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Simon Riley was a cursed man; Ghost was his salvation. Constant rumors surrounded him as he purposefully remained an enigma to anyone who wasn't Price and Laswell. They knew the real him, after all.
A man cursed to live a life of melancholy, surrounded by death and smoke wafting in the air called for a lonely life, but it was one he was content to live with. That was until he met fucking John “Soap” MacTavish.
The firecracker of a man lit the spark in his soul that died alongside his family. His annoyance with the way Soap talked, breathed, walked — hell — even the way he shot his gun, twinged at his patience. The constant blabbering in Scottish dialect as they faced life or death wasn't the perfect idea of a good time. But respect was inevitable as Soap proved his skills with each task along the way. His sniping was excellent, and when it came down to it, he followed directions like a model soldier. Granted, Soap wasn't one to fall in line easily, always putting up a fight like the spitfire he was. Endearing, yes, but as they're getting shot at? Terrifying. Eventually, he didn't mind how Soap talked, breathed, walked, and shot his gun. The light that flickered in his eyes at each explosion caressed his heart. He was beautiful.
It didn't take long for Ghost to associate the word “his” with Johnny.
The implications of that chilled him to the core. Ghost never thought he would feel the same fear as when he ran home to protect his family again. The bone-chilling thought of the people he loved so much it hurt being hurt…it was enough to cripple him. Being in the constant line of fire wasn't helping.
Gost never fully trusted Graves, but having his Shadows attack Soap and actually land a shot messed with his head more than he would have liked to admit. Perhaps that's why he didn't pursue him. Ghost, no, Simon didn't want to see another body under the Christmas tree. So when he heard Johnny’s ragged voice calling out for him, relief filled his very being as he squatted in the church.
And if he felt both a twinge of pride for having his name be the one called for and a pull in his stomach for the voice filtering in his ear, no one has to know.
Besides, that wasn't important. What mattered was making it safely out of the city and to Alejandro’s safe house. He didn't know what happened to Alejandro or Rudy, but reconvening there was the best course of action. But first, Johnny has to make it to the Church in one piece; he would handle the rest. His sergeant has to make it back to him alive.
If there was one thing to say about Johnny, it was that he ran his mouth like a runaway train. Really, it was cute how he kept Ghost in the loop of what he was up to. It also served as a good distraction from the looming death that circles them. Ghost knew his dry sense of humor wasn't for everyone, but he still found himself cracking jokes to lighten the mood. Johnny’s exasperated responses filled his heart, so much so that he muted his own mic to give a light chuckle. Can't have his crush — and boy does it feel weird to say that — knowing he has feelings.
Ghost has a reputation to uphold, after all.
As they drove out to the safe house, Ghost tried his best to focus on the road and not the man beside him.
“We made it, LT,” echoed through his head. Fuck, he had it bad. That coy smirk and quick shot at the stray Shadow agitated the butterflies in his stomach.
Those blue eyes were gazing at his head, which didn’t help him at all. “You alright, LT?” Johnny said, concern dripping in his voice.
Ghost simply grunted. “You have a gunshot wound, Johnny. I’m not the one you should be worried about.”
“Aye, that I do, but you’re gripping the wheel tight, sir!” Oh, he hadn’t noticed. Subtly relaxing his grip, he sighed and leaned back slightly. Obviously satisfied, Johnny chirped, “That’s better. Now that I have your attention, where are we heading? I doubt there are many places we can run out here.”
“Stop talking, you're injured. Save your energy,” Ghost barked out. The man laughed, but followed orders anyway.
It didn’t last long, however, as Johnny went to open his mouth again. “Still doesn’t answer my question. You might be the Ghost, but you’re not invincible either…” Ghost could tell by the way his voice wavered out that the stimulant was steadily wearing off. Ghost already felt guilty for leaving him in unfamiliar territory; he had to get them to the safe house, fast.
“Doesn’t matter,” hesitantly, he placed his hand on Johnny’s back. “We’ll get you medical attention soon. Just don’t strain yourself,” he reassured. He could tell it did the trick as Johnny silently settled in his seat and peered out at the open air whizzing past.
Following the coordinates given, they made it to a nondescript building. “Where are we?”
“Alejandro’s safe-house,” he answered. “Gave me the location just in case.” They both got out of the car, stumbling to the building.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” Johnny whined.
“It was need to know.”
“What if I needed to know-” Ghost quickly shushed him. The faster they got inside, the better. It doesn’t help that they had to bypass a pressure plate. Damn, Alejandro’s smart. Can't be too safe around these parts.
