Just here for gay army dudes

"Careful, Soap. You’re bleeding." Ghost remarked, his voice steady but with a tension that betrayed his concern. He moved quickly, catching Soap’s arm to help him steady himself. Soap looked down at his side and thigh, where blood was beginning to seep through his fingers, pooling against his palm. His lips curled into a faint smirk despite the pain. "Oh, almost couldn’t tell." He quipped, his voice lighter than the situation warranted.

"Don’t be a smartass." Ghost muttered, his tone sharp as he guided Soap to sit against the nearest surface. "Stay still."

"Alright, alright." The sergeant murmured, letting out a quiet grunt as he leaned back, his breathing uneven. Ghost was already pulling at his gear, yanking out a knife with one hand while the other worked to assess the wound. "I’m cutting your trousers to get to the wound." He warned, his movements brisk, focused. The scot couldn’t help himself, even now. A flicker of mischief sparked in his eyes. "Wanna get into my pants so badly?" Simon didn’t look up, his tone flat and unamused. "We’re on a mission, Johnny, not a date."

"Wouldn’t mind one of those someday." Soap replied, his smirk fading into a softer smile, his voice quieter now, almost wistful. The lieutenant froze for the briefest of moments before resuming his work, his gloved hands steady but quick. "Right now, I’m more concerned with keeping you alive."

"Fair enough." Soap muttered, his grin slipping as the pain began to sink deeper. Still, he couldn’t let the moment go. "So… If I stay alive, can I get a date with you once this is over?” Ghost’s hands stilled for a moment before he answered, his voice low but firm. "What if I said yes?" The reply took the scotsman by surprise and for a moment, the pain seemed to fade as a crooked grin spread across his face. "That’d be… Good motivation to pull through, then."

"Good." Ghost replied, his tone clipped, though something softer lingered beneath it. "Because you’ll need to survive this mission first. Deal?" Soap nodded weakly, his energy waning as his breathing grew shallower. "Deal." He murmured, but the word was faint, barely audible. His head dipped slightly, body slumping as the exhaustion began to take hold.

"Stay with me." The older man barked, his voice sharper now, edged with something close to panic. "Focus, Johnny. Don’t you dare pass out on me." Soap’s eyelids fluttered, his voice slurring as he mumbled. "I’m… trying, L.T…" But his head tilted to the side, his strength slipping further away. It all went so fast now.

Ghost’s mind raced as he worked, his hands moving with desperate precision to stop the bleeding. "Do you remember the mission on the border?" He said suddenly, his voice louder, almost frantic as he tried to keep Johnny engaged. Awake. Alive. "The one where you said you saved my ass?" A faint chuckle escaped his sergeants lips, though it was barely more than a breath. "’Course I do… I did save yer ass there."

"You sure we didn’t save each other?" Ghost countered, his tone softening as he tried to mask the growing fear in his chest. The younger one gave the barest nod, his lips twitching into a smile. "Aye… Ye might be richt…" His voice trailed off, head sagging further as his body grew heavier.

"Don’t fall asleep on me!" Simon growled, the command cracking under the weight of his own emotions. His gloves were slick with blood now, grip tightening as he pressed harder against the wound. "I need you, Johnny."

Soap’s head lolled, his voice barely a whisper now. "Will… do… L.T…" The words were faint, and Ghost had to strain to hear them. His chest clenched as he realized how quickly Soap was fading. "Stay with me." Ghost pleaded, his tone shifting to something raw, vulnerable. "We’re not done yet. There’s still a mission to finish… And a date to plan."

But he didn’t respond, his silence deafening. Ghost pressed his forehead briefly to Soap’s, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you remember that bar after the border mission?" He asked, his words rushing out as if sheer force could bring Soap back. "The one with that awful country music?" His hands trembled as he worked to stop the bleeding, but his voice pressed on. "You were dancing on the table like a bloody idiot." A faint, bitter laugh slipped out. “Not a care in the world. That was the moment I realized… I think that was when I fell in love with you."

The words hung in the air, unbidden and raw, his chest tightening as Soap remained silent. "Johnny, you have to help me out here." His voice was breaking as tears threatened to spill. "You can’t leave me now. Not after this. Not when I’ve finally said it."

