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There was nothing that could have prepared Ghost for this, and that was shocking. He always prepared for everything, planned every detail, made sure that everything went just sort of along the plan. It didn’t need to be perfect, nothing ever was. But it should be at least a little bit planned out. Ghost tried to have things work out, he tried to read people before they could read him, or at least try to read him. But nothing could have prepared Ghost for the loud, blusterous scot that barged in his life unannounced. And nothing could have prepared him for the feeling in his chest every time he saw the man. He naturally pushed those feelings down, naturally, of course. You couldn’t have feelings if you were in the military, and you couldn’t have feelings if you were Ghost. But no matter how much he pushed those feelings down, some slipped through. The jokes over comms, the banter, knowing each other’s preferred drinks, the sharing of trinkets, and the silent agreement of shared space–of not needing words to communicate.
It was supposed to be an easy mission, a grab-and-go of information on some drug dealer that was gaining attention. But like all things in his life, something happened. They were told that there would only be a couple of guards, but the intel was wrong. There were the guards, but a little more than a couple. Ghost groaned through his scope and put his rifle down, looking over toward where Soap was. Said man had his face scrunched up and had a look of discomfort on his face. Usually, Soap was easy-going, always had a grin on his face that bordered on feral sometimes. If he wasn’t smiling or joking, his face was relaxed, unless he was working in his journal or messing with a bomb of some sorts. So, it was weird that he had this look on his face. They’ve had missions before where the intel was a bit off, but he just responded with a laugh and a punch on the shoulder. This was weird, this was wrong.
“What’s goin’ on over there?” Ghost asked, wanting to know if his Sergeant was ready for the mission, if he had his head on straight.
His voice seemed to snap Johnny out of whatever trance he was in, making his head whip over to meet his eyes. His face relaxed a bit, but not much. “Ah, nothin’. Just thinking.”
“A dangerous thing.”
“Oh fuck off,” That smile returned to Johnny’s face, making his eyes squint and his nose scrunch. It made something cold and dead inside Ghost’s heart jump. Something that had been long forgotten and thought to be buried. “Just wonderin’ if they got dogs in there.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I dinnae ken, somethin’s just off,” A look flashed across Johnny’s face and it made Ghost’s stomach churn, but not in a good way. But that look was gone and the grin was back, Soap’s hand waved in the air. “Probably just the food ah ate in the mess, those lunch staff have somethin’ against me ah swear.”
Ghost chuckled at the thought of a bunch of mess staff glaring at Johnny, or putting something in his food. “They all look like that, but I think I did see one of them put something in your food.”
That gets a scoff and an eye roll from the Scot. “As much as I love our heartfelt conversations, we should focus on the actual mission. You know, the one that we woke up at the asscrack of dawn for.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The guards were an easy take down, just wait until they went to a corner and then gun ‘em down. They knifed a couple of them and everytime, Soap gave him a “fuckin’ beautiful sir” which caused Ghost to thank his mask everytime a blush arose from that sentence. They got in the building without much trouble, but it was eerily quiet, something that made the hair’s on Ghost’s neck stand up. It was a standard building and Ghost made the decision to split up, covering different parts of the building. There were far less guards on the inside, only few roaming the halls and a couple in a control room with security cameras. Ghost made his way through the building with ease, clearing rooms and looking for information. But it was the lack of info that threw him off. Laswell said this was a goldmine, said that the information in here was valuable. Granted, she also said that she didn’t know what the information was, just that it was important. When questioned, Laswell huffed and said that she got this from an inside informant, but that no other information would be shared. This is too much talk of information.
The last room that Ghost hasn’t checked was the basement. Of fucking course, it’s the basement. “Soap, this is Ghost. I’m heading in the basement, other rooms are cleared and there’s no info to be found. If there’s nothing in the basement then we’ll RV back at the front.”
“Roger, cleared the rest of the building so I’ll head over to your location.”
Goddamn did that man clear a building fast. The comms were silent after that. As Ghost made his way down the stairs, every horrible horror movie that Johnny made him watch flashed through his mind. Nearly every person that went in the basement died, or every person stupid enough to stay in the house when there was a perfectly good door right next to them. *cough sidney prescott in scream 1 cough*. But they were in the military, not highschoolers in a teen slasher film. So, down in the basement he went. The lights flickered periodically and shone creepily on the couple wooden doors lining the hall. Jesus Christ, this really is like a horror movie. But Ghost’s whole life was a horror movie, so he wouldn’t be shocked if a dude in a hockey mask and a machete walked through one of those doors.
The first two rooms were clear, a weird table with dried blood on it in one room and an office in the other. He was fucking elated from seeing from seeing an office, finally some fucking information. He grabbed a usb drive and some files and booked it to the last room, ready to get out the dingy building and get back to Soap. All he had to do was clear this last room and they’d be outta there. Maybe he’ll offer to get Johnny some drinks, or to just hang out in the common room. He’ll see if he can finally see what’s in that journal of his.
