Chapter Text
Another grueling mission had come to an end, his fifth mission in a row without any time in between. It felt like all the blood, sweat, and dirt from all his missions were clinging to his skin. Soap never had difficulties after debriefs, they usually served as a way to decompartmentalize himself from his missions.
“We should all get some rest, we’ll debrief in the morning.”
Price spoke loudly, trying to cut through the loud noises of their helicopter, as well as the other military vehicles pulling onto base. He’d walked away, calling to someone over his radio, his voice fading away. Soap stood by, taking in the sight of base, the sunset in the background catching his attention. He’d seen his fair share of sunsets, having traveled to many different places across the globe, many of which outshined this sunset he was witnessing in particular. Something about the dark orange glow of the sun with the contrast of dark blue, purple, and yellow of the sky behind it made it look beautiful, a scenery he’d want to paint over just to photograph or sketch. Soap was pulled out of his mind when he felt a heavy hand tap his shoulder.
“It’s rude to stare, Sergeant.”
“It’s quite a view, eh, LT?”
Soap didn’t expect any kind of response from this, just usual banter he’d throw at Ghost. He let out a disinterested grunt and walked away.
“Don’t stay out too long, Sergeant. Debrief tomorrow.”
With that, Soap was left alone with the pretty sunset and his thoughts. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time to paint this sunset, so he decided on just a cell phone photo to keep. Once he took a few good photos, he went to the armory to return his weapons and gear. He felt separated from the soldier without his weapons and gear, and it was a good thing in the moment. He’d witnessed unspeakable crimes in this last mission of theirs, crimes he’d bury in the back of his mind until tomorrow morning, for debrief and reports.
Johnny could still feel the blood, sweat, dirt, and mud on his clothes and skin, even after being washed away. Flashes of gunfire, explosions, and yelling of orders race through his mind, Soap could still smell the stench of burnt blood and smoke. He wanted to just go to sleep for a whole day and forget about everything, but the perceived filth that still covered his body prevented him from doing what he wanted. With his mind sorted, he left the armory and walked across base to the communal showers.
As he walked to the showers, his mind continued to drift to the previous mission. He hated what he’d had to do, but it wasn’t like he’d had much choice. He pulled himself out of his thoughts as he stupidly walked into the door to the showers. Before he walked inside, Soap looked around to make sure no one had seen him being an idiot. When he was sure no one saw him, he pushed the door open and walked inside. The locker room was empty, or at least appeared empty, and he heard no sounds in either the locker room or the showers.
Johnny approached an isolated corner of the locker room and began to strip out of his clothes. He’d only just now felt them be constricting, and he felt a huge weight removed with his clothes off and on a bench. Being nude, he quickly walked to the showers, as empty as he’d expected. He pressed a button below the shower head, turning on the stream of warm water. He stayed under it, his face pointed to the ground, eyes closed, just relishing the feeling of the water going through his hawk, running down his neck and back, and down to his legs and feet. He held a hand against the tile wall in front of him, the temperature and steam around him rising quickly. He was used to quick showers, part of army training, a usual 2 or 3 minutes, but instead, he just stayed there, relishing the feel of the hot water on his weathered skin and muscles. The stream of hot water would shut off and almost instantly Soap would hit the button to turn it back on.
He got lost in his head again, picturing it all over again. The war, the smoke, the desecrated landscape, it all paled in comparison to the worst of it all. The “enemy” they were forced to engage; children, some barely old enough to speak. The terror group leader they were meant to apprehend had been forcing children specifically into his makeshift army. Soap, along with his comrades, had taken down all of the terror group, the leader being KIA. He knew it was what he had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier, the images of these children still printed into the back of his eyes and mind.
“Knew I’d find you here, Johnny.”
Hearing the familiar gravelly voice, Soap’s head perked up and turned in the direction of the man.
“Ghost—” Or Simon, in his state of undress.
Soap’s eyes widened, his eyes taking him in from head to toe, lingering on what he considered points of interest; his face, his neck, his shoulders, his forearms, and lastly, his groin. Simon’s body was interesting, from what he could see, there were many scars all over his body with various stages of healing. He had many tattoos, outside of the half-sleeves on his forearms, a few on his neck, some on his ribs, some scattered across his shins and thighs, and lastly, one on his hip—a simple blank tombstone. Simon’s body had ample muscle mass with a layer of fat over it and a visible layer of body hair somewhere between dirty blonde and light brown. Soap’s eyes lowered more, his eyes lingering on a dark brown bush of thick pubic hair, a semi-hard penis, and a hefty pair of testicles.
“It’s rude to stare, Johnny,” Simon spoke, slowly approaching Soap.
Johnny let out a small chuckle, the same words he’d said to him earlier outside.
“It’s, uh, quite a view, Simon—”
Simon now stood in front of Johnny, looking down at him. The shower head stopped spewing hot water and Simon instantly turned it back on. He stepped closer into Johnny’s space, the water falling on both of them now.
“How’d you know I’d be here?”
“Is that really what you wanna be askin’ right now, Johnny?” as he said this, Simon walked a bit more into Johnny’s personal space, almost crowding him against the tile wall behind him.
Soap didn’t know how to respond or if he even wanted to altogether. Careful that he wasn’t reading the situation incorrectly, Soap slowly moved one of his hands to eventually rest on Simon’s hip, his thumb slowly grazing over the tombstone tattoo. He found it odd that it was blank and just assumed it wasn’t finished yet.
When Simon showed no signs of discomfort or made an effort to remove Johnny’s hand from him, he let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. Johnny made no interest in speaking further, so Simon just decided to answer his previous question anyway.
“Knew you’d need something, need me, after that last mission.”
Simon pushed impossibly closer into Johnny’s space, and when not faced with any resistance, he pushed him against the wet tile wall behind the Scot. Johnny’s stress began to melt away with each second pushed up to Simon’s body. With a hand buried in the relatively short blonde hair, Soap wordlessly agreed to what Simon was offering. Simon lifted one of Johnny’s legs and wrapped it around his waist before pushing his face into his neck, kissing and biting the taut, tan skin. Johnny groaned and moaned, feeling Simon’s mouth on his neck, trying his best to not be loud. He brought up his other leg, mirroring the one already wrapped around the larger man’s torso, being completely held up between Simon and the shower wall.
“I got you, Johnny, I got you.”