#but you don't really save the best parts of your meal religiously for your subordinate who youre friends with

[cthulhusstepmom]

Ghost is a walking dichotomy, Soap has discovered. He's watched him strip the layers of a man's skin away to get information from him, seen him snap someone's neck in as little time as it takes to take a breath. But he's also so capable of heartbreaking kindness. His genuine concern for the fish, the way he saves the best part of his plate for Soap; offering it to him with reverence. The way he's cleaning Johnny's wound so tenderly. It's in these moments of gentleness where Johnny almost forgets what they do, what they've seen, who they are.

So when Ghost's voice snaps into that serious tone it's almost like a slap in his dizzy, goofily smiling, face.

"Wha?"

"Where is it? I'll get rid of it for you." Under the sharp tone is still that lethal gentleness, and even under that is a shaking fear.

"Oh, oh Ghost." He shifts, uncomfortable in his skin and wanting to be anywhere but here. "Ye... Ye cannae get rid of it."

His Lieutenant draws back a little, a mix of apprehension and offense in his eyes.

"It hurt you, nothing else matters."

Soap can feel his heart splitting as his throat starts to burn. Ghost stares up at him with fiery eyes, hands still holding his wrist so so softly.

"Where is the snake Soap? I promise you it'll never hurt you again. Whoever brought it in is going to have hell to pay too." He earnestly promises and Soap feels a single hot tear slip out of his eye.

"Ghost..." He chokes out. "Simon... It's mine."

The small room goes silent. Nothing even dares to move but for the violent flinch the sentence rips out of Ghost.

He doesn't dare say anything, doesn't dare to move or even breathe. He looks down at Ghost and Ghost meets his stare with turmoil roiling in his gaze.

Soap doesn't know what he expected, screaming or sobbing or angry silence but the frantic confusion he can see in the other man is as far as can be from what he'd thought he'd get.

They sit there like that for a few long moments, each absorbed in his own thoughts, before Ghost slowly rises from his kneel. If Johnny were in better spirits he would tease him for the quiet cracks his knees make. And with that violent tenderness he slowly curls an arm around Johnny and leans him down into the bed, pressing behind him and holding him close just like they'd done on any number of frigid nights out in the blind. And they just sit there holding each other in silence as they slowly drift into a dreamless sleep.