He got to the last door and realized that it wasn’t wood, it was metal. He ran his fingers along the small ridges that were protruding, meaning that something was trying to get out. He adjusted his rifle and made sure that he had some knives ready. The door was fucking heavy, reinforce and had four deadbolts on it, this was just getting weirder. He creaked open the door, checking for a trip wire, and then slammed the door the rest of the way open, aiming his gun inside. There weren’t any dudes in a hockey mask and a machete, nor a haunted spirit coming out of a wall. But instead, there was a figure in the corner hunched over an object while shaking, or maybe a better word was shuddering. This just went from weird to fucking psycho.
As soon as Ghost stepped another foot into the room, the figure swiveled it’s head over and made eye contact with Ghost. All bets are off. From psycho to gettin’ the hell outta here. The figures eyes were that of a dog when you shine a flashlight at them, glowing and yellowish. The faint light from the hallway gave light to the blood on the figures face, body, and clothes. The figure was humanoid, but not human, something was off. It’s body was twisted in a way that wasn’t human, it’s ears were pointed and elongated and hair was sprouting from places that wasn’t natural to have that much hair. It also, unfortunately, gave light to the body on the ground next to the figure. A mangled mess of a corpse, blood flowing from it’s neck to the floor and the rest of the body from the neck down had giant claw marks on it, slashed and lacerated.
Oh. Hell. No.
Before Ghost even had a chance to raise his gun and shoot this creepy thing, it shot up and booked it toward him, it was inhuman how fast the thing could run. Ghost quickly stepped out of the way, thanking everything for his military reflexes. It slammed into the wall and straight up growled, like snarled, like some kind of animal. But it easily launched back at him and this time got the jump on him. It grabbed his shoulders and slammed him to the ground, knocking the breath out of Ghost and making his head spin at the strength his head his the floor. Ghost quickly reversed the position and threw the thing off him, he then grabbed it’s head and slammed it into the floor, but even that didn’t deter it. He didn’t know that it had used it’s claws and scratched him until his forearm was bleeding and the pain set in, distracting him for a moment and stuttering his movement. That caused the thing beneath him to take advantage and shoot up, latching it’s teeth on his shoulder and biting down, hard. A gutteral scream tore out of him and he thrashed, causing the teeth to sink in further. Static filled his ears and his vision filled with black dots, almost causing him to miss the shout that came from the doorway. A gunshot rang out and the weight on top of him lessened, another shot, and then another and the weight was gone.
“Ghost!” He heard a voice shout, an oddly familiar and scottish voice. Ghost’s breathing was quick and sporadic, pain radiated and flared from his shoulder and head.
“Ghost, Ghost stay with me.” Why would he leave? Why would Ghost ever want to leave the warmth of Johnny, the reincarnation of Hestia, a comfort he was never able to indulge in? Where would he go? Would he return to the desolate wasteland of his own isolation, the only thing keeping him both sane and safe since he was a child? Would he go back to the coffin buried in dirt, the smell of the earth and a rotting corpse enveloping him? He would never leave Johnny. He’d rather die than lose the thing that has finally made him see the sun after years of darkness.
Ghost manages to open his eyes and see Johnny kneeling beside him, hands hovering over his bleeding shoulder. Sitting up was a struggle, but he managed to do it and asses the damage left behind from that thing. His shoulder was bleeding sluggishly and ached like hell, everything else on his body was a dull throbbing. He looked over at Soap and flinched at the man’s expression, it was filled with concern, worry, and a fierce care.
“M’fine,” Ghost grumbles out, catching his breath and leaning against the support Soap was providing.
“Fuckin’ dafty. Can ye stand?” Johnny grabbed his uninjured arm and tried to tug him up, an urgency in him even though they cleared the building. Ghost got up, albeit without some groaning, but he managed. Soap put Ghost’s uninjured arm over his shoulder and supported him as they made their way out of the shithole building and toward the safehouse. Price said that their ride wasn’t gonna get there until a little after the mission was completed so he provided a safehouse–thank god.
The walk there was a little awkward, Soap wasn’t chatting it up like usual, making Ghost worry a bit considering he was almost always talking–not that he had a problem with it. It was actually really nice to have someone talk to him, usually people would be too intimidated by him to strike up a conversation, especially not work related. But Johnny talked to him like a close friend right when they met, and through grueling missions and endless banter over comms and a companionship they developed, it was natural and in a way comforting to hear the man talk. But Ghost would be lying if he said that he didn’t want something more from their relationship, that he didn’t want everything the Scot could give him and more. He knew that realistically, it would never work out. It was fraternization, it was wrong, it went against so much in the military. Ghost knew this, he did. But Ghost didn’t give a single fuck about the rules of the military, technically he was supposed to be dead, supposed to be six feet under, rotting next to his old bastard of a commander–and here he was, living and having his heart nearly pounding out of his chest and a flush on his cheeks just from having Johnny so close to him and touching. Granted that might have been due to the bleeding injury on his shoulder, well, not bleeding anymore but the point still stands.
“What has two legs and bleeds,” Ghost mumbled out, a grin spreading across his face that Johnny couldn’t see.
