
"You were very good for me, letting me fix you up. Do you still want me to help you with your last little problem?"
"Please si-Johnny. Please."
"What was that?" Soap's hand drifted down to palm Ghost's cock. "Sir? Do you want to call me sir? I can be sir for you."
"Fuck," croaked Ghost.
Soap slowly stroked Ghost's covered cock, savoring every shudder and sound he drew out of the man. Ghost still hadn't moved his hands from where they were, muscles straining as he fought to keep them there.
"Johnny," he whined.
Soap slapped Ghost's face, the sound ringing out loudly in both their ears.
"Ah ah, what do you call me?"
"Sir!"
"That's better. What are you whining about, I'm touching you, aren't I?"
"More, sir, please more."
Soap moved to slide Ghost's boxers down then paused for a moment. An idea had come to his mind, both out of a desire to not jostle Ghost's injured leg more than necessary and his own increasing desire. He grabbed at the shears and held them open against Ghost's leg. Soap looked up at Ghost, a question on his face. At Ghost's nod he slid the blade under the fabric and cut. He worked slowly, savoring each snick of the shears, each thread cut and ruined. He cut up through one leg then the other, leaving the elastic whole for a moment longer. Soap was salivating at the sight of destroyed fabric hanging off of Ghost. He finally cut them completely off, tugging them away from Ghost and tossing them to the side.
Soap took Ghost's cock in hand, hot and hard under his palm. He stroked him rough and fast. Soap leaned down to spit on Ghost's cock, saliva and precome mixing and shining on his length. Ghost whimpered and looked at Soap with half lidded, teary eyes. The black paint around his eyes was a smudgy mess.
"Need me to take care of you?" Soap taunted. "Poor thing need sir to come and fix you? Need me to do everything for you?"
"Sir, please, h-hurt me."
Ghost begging for pain sent a shudder through Soap. His own cock was painfully tight in his pants but he ignored it. He wrapped a hand around Ghost's bandaged thigh and pressed down hard. Ghost screamed and rut up into Soap's hand.
"You're my good boy, my little painslut, eh?"
"Yes, yes, fuck sir." Ghost was babbling, lost in sweet pain-pleasure.
"You're not that good though, are you? Good boys go to medical when they're hurt. Stupid Simon, trying to stitch yourself up alone. I fixed you this time. Now tell me what you're going to do next time."
"Sir…"
"Tell me or you don't get to cum," said Soap, stopping his movements entirely.
"Fuck, wait, please! I'll go to medical, I'll go! Don't stop, don't stop!" Ghost begged.
"That's what I wanted to hear," said Soap. "You're so pathetic like this. Sitting there doing nothing but whining, you're just a little pillow princess aren't you?"
Ghost cried and begged and Soap loved every second of it. This man, this giant, efficient, near mythical killer was reduced to Please and Sir and More under his hands. The sight was addicting. Precome running down Soap's hand, white bandages staining red, tears in those warm brown eyes. Ghost was begging, begging for Soap to give him more and more pain and who was Soap to deny him? That cruel sadistic streak Soap had was coming out in full, and wasn't it a joy for it to be met with his Ghost pleading for more. Little masochist, Soap thought.
"Please," said Ghost, his voice ragged and breaking.
"Fuck, you're so useless and needy. Such a bitch for me."
"Fuck, I'm going to cum, please please please, I'll be good. Let me cum, sir, let me cum, please!"
Soap pressed his hand down hard into Ghost's thigh, digging his fingers into the stitches he just made.
"Cum for me, Simon."
Ghost came with a scream, cum shooting up over his chest, making a further mess of his shirt. Pearly white spend and dark red blood. Soap jacked him off through his orgasm, past the point of climax and directly into overstimulation. The little bitch wanted pain, let him have all of it. Ghost thrashed under him, large hands finally coming down to push at him. Soap took the hint and backed off to let Ghost breathe. Chest heaving Ghost looked up at Soap.
"Johnny, sir, please cum on my face."
