[ That kiss. It makes him melt. And suddenly, like the light of dawn, Soap feels without a doubt that everything will be okay. Whatever happens, they'll get through it. He'll get through it. With Simon there, everything feels so much easier.
His mind is thinking something different the next morning, reality crashing through the haze when he still can't see. He kind of wants to cry, kind of wants to freak out, but he keeps himself together and tells himself it's for Ghost's sake. Not just that morning but every day thereafter.
Some days are better than others. The days Simon has to leave are the worst, but he tries not to let that on. He doesn't want to cling, hates himself for clinging anyway, and it's just a spiral of bullshit in his mind until that Brit's voice is back in the room. Around the one week mark, he starts to wonder if this is what Stockholm Syndrome is like? Or is this that Nightingale thing? He's not sure, but he hesitates to think that a part of himself really does remember. That's banking too much hope into something, and while Soap has never really been a pessimist, he's always been realistic. And the reality is that he still doesn't remember shit.
Or so he believes, at least. There hasn't been any burst of light, chorus of angels, and stark visions of some embarrassing moment he wished stayed forgotten. But there had been other things. Things that maybe Ghost or some of the others have noticed, maybe not. Just knowing a couple of names he shouldn't, knowing the layouts of places he shouldn't, knowing tiny things about Simon that he shouldn't. All small things, none of which Johnny takes into account as progress, most of which Johnny doesn't notice at all.
Then there's the PT, which sucks. His body feels strong enough for a guy that woke from a coma, but it's the bit about telling his body what to do that's the problem. It's so fucking frustrating he could scream, but he doesn't. Just works the problem. Learning how to navigate the world in darkness sucks, too, and he hates the fucking stick. Ghost, bless him, seems less ruffled about it all and kind of becomes Johnny's rock. There are no more kisses or anything, cuddles kept to a minimum, and he tells himself it's because recovery is hard enough to navigate, that Simon doesn't want to pressure anything on the amnesiac, and that mantra mostly works.
He likes the banter most, anyway. There's no heat in Ghost's voice when he gets grumbly about Glasgow, leaving Soap ample room to start shit talking Queen and country. Or, uh, King. They keep having to remind him of that one, but he somehow finds it morbidly hilarious every time so it's okay.
Anyway, once Ghost comes by, Johnny finds that he's ready. Well. Maybe not mentally or emotionally, but his things are packed in a duffle. That'll have to be good enough.
Turns out, that discharge was in the post, after all. ]
Ready, LT.
[ Lifting weight is still a weird thing for him, but he slings the bag across his shoulder, anyway. Out of all the things, he gets a bit growly about that one the most when people try to help, so it's on his back before Ghost can even try. He walks over to him, not needing the damned stick to navigate his own room at least. ]
And you? Ready for all the joys Scotland has to offer?
(In Ghost's opinion, Soap handles it better than Ghost probably would have. Ghost could get violently impatient when he felt restricted. He was proud of Soap and of how hard he kept at it. Those small flickers of recognition are picked up immediately by Ghost. He doesn't point them out. Part of him feels like this is one of those things you need to let become gently uncovered. Like an archelogical dig where you didn't want to run the risk of accidentally ruining the artifacts below. Proceed with equal parts caution and anticipation.
Things are a bit calmer. No, no more kisses, because Ghost would never delude himself into thinking that was okay. But he's more open with his touch. And what of it? His hand resting against Soap's lower back to guide him around a corner was far more a gesture of intimacy than it was the idea of helping Soap walk around. After a particularly long day, so what if he sat so close to Soap that their thighs were pressed together? So what if he squeezed Soap's hand or his thigh every now and then as a silent gesture of assurance.
He told himself he was just being a good lieutenant. Gaz and Price looked at him like he was an absolute jackass for even pretending that was what all of this was about.)
Good man.
(Ghost is dressed down as much as Ghost ever could. Black pants, black sweater, cloth mask in place and hoodie drawn. He's wearing a pair of skeletal gloves just in case the rest wasn't Hot Topic themed enough and although the whole point of going into civilian housing was to keep it lowkey, Ghost was too used to keeping his face out of any public space.
He nearly offers help, but bites his tongue last minute, instead just shifting his own bag between his shoulders. Soap wasn't a princess and so Ghost didn't plan to treat him like one. Well, not with that anyway.
He scoffs.)
The only bloody joy that the damned Scots have given me is you and even that's pushing it seeing as I can barely understand you most of the time.
(Okay, no, he had gotten way better, but Soap doesn't need to know that. As they leave the room, Ghost glances at the stick and then thinks of a simpler way to help Soap navigate out of the base without as much fanfare made about it. It's obvious in hindsight and Ghost wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it before. Probably because he knew Soap had to get used to the stick at some point, but shit...