“Ah swear to god if you say a dog, ah’m gonnae kill ye.”
“Me.”
Silence. Dead silence. Then a groan, followed by a laugh that Ghost would do anything to hear again. “That’s worse, ye areshole.”
It was silent for a while other than for the sounds of the nature around them and their shoes crunching the leaves beneath them. The safe house arrived in view a few moments later and Ghost sighed in relief and he could feel Soap do the same. It was a small cabin, one that’s inconspicuous and could easily be a hunting cabin. Soap ducked out from under Ghost’s arm after leaning him against a tree, going up and around the house to check it. When Johnny disappeared from view, a pit feeling coiled in Ghost’s gut. One that told him to go after the man, to keep him in his sights. He never knew when this feeling developed, but it was more apparent as of lately and even more so now in this moment. Maybe it was Las Almas, or the highrise in Chicago with Hassan. Maybe it even trailed back to when they first met, when Soap stepped off that transport and gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder as if they’ve known each other for years, but something was off in that grin Johnny gave him. Something in the back of Ghost’s mind, something primal almost, told him that something was off about the Scot. In the way that his canines looked a little too sharp at moments, or the way that the Scot could produce an almost inhuman growl, or the way that his eyes flashed a green-ish color at night, like he was caught taking a flash picture at the wrong time. It was weird, but the more that Ghost got to know Johnny the less that he really thought about it.
Ghost was so lost in thought that he startled when Soap came back to him and pulled his arm over the Scots shoulder. He was led inside and placed on a raggedy couch that’s seen better days, and Johnny immediately pulled out a med kit.
“I’d rather do this after a dinner, but can I take yer shirt off?”
“Buy me a drink and I’ll think about it,” Ghost chuckles weakly, raising his good arm while Johnny grabs the hem of his shirt and gently tugs up. It wasn’t a sexual act, if anything it was done out of need to treat Ghost’s wound, but a blush still crept up on Ghost’s face and he was thanking everything for the mask so that Soap didn’t see it.
Once the shirt was off, Soap set to work on the wound, giving Ghost some pain meds and a canteen of water. Cleaning it off, putting small butterfly bandages to hold together the bigger punctures, gauze on top of those, and then topping it off with a wrap of medical tape around his shoulder. The whole process barely took 45 minutes and the pain meds should’ve kicked in by now but Ghost felt off, like there was a tightness in his bones, but maybe he was just feeling the aftereffects of adrenaline. Johnny hadn’t said a word during the whole thing, just fretting over his wound and making sure that everything was alright.
“Alright there, Johnny?” Ghost said, turning out of the Scots hold and facing toward him on the couch.
The shift in movement and calling his name must’ve snapped him out of whatever trance he was in because once Ghost did that, the look faded from his eyes and he put on a wide grin.
“If anything, ah should be askin’ ye that,” Johnny chuckled and sat back against the couch next to Ghost, their shoulders and thighs touching. They had been getting closer lately, touches that lingered a bit too long, glances that were more than just glances. Over the time that they’ve spent together, Ghost just assumed that it was just their friendship growing, but it’s more than that.
“Very funny.”
But remembering the look in his eyes just a moment before caused Ghost to think about what happened just hours earlier. The creature and it’s inhumane nature. It was unnatural, the pointed ears, the scars that should have rendered it dead, the growls, the movements, and just the weird air around the creature. What the fuck was that thing? It wasn’t human, that’s for sure. Ghost has heard rumors about those kinds of things, those creature. Whispers from shell shocked soldiers of creatures that moved with inhuman speed, ones that killed an entire squad in less time than a RPG and tank combined. Could it be true? Ghost always assumed that those were just false words from soldiers, stories told on drunken nights, gossip spilled on missions, whether to fuck with the rookies or to warn. Ghost wanted-no, needed, to know what attacked him. Was he hallucinating? If he wasn’t then there could be more, more of those things out there. More things that kill men by the hundreds, things that could be weaponized by other countries, things that could be used to kill hundreds of thousands of civilians.
Ghost tensed with that train of thought and Soap noticed it, the Scot looking over at him with a curious glance, but not saying anything. Waiting for Ghost to say it himself.
“What the fuck was that thing back at the building?” Ghost asked, as if Johnny might have the answer even though he doubted the man did. He might have as much information as anybody else. But Ghost wouldn’t ask anybody else about this, he would ask Johnny.
Soap sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, muttering something under his breath. “It was a fuckin’ Shifter. I havenae seen one like that in…damn, years maybe.”
It seemed like Johnny forgot that Ghost was even in the room, muttering to himself about the thing in the warehouse and other nonsense that he couldn’t make out. Ghost was getting agitated, not at Johnny, but at the situation and how it seems almost unreal.
“Soap,” Ghost said, loud enough to get the Scots attention. Johnny looked up to Ghost with blue eyes that glowed a blue that rivled the sky. “Just tell me what’s going on, cause I know damn well that wasn’t just a batshit crazy human.”
Soap groaned and threw his head back before looking straight at and blurted out, “It was a Shifter, or a werewolf if ye want basics.”