Soap cursed, breathless, and stood. He released himself from his pants as quickly as he could. Ghost asking Soap to mark him up had him so close already. Pretty eyes looked up at him behind the grinning skull face. Soap spat in his hand before jacking himself off. His other hand came to rest on top of Ghost’s head. Black fabric bunched up underneath his fingers. He wouldn’t dare pull it off, he only wanted to hold onto Ghost. Pleasure built and built in Soap as he climbed ever higher to his climax.
“Gonna ruin your mask Simon, you want that?”
“Please, please!”
Soap came with a groan, his cum spurting over Ghost’s face. White painting black fabric and white hard plate. Soap dragged his cock over Ghost’s covered mouth, spreading the last of his cum where Ghost could taste it.
“Good boy, Simon. Good fucking boy.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Here, let me get that leg wrapped up in plastic for you. You should shower.”
“Are you going to leave?” Ghost asked?
“Do you want me to leave?” Soap didn’t think he would be asked to go; Ghost tended to be very clingy after sex.
“No.”
“Then let me help you so you can go get cleaned up.”
Soap worked quickly to get Ghost wrapped up. Ghost kept a hand on him at all times. He wasn’t going anywhere, he just needed Ghost to be clean again, to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt himself any further.
“Alright, watertight. Go shower. I’ll wait for you.”
Soap wouldn’t follow Ghost in, as much as he wanted to. He had definitely seen enough of Ghost’s face today, more than he probably deserved. He wouldn’t force Ghost to show more. Showering together would be too intimate. Ghost chose the boundaries, not Soap. Ghost stood there, silent and unmoving. The look in his eyes was pensive.
“But what if I want you to come with me?” Ghost said, quiet as the grave.
Soap wasn’t quite sure how to react to that. “You planning on waterboarding yourself in that mask, Si? Get going.”
Ghost clenched his fists tight before reaching up and pulling the mask off in one smooth motion.
“Johnny, please.”
Soap stood in shock. Ghost stood before him, uncovered and unmasked. He’s fucking beautiful. Pouty scarred lips and a nose that had been broken and set once before. Hard features to match a war hardened man. What had made Ghost change his mind?
“Simon…”
“I want you to shower with me. I want you to see me and stay with me.”
“I can do that, Si.”
Soap followed Ghost into the bathroom. He let Ghost turn on the water and get in first. Soap stripped out of his dusty clothes, leaving them a bunched up mess on the floor. Soap stepped in behind Ghost. The water was warmer than he liked but he could deal with it without complaint. He was getting to see Ghost, all of Ghost for the first time, the temperature was the least of his concerns. Ghost washed himself off slowly. Red brown water swirled around their feet.
“You okay?” Soap asked. “Are you hurting too terribly?”
“No. I’ll really be fine, this is nothing.”
“Still, I don't want my favorite Lieutenant out of commission.”
“And my favorite Sergeant? Did you survive?”
“Of course! See, not a scratch on me.”
“Then what the fuck do you call this?” Ghost poked at the scrapes that covered Soap’s arms.
“Minor abrasions!”
“You’re fucking stupid.”
Ghost leaned up against Soap, blocking most of the spray. His arms came around Soap’s waist, holding him tightly while his face found a hiding place in Soap’s neck. Soap reciprocated, wrapping his arms around Ghost’s shoulders, a hand tracing up and down Ghost’s broad back. They stumbled out of the shower eventually, when the hot water started to run cold. Ghost gently patted himself off, trying to not stress his injuries further. Soap watched Ghost settle on the bed, the man reached out and grabbed at Soap. Soap climbed in with him, settling on the uninjured side. Ghost clung tight to him, as if Soap would disappear if he let even an inch of Soap go.
“Hey Si,”
“What?”
“You’re pretty.”
“I told you I was. Can I, fuck. Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Are we…exclusive?”
Soap wasn’t quite sure where this conversation was going. “Yeah. At least to me, I don’t want anyone else. I haven’t been with anyone but you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Neither have I.” Silence fell between them until Ghost broke it again. “I trust you. Can we keep being exclusive?”
“Of course Si. I’d want that. I trust you too.”
They didn’t speak again for the night. They didn’t need to. Ghost had Soap and Soap had Ghost. To be in each other’s presence was all they desired.