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One day into mandatory leave and Ghost is already wanting to be back where he belongs; HQ, the field, anywhere but his little apartment in Manchester. He hates the uncertainty of the free time he is given during those days, and there is nothing he wants more than to have some of his routine back.
When Soap calls him at the wee hours in the morning, asking if he wanted to visit him in Glasgow during said days, he doesn't hesitate to take his duffel bag and head towards the train station. A little change never hurt anybody, so he goes for it; plus, Soap is part of his routine. Maybe a familiar face can help ease his twitchy hands and busy mind, if only to distract him.
Though something he was not expecting during said visit was lying naked in a bed, with a sleepy and equally naked Soap beside him.
MAY 1ST, 2023 — 03:48 AM.
Ghost sighs heavily as he sits up on his bed, unable to fall asleep; he should've considered staying in a cheap hotel or maybe even at HQ, but he thought it'd be appropriate to get out of the base every once in a while. Of course, he didn't consider the fact that he'd be modifying his routine a little bit too much at once, so falling asleep was now almost impossible to do. He tried cough syrup, but it didn't work; his mind was far too eager to do something to even fall for the old insomniac-trick.
He stares at the clock on his nightstand and runs both of his hands over his tired face; 3:48 am. The last thing he expects at this hour, is for his phone to ring on the bedside table, but when it does, he picks it up, squinting his eyes at the sudden light as the screen lights-up; he stares at the name of the contact for a while before answering.
"Ghost." He speaks before Soap even has the chance to.
"I ken who you are, dummy," Says the voice on the other end. Ghost resists the urge to roll his eyes as he picks up on the drunken state of his Sergeant. "I'm bored and lonely. Do you miss meee?" He adds, lengthening the sound of the ‘e’ until it becomes annoyingly obvious he's not planning to stop unless Ghost butts in.
So he does.
"We’ve been away for only a day," Ghost mutters, irritation clear in his voice, and that immediately makes Soap stop. "Why are you calling?"
"Can’t I call my friend just because I wanna? Why're you always so up-tight, like ye got a stick up yer arse?" Soap asks, and he doesn't seem to realize what he's said and the consequences it might bring in the near-future as he continues speaking. "I take it ye're also bored and lonely. I can fix that?"
Ghost decides to indulge. Who —him or his sergeant—, he doesn't know.
"And how do you plan on doing that, hm?"
"If ye come to my apartment, I can show you."
Ghost notices the slight change in Soap's voice, it becomes deeper, like a purr, and he tries not to dwell on it; it's wrong to even imagine how that voice will sound if he decides to go.
And he might.
"Sounds promising, but you're not yourself, Soap." He says instead.
If Ghost concentrates enough, he swears he can see Soap's disappointed pout when he next speaks. "Whaddya mean by that? It's cuz I'm a tad bit tipsy? That dinnae matter, I can make ye feel good either way."
Ghost sighs before answering. “This is not about me feeling good or not, it’s about morals,” He pauses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t matter. You should go to sleep, Sergeant. Drink some water before you do, you'll most likely wake up hangover if you don't-"
"Why'd ye keep ignoring me, Simon?" The name takes him aback, and he frowns, but before he can speak, Soap to continues his drunken rambling. "I've been tryin' to tell ye how I feel for months on end and whaddya do, hm? Change the subject, avoid me and even tell me I ain't being myself. How'd'ye know I'm not being myself if ye don't give yourself the opportunity to get to know me? Do ye even want to at this point? 'Cuz I'm sure as hell I do want to get to know Simon, and not just Ghost. And before I do something we both might regret, let me tell ye this: make up yer goddamn mind and tell me what ye want —I'll be sure to respect your wishes from then on. You tell me to fuck myself —I'll fuck right off. You tell me you want me —I'll make sure to give my all to ye. You tell me you don't know or that you ain't sure —I'll give you more time. Just —tell me what you want from me, alright? Please?" Soap pauses with a heavy sigh, and Ghost thinks Soap wasn’t as drunk as he thought he was. "I'm pretty sure I like you more than I should, so indulge me this once and gimme a goddamn answer. Talk to me; that's what I'm here for. Thought we were past 'Sergeant MacTavish' and 'Lieutenant Riley', and in any case, I do think we're more than that."
Ghost remains silent for a beat too long, and Soap takes that as a cue to hang up. Though a few minutes later, Ghost receives what seems to be an address.
He buys the first train ticket available to Glasgow.
MAY 1ST, 2023 — 07:16 AM.