He reaches out and hooks his fingers through Soap's. Loose, just in case Soap didn't want to put up with it, and he thinks maybe this is okay. They have held hands a few more times since Soap has woken up, though never in public like this, but maybe Soap will realize what he's trying to do. Or, really, better yet, he might not notice and might be less agitated for it.)
I expect you'll make it worth my time. (Like many things exchanged between them, it winds up sounding stupidly flirty, like a blatant come-on, which you'd think Ghost would realize by now how he sounds, but he's just too used to talking to Soap like this at this point.)
[ It's true enough that they don't really touch in public, and that, at least, has been something Soap didn't question once. He would have been way more shocked if they had been the PDA type. Never mind their chosen profession and how well that would have gone over with Price, but Ghost just seems like the private type when it comes to affectionate sorts of things. In truth, so is Johnny.
But every now and then, Simon will say the sweetest things and make Soap grin like everything really is fine. Better than fine, actually. ]
Oh, haud yer wheesht, ya ole numpty-
[ Then his sentence runs itself short when his hand is suddenly taken. It's not like they don't do that sort of thing on occasion. Just, again, they don't do it so much in public, which is where they're about to be very shortly. So, color Soap surprised and maybe just the tiniest bit touched by such a small thing.
It's only after he takes Simon's hand in a firmer grip that he realizes it may just be for practicality's sake, at least in part. Keeps him from having to use the bloody stick, anyway, though he knows he shouldn't rely on someone else's eyes. And if it were anyone else, he likely wouldn't.
So, yeah, he catches on. But, no, he's not agitated. To him, the practical part just feels like a cover. He sees Simon as this big softy, even if Soap would put money that he's killed a man with a brick at least once. So his blank surprise turns into a soft smile pretty fast. ]
Aye, ye flirt. I'll make sure you come around to terrible old Scotland.
[ And it all brings a bit of another thought to mind, too. Once they're out of here, away from public eyes, just how much will things change? He won't lie, he's kind of excited at the prospect of having Simon all to himself. Maybe they can properly cuddle up or something, at least share a bed. (And it's a testament to how bad he's got it when the best part about sharing a bed that he can think of is early morning snuggles. Really. It's that bad.)
If nothing else, maybe they can at least talk about all this at some point. Talk about them. Enough time has passed, Soap likes to think.
He's barely taken two steps when he's brought out of his musings, his fingers having laced through Simon's and paused because the texture-... He sputters a sudden laugh. ]
Is that a skeleton print on your gloves? God love ya, Ghost.
English, MacTavish. Or is that the scattered results of the coma lingering? You know, I honestly wouldn't be surprised.
(One thing Ghost had never bothered with was kid gloves. He didn't care about making jokes at Soap's expense over this whole situation. Granted, it was really just an extension of teasing him in another ugly situation. This situation just so happened to live in Soap's mind rather than occupy the space around them. Same difference, Ghost figured, and maybe more important than the situation at Las Almas to deal with. He didn't want to act hesitant or delicate about Soap. Soap deserved better than that.
Plus that accent was a damn delight and if Ghost didn't respond to it with the mature eloquence of a eight-year-old boy with the biggest crush in the universe, then he might die on the spot. Who said tugging metaphorical pigtails didn't get you anywhere?
Maybe it was too much - grabbing Soap's hand in public like this. He can read surprise on Soap easily and he almost, almost takes his hand back instantly. Instead, he trusts Soap to make it clear if he crossed a line whether verbally or physically.
It definitely is a partial excuse to hold Soap's hand, but who's about to admit to that? Not Ghost.)
Me? Flirting with you? Think of the scandal, Johnny. (Sarcasm at its finest.)
I won't hold you to your word on that. Resenting Scotland has become a fond foundation in our relationship. I need to at least keep up the appearance.
(See, Ghost, talking like this is exactly why it seems like ya'll are in a relationship. The worst part is probably that Ghost doesn't notice anything. That this just seemed like the natural progression of things. Even Price hadn't seemed the slightest bit surprised by Ghost insisting on going with Soap.
Ghost looks a bit startled at Soap's laugh, a look tragically missed by Soap, his eyes snapping to Soap. Good lord it was nice to hear his laugh. Ghost nearly folds on the spot, but instead, he just adjusts his grip on Soap's hand and clears his throat.)
Aye, it is. I need to maintain a consistent aesthetic, Johnny. Matches the mask. (A casual confirmation that his mask does indeed carry a skull print.)
[ Johnny rolls his eyes to the coma comment with a smile. He likes that Ghost doesn't tip-toe around the issue and especially likes that he makes light of it. Almost everyone else doesn't. The situation was serious, he understands, but it's hard to live in that entirely. And he never liked someone treating him all delicate-like. Besides, Simon understands his morbid level of humor. Practically why they get along so well.