Rudy waiting for them was a welcomed surprise. Soap being convinced that waiting for him isn’t something Ghost would do, however, wasn’t. That one hurt a bit. He wasn’t kidding when he said, 'No one fights alone.' He huffed in agitation at the mere thought of not waiting. He would've waited in that church for hours, days, a millennium. Even if the universe imploded in on itself and he was a mere soul traversing the universe, still, he would have waited; seeing Johnny alive was his only wish.
His agitation showed through as he pushed Soap down on the small bed in a spare room that Rudy oh-so-graciously directed them to. The man winced in pain. “Damn, what’s got your panties in a twist?”
Ghost decided to ignore that comment with a shake of his head. He had more important things to take care of. “Shirt. Off,” he ordered softly.
“Take me to dinner first, why don’t you?” Soap tutted. And would you look at that: chiseled abs riddled with small scars here and there and light chest hair that he knows for sure is soft to the touch… He had it bad.
When was the last time Simon felt this way? He couldn’t remember. Simon never let himself feel attraction to begin with, too scared to let himself feel in case his sperm donor of a father ever found out. Last time he expressed any “soft” feeling in front of him, said man stamped it out swiftly. With Ghost, well, Ghost isn’t supposed to feel anything but the rage of war, like the model soldier he is. This was new to every part of him.
Johnny caught the slight pause and gave a pained smirk, “Like what you see, LT?” Quickly moving to grab a pair of tweezers, Ghost made sure to be slightly rougher than he probably should of. Johnny winced, “Ach, fine, you win, you emotionless prick.”
Ghost huffed lightly, “You're a soldier, this should be nothing to you,” but he softened his ministrations anyway. Sue him. “Need a cloth?” Ghost was used to performing minor medical attention to himself on his solo missions. It’s a different experience grappling with a bullet lodged in you all by your lonesome. Shame is left at the door, and the urgency to get the damn bullet out takes top priority. He wouldn’t blame Johnny for needing something to bite down on, but he knew the other man would never ask for such liberties himself.
Johnny quickly glanced at him and back at the wall. “I’m fine, just take the damn thing out.”
“You sure?”
“Affirmative.”
Ghost let a beat pass before going in with the tweezers and digging his way into the other man’s shoulder. Pained whimpers ripped from his lips with the audible grinding of teeth. He’s gonna be feeling that for a while. Thankfully, the bullet didn’t split and was able to be removed in one go. Ghost swears Johnny looked a bit paler than usual. Placing the bullet to the side, Ghist went for the needle and thread to get the wound closed. “This should be a pinch.” He said, attempting to soothe the other.
Each stitch passed without any hiccups, and eventually, they were left in silence as Ghost packed up everything. He could feel Johnny’s calculated gaze. “Need something, Sargent?”
He huffed, “Nah, I just…” he turned away.
“Spit it out.”
Johnny glanced away for a brief second before making eye contact. “Thank you! For…you know, waiting for me. Honestly, I didn’t think I was gonna make it,” he chuckled lightly and leaned back to lie in the bed properly. “Maybe that’s why I kept badgering you on coms. Needed something to distract me from everything.”
There was a long pause of silence. Truly, Ghost didn’t know what to think, let alone say. He decided on “…any time.” Here was a soft pat on the bed.
“Come lie with me. Pretty lonely down here.” Of course he is. Ghost would humor him for a little while. Lying down, he committed himself to remembering the feeling of a solid warmth by his side in such a domestic way. “Now tell me, why did you really wait for me?”
Confused, he turned to look at the man and was faced with the most beautiful eyes staring at him. “Losing your memory already?” Johnny huffed lightly, but held his gaze all the same.
“I think I know the real reason. We both do…” A calloused hand came up to caress his masked face the slightest bit. It gave him a chance to pull away, establish boundaries, but he just froze. Such a soft touch was almost foreign to him. It scared him to know how much he craved more. Johnny smiled, “Yeah, we both know, Ghost—“
“Simon.”
Johnny’s eyes widened a fraction, and his dazzling smile grew bigger. “Simon. Always took you for a Sheldon.”
Ghos—Simon surprised himself. It’s amazing how easily Johnny breaks down his wall with a simple smile. He needed more. He craved it. He lifted his hand to replicate the hand in his face and smiled, even though no one could see. “Shut up, Johnny…”
He could get used to this, soft feeling. Simon made sure to check for Johnny more than usual, needing to know the man who tamed his cold heart was okay. As long as Johnny was there, he didn’t have to fight alone.
They sat in each other's silence, enjoying each other, until they were forced to get up. They couldn’t stay still for long anyway. Alejandro and Los Vaqueros need saving.