Simon finds himself in front of a large building, apartments upon apartments scattered across its walls; he finds the right number and stands hesitantly in its porch, shifting his weight form one foot to another as he re-adjusts his black medical-issued mask. He doesn’t regret coming, but quite frankly, he doesn’t know why he came in the first place; talking about what he feels and what he doesn’t feel isn’t precisely his idea of an enjoyable afternoon at Johnny’s, but if that’s what it takes for Johnny to stop doubting himself and what he feels, then that’s what Simon will do.
However, he hesitates before knocking, as he doesn’t think he is ready himself to put a label on what he feels and what they are —or what their mutual feelings might mean. And they both know it’s wrong and that they shouldn’t be acknowledging said feelings; romantic relationships —or any other than work-related ones— are strictly prohibited among soldiers for many, many reasons, and it’s not only about those involved in said relationship, but it can also compromise the rest of the team were they in positions of importance such as Sergeant and Lieutenant; and they both are.
And he feels guilty, really, when Johnny opens the door and he lets himself in. And although Simon finds it quite difficult to speak, Johnny looks like he doesn’t even remember giving Simon his address, so he knows he has to speak first.
“You were drunk last night,” He starts, pulling his mask down. Johnny regards him for a moment before rubbing the back of his neck and averting his gaze from Simon’s own and then he closes his eyes, as if he recalls what happened perfectly. “And you called. Said you were… lonely. I’ll spare you the details, but I came to talk about the last thing you said-”
“I do remember what I said,” Johnny cuts him off, his eyes still lost somewhere in the small living room. Simon averts his eyes, too, as memories of what Johnny had said come back to invade his mind as he looks at Johnny’s bare torso and baggy sweatpants. He avoids looking at him at all costs. “I just genuinely thought I had fucked it all up and that I wasn’t going to see you again unless it was work-related,” Simon frowns when he feels Johnny’s eyes lingering on him. “Thought you gave me an answer, too. You didn’t respond. At all. You stayed quiet for a few minutes, so I thought I had my answer. Though I’m sorry for hanging up, you were right about me not being myself. I was dumb and reckless, and I apologize, L.T.”
L.T. Not Simon. Not even Ghost. And yet, he can’t help but find it funny to think that not even four hours ago, Johnny was mad at him for pulling their ranks on him.
“That’s not my answer, but if you want to keep it professional like I once intended to, be my guest, Sergeant.”
And Simon turns to leave, but he feels a hand on his forearm that wanders upwards, and travels from his bicep to his shoulders, to his collarbone, and finally, comes to a stop at the side of his neck. Simon allows it to. And then Johnny’s free hand comes to rest just above the belt that hugs his jeans in place, slides underneath the hoodie he’s wearing and lies flat on his navel.
“Stay.”
A whisper, a pleading he can no longer ignore, a simple word becomes all it takes to melt his resolve.
Simon’s hands are shaking when he places them over the elastic band in Johnny’s sweatpants, holding onto his hips without hesitation despite never touching someone like that before; and he had never wanted something like this, had never wanted someone as much as he wants, needs, and craves Johnny.
In a way, it’s scary.
His fingertips graze Johnny’s waist, and he greedily holds him in place as his lips find the other’s to collide into; after a few moments, Johnny licks his bottom lip —an invitation—, and Simon doesn’t hesitate to part his lips tentatively. Johnny’s tongue then slides decisively, settling inside like it belongs there, tasting everything on its way and greedily swallowing Simon’s quiet moan.
One of Simon’s hands wanders to the back of Johnny’s head, cradling, as if afraid he’s going to pull back. Johnny picks up on it and wraps both of his arms —that were not precisely idle, but perhaps a bit not-reciprocating— around his neck, creating a leverage to pull himself enough to wrap his legs around Simon’s waist. The hand that was placed on Johnny’s waist embraces the lower part of his thighs, whereas the other keeps cradling the back of his head.
Simon hadn’t realized how much he truly likes Johnny’s waist —for how long he had craved to touch it, or for how long he tried not to ponder on his evident preference to it—, as it is equal parts of muscle and adipose tissue to hold onto as he clumsily walks around and guides them to what he can only assume is Johnny’s bedroom.
Trying his hardest to maintain his focus on Johnny’s lips while maneuvering Johnny on his back, Simon climbs atop him, both of his hands now at Johnny’s sides; when he looks down, Johnny looks up at him through dark, long lashes.
Simon decides, right then and there, that he is doomed.
MAY 1ST, 2023 — 09:09 AM.