Anyway, he laughs at the scandal comment, too. Them? Flirting? Perish the thought. ]
Right, can't let on how much you love my smarmy li'l accent. Conversation might start gettin' stale.
[ Heaven forbid, but he's pretty sure that's impossible. At least, Johnny can't picture a world where talking to Ghost isn't the highlight of his damn day.
As to that throat clearing, he almost thinks Simon may be embarrassed about his teasing, but that doesn't quite sound right. Well, whether he is or isn't, Soap's absolutely going to dig his heels in. Because, yes, he caught that about the mask and laughs again. ]
Right, 'course. Gotta match. If it helps, LT, I think you look lovely today.
[ If there's anyone around, he maybe knows about it but doesn't care. He's clearly teasing anyway. ]
Edited (WAIT i pressed post too soon jsldkfj, have this) 2023-11-22 23:51 (UTC)
(He peers down at Johnny and not for the first time, he feels that familiar tightening twist in the pit of his chest. Even without memories, Johnny was still so Johnny.)
Wouldn't want you to get an ego.
(If Soap really knew how into his voice he was, it would be game over. Ghost wasn't usually a people person and he still wasn't, but Soap had become his exception. More than a comrade and better than any successful mission.)
Oh, Johnny. (He's smirking beneath his mask.)
Buttering me up and we're not even alone yet. Tempting fate today, are we?
(It didn't even matter if Soap couldn't actually see him. He's almost positive Soap would have said it even if he could see - probably insist upon it.)
You're lookin' like a piece yourself.
(He tugs Soap a bit closer, just because he can, and knocks their arms together. So, no, it wasn't just for the sake of guiding Soap. He moves forward with Soap, honestly looking forward to getting away from the base for a while. It doesn't take long to get boarded. It's the only time he really insists on getting Soap's bag for him, but mostly because he's already shoving his own up above.)
Let me get that. (Tugging at Johnny's back.) Get yourself strapped in.
[ Who would get an ego? Little old him? Yeah, that ship has sailed and they both know it. Sure, he doesn't know the extent, but he knows that Ghost's teasing means he does like the accent. Or, well, that's Soap's rationale for continuing to lay it on thick, anyway.
But as to tempting fate: ] You know it, LT. It's my favorite hobby.
[ Isn't that the truth. And though he chuckles at the compliment and easily let's himself get pulled in closer, he doesn't quite believe that he's looking all that fabulous. Johnny knows it's dumb to not trust the one guy out of them that can actually see with something visual, but he hasn't really felt all that good looking in a while. Partly because recovery has left him to not care as much, partly because of where he had gotten shot. Though, he has trailed his fingers (carefully) over the stitches just to get an idea of his new image.
Regardless, it's nice to hear, even if he thinks Ghost is just giving as good as he gets. ]
And I always look like a piece, but thank you.
[ Confidence will get him everywhere. Besides, he puts so much on Simon, he doesn't want to add the mental shit, too. This is definitely part of the mental shit. It's amazing to be self-aware.
He gives a dignified (in his opinion) squawk of protest when Simon tries to take his bag from him, and there's that knee jerk urge to turn into a child and start with the 'I can do it myself!' but he relents instead. Soap lets him take the bag without too much grumbling beneath his breath, mostly in good nature, before he goes ahead and climbs into the vehicle.
Weirdly enough, it's one of those things that he didn't think would translate into a smooth motion while blind but did. Like he's still trying to figure out how to properly navigate a dinner plate, but he hasn't had any issues with getting dressed, tackling staircases, or cleaning a Glock. In fact, he's extremely confident he could still drive but hasn't figured out a good enough argument to allow Simon to let him try yet. Point is, his training in the service has done wonders with transitioning him to this kind of life. Not that it's ideal.
Anyway, he straps himself in as told and laments not being able to see where they're going. He misses the countryside. And when Simon gets in: ] Have you been up to Scotland before? [ How had he never asked? ]
(Soap had seemed to get his rocks off plenty by crawling around under Ghost's skin. Then again, Ghost had let him from the get-go for some godforsaken reason. He refuses to acknowledge that it probably had to do with a simple but intense immediate attraction that swiftly turned into something deeper.)
Unfortunately, that's true. I think it's where you get most of your attitude from.
(Johnny did look worse for wear these days, but he didn't look bad. At least not to Ghost who had never been into clean-cut guys anyway. He himself had far too many scars to even spare a judging glance at Soap's newest addition. It doesn't even occur to him that Johnny could be struggling with his esteem on that front.
He scoffs at that squawk, jostling Johnny a bit for it, but he's glad the bastard lets it go. He's sliding in next to Soap soon enough, close enough to bump thighs. Always practically on top of him.
It probably would take some time for the driving thing.)
No. (He buckles himself in, leaning back and settling in for the ride.) Never had cause to go until now.
