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More often than not, the man found himself unable to sleep at night. He would toss and turn, trying to will the thoughts and memories that plagued him out of his mind, but rarely ever succeeding in doing so.
Tonight was one of those times where sleep just didn't want to take him, little snippets of their last mission flashing before his eyes. They just got back today, bloodied and exhausted, but alive. Soap had hoped that this would mean that he could finally sleep, the ache in his muscles and bones lulling him to slumber, but that was wishful thinking.
In his mind, the mission kept repeating itself, but every time it had a bad ending. What if he didn't catch Ghost when he jumped for the heli, what if his ammo ran out just a little bit earlier, what if he fucked it up like he does with every thing.
What if they got betrayed?
He tried to forget about Las almas, about Graves and the betrayal. But in the back of his mind, he can't help the thought of 'Who's gonna betray me next?' And it made him lose sleep, that questioning and guessing whether those events would repeat himself, whether the people he called his friends could really be trusted.
So after he spent at least one more hour in his cot, entangling himself in his thin bedsheets due to his rapid turning, he gave up. It was no use. Maybe some tea would help? John's never been quite a fan of the "flavored hot water", as he called it, but his cousin always made a banger sleep tea, when he stayed at his place when home was too much.
He made his way over to the kitchen in the base, trying to be as quiet as can be as to not wake anyone, lost in his head when:
'I miss Josh'
The thought made him halt in the middle of the barely lit hallway.
He hasn't been to his grave in a whole while, and he always told himself it's because he was too busy, that he didn't have the time, but deep down he knew why he hasn't gone to visit.
He was scared.
Going to visit would mean going back there, to a place that held bad memories for him. It would mean remembering the reason why he ever joined the force, why he hasn't been on leave since the day Josh died. That place was filled with bad memories. Well, for the most part at least.
"Come on Jackie!!" He heard Eilidh shout for him, dragging him by his hand and running towards some weird game. John was old enough now to know that they were all rigged, winning basically impossible at most of them, but his sister didn't need to know that. Not yet at least, he's gonna let her enjoy her childhood a little, while she still can.
She was younger than him by a whole lot, him being 15 and her only being 7. They didn't spend too much time together, but he always tried to make the few occasions worth it. If only he knew what would happen just a few months after. He would have tried to make more time for his sister and his other siblings, would have tried to show them just how dear they were to him.
But that's something John always thought, in the moments after. Always "I should've..." or "Oh I could've...!!" and in the end, it doesn't matter. Because no matter how many times he tells himself to be more honest, live more in the moment, he knows he never will. The past haunts him like a poltergeist, and in a way he found comfort in the way it haunts him.
He was ripped out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, the sudden touch making him violently flinch away from the person, surprising even himself.
Who the fuck?
"Y'alright Johnny?"
Was said in a deep manchester accent, and he knew he was fucked. The large man, who was currently towering above him, always knew when something was wrong with him. Whether it be an injury he tried to hide, a cold or his feelings, he could always look through that facade of his.
He knew that, so he wasn't surprised when he turned towards the other and was met with a soft gaze, softer than usual. To be fair, his eyes always softened from that hardened look, or a glare as most would say, when he looked at him.
"You okay love?"
Ghost knew he wasn't, he could see the sadness in Johnny's eyes, could see that far away look he so often had in his own eyes as well. That look he got when he was thinking of things he would rather forget, things way in the past.
"Mhm, couldn't sleep. Wanted to make myself some tea."
They both knew that's not what he meant, but for the shorter man's sake, Ghost played along. He took his arm lightly, squeezing just the slightest bit, and started dragging him somewhere, probably the kitchen.
The hand that was gripping his arm soon traveled to his hand, Ghost taking it in his and slowly moving his thumb over the calloused skin in a soothing motion.
Only when they arrived in the kitchen did he let go of his hand, the man moving over to the kettle and filling it up to the brim with water. Soap watched him quietly, taking a seat on the kitchen counter and playing with a random tooth pick he found on it.
The masked man was really starting to get concerned about his partner's behavior, watching him fiddle with the wooden stick, pricking his skin with it a few times too often for it to be on accident. Usually, he would be gushing on and on about some topic right now, and Ghost would pretend to be bored or annoyed, even though he was hanging onto his words like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
He felt himself zone out slightly and immediately snapped out of it. Now wasn't the time. Right now, Johnny needed him to make him a tea and comfort him, not for him to get lost in his head and stand there like an idiot.