Waking up to warmth next to him is truly a very unusual occurrence, and although it’s not entirely unwelcomed, it is not his ideal way of waking up; he sits up with a start, feeling around the bed to accidentally swat away the warm hand that was searching blindly for him.
"Simon? What's wrong?"
"I can't stay." He replies, and hates the way his voice shakes.
Simon swallows and stands, clumsily feeling his way through the room, as a sudden feeling of dizziness takes over; it slows him down, if only enough for Johnny to fully wake up and prop himself up on his elbows to stare at him as he wanders around the room in search of his clothes.
As soon as he's fully dressed, he makes a beeline to the entrance of Johnny's apartment, only to be stopped by Johnny's naked figure, the white, messy sheets they'd used before wrapped loosely around his waist —and they leave no room for imagination, as they show more than Simon would like to admit to himself. He can't help but stare, mesmerized, before looking back at the door.
"Talk to me, Simon. Please."
It is a scary feeling, really, to be so careless around someone, to lower your guard to such extent as to sleep next to them without batting an eye —where if it were someone else, you wouldn't have been able to even close your eyes.
And now, he's trusted his body, his feelings, his broken, aching heart to him.
Simon doesn't know what to make out of it.
It feels as scary as it feels freeing; he had never allowed it to happen before —get this close to someone— and yet, a weight has been lifted off his chest.
Against his better judgement, he looks back again, and the frown on his forehead only deepens as he stares at Johnny's equally confused and hurt expression, before he yanks his arm free and places his hand on the doorknob.
"Stay."
Seems like his resolve has built up again, as the same word no longer does wonders on him; his chest seizes, and he wishes nothing more than to listen to Johnny, but he just can't stay. The conversation they'll have if he decides to stay is one he no longer wishes to have, even if he came to visit Johnny just to clear up the misunderstandings between the label in their relationship and what they really feel; in fact, he's pretty sure his answer is clear, but Johnny would like to hear it nonetheless.
"I can't stay, Johnny. You know that."
Johnny looks to the side, his grip on the sheets loosening a little as he sighs, disappointedly. "Do ye regret it?" He asks, still not meeting Simon's eyes.
"No."
"Then what is it?"
Simon lets go of the doorknob, turning to face Johnny for a moment; the crease on his forehead disappears as he stares into the other's eyes, and he thinks Johnny understands better than Simon himself. He's confused, scared, and vulnerable. And he hates to feel that way, because he's never felt like that in front of someone else before. He hadn't allowed himself to be this close and trusting to someone before.
And, he realizes belatedly, this is the first time someone reciprocates his feelings, and he doesn't understand how that even happened in the first place.
Johnny steps closer, carefully, and wraps his free arm around Simon's neck to bring him closer; Simon sighs and melts into the embrace, if only a tad bit hesitantly, before wrapping both of his arms around Johnny's bare back and hugging tightly.
"I like the way things the way they were... before," Simon whispers, burying his face in Johnny's shoulder; he hears Johnny's intake of breath as he places a chaste kiss over a visible mark on his neck. "And I'm afraid I can't give you anymore than that. I'm not used to any kind of affection, and I despise labels. I do want you, Johnny, but it is up to you whether you're willing to take whatever little I can give or not."
Johnny's answer is not immediate. "Well, that's a relief," Simon frowns as Johnny pulls back from the embrace to look at him in the eye. "I'm okay with how things are, Simon, otherwise I wouldn't've told you my feelings for you. I just wanted to know if this was mutual, and if you wanted to maybe... take a step forward?" He asks, sheepishly, as he places his hand over the mark Simon had kissed not long ago, referring to what had happened a few hours before in his bedroom. Simon looks away. "Or not. I dinnae mind. I would like this to be more than a one-time-thing, but if ye're not comfortable with what happened on my bed, it doesn't have to happen again-"
"Johnny."
Johnny's smile is kind, but he can't help but feel embarrassed.
"There is nothing to be ashamed of. I would rather ye talk to me about embarrassing things than misunderstanding something."
Simon keeps his eyes away from Johnny, but he replies. "I liked it."
"Alright. No to labels, yes to sex. Anything else ye'd like to tell me?"
"You can go fuck yourself."
"How about you fuck me instead?" Johnny teases, moving the hand that holds loosely the sheets wrapped around his waist for emphasis.
Simon smiles, however little, while tilting his head as to lift his chin, challengingly. "You just can't get enough, can you?"
"Find out for yerself."
As he looks fondly at Johnny's bare back, Simon thinks he's up for the ride in the weird rollercoaster of emotions he can't remember when, where, how or why he got the tickets from.