That was not what Ghost was expecting to hear, sure he’s heard stories and fantasy tales with them, but didn’t actually think they were real. “Stop pullin’ my leg, Sergeant. What really was it? A weird, doped up person? A freaky science experiment?”
“Ah’m not pullin’ yer leg, it’s real. The thing that bit ye was a Shifter, which speakin’ of which, ah should check on tha’ bite,” Johnny started to move toward the med kit and shifted to sit closer to Simon’s injured shoulder, but Ghost backed away before he reached his shirt.
“I mean it, stop fuckin’ around. If you don’t know then say so, but stop making shit up,” Simon was getting frustrated at this point, for some reason he just couldn’t believe that whatever Johnny said was true.
It was then that he truly saw Soap get angry at him for once. His eyebrows scrunched up and a rumble came from his chest, one that shouldn’t be possible for a human to make, it was more of a growl. His scowl raised his upper lip up and showed canines that looked much longer than they should be, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes. The bright sky blue was now a vibrant turquoise, something that drew Ghost in, something that he would sell his soul to get lost in, something that tugged at Ghost’s dead heart the way a lover would rip at the confines of the coffin to reach the other half of their heart. Soap stepped forward and Ghost somehow knew that this is what a prey must feel like when a predator goes in for the kill.
“Ah’m nae fuckin’ around, nor am I pullin’ yer leg. Ah’m tellin’ the truth, that thing was a Shifter, and if ye donnae believe me, then fine. See where tha’ bite gets ya in a couple days,” The mention of the bite made it bring back the dull throbbing pain, one that Simon had forgotten about in this argument.
Simon stood up and was chest to chest with the Scot, and with such little distance between them, the height difference was much more noticeable. “What the fuck are you talking about?! If these ‘Shifters’ are real, then how do you know so much about them, huh? Cause Price never mentioned that fucking thing in his debrief before the mission.”
Johnny threw his hands up in the air, exasperated and then looked up at Ghost, that scowl still on his face. “Ye want proof, fine, you’ll get proof. But I tried to tell ye.”
Just as Simon was about to go off on Johnny again, the man in question stepped back and started take off his shirt. Ghost’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, about ready to question the man’s sanity, but a sharp look from him quickly shut Simon up. Johnny thankfully left his boxers on, (Ghost didn’t know if his heart could take seeing the man fully). The younger man was grumbling the whole entire time, most being in Scots which Simon couldn’t even being making sense of.
Then, Soap crouched down and before Ghost could speak, bones were breaking. That awful crunching sound which Ghost has heard far too much of began filling the room. Emanating from Johnny. Simon didn’t know what the hell was going on, he desperately wanted to question the man, to throttle him to tell the truth, to scoop him up and stop his bones from cracking, to stop the pain-filled grunts coming from Soap. But Ghost simply stood there, mouth agape, limbs twitching with the urge to move but frozen in something one could only call fear.
It took another couple of seconds, another couple of seconds of bones cracking and something that was once Johnny emerging, (something told him that it was Johnny, there’s no other way). Everything happened so fast. One minute, Johnny was stripping. And the next a giant ass wolf was standing where Soap once stood. The wolf easily went up to his shoulders, head topping off at the top of Ghost’s neck. The coat was a light brown that tapered off to a gray-ish color at the chest, underbelly, and paws, however, only one ear was white, while the other was brown. The wolf-johnny? had the same sky blue eyes that held so many promises when turned apon Simon.
The two stand 6 feet apart, staring each other down. No one moved for a good minute, both parties were frozen still. Simon could see that Johnny was trying to stay still, trying not to frighten him. But it was obvious that he wanted to do something, his tail was twitching like it wanted to wag and his ears were pitched forward. The urge to feel how soft his fur was, how his ears twtiched when the smallest sound hit them, how much like a wolf he really was, was almost overwhelming. Deep down Ghost knew that Johnny wouldn’t make the first move, wouldn’t risk scaring Simon off, wouldn’t risk the fear of rejection.
Ever so slowly, Simon lited his hand into the air, palm up like he was offering a gift to the gods. It was almost like he was. He was offering the softest parts of himself, his vulnerability, like a wolf showing belly. But he wasn’t showing it to a god, no, he was showing it to Johnny, to the man that had stolen his heart long before Simon knew it had happened. He guesses that it wasn’t really a surprise that Johnny ended up being something like this, nothing was really ever normal about Soap. From the first moment they met, Ghost instantly knew that something was distinctly not human. But he put it off, thinking that he had seen something that made him give off that type of energy. Even if Johnny wasn’t a Shifter, he still would have drawn Ghost’s attention. From the blinding brightness of his smile that seemed to chase away the shadows that lie in wake of Ghost’s once dead heart, to the nonchalantness that he treated Ghost. Many are scared of him, scared of the reputation from the mask, scared of the countless deaths Ghost has on his hand, the blood he’s shed, both from his enemies and the ‘rumors’ of his own death. But Johnny, Johnny never cared. He never acted differently toward him, never showed any fear, always lipped off, joked around, and genuinely made Ghost feel like a friend. And then he made him feel like more than a friend, got feelings that ‘just friends’ shouldn’t have for other friends.