With that in mind, his hands moved over to the tea bags, dropping two into his cup, liking it extra strong, and putting one in Soap's. He also put a spoon of honey into Soap's, knowing he likes it more than sugar.
A tap on his thigh made Soap look up from his slightly red hands, some spots leaking little red pearls from them. His gaze moved over to his lover, getting a cup pressed into his hands, and he can't help the small smile painting his lips.
It didn't quite reach his eyes though, and it made Ghost's heart break a little. When he first met the Scot, he was amazed by how happy he was all the time, cracking jokes, embracing others, being as kind as one can be. He was even jealous of it, mourning his past self, the one that used to be so alike the scottish man.
But after getting to know John, the real John that didn't hide behind a fake smile, he realized most of it was an act. An act to make others unsuspecting, an act to spare others his worries in favor to ease away their's, an act to make others happy, no matter how much he suffered himself. And from that moment on he made it his mission to make the Scot smile that real smile of his more often.
"Simon?" The quiet call of his name makes him snap out of his thoughts, cursing himself for getting lost in his head. He picked his own mug of tea up and then returned to his partner, motioning for him to follow after him.
Soap looked at him, more than just a little confused, but followed none the less. He didn't really feel like asking where they're going, didn't really feel like talking at all, so he just trailed after him like a lost little puppy. After passing a few familiar rooms, he realized that they were headed to Ghost's room, and it confused him even more.
Yes, the two of them were a couple, and yes they have already been intimate with each other in more ways than one, but the masked man rarely ever slept with him. He was a bit paranoid, fearing that someone might notice Soap missing from his room, or that someone came into his room and saw the two of them together. Ghost would very much like to keep his reputation up, and that was hard to do when you get caught cuddling another soldier. Especially when it's your subordinate.
And yet they were standing in front of his door now, the man gesturing for him to come in, quick to close the door when he finally did.
The moment the door closed, he was being crushed in a tight yet somehow gentle hug, the smell of cigarettes and cedarwood flooding his senses. He pressed his face in between Ghost's neck and shoulder, breathing in that smell he loved so much, feeling the other rest his head on his own. A soft kiss is pressed against his hairline, and he quickly realizes that it's not through any sort of fabric.
Ghost took his mask off.
Soap looked up at him, studying those beautiful features like it was the first time he saw him without the balaclava or the skull mask. It wasn't, he has seen him plenty of times, and yet he could never get enough. If he could, he would stare at those pink lips, those light eyelashes and that crooked nose all day, every day. And yet he would never get sick of it.
His staring was rudely interrupted by Ghost pulling away from him, grabbing his arm once more and walking over to his bed. He sat down first, back pressed against the wall that the bed was pushed against from one side, sprawling out his long legs.
Their cups ended up on the night stand.
"C'mere." Ghost muttered, patting his thighs just a little, and Soap didn't need to be told twice. With a soft sigh, he crawled onto the bed and laid his head down on his Lieutenants lap, looking up at those brown orbs. They were staring at him like a hawk, observing every little movement, every little change in his expression. If he was someone else, someone who didn't know him as well as he did, he would have been scared.
But by now he knew that was his way to care, his way to figure out what was wrong so he could fix it, and so he didn't comment on it. Just stared back, a little bit like a staring match.
Ghost always won those though, so after a few minutes of staring into each other's souls, he closed his eyes. It was hard for him to relax, but as soon as he felt a hand running through his hair and playing with it, he melted into a puddle.
"C'mon, talk to me Johnny." Was said into the quiet of the room, disrupting Soap's thoughts.
"Nothin' to talk about L.T." The look he got in response of that was something else. Something that Soap noticed, is that Ghost is an awfully expressive person. His eyebrows scrunch up a lot when he's either confused, irritated, or sad and sometimes, when he's trying to figure something out, he squints his eyes and his lips pull into a little frown. It's simply adorable.
Simon just kept staring at him, a frown on his pretty face, and eventually he caved in.
"It's nothin' serious, really. Just been thinkin' a lot. You know, about good ol' Scotland."
Family has always been a subject the two of them avoided to talk about, so the blonde was more than surprised to hear him talk about it in the slightest way. In a selfish way, he wanted to know more. Know more about Johnny, what he left behind when he joined the army, and what prompted him to do it in the first place. So, being just a little bit selfish, he told Soap to go on.
"Jus'. Miss my cousin man."
A furrow in those blonde eyebrows. It would have made the scot smile if he saw it, but he seemed to favor looking at the ceiling at that moment.