[ There goes Ghost again, saying his sweet things. Johnny smiled in his seat, soaking in that off-handed compliment. Not for the first time, he wondered what things had been like before, how Ghost must have looked at him, if he stared on occasion, what look was in his eyes.
That's a pit Soap tends to avoid, though, knowing he's not going to see Simon again and pretty sure he'll never really remember what he looked like. It used to not bother him, but the feeling tends to get worse just about every day. So, Johnny ignores it, as one does. He'd rather focus on the little compliment. And the brush of his thigh.
Johnny loves the contact Simon gives him. Not just for affection and comfort, but to ground him. With the blindness, he feels like he always needs to be grounded, and listening to the sounds of the world only goes so far. Sometimes it almost feels like a sensory deprivation chamber, like he's the only thing left in the world, like he really did die back there, but then Simon's hand reaches out and everything's good again. Soap refrains from just leaning over and flopping against him for now. Not while he's driving, anyway. ]
Really? Surprised I haven't dragged you up there kicking and screaming yet.
[ He honestly is surprised. It sounds like a lot of fun, never mind Simon just being home with him in general. But maybe Soap followed Simon on their time off. Or maybe they didn't have time off. It sounds like the bloke they were hunting, whatever bastard that shot him, had kept them busy. Johnny only knew enough to know that the situation had been complicated and difficult... But he does wonder how long he and Simon have been doing this. ]
You'll love it, LT. [ A beat. ] Even if you hate it, I'll definitely love it.
(Johnny would have known more about that than Ghost. Or maybe Gaz, honestly. Ghost remained oblivious to the ways he treated Johnny so differently, the ways that he always was looking, always reaching out in some way whether it was physically or verbally. Lately, it was always both.
It wasn't just Johnny who had lost something in all of this. Though Ghost was steady and calm with Johnny, he had some ugly nightmares that haunted him each night. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to get away with that once they were in close quarters, but he figured he could just do his best to stave off sleep and figure something out. They had given him some medication to sleep with, but he didn't think that was all that better of an option.
There were a lot of things he knew he'd have to adjust to being in close quarters with Johnny. He was digging his own grave here and he knew it. He firmly had told himself he would only do this if he thought he could keep himself restrained and stay appropriate.
He snorts quietly.)
I've no doubt it was on your mind plenty before. We haven't had too many chances for a proper vacation.
(Not since everything had blown up in their faces.
He smirks under his mask.)
And if I don't? Will you make it up to me, Johnny?
[ Johnny wasn't naïve enough to hope that their close quarters situation was going to be as close as he'd like them to be. After all, they haven't even talked about them yet, though he'd already gotten the impression they rarely did before. Point is, while his focus is on not being disappointed over the most definite lack of activities on their first night (and probably week) together, he'd still notice if Simon wasn't sleeping.
Not that he has much room to talk. Soap can fall asleep, sure, but fuzzy nightmares wake him up too frequently for it to really be called sleep. The frustration of never being quite sure what the dreams were about didn't help either. So maybe they'd end up being a couple of cagey night owls together, but Ghost was going to have a hard time hiding that sort of thing from him.
Maybe harder than Johnny originally assumed, if that question was anything to go by. Perhaps he was being a little too hasty in his assumptions regarding the nature of their close quarters. Adrenaline junky he is, Johnny gets his own smirk on his face and bites his lip a little just thinking about it. Damn, flirting with this man was addicting. ]
You already know that, Simon. Believe I can think of some ways to go about it already.
Trust me. You'll be singing praises by the time I'm done with ya. [ Oh, if only. ]
(It is addicting and it isn't until Johnny responds with that that Ghost realizes that this whole thing might become a problem. They had only ever been able to do this sort of thing back on base or during a mission. Never had time to let the situation breathe. This is about when it occurs to him, rather sharply, that he is about to be completely alone with Johnny for the unforeseeable future.
His grip on the steering wheel tightens and he realizes he had absolutely no intention of stopping whatever might happen. Because he knew something might happen. He was almost positive. He may not be all that experienced when it came to these kinds of situations, but even Ghost realized that they flirted far more regularly than just some guys in the same unit blowing steam or passing time.
He certainly would never have accepted being spoken to like this by Gaz or anyone else. Plus, there was probably something morally off about sleeping with the man you're in love with while he was empty on memories and blind as a bat. Probably.
But he glances at Johnny and sees him biting his lip like that and it hits him like a freight train. Maybe it's wrong...But well...
He reaches a hand out and rests it on the uppermost part of Johnny's thigh, fingers hooked in, dangerously close to his groin. He gives Johnny a firm squeeze. Perhaps a gesture of silent promise. Or something. He doesn't know, but it felt right to do in the moment and it felt good to do. It was only a small fraction of the things he had imagined doing to Johnny.)
