Work Text:
“Johnny I swear to God if you don’t-”
“Simon, A’m pretty sure ye swearing to God is like blasphemy or something. Ah don’t think ye can do that.”
Soap sat reclined on his cot, a small teasing smile on his face. His eyes remained stubbornly glued to a magazine he held in his hand, ignoring the other’s presence.
Ghost was pacing back and forth, marching along the line of salt that had been poured on the floor - dividing the small barrack room - with all the grace of a predator. Inky black eyes were glaring daggers through the holes of the mask. A dark sinister power radiated from him and hung thickly in the air, dark and dangerous. If it were anyone else, a swift and brutal death would’ve followed in the wake of that power. If it were anyone else, they would’ve been quaking in fear.
Soap merely flipped the page of his magazine.
“Break the line.” It was an order. Ghost stopped pacing, standing as close as he could get. His arms were crossed, back straight and shoulders tensed. Pissed.
The tone prompted Soap to glance up. His eyes raked over Ghost’s body, taking in his stance. The corner of his lips quirked, mischievous. “No, Ah don’t think Ah will.”
“MacTavish” An inhuman growl of his name rumbled from deep within that broad chest.
Soap met Ghost’s glare head on, lifting his chin defiantly, “LT.”
Ghost snarled, an inhuman sound. His power surging out in rough waves as his control slipped just minutely. The shadows of the room seemed to lengthen and darken. The small lamp that was casting a dim light from the nightstand flickered violently.
“Blow that bulb and I’ll not talk to ye for a month.” Soap warned, voice calm but serious. The threat was a hollow one, both knew he didn’t actually mean it but it was enough for Ghost to pull himself back.
All at once the power that had been surging disappeared and Ghost’s eyes reverted back to a familiar icy blue. His shoulders sagged just slightly as he seemed to deflate.
“Johnny…”
The soft, low coo of Ghost uttering his name had Soap sighing. He dropped the magazine on the nightstand as he sat up and swung his legs over to sit on the side of the cot. He interlaced his fingers, resting his arms on top of his tights. Blue-gray eyes regarded Ghost calmly.
“Did ye have to do that to the recruits?”
The question was in reference to the events that happened an hour ago. Training had just wrapped up for the day. Soap had been in the mess when the group of recruits had come in. It was crowded, mostly all the tables were partially or fully taken save for Soap’s, which he sat at by himself, shoveling food into his mouth. He had just gotten in from a solo mission and was starving. The recruits had seemed lost once they’d gotten their trays and realized that there wasn’t room for them all to sit together. Soap, being the good guy that he was, called them over and told them to sit.
It had been going well, the recruits quickly and enthusiastically invited Soap into their conversation, discussing random topics, and with Soap’s easy personality the whole table was soon laughing and deep in discussion.
Until one of the recruits reached over and grabbed Soap’s bicep and made some sly half flirtatious comment that Soap had every intention of brushing off. Before he could, however, the easy atmosphere was shattered when a knife was suddenly embedded into the wood of the table and Ghost was towering over the recruit that had touched him. A tense silence had fallen over the entire mess hall as everyone seemed to hold their breaths in anticipation of what The Ghost was going to do.
Soap hadn’t been able to see Ghost’s eyes but from how all the recruits paled and shrunk in their seats, he knew it had to be a cold, hard look.
“Leave” Ghost had growled and the recruits scrambled to vacate the area immediately, that cold gaze following them until they left. Then had slowly passed the whole mess, glaring at anyone who wasn't fast enough to avert their gazes.
Then Ghost gave Soap a brief look, removed his knife from the table, and promptly left, leaving Soap to a dead silent mess hall and everyone within not daring to even glance in his direction.
Soap felt his anger boiling at Ghost’s actions. He understood by now how the demon operated, how sometimes he couldn’t help reacting to certain things. But this had been uncalled for especially when there was nothing serious that warranted it. He’d left the mess hall, having lost his appetite with the hushed murmurs and daring glances that had started back up - about him this time - and headed for his room.
“Probably not.”
Ghost’s voice brought Soap out of remembering and he blinked. The masked man looked slightly sheepish.
“Heard you’d gotten back from your mission and went looking for you. You weren’t here, weren’t in Price’s office, weren’t in my room. I couldn’t find you and when I walked into the mess and saw that recruit touching you…” He trailed off but Soap understood.
He really did. He knew how possessive the demon could be. Had been informed fully of what he was going to be getting into back when he and Ghost had first gotten together and he learned just what Simon Riley had become. He knew Ghost got antsy when he went on solo missions because Ghost couldn't keep a watchful eye on him.
Still…they had ground rules. Had established them, at Ghost’s request, so Johnny wouldn’t feel smothered - not that he’d ever felt smothered.
And Ghost had broken one of them with the display in the mess. The if someone tries to flirt with Soap, let Soap turn them down and don’t resort to violence one.
Soap heaved out another sigh, before pushing himself to his feet. He closed the short distance between his cot and the salt line, coming to a stop in front of where Ghost was still standing. He watched Ghost’s gloved hands twitch with the barely repressed need to reach out, even if the invisible barrier of the salt line would’ve kept him from doing so.
“Will ye apologize?” Soap asked, meeting Ghost’s eyes.
“I’m sorry Johnny.” Ghost said immediately and Soap smiled at the sincerity he heard.
“Not to me, ya numpty.” He admonished with a small shake of his head. “To the recruit that will be having nightmares tonight thanks to ye.”
Ghost gave him a long, hard look and looked like he was moments from flat out refusing. Soap shrugged, feigning indifference as he made to turn away to head back to his cot.
“Well then the salt line stays.”
A deeply unhappy rumbling growl rose up behind him before Ghost was speaking, from what sounded like gritted teeth, “Fine. I will find that recruit and apologize. Tomorrow.”
Soap’s smile was victorious and his eyes sparkled, “Promise?”
“Johnny.”
Huffing out a laugh, Soap decided to stop tormenting Ghost. Using his foot, he broke the salt line and quicker than his reflexes could keep up with, Ghost was upon him. The mask landed with a thump on the floor and Ghost’s lips were crashing against Soap’s, muffling his gasp of surprise.
Soap found himself gently bullied back until he was being pushed back onto his cot, Ghost following him down all while somehow not breaking the kiss. Eventually Soap had to turn his head away from Ghost’s demanding lips so he could breathe. Ghost made a rumbling noise in his chest, lips trailing across Soap’s cheek and down to his neck, where Ghost buried his face.
“Jesus.” Soap panted, hands coming up to rest on Ghost’s shoulders as the larger man maneuvered them until Soap was wrapped in Ghost’s arms, trapped between Ghost and the wall his cot was pushed up against.
“He doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Ghost growled, lifting his head to stare at Soap. His eyes had gone completely black again and Soap could practically feel the possessiveness rolling off him in waves. “You’re mine”
If Soap were normal he might have found the sight terrifying but instead he found it beautiful - just as stunning as all the other times Ghost has droped the disguise and showed him true nature. And he is. Ghost’s that is. And Ghost is his.
He leaned forward, touching their foreheads together. “Yours.” He agreed easily, smiling when Ghost pulled him in to connect their lips again.