He pressed harder, his composure crumbling with every passing second. "Stay with me, Johnny." He whispered. "Please… Stay with me." Ghost pleaded again, his voice trembling, breaking under the weight of desperation. His blood-slicked gloves slipping as he tried to stop the flow, tried to undo the inevitable. But there was no response, no faint quip, no weak grin. Only the shallow rise and fall of Soap's chest, slowing with each passing moment. Every passing second stretched unbearably long, a cruel countdown that Ghost had no way to stop.

"Johnny, please." Simon choked out, the words ragged, raw. "You can’t go. You can’t-" His voice caught, the lump in his throat choking him silent for a moment. He swallowed hard, fighting against the tears burning at the corners of his eyes. "You’re the reason I’m still here. Don’t you get that? You’re the only reason I’ve held on this long."

Simon’s shoulders trembled as he leaned closer, the mask between them an unwelcome barrier. "You’re everything." He murmured, his voice barely audible, shaking with the weight of truths he’d never dared to say. "You’re the sun, Johnny. You’re the warmth I didn’t think I’d ever feel again. You remind me I’m alive." He sucked in a shaky breath, his composure crumbling as he kept talking, spilling every thought as though his words alone could keep Soap tethered to him. "You’ve always been the one who made me feel like I could be more than… this. More than the mask. More than the shadow. You saw me, Johnny. And somehow, you still stayed."

The sergeant’s breathing hitched, a faint, shallow gasp and Ghost froze. His eyes locked on Soap’s face, searching for a flicker of something, anything, to tell him it wasn’t too late. But nothing came. "No, no, no!" Ghost muttered, shaking his head as though he could will reality into something else. His hands gripped Soap’s shoulders now, as if holding him tighter could keep him here. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to leave me. I can’t… I can’t do this without you. You’re the reason I know I’m still capable of feeling anything at all."

But John MacTavish didn’t answer. His lips, so often curled into that crooked, infuriatingly charming grin, were still. His eyes, always bright, always alive with some half-formed joke or spark of mischief, stared blankly into the void. Ghost sat frozen, unable to look away, unable to process the cruel finality of what lay before him. A hollow ache spread through his chest, vast and unrelenting, consuming every inch of him. The world dimmed, as though the very light had been flicked out.

"I told myself I didn’t need anyone." The lieutenant whispered, his voice broken and barely audible. "Told myself it was better that way. And then you came along, all light and warmth and bloody sunshine. You wormed your way in, Johnny. You made me feel alive. You made me feel human again." He exhaled shakily, his hands still resting against stiff shoulders, the blood on his gloves smearing like a cruel signature of his failure. "You were my reason." He admitted, his voice cracking as tears spilled freely now, streaking beneath his mask. "You were my reason to keep going. And now you’re gone."

The silence was deafening, a void that swallowed everything, leaving only the cold behind. Ghost stayed like that for a long time, his head bowed, his body hunched over Johnny’s. The mask that had always been his shield felt suffocating now, as if it were sealing him away from the one person who had ever truly seen him.

Finally, his trembling hands lowered Soap gently to the ground, his movements slow, deliberate, as though rushing would break him entirely. Ghost sat back on his heels, staring down at the lifeless form, the stillness unbearable. "I love you, Johnny…" The words falling into the emptiness between them. "And I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you…”

He sat there, silent and still, for what felt like hours before he finally forced himself to his feet. His knees wavered, his body heavy with exhaustion and guilt. There was a mission to finish. There was always another mission.

"A bloody flirt, that’s what you are." Ghost shook his head, a smirk hidden away behind his mask. The scot laughed heartily, bumping his shoulder against the other. Not minding it any attention. He was kind of used to bodily contact with Ghost, after all their missions together. It felt natural, comfortable. On both sides. "Could teach ya somethin here 'n there. Push yer luck with the lasses.”

The taller man chuckled lowly, his gaze intense as he studied Soap. He raised a brow, a flicker of amusement sparking in his eyes. "Is that so?" He mused. "Should I take notes, or do you prefer a more hands-on approach, Johnny?”