Naughty boy, you are. (His hand lingers, too close, too burning, and slowly he slides it away and back onto the steering wheel where his grip becomes white-knuckled.)
[ Entirely unlike every other time Ghost has touched him, this one is surprising. Not in a bad way, certainly not, but Johnny hadn't exactly expected the motion at all. Even as he holds his breath, his grin only grows sharper. The grip he has on whatever is near his hands at the moment is probably just a touch too tight and only noticed when Ghost's own hand begins to slip away.
He wants to grab that hand and keep it there, but he doesn't. Then he thinks to swipe it off the steering wheel or wherever it's at and put it back, but he still doesn't. Maybe it's because a part of him likes Simon being in charge, something that's probably not a big secret between them given their ranks. Or maybe it's because he's just as nervous as he is excited. After all, he doesn't remember what Simon likes, what he wants. He tells himself that this is just a learning opportunity, a little side adventure that they'll both enjoy until their usual path is found again. But that doesn't change how he doesn't want to remind Ghost of who he isn't anymore.
Thoughts like that are stupid, he admits. Besides, Ghost is still more than apparently into him. So, what is he worrying about again? ]
I'm a man of my word, Simon.
[ And he is, very much so. His grin stays sharp while he purrs through every syllable. Nerves or not, he wouldn't be the man he is if he ever let a little anxiety stop him.
So, being a little menace, his own hand reaches over and very innocently tucks a couple of fingers into the pocket of Ghost's jeans. And just. Stays there. Super innocent. Extremely not distracting in any way. His dumb smirk is no proof of anything. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
this is great!
His mind is thinking something different the next morning, reality crashing through the haze when he still can't see. He kind of wants to cry, kind of wants to freak out, but he keeps himself together and tells himself it's for Ghost's sake. Not just that morning but every day thereafter.
Some days are better than others. The days Simon has to leave are the worst, but he tries not to let that on. He doesn't want to cling, hates himself for clinging anyway, and it's just a spiral of bullshit in his mind until that Brit's voice is back in the room. Around the one week mark, he starts to wonder if this is what Stockholm Syndrome is like? Or is this that Nightingale thing? He's not sure, but he hesitates to think that a part of himself really does remember. That's banking too much hope into something, and while Soap has never really been a pessimist, he's always been realistic. And the reality is that he still doesn't remember shit.
Or so he believes, at least. There hasn't been any burst of light, chorus of angels, and stark visions of some embarrassing moment he wished stayed forgotten. But there had been other things. Things that maybe Ghost or some of the others have noticed, maybe not. Just knowing a couple of names he shouldn't, knowing the layouts of places he shouldn't, knowing tiny things about Simon that he shouldn't. All small things, none of which Johnny takes into account as progress, most of which Johnny doesn't notice at all.
Then there's the PT, which sucks. His body feels strong enough for a guy that woke from a coma, but it's the bit about telling his body what to do that's the problem. It's so fucking frustrating he could scream, but he doesn't. Just works the problem. Learning how to navigate the world in darkness sucks, too, and he hates the fucking stick. Ghost, bless him, seems less ruffled about it all and kind of becomes Johnny's rock. There are no more kisses or anything, cuddles kept to a minimum, and he tells himself it's because recovery is hard enough to navigate, that Simon doesn't want to pressure anything on the amnesiac, and that mantra mostly works.
He likes the banter most, anyway. There's no heat in Ghost's voice when he gets grumbly about Glasgow, leaving Soap ample room to start shit talking Queen and country. Or, uh, King. They keep having to remind him of that one, but he somehow finds it morbidly hilarious every time so it's okay.
Anyway, once Ghost comes by, Johnny finds that he's ready. Well. Maybe not mentally or emotionally, but his things are packed in a duffle. That'll have to be good enough.
Turns out, that discharge was in the post, after all. ]
Ready, LT.
[ Lifting weight is still a weird thing for him, but he slings the bag across his shoulder, anyway. Out of all the things, he gets a bit growly about that one the most when people try to help, so it's on his back before Ghost can even try. He walks over to him, not needing the damned stick to navigate his own room at least. ]
And you? Ready for all the joys Scotland has to offer?
no subject
Things are a bit calmer. No, no more kisses, because Ghost would never delude himself into thinking that was okay. But he's more open with his touch. And what of it? His hand resting against Soap's lower back to guide him around a corner was far more a gesture of intimacy than it was the idea of helping Soap walk around. After a particularly long day, so what if he sat so close to Soap that their thighs were pressed together? So what if he squeezed Soap's hand or his thigh every now and then as a silent gesture of assurance.
He told himself he was just being a good lieutenant. Gaz and Price looked at him like he was an absolute jackass for even pretending that was what all of this was about.)
Good man.