A wet snout pressed into his palm. Huffs of warm breath filtered though his palm, dampening his skin. Simon’s eyes were wide as his hand slowly made its way up Johnny’s muzzle. The rough, thin-ish fur on his muzzle near his nose sent tingles up his spine, the difference in textures surprising him. He reached the top of the wolfs head and the fur had gone from coarse to so fucking soft. It baffled Simon, and made him instantly addicted. His other hand reached up and scratched behind his ears, to the soft dent behind the outer shell of the ear. He curled his fingers and scritched. Instantly, Johnny’s hind leg lifted off the ground and pounded down.
“Ticklish Johnny?” Simon asked, grin making it’s way onto his face as he continues to scratch. The wolf turns his head and growls playfully at Simon, grabbing his wrist gently in his fangs. The warm puffs of breath against Simon’s bare face tickled, making him wrinkle his nose.
“I guess the dog breath stays the same.”
Another growl and Johnny released Simon’s wrist and butted his head into his chest. Simon instantly put his hands into the wolfs fur, feeling the coarse overcoat with the soft undercoat. Johnny pushed Simon backwards until he got the message and turned around, herded toward the bedroom by a giant wolf. Once he reached the mattress, Simon was suddenly being pulled up by his shirt and tossed on the bed.
“Jesus, Johnny! Calm down, I’m not a newborn, I can do things myself,” Simon said, chuckling a bit as he backed into the wall on the mattress and watched as the giant wolf leaned in and huffed against Simon’s chest, inhaling once and exhaling, ruffling the clothes on Simon. But just as he was going to give a couple scritches to the wolf, he pushed his head forward once and backed away, walking out of the room and leaving Simon reeling a bit. He was going to follow the wolf, or at least, that was the plan until he heard bones breaking. His body froze and he remained frozen on the bed, in a limbo between wanting to help and comfort Johnny, but also not wanting to interfere, after all, he didn’t know how this whole shit worked. He just found out a couple minutes ago.
Johnny walked in a moment later, wearing sweats and a sweatshirt, a sweatshirt that was distinctly Simon’s. The man walked in and stood in the doorway, wringing his fingers between his hand, a nervous habit Simon notes. Johnny’s face was pinched, eyes darting around the room, landing on the floor, notably not meeting Simon’s eyes.
“Ye believe me now?” Johnny said, voice soft. His eyes still didn’t meet Simon’s eyes, even though Simon wanted nothing more than to gaze into those blues. Johnny was always outgoing, always talking, always sharing interesting facts or a funny story he heard earlier in the day. He joked and bantered and loved physical contact. Simon would watch when Johnny bumped shoulders with other soldiers, give a friendly pat, and other small acts, but those were with others on the task force. But Johnny saved more intimate touches with his close ‘circle’, as Simon liked to call it. Butting foreheads with Price, nuzzling into Gaz’s shoulder, and has one time even bit Simon, but he just took it as an odd quirk of his. Price never mentioned anything and Gaz was chill with it, reciprocating sometimes with rubs on Soap’s head. But Johnny acted different with Simon than he did with the others. He acted more…intimate, just more with the Brit. Maybe Price knew, maybe Simon was the one out of the loop about the whole Shifter thing.
“Johnny,” He said with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the mattress, forearms resting on his knees. “Look at me.”
That one command had Soap’s head snapping up to meet his eyes. Blue meets hazel in a clash of emotions, a raging storm of uncertainty and unwavering trust, an irony if there ever was one. Johnny still looked anguished, still looked torn between wanting to crash into Simon and to walk away, to leave and never come back. Which is the last thing that Simon wants to happen.
“I believe you. I’d believe you if you told me the Earth was flat. I was just…delierious, and out of it, and just frustrated that the mission went to shit like that. I am a bit shocked though,” Ghost chuckled, smiling up at Johnny who was still standing in the doorway, only this time looking confused. “But I’d still believe you, fur or not.”
That got a smile out of Johnny, a small one, but a smile nonetheless, a smile that made Ghost’s stomach twist and heart clench. Soap walked closer, ever so slowly, like one would approach a spooked animal. Johnny stood between Ghost’s legs, gazing down on him. Slowly, Soap’s hand reached down and hovered over Simon’s face, as if uncertain. But why would he be uncertain, for Simon would give silver and gold for Johnny, would give his heart and soul, already has. So why is Johnny hesitant? Why would he be hesitant over something he’s had since the beginning.
Simon leaned into Johnny’s palm, feeling the battle-caloused skin on his bare cheek. The warmth that radiated off Johnny was the warmth of his mother’s cooking, the warmth of the sun after a cold dip in water, warmth of a lightbeam through a stained-glass window. Simon wanted to melt into the warmth, to succumb to the warmth, the safety, the comfort, and to fall into place next to Johnny.