Soap smirked, a snicker rolling through his body. "Seriously though, Si... You never let anyone close. I'm worried about you." His voice got quieter as his tone got serious. Simon’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing at those words. He hated it when the sergeant expressed concern for him. It made him feel weak. Vulnerable. "I don't need your worry, Soap. I'm fine." He muttered, his voice gruff and defensive.

Johnny simply looked at him, staying quiet but not less observant of the building tension. The silence between them was deafening. Ghost could feel Soap's eyes on him, studying him, analyzing his every move. It made his skin crawl. He didn't like being seen, being understood, being exposed. Normally wasn’t one to simply back out of situations. But here he was. Staring up at the ceiling, avoiding that sky blue gaze.

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke up, his voice quieter than before. "You don't understand, Johnny.”

"Then explain it to me... I like to think I'm your best mate. So you can trust me. Not just on the battlefield." The sergeant smiled, brows furrowed. It was a funny display and Ghost's expression softened marginally at his words. He closed his eyes, letting out a weary sigh. He knew Soap was right. He trusted him more than he trusted himself, sometimes. When he opened his eyes again they were met with an intense and searching gaze.

"It's...complicated." The lieutenant grumbled, his voice sounding tired.

"I'm sure I can follow."

Ghost exhaled slowly, his eyes focused on a spot on the wall. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a bit. "I don't let people in, Johnny. Because I can't afford to. Not in this job." He paused, his voice getting quieter. "We lose people constantly. I've lost people...people I cared about. Letting someone in means letting yourself care about them. And when you care about someone in this line of work...it's a liability. It distracts you. Leaves you open to weakness.”

It made sense, of course it did. Soap battled those thoughts way more often than he'd like to admit too. But in the long run, it was a mistake. After all, one cares about their teammates too, no? He shifted a little. "...You let me in.”

Simon's gaze snapped to the scot at his words, his expression flickering with a hint of surprise. As if that was something he had to point out. "That's...different." He muttered, voice growing quieter. His eyes trailed over Johnny's face, taking in his features, his expression, his eyes, the way his eyebrows furrowed together, the scar on one of them. He was silent for a moment, wrestling with his thoughts, his feelings. Then he spoke again, his voice a near whisper. "You're the exception, Johnny.”

"Am I now?”

"You know you are."

The taller man shifted in his position again. The proximity was both comforting and overwhelming at the same time. He could feel the warmth radiating off Soap, spreading through his body wherever they touched.

"No one else gets under my skin like you do. No one else understands me like you do. It's...dangerous.”

"Dangerous for who?" Soap was quick to ask back. A lopsided grin playing on his lips, not quite grasping the emotions this conversation held for Simon. What it meant for him to admit these things. He was so used to being close to the lieutenant that sometimes he forgot just how isolated the man usually kept himself. That he barely exchanged words with most, let alone hold a conversation. That hands would be broken so fast if anyone just so much as tried to touch the soldier with the skull mask. And then there was him.

Whiskey brown eyes stared at Soap. Ghost felt exposed, vulnerable. He hated it. Every single second. "For both of us, Johnny." He muttered, his voice a rough growl. "You think I don't have nightmares about losing you out there, one day? About seeing you get shot, or blown to bits, or captured and tortured?" A shaky breath was exhaled. "I care about you. More than I should."

A pause.

"You make me weak, Johnny.”

"And you make me strong." The stubborn sergeant flatly replied, standing his ground, looking into the eyes behind the mask. Eyes searching Soap’s face, accompanied by a bitter chuckle. "You think so? You're the one who's always charging into danger, throwing caution to the wind. You have no regard for your own safety. You're reckless and stubborn and careless." And loyal, creative, funny, a sight for sore eyes… His mind silently added the thoughts he would never dare to voice. Bloody hell, he could list a thousand things more.

Soap chuckled lowly. "I can afford to do that because I know yer always got my back..." He averted his gaze. "And I need to get back to you at the end of the day. That's outta the question.”

Simon's expression softened at the sergeant's words. The warmth now also spread through his chest. He reached out, grabbing Soap's chin and forcing his eyes back up at him. "You're bloody suicidal, Johnny. That's my job." His tone was a mix of frustration and fondness.