(Ghost is dressed down as much as Ghost ever could. Black pants, black sweater, cloth mask in place and hoodie drawn. He's wearing a pair of skeletal gloves just in case the rest wasn't Hot Topic themed enough and although the whole point of going into civilian housing was to keep it lowkey, Ghost was too used to keeping his face out of any public space.
He nearly offers help, but bites his tongue last minute, instead just shifting his own bag between his shoulders. Soap wasn't a princess and so Ghost didn't plan to treat him like one. Well, not with that anyway.
He scoffs.)
The only bloody joy that the damned Scots have given me is you and even that's pushing it seeing as I can barely understand you most of the time.
(Okay, no, he had gotten way better, but Soap doesn't need to know that. As they leave the room, Ghost glances at the stick and then thinks of a simpler way to help Soap navigate out of the base without as much fanfare made about it. It's obvious in hindsight and Ghost wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it before. Probably because he knew Soap had to get used to the stick at some point, but shit...
He reaches out and hooks his fingers through Soap's. Loose, just in case Soap didn't want to put up with it, and he thinks maybe this is okay. They have held hands a few more times since Soap has woken up, though never in public like this, but maybe Soap will realize what he's trying to do. Or, really, better yet, he might not notice and might be less agitated for it.)
I expect you'll make it worth my time. (Like many things exchanged between them, it winds up sounding stupidly flirty, like a blatant come-on, which you'd think Ghost would realize by now how he sounds, but he's just too used to talking to Soap like this at this point.)
no subject
But every now and then, Simon will say the sweetest things and make Soap grin like everything really is fine. Better than fine, actually. ]
Oh, haud yer wheesht, ya ole numpty-
[ Then his sentence runs itself short when his hand is suddenly taken. It's not like they don't do that sort of thing on occasion. Just, again, they don't do it so much in public, which is where they're about to be very shortly. So, color Soap surprised and maybe just the tiniest bit touched by such a small thing.
It's only after he takes Simon's hand in a firmer grip that he realizes it may just be for practicality's sake, at least in part. Keeps him from having to use the bloody stick, anyway, though he knows he shouldn't rely on someone else's eyes. And if it were anyone else, he likely wouldn't.
So, yeah, he catches on. But, no, he's not agitated. To him, the practical part just feels like a cover. He sees Simon as this big softy, even if Soap would put money that he's killed a man with a brick at least once. So his blank surprise turns into a soft smile pretty fast. ]
Aye, ye flirt. I'll make sure you come around to terrible old Scotland.
[ And it all brings a bit of another thought to mind, too. Once they're out of here, away from public eyes, just how much will things change? He won't lie, he's kind of excited at the prospect of having Simon all to himself. Maybe they can properly cuddle up or something, at least share a bed. (And it's a testament to how bad he's got it when the best part about sharing a bed that he can think of is early morning snuggles. Really. It's that bad.)
If nothing else, maybe they can at least talk about all this at some point. Talk about them. Enough time has passed, Soap likes to think.
He's barely taken two steps when he's brought out of his musings, his fingers having laced through Simon's and paused because the texture-... He sputters a sudden laugh. ]
Is that a skeleton print on your gloves? God love ya, Ghost.
no subject
(One thing Ghost had never bothered with was kid gloves. He didn't care about making jokes at Soap's expense over this whole situation. Granted, it was really just an extension of teasing him in another ugly situation. This situation just so happened to live in Soap's mind rather than occupy the space around them. Same difference, Ghost figured, and maybe more important than the situation at Las Almas to deal with. He didn't want to act hesitant or delicate about Soap. Soap deserved better than that.
Plus that accent was a damn delight and if Ghost didn't respond to it with the mature eloquence of a eight-year-old boy with the biggest crush in the universe, then he might die on the spot. Who said tugging metaphorical pigtails didn't get you anywhere?
Maybe it was too much - grabbing Soap's hand in public like this. He can read surprise on Soap easily and he almost, almost takes his hand back instantly. Instead, he trusts Soap to make it clear if he crossed a line whether verbally or physically.
It definitely is a partial excuse to hold Soap's hand, but who's about to admit to that? Not Ghost.)
Me? Flirting with you? Think of the scandal, Johnny. (Sarcasm at its finest.)
I won't hold you to your word on that. Resenting Scotland has become a fond foundation in our relationship. I need to at least keep up the appearance.
(See, Ghost, talking like this is exactly why it seems like ya'll are in a relationship. The worst part is probably that Ghost doesn't notice anything. That this just seemed like the natural progression of things. Even Price hadn't seemed the slightest bit surprised by Ghost insisting on going with Soap.
Ghost looks a bit startled at Soap's laugh, a look tragically missed by Soap, his eyes snapping to Soap. Good lord it was nice to hear his laugh. Ghost nearly folds on the spot, but instead, he just adjusts his grip on Soap's hand and clears his throat.)
