#vampfics

Ghost is usually very attentive during mission discussions and debriefs. He’s one of the only soldiers that regularly pays proper attention, no matter how exhausted or disinterested he is.

But, for some reason, he just can’t focus.

Ghost shifts slightly in his seat, letting out a faint sigh. He’s trying, really, he is: but no matter how hard he stares at Price’s face he just can’t bring himself to hear the words he’s saying. It feels like his head is made of clouds.

Beside him, sitting in the chair to his left, Soap notices the subtle wiggle and raises an eyebrow. Ghost never fidgets during debriefs, never. Soap shifts his attention from the thread he’s pulling at on his vest to the other soldier, and it doesn’t take a genius to see that he’s not a hundred percent present in the room. Ghost is tapping his fingertips very gently against the table, and as he shifts he leans back in his chair and stretches his legs out.

Gaz notices too, seeing Ghost shift in his peripheral. He glances at him briefly, taking a mental note, and a faint smirk crawls across his lips before he looks back to the Captain.

It’s kind of amusing, watching him try to be inconspicuous about his boredom.

Ghost is almost entirely zoned out, his eyes slightly glassy and focused on Price, when a nudge against his ribs makes him nearly jump out of his skin. It’s so sudden that Price stops mid-word and stares at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Alright then, Simon?” He asks, his voice warm with a hint of curiosity.

Ghost nods, shifting a bit. “Yeah, sir,” he mumbles, nodding to Price. “Just had an itch.”

Price raises his eyebrows. He isn’t fully convinced by Ghost’s excuse, but he lets it slide for the moment and returns to his debrief. The moment Price’s attention leaves him Ghost shoots a heavy glare at Soap, whose hand is hovering in the space between their chairs. Soap only grins back at him, mischief dancing in his eyes.

That can’t be good.

Ghost tries to ignore it, but he can see Soap’s hand out of his peripherals. Soap’s fingertips twitch, and after a second he wriggles his fingers teasingly next to Ghost’s side. Ghost feels an embarrassing warmth rise to his cheeks and he turns his head away to put Soap out of his line of sight, suddenly very grateful for his mask.

Soap isn’t about to let it go, though. If Ghost is bored, he won’t be for long.

After a moment’s hesitation Ghost feels a set of fingers settle on his side and he twitches, his heart leaping into his throat. He tilts his head to glare at Soap again, but the teasing grin on his teammate’s face is enough to make his face burn and he turns away again.

Soap doesn’t heed his warnings. Ghost flinches again as he feels Soap’s fingertips press into his side lightly, into the exposed soft spot below the strap of his tactical vest. He bites his lip and inhales sharply, his back arching slightly away from the touch. God, he’s going to kill Soap after this debrief.

Soap’s fingertips trail up his side, agonizingly slowly, and Ghost’s heart flutters. A smile curls at the edges of his lips and he ducks his head slightly, curling his hands into fists on the table. Spurred on by the response, Soap’s hand begins to explore, creeping down his side towards his hip and prodding into the soft skin there. Ghost nearly chokes, wanting to slam his head into the table.

By now, Gaz has noticed the shenanigans occurring across the table. He grins, much less subtly than Soap, glancing at the Scotsman briefly. They make eye contact and before Ghost can say anything Gaz shifts and he feels his leg hook around his. Panic leaps into his throat as Gaz reaches down, his hand creeping from Ghost’s shin up to his knee, curling around it to trace gentle circles behind his knee. Ghost’s leg jerks, nearly smacking his knee against the underside of the table.

Christ, Ghost can’t keep this up for long. He can feel the warm static of giggles burning in his chest, threatening to spill up his throat and out from his lips. He’s about to raise a hand and excuse himself from the debrief for a minute when Soap’s hand creeps around his side and lands on his lower back, just above the waistline of his pants.

“Ack-!” Ghost lets out a surprisingly high-pitched squawk of laughter, jolting upright and hitting his knee against the underside of the table. The room falls silent, Price’s voice tapering off, and Ghost suddenly feels three sets of eyes on his face.

“Something funny, Simon?” Price asks, raising an eyebrow. He’s trying to sound serious, but Ghost can see the look of amusement and fondness in his face and he’s suddenly pretty sure Price has known all along.

Ghost swallows, Soap’s hand pressed against his back unmoving making him rather nervous. “Sir- HAHaha!”

Gaz’s fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his inner thigh, a few inches above his knee. His leg jerks again and he drops his head to the table, clasping a hand over his mouth and burying his head in his arm. He hears Gaz chuckle, but before he can tell him to fuck himself Price leans over the table with a smile on his face.

Price’s eyes narrow with amusement. “I think I just heard a giggle,” he says, his voice low and dripping with teasing. “Is that right, Lieutenant?”

Ghost doesn’t get the chance to reply. Soap’s fingertips start moving again, scratching lightly at the middle of his lower back, and Gaz wiggles a finger lightly against the inside of Ghost’s thigh. Ghost jolts and a splutter of giggles escape his lips, slightly muffled by his hand. He hears Soap coo, and Gaz leans over the table towards him.

“Come on now, Si,” he purrs, his voice warm and smooth. “Let’s hear that pretty laugh, huh?”

“Would you shut up- snRKHAHahAha!” The moment Ghost opens his mouth Soap’s fingertips dig into his back, eliciting a burst of laughter from the soldier. He arches his back, trying to squirm away from Soap and nearly falling out of his chair in the process. The others laugh, and Ghost feels his cheeks burn. “FuhUhuck- stahAHAP!”

After a few seconds Price lifts a hand, and Soap and Gaz freeze.

“Alright, enough,” he says, surprisingly warmly considering the interruption. “We can finish this debrief tonight.”

Price glances at Ghost, who’s blushing furiously behind his mask, and smirks. “I think we need some time to regroup.”

Hesitantly Soap withdraws his hand, and Gaz lets Ghost’s leg drop with a dramatic huff. Ghost doesn’t even move: he just buries his head in his arms, his shoulders twitching with leftover giggles as he tries to catch his breath.

Price looks at Ghost with a warm smile. “Alright, Simon?”

After a second, Ghost mumbles a reply.

“Mmhm.”