The scotsman smirked. It was his dumb, naive, lopsided grin that made something in Ghost stir every time. "As if I'll let you have all the fun alone.”

Ghost exhaled a low growl, a mixture of annoyance and amusement. He had half a mind to shake Soap by his shoulders, knock some sense into him. But there was something about that stupid grin that made his heart flutter. He hated it. "You're impossible."

"Been called worse before." The grin was just widening. Especially as he leaned a bit closer to the other man. His eyes studying the mask. Ghost tensed slightly as Soap leaned closer, his heart skipping a beat. The scent of him filling his nostrils. He wanted to pull away, to maintain his usual aloof demeanor, but he found himself frozen in place. His grip on Soap's chin loosening, finger tracing along his bottom lip. "You're playing with fire, Johnny." He muttered.

At that, the sergeant laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Ye saw me blowin up more stuff than fireworks going off at new years. Yer really think I'd be afraid of some heat?”

"One day that fire's gonna burn you alive." Simon exhaled a rough breath, his knuckles grazing against Soap's jawline.

"As long as that fire is called Simon Riley..." The shorter man whispered, looking up at Ghost through half lidded eyes, voice quiet. Almost... Vulnerable.

Ghost's heart was on the verge of just combusting, eyes snapping to the scot, his breath hitching in his throat. He felt his walls crumble, his carefully guarded facade slipping away. Hearing Soap say his name like that, so soft and earnest… It shook him to his core. Swallowing hard, his eyes searched Soap's face, looking for any hint of mockery or jest. But he saw nothing but vulnerability, a rawness in Soap's expression that mirrored his own.

"Johnny..." He whispered, his voice ragged. "You can't say things like that. Not when I'm trying to keep myself together."

He paused, his thumb brushing over Soap's lip.

"Why ye have to be so stubborn?" Johnny leaned closer to him, his lips parting slightly when the thumb brushed over them once more.

"I'm not the stubborn one here. You're the one who never backs down, the one who never listens. Always charging into danger like a bloody madman."

"So you saying this time the danger's you?"

Ghost huffed out a soft, gruff chuckle. He couldn't deny the truth in Soap's words. He was dangerous, a ticking time bomb, a man consumed by his own inner demons. "Yeah, Johnny. Sometimes I think you're safer out there in the field than you are with me."

He paused, his voice quieter now.

"You make me lose control. You make me want things I shouldn't want."

The sergeant didn't back down. His expression getting softer. "Such as?" The question was barely above a whisper.

The lieutenant felt his resolve crumbling further under the others' gaze. He could feel himself getting pulled in, drawn to Soap like a moth to a flame. He let out a ragged breath, his pulse quickening in his ears. "Things I could never have, Johnny."

He paused, his eyes flicking down to Soap's lips for a split second.

"Things I don't deserve."

"And who decided on that bullshit?"

A bitter chuckle rumbled in his chest. "You think I don't know I'm a mess? That I'm damaged goods? I'm not exactly the kind of person you bring home to mum and dad." His voice growing rougher as he went on. "I've done things, been through things… I've got scars, both inside and out that would scare the livin' daylights out of anyone."

"...That's not the Simon I see." The scotsman spoke up. "While those things are a part of you, they don't define you. That's not all there is to you. Despite what you think of yourself..." Looking down at the space between them, his hand found the others. Fingers delicately brushing over the back of the glove.

"...Loving you is easy."

Ghost felt his chest tightening. He felt raw, vulnerable, exposed. No one had ever seen him like this, had ever looked past his gruff exterior and seen the mess underneath. Not like that. He wanted to argue, to push Soap away, to protect himself from the vulnerability. But he couldn't. Johnny was like a drug and he was hopelessly addicted.

"You're a bloody fool, Soap."

Soap chuckled softly, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and affection. His thumb tracing comforting circles on Ghost's hand. "Maybe I am." He admitted. "But I've never been one to back down from a challenge, especially when it comes to you, Si. I'd rather be a fool for you than anyone else." His gaze held steady on Simon's masked face, unwavering in its sincerity. Ghost met that gaze, the intensity of their connection palpable in the quiet space between them.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Johnny." The taller man warned softly, though the corners of his mouth tugged upward in a faint, hesitant smile.