Aye, it is. I need to maintain a consistent aesthetic, Johnny. Matches the mask. (A casual confirmation that his mask does indeed carry a skull print.)
Otherwise, I'd just look ridiculous.
no subject
Anyway, he laughs at the scandal comment, too. Them? Flirting? Perish the thought. ]
Right, can't let on how much you love my smarmy li'l accent. Conversation might start gettin' stale.
[ Heaven forbid, but he's pretty sure that's impossible. At least, Johnny can't picture a world where talking to Ghost isn't the highlight of his damn day.
As to that throat clearing, he almost thinks Simon may be embarrassed about his teasing, but that doesn't quite sound right. Well, whether he is or isn't, Soap's absolutely going to dig his heels in. Because, yes, he caught that about the mask and laughs again. ]
Right, 'course. Gotta match. If it helps, LT, I think you look lovely today.
[ If there's anyone around, he maybe knows about it but doesn't care. He's clearly teasing anyway. ]
no subject
Wouldn't want you to get an ego.
(If Soap really knew how into his voice he was, it would be game over. Ghost wasn't usually a people person and he still wasn't, but Soap had become his exception. More than a comrade and better than any successful mission.)
Oh, Johnny. (He's smirking beneath his mask.)
Buttering me up and we're not even alone yet. Tempting fate today, are we?
(It didn't even matter if Soap couldn't actually see him. He's almost positive Soap would have said it even if he could see - probably insist upon it.)
You're lookin' like a piece yourself.
(He tugs Soap a bit closer, just because he can, and knocks their arms together. So, no, it wasn't just for the sake of guiding Soap. He moves forward with Soap, honestly looking forward to getting away from the base for a while. It doesn't take long to get boarded. It's the only time he really insists on getting Soap's bag for him, but mostly because he's already shoving his own up above.)
Let me get that. (Tugging at Johnny's back.) Get yourself strapped in.
no subject
But as to tempting fate: ] You know it, LT. It's my favorite hobby.
[ Isn't that the truth. And though he chuckles at the compliment and easily let's himself get pulled in closer, he doesn't quite believe that he's looking all that fabulous. Johnny knows it's dumb to not trust the one guy out of them that can actually see with something visual, but he hasn't really felt all that good looking in a while. Partly because recovery has left him to not care as much, partly because of where he had gotten shot. Though, he has trailed his fingers (carefully) over the stitches just to get an idea of his new image.
Regardless, it's nice to hear, even if he thinks Ghost is just giving as good as he gets. ]
And I always look like a piece, but thank you.
[ Confidence will get him everywhere. Besides, he puts so much on Simon, he doesn't want to add the mental shit, too. This is definitely part of the mental shit. It's amazing to be self-aware.
He gives a dignified (in his opinion) squawk of protest when Simon tries to take his bag from him, and there's that knee jerk urge to turn into a child and start with the 'I can do it myself!' but he relents instead. Soap lets him take the bag without too much grumbling beneath his breath, mostly in good nature, before he goes ahead and climbs into the vehicle.
Weirdly enough, it's one of those things that he didn't think would translate into a smooth motion while blind but did. Like he's still trying to figure out how to properly navigate a dinner plate, but he hasn't had any issues with getting dressed, tackling staircases, or cleaning a Glock. In fact, he's extremely confident he could still drive but hasn't figured out a good enough argument to allow Simon to let him try yet. Point is, his training in the service has done wonders with transitioning him to this kind of life. Not that it's ideal.
Anyway, he straps himself in as told and laments not being able to see where they're going. He misses the countryside. And when Simon gets in: ] Have you been up to Scotland before? [ How had he never asked? ]
no subject
(Soap had seemed to get his rocks off plenty by crawling around under Ghost's skin. Then again, Ghost had let him from the get-go for some godforsaken reason. He refuses to acknowledge that it probably had to do with a simple but intense immediate attraction that swiftly turned into something deeper.)
Unfortunately, that's true. I think it's where you get most of your attitude from.
(Johnny did look worse for wear these days, but he didn't look bad. At least not to Ghost who had never been into clean-cut guys anyway. He himself had far too many scars to even spare a judging glance at Soap's newest addition. It doesn't even occur to him that Johnny could be struggling with his esteem on that front.
He scoffs at that squawk, jostling Johnny a bit for it, but he's glad the bastard lets it go. He's sliding in next to Soap soon enough, close enough to bump thighs. Always practically on top of him.
It probably would take some time for the driving thing.)
No. (He buckles himself in, leaning back and settling in for the ride.) Never had cause to go until now.
no subject
That's a pit Soap tends to avoid, though, knowing he's not going to see Simon again and pretty sure he'll never really remember what he looked like. It used to not bother him, but the feeling tends to get worse just about every day. So, Johnny ignores it, as one does. He'd rather focus on the little compliment. And the brush of his thigh.