Soap’s other hand came up and cupped Simon’s other cheek, properly cupping his face now. Johnny’s eye bore into his with such devotion and adoration that it physically made Simon’s chest hurt. Before Simon can even say anything, or hell, even blink, Johnny leaned down and pressed his lips to his, a quick kiss before pulling away, leaving one last kiss on his forehead, leaving Simon reeling with whiplash.
“I feel like before we continue with…whatever this is, ah gotta tell you something. Ah got distracted by ye lookin’ too damn good,” Johnny chuckled but let out a gasp when Simon growled and grabbed his ass.
“Just tell me what you were gonna say,” Simon bit out, still a bit upset that Soap stopped kissing him.
Johnny sighed with a small smile before he looked at Simon with a look of apprehension. “So, before all tha’ happened. Ah was gonna tell ye that the bite that ye got from that Shifter could cause ya some…issues. Some Shifters can turn others with a bite, like those god-awful werewolf stories. An’ seein’ the Shifter that bit you, ah think it might be a problem fer ya.”
It was quiet after Johnny stopped talking, just breathing between lovers. Johnny spoke up again.
“Ah wouldn’t wish this on anyone, it’s a process that is painful and changes yer brain up. Ah was lucky enough that I was born a shifter, so ah was raised to ken this would happen, prepared for the shift. It hurt like hell, but at least ah knew aboot it. Simon, if ye dae change, which we dinnae ken will happen, jus’ know tha’ ah’m here fer ya.”
Simon didn’t know what to think. Anxiety clenched at his stomach, anxiety of something new, something unpredictable, something that he was told would be painful. It’s not that Simon can’t handle pain, quite the opposite. But it was the uncertainty, the shifting from what he thought was normal to a whole new version of himself. Something that eased his nerves, however, was Johnny. Just simply the man’s presence and his determination to not let Simon be alone on this helped. It actually made him feel…loved, and cared for. Which was something that he hadn’t had since his mother when he was a young child.
“I-it’s not tha’ bad, ye ken,” Johnny chuckled nervously. “Sure it hurts like hell, an-and if ah could reverse it ah would, promise. Ah’m so sorry, Simon. This is all my fault, if-if ye want me tae get a transfer, ah’ll go, ye can even hate me all ye want. I’m sorry.”
Johnny was shaking, fingers wringing and he was biting his lip. It was clear that he thought Simon would hate him, would even make him transfer. As if he would let Johnny go now.
Simon grabbed Johnny by the arms, startling the man into a stunned silence, no longer fidgeting. He stood up, rising just an inch or two above Soap, and looked deep into the man’s eyes. Johnny’s sky blue eyes, bounced between Simon’s own, filtering through the emotions swirling in them.
“Johnny,” Simon spoke, his voice raspy and coarse. “I could never hate you, what you are or not. Sure, I’m fuckin’ nervous. You just told me that my entire DNA might change into a giant dog-” That pulled an amused scoff out of the younger man “-and honestly, I thought that Shifters didn’t even exist until you fucking turned into one in front of me.
“But if you’re here with me, then I think it’ll be fine. I’ve never really had someone to be there for me until Price, but even then, I just blocked him off, closing the man behind walls that I built myself. But then a fiery Scot barrels in with a sledgehammer and knocks them down. So yeah, I don’t know what’s gonna happen. But since you’re gonna be there, it’ll be ok.”
Johnny’s shoulder slumped down and he practically deflated with relief, eyes flagging shut. Simon leaned forward and rested his forehead against his, breathing the same air, soaking him into his blood.
It was fairly smooth after that. Johnny agreed to take first watch (much to Simon’s grumblings) and gave the man his jumper, saying that he might need it or something, it must be a shifter thing. It wasn’t long before Simon was knocked out, exhaustion from the day and his injuries, along with the reassurance that Johnny had his back, he fell asleep.
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Soap
Holy fuck. When Johnny went on this mission with Ghost, he expected smooth sailing and a few drinks after a job well done. Definitely did not expect the Shifter biting Simon nor the very same man sleeping with his jumper as a pillow. Just the news of the Shifter and the potential shifting caused guilt and anxiety to brew in the Scot’s stomach, making his bite his lip. It wasn’t unheard of for a stray Shifter to turn a human, but usually in those situations, the human either joined the Shifter’s family[something along those line] or that human was killed before they could fully transform. And Soap’ll rather chew off his own arm than kill Simon. But since it was uncommon for that situation to happen, Johnny didn’t know what was going to happen to the Brit. Soap had watched and helped some of his nieces and nephews shift before, had been there for more comfort than anything important. For a little kid, whose body was born to shift, it was a painful process, but not as painful as a fully grown adult who didn’t even know Shifters existed.
Johnny was so scared that Simon would push him away, would be disgusted at him when he found out his secret. Even more so when Soap told him the possibility of a shift. When a Shifter bites someone, it’s usually with the intention of killing or harming, only some have the intention of changing. A Shifter has toxins in their fangs that when released, can either kill with enough of the toxins, or with the right amount, change the person receiving the bite’s DNA, which could result in a change. There were a shitton of unknowns in this scenario, making the situation that much more difficult.