"Your cousin? Not your parents, or siblings?"
At that, he let out a little laugh. But it was not the kind of laugh Simon loved to hear from him, the one that made his heart flutter. No, it was a bitter laugh, filled with old hurt.
"Nae. Not on the best terms with em, I'm afraid."
"Why?" He really hoped he wasn't pushing it too far, but for now the scottish man seemed fine. Soap let out a heavy sigh at the question, but didn't seem to want to back out of it. Maybe this is what he needed, for someone to just listen. For it to be let out.
"Used to be real good with em, my parents and my sisters, was pretty close with everyone in the family to be honest. But I was the closest to my cousin, Josh."
A small smile grazed his lips as he spoke the name.
"Thing is, my family was strictly christian. Went to church most days, dragged us along all the time and shite, even though I wasn't that into it from the beginning."
Simon never stepped a foot into a church, and he thought the contrast between them in that aspect was kind of funny.
"So, you know, you can imagine how scared I was when I started finding out that I'm not their prefect image of a son. That instead of just wanting to marry a woman and have kids with her, I want to do all of that with a man as well." He chuckled a little.
"Back then I didn't know that I was bisexual, I didn't even thing anyone other than me felt that. Thought something was really wrong with me." Sometimes he still does.
His face looked so saddened, and all the Brit wanted to do was kiss those lines on his forehead away, turn that frown into that wide smile he loved so much. Instead of doing that, he decided to resume with playing with those strands of hair, giving the man on his lap a small smile to encourage him to keep going.
"One day I asked my mom about it and yeahhh, you can imagine how that went." "I assume she didn't react well?" That bitter laugh again. "Nae, not at all. Told me to get the fuck out of her sight. My da agreed, my older sister did too and my younger one wasn't there. So I went to Josh, and he took me in. Basically lived with him till I was of age. A bit like roommates, but always saw him like a big brother."
The longer Soap talked about it, the sadder the man seemed. Sure, It felt nice to get this off his chest, but bringing these memories back up still hurt.
"Did ya ken that the bastard was actually the one who got me into the this whole shit?" He finally looked him in the eyes again when he said this.
"Oh? He military too?"
"Yeah, introduced me to this shit and I guess with 16 I thought it was the best way to go." If Soap didn't already tell him about him joining earlier than was allowed before, he would have been surprised now.
"Not anymore?"
"Nah, still do to be honest. Couldn't much imagine myself with some other job." At that, he finally got a real smile, one that seemingly was meant to prove that the man didn't regret his life choices.
"Where's Josh now?" And just like that, the smile was gone and Simon cursed himself for dampening the mood again.
"Dead, died 3 years ago." He really didn't Mean to bring something like that up, especially because the scot was avoiding his eyes again in an attempt to hide the tears in his eyes. It didn't work, Ghost could still see the way he was blinking rapidly, trying to get rid of the water.
"I'm so sorry Johnny."
"Not ya fault, is it?" He croaked out, voice coated in tears.
He didn't respond, just lifted him up slightly so he was sitting in his lap instead of resting his head on it, hugging him tight. One of his hands rested against the back of his head, gently stroking it, while the other was at the small of his back, drawing small patterns into it.
"Haven't been to his grave since the burial. M'scared Simon." The ache in his heart was something form another world, and for a second he thought it might have been a heart attack. It hurt to see someone he loved so dearly, that he admired in the field as well as out of it, so small and hurt. Soap was in no way a weak man, he was one of the best of their team, more than deserving of his place in the task force, and never gave up no matter how hopeless the situation seemed.
But Simon had an idea how to help, at least a little bit.
"How about I go with you? You don't need to be scared when I'm there."
He looked up at him in surprise, looking him over as if to see any evidence that his words were a lie or some sort of sick prank he was pulling. It wasn't, he really meant it.
"I would really like that." With that, he buried himself in the man's neck again. They just stayed there for a while, melting into the other's touch and relishing in the warmth it brought.
"Think he would have liked me?" Soap huffed out a little laugh.
"Yeah, you two would've gotten along. Listened to a lot of stuff you listen to."
"The man had great taste then." At that, he finally got an actual laugh out of the man.
"Yeah.."
Losing people hurts. No matter how much time passes, that loss will shape a part of you, whether you like it or not or even notice it at all. But just like people walk out of your life, new people walk into it too. And sometimes, they stay for the rest of it.
Johnny really hoped Simon would stay.
Only time can tell if he does.