Johnny loves the contact Simon gives him. Not just for affection and comfort, but to ground him. With the blindness, he feels like he always needs to be grounded, and listening to the sounds of the world only goes so far. Sometimes it almost feels like a sensory deprivation chamber, like he's the only thing left in the world, like he really did die back there, but then Simon's hand reaches out and everything's good again. Soap refrains from just leaning over and flopping against him for now. Not while he's driving, anyway. ]
Really? Surprised I haven't dragged you up there kicking and screaming yet.
[ He honestly is surprised. It sounds like a lot of fun, never mind Simon just being home with him in general. But maybe Soap followed Simon on their time off. Or maybe they didn't have time off. It sounds like the bloke they were hunting, whatever bastard that shot him, had kept them busy. Johnny only knew enough to know that the situation had been complicated and difficult... But he does wonder how long he and Simon have been doing this. ]
You'll love it, LT. [ A beat. ] Even if you hate it, I'll definitely love it.
[ Because grumbly Simon was the best. ]
Sorry this took so long!
It wasn't just Johnny who had lost something in all of this. Though Ghost was steady and calm with Johnny, he had some ugly nightmares that haunted him each night. He wasn't entirely sure how he was going to get away with that once they were in close quarters, but he figured he could just do his best to stave off sleep and figure something out. They had given him some medication to sleep with, but he didn't think that was all that better of an option.
There were a lot of things he knew he'd have to adjust to being in close quarters with Johnny. He was digging his own grave here and he knew it. He firmly had told himself he would only do this if he thought he could keep himself restrained and stay appropriate.
He snorts quietly.)
I've no doubt it was on your mind plenty before. We haven't had too many chances for a proper vacation.
(Not since everything had blown up in their faces.
He smirks under his mask.)
And if I don't? Will you make it up to me, Johnny?
it's okay! sorry mine took awhile too ♥
Not that he has much room to talk. Soap can fall asleep, sure, but fuzzy nightmares wake him up too frequently for it to really be called sleep. The frustration of never being quite sure what the dreams were about didn't help either. So maybe they'd end up being a couple of cagey night owls together, but Ghost was going to have a hard time hiding that sort of thing from him.
Maybe harder than Johnny originally assumed, if that question was anything to go by. Perhaps he was being a little too hasty in his assumptions regarding the nature of their close quarters. Adrenaline junky he is, Johnny gets his own smirk on his face and bites his lip a little just thinking about it. Damn, flirting with this man was addicting. ]
You already know that, Simon. Believe I can think of some ways to go about it already.
Trust me. You'll be singing praises by the time I'm done with ya. [ Oh, if only. ]
♥
His grip on the steering wheel tightens and he realizes he had absolutely no intention of stopping whatever might happen. Because he knew something might happen. He was almost positive. He may not be all that experienced when it came to these kinds of situations, but even Ghost realized that they flirted far more regularly than just some guys in the same unit blowing steam or passing time.
He certainly would never have accepted being spoken to like this by Gaz or anyone else. Plus, there was probably something morally off about sleeping with the man you're in love with while he was empty on memories and blind as a bat. Probably.
But he glances at Johnny and sees him biting his lip like that and it hits him like a freight train. Maybe it's wrong...But well...
He reaches a hand out and rests it on the uppermost part of Johnny's thigh, fingers hooked in, dangerously close to his groin. He gives Johnny a firm squeeze. Perhaps a gesture of silent promise. Or something. He doesn't know, but it felt right to do in the moment and it felt good to do. It was only a small fraction of the things he had imagined doing to Johnny.)
Naughty boy, you are. (His hand lingers, too close, too burning, and slowly he slides it away and back onto the steering wheel where his grip becomes white-knuckled.)
Don't make promises you can't keep, Johnny.
no subject
He wants to grab that hand and keep it there, but he doesn't. Then he thinks to swipe it off the steering wheel or wherever it's at and put it back, but he still doesn't. Maybe it's because a part of him likes Simon being in charge, something that's probably not a big secret between them given their ranks. Or maybe it's because he's just as nervous as he is excited. After all, he doesn't remember what Simon likes, what he wants. He tells himself that this is just a learning opportunity, a little side adventure that they'll both enjoy until their usual path is found again. But that doesn't change how he doesn't want to remind Ghost of who he isn't anymore.
Thoughts like that are stupid, he admits. Besides, Ghost is still more than apparently into him. So, what is he worrying about again? ]
I'm a man of my word, Simon.
[ And he is, very much so. His grin stays sharp while he purrs through every syllable. Nerves or not, he wouldn't be the man he is if he ever let a little anxiety stop him.
So, being a little menace, his own hand reaches over and very innocently tucks a couple of fingers into the pocket of Ghost's jeans. And just. Stays there. Super innocent. Extremely not distracting in any way. His dumb smirk is no proof of anything. ]