The scot was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of shuffling. Simon was twisting on the sleeping bag he was laying on top of, shoes still on but gear tossed aside, a show of trust for Johnny, trusting that he had his back even when most vulnerable. Right now, Ghost looked fairly normal. Nothing too out of the ordinary. But Soap could tell that something was happening. Simon’s scent was slowly and very subtly changing, working with Ghost for so long made the man fine tuned to his scent. The toxins were working their way through Simon’s system, attaching to the bloodcells and eventually making their way to the DNA, redoing the DNA molecular bases. He wouldn’t feel anything now, but soon it would get painful when the body started to change.
Johnny sighed and continued his watch out the window. He still felt the butterflies from what happened earlier. Soap never thought that he’d get to live out his fantasy of kissing Simon, it having been just a nice wish, a dream if you will. But knowing Simon felt the same and feeling his lips against his own made it all the more real. It baffled him that someone like Ghost could ever be interested in someone like Soap. All his life Johnny was told that he was too much, that he could never sit still, that he always blabbed his mouth too much, never knew how to control his volume. But Simon never seemed to mind. He never told him that he was too much, he put up with his blabbering, and only ever told him to shut up as a joke or during a mission. Johnny could act professional during missions and when it counted, but outside of that, it seemed that he was just all over the place. But with Simon, it was different. With Simon, he put up with Soap, tolerated him it seemed, or if he dared say it, had a soft spot for him. The man would listen to his ramblings, let him move around and fidget if needed, and never really questioned his odd behaviors that were the cause of him being a Shifter. Simon made Johnny feel something that he’d never felt before.
The sounds of rustling shook Soap out of his thoughts. He turned around and found Simon shuffling around, still asleep, on top of his sleeping bag. His face was relaxed, and knowing Simon, he must’ve been truly exhausted to fall completely asleep. Soap sighed deeply and continued his watch out the window, apprehensive of what was to come.
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It was a week later when it happened. Price chewed Soap out when they got back, and nearly had an aneurysm when he found out what might happen to Ghost, but he was understanding thankfully. Price had already known what Soap was, after accidentally shifting to save the man once, they agreed to keep it a secret. Johnny was never so glad to be back on home base, flopping on his bed at once and nuzzling into the sheets, enjoying the smell of the base. Ghost, however, seemed to disappear like his namesake. It nearly made Soap sick with worry, terrified that the change had started and he wasn’t there to help him. But after sniffing the man out like a bloody fucking bloodhound, he found Ghost. They chatted and it turned out that they were both nervous, who fucking guessed. But they agreed on working this out together, both with what they were to each other, and to what might become.
It happened while running drills with the rookies. Soap was running them through the obstacle course with Ghost acting like a fucking guard dog.
“Yer like yer fucking name, always scarin’ the shite out of recruits and hovering,” Soap laughed, eyes trailing from the recruits to Ghost.
He was wearing a tight black compressed shirt that was doing what wonders for Simon’s chest, nearly making Soap froth at the fucking mouth, but he didn’t do that because he’d probably get weird stares.
All he got back from Ghost was a grunt in response, normally he’d at least get a snarky quip back, or at least some sort of other acknowledgement, they were past the simple grunts. Soap normally would’ve thought the Brit was just not in a responsive move, as he was for most of the time. But this time it was different, Soap could fucking smell it. It started with the subtle changes in his scent, it was more noticeable, more potent if you will. Then it was the constant shifting of his body, like he was uncomfortable standing in one spot for too long, which was very odd for one of the best snipers in the unit. And finally, it came to a head when and the issue was made very obvious when Ghost leaned over and whispered in Soap’s ear.
“I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but something’s going on,” Ghost whispered in his ear, voice breathy and hoarse, which would normally be sexy as fuck but considering the sheer of sweat on his skin and the obvious fact that the shift was happening, he ignored it.
Upon hearing that, Soap promptly grabbed Ghost’s hand and dragged him into Soap’s room. Thank fuck it was right at the time where everyone had a job to do, making the barracks hallway blissfully clear. He charged into his room with Ghost in tow and locked the door behind them. Once they were in the room, he took a good onceover of Ghost, noting the sheen of sweat on his face, the scent shift, and the pained look on Simon’s face. That look enough was proof of the Shift.
Johnny stepped closer to Simon, making his steps and movements obvious and placed a comforting hand on his bicep. “It’s gonna be ok, Simon. I’ll help ye through it, it’ll be a bit painful, I’m nae gonna sugarcoat it, but ah’ll be here the whole time.”
A pained noise sounded through Simon and he tugged off his mask, once he started moving however, it was like he was in a frenzy, tugging off his shirt and ripping off his boots to toss his pants into the pile of clothes. Once he was down to his boxers, he seemed to take deeper breaths, forcing himself to calm down.
“It, it’s hot, like it burns. It feels like there’s something crawling under my damn skin,” Simon growled out, rubbing his arms and his eyes were darting around the room. HIs pupils were blown out, almost covering his iris completely. Soap reached up and grabbed his hands, pulling them off his arms and cupping them in his own. Stopping him from rubbing at his arms.
“Calm doon, it’s jus the shift. It’s gonna be alright, ah just need ye tae calm down.”
Simon’s eyes softened and he relaxed just the slightest bit, letting himself be manhandled by Johnny onto the bed, leaning against the wall with Soap leaning his head on his shoulder. That’s how it went for the first hour. Tremors wracked Simon’s body every couple of seconds, followed by Soap rubbing his leg and murmuring soft nothings into the meat of his shoulder.
It was just after the first hour that his canines started to fall out. Simon looked in the mirror, face stuck between horror and confusion, watching his canines fall out like children’s teeth. The newer, sharper, far stronger canines will grow in soon.
Then came the part that Johnny was dreading, the actual bodily shift. This required bones to be broken and shifted, it ain’t all magic and then poof, you’re a wolf. No, this is blood and tears and broken bones and the destruction that follows. Being a Shifter isn’t a gift like most think it is, it’s a curse when you really look at it. A human is born with Shifter blood, sometimes at random and sometimes it’s a lineage through a blood line. But a Shifter is carved out from the human like the guts of pig, waiting to be devoured from the mouths of the starved. A Shifter is ripped from the body and torn out from the soul. It was painful, the first Shift being the worst. But it was even worse as a fully grown adult who knows next to nothing about any of this shit rather than a child who was raised for it.
It was a painful thing, watching Simon writhe in pain and not being able to help him. His groans and yelps of pain were almost enough to make him leave the room just so he wouldn’t feel this damn bad. But he didn’t leave his side, not once. He stayed and made sure that nothing went wrong.
The Shift took 3 hours and 24 minutes to complete. The room was a mess. The bedsheets were strewn into the corner of the room, clothes and other belongings on the sides of the ‘nest’ the sheets made. The desk was flipped over and scratch marks adorned the wooden chair. Blood splatters were mainly kept to the bathroom, Johnny trying to keep the clean up to a minimum. But the real eyecatcher was the giant furry ball curled up in the lap of the Scot, gently combing through the furr. Soft huffs could be heard from the wolf, and sweet nothing praised back into the ever-so-slightly twitching ears. The wolf had a muted white coat with little black spots peppering it’s face. The eyes, when opened to look up at the Scot, were the most gorgeous shade of hazel that Johnny had ever seen. They were the warmth of the sun, the rich, deep tones of the earth.
“Ye wanna get up, mo ghraidh?” Johnny whispered, scratching his fingers into the soft undercoat on the wolf’s nape. A low grumble came from the wolf and his head nudged itself further into the Johnny’s lap.
“Ye have tae at some point,” He chuckled and lifted the wolf’s head up, giving it a small shake. Teeth playfully bit his hand, growling lowly. But after a second, Ghost got up on trembling legs and it, honest to God, took everything Soap had not to laugh. Like natural Ghost fashion, it took only a couple seconds for the wolf to get the hang of four legs.
Standing up, Ghost’s shoulders went up to Soap’s torso, making his head reach just under his chest. And seeing as Soap was 6’2, that made Ghost pretty damn tall, just above 5 foot. It was easy to see how someone could be scared of Shifters now that Soap thought of it, Ghost normally was pretty damn imtimidating, but in this form, he was even more terrifying. It was always a bit of a disciplinary statement that parents would say to get their kids to behave, “Behave, or else a Shifter will swallow you whole.” Now it made perfect sense. Ghost always scared the recruits and even made Soap hesitate when first meeting him, but a natural skill of the Scot was always being able to liven a mood and maybe make a friend.
He was interrupted from his thoughts when a snout nudged his chest, and looking down he saw Ghost giving him the stink eye, impatient as always. “Fine, ye mutt, calm yer tits.”
Johnny chuckled before opening the door and clearing the hallway for any people. A giant 5 foot wolf would be quite the shock, and Johnny wasn’t really keen on explaining the situation to anyone. He motioned for Ghost to follow him and like always his L.t. had his back. He wedged his hand onto Ghost’s scruff, not grabbing or petting, but just feeling, and it seemed to be well liked telling by Ghost leaning into it.
The cool night air brushed against Soap’s skin and he felt at ease. Looking around once more, he stripped down to his boxers and a coupoe seconds later, a brown wolf, just a tad taller than the white wolf, stood proudly next to his companion. It was funny seeing that Ghost had to look up at Johnny’s wolf, knowing Soap had to do the same in human form. Soap nudged a snout against Ghost’s head and huffed against his fur, truly scenting the other man. Ghost’s scent was much much stronger like this, thunderstorms and gunpowder, a heavy downpour and a torrent of destruction, all things dark and heady. But under all that, there was a small, faint layer of something sweeter, the sun after a storm, eucalyptus and the warmth of a fire, lilacs and something so soft that it could be described as tender. These things were what made Ghost, but he was more than a scent, but by god was that scent nice. It felt like coming home.
A body brushed against his own and like the pair they were, the two wolves ran into the woods together, giving wolfish grins and running around the other. Thunderstorms and sunbeams matched pretty well together, only